#both girls share the same qualities

[batsyvie]

she reminds him of his rose

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill. 

Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting. 

“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.

“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”

“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”

“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”

“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”

“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives. 

This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.

“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.

“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”

You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells. 

There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way. 

“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”

You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.

When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.

After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.

It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t. 

“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.

Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.” 

“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”

She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this. 

“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand. 

You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin. 

“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”

“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot. 

“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”

“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl. 

“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”

“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend. 

“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.” 

“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him. 

“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.

“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”

“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort. 

Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment. 

“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”

He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity. 

“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”

The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair. 

Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.

“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world. 

When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”

Still no reply.

“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.” 

“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced. 

Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”

“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”

“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head. 

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something. 

“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.

“No.”

“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.

“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”

“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one. 

“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan. 

“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”

“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him. 

“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”

“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve. 

“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.

This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience. 

After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date. 

After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.

As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too. 

Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory. 

“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”

It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.

“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel. 

“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up. 

On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date. 

“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”

He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest. 

You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation. 

“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question. 

“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”

“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”

“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.

Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.  

“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”

“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”  

“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”

“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes. 

“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious. 

“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”

“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up. 

“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!” 

You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever. 

“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.” 

He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him. 

Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date. 

“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to. 

“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting. 

“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”

The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius. 

“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home. 

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”

“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”

Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n. 

Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into. 

“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”

“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space. 

“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”

“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment. 

“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”

“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”

“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble. 

“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”

“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”

“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”

“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly. 

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch. 

“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”

“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”

“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”

“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”

He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle. 

“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet. 

“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat. 

“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”

‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.

You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.

“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,” 

He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it. 

He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.

As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him. 

“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”

The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it. 

Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.

Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve. 

He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing. 

As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway. 

“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat. 

He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood. 

You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.” 

The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed. 

You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about  getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon. 

Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you. 

But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never. 

You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share. 

“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.  

After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home. 

“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.” 

You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view. 

He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?

On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again. 

He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date. 

Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’. 

You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago. 

“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it. 

“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend. 

The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection. 

“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.

“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”

He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”

To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according  to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.

“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”

Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section. 

After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic. 

Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides. 

You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.

Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you. 

As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos. 

“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure. 

“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.

“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.

“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass. 

“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears. 

Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic. 

“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”

Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches. 

“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.

Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else. 

You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake. 

“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.

“From bugs?”

“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”

“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”

You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.

“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.

“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh. 

“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”

You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.

After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did. 

It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom. 

The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless. 

Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you. 

Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.

What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. 

“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.” 

You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.

“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice. 

“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.

Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.

Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention. 

Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully. 

He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable. 

While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”

“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”

He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down. 

“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means. 

“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”

Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”

As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.

Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.

“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”

“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”

“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.

“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”

“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”

You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid. 

The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’ 

A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else. 

It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak. 

Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.

Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt. 

“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink. 

There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place. 

“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”

You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise. 

Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.

“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide. 

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.

Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“

“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.

Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.

“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.

He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”

“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question. 

“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”

“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”

A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time. 

“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”

You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts. 

“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”

“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.

“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him. 

He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board. 

“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts. 

As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways. 

“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been. 

“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.

You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder. 

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since. 

“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say. 

“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.

“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking. 

“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”

“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.

“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”

Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you. 

“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago. 

“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be. 

“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”

Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you. 

It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire. 

“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”

Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions. 

“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss. 

He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.

Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.

He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time. 

“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.

You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.

He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear. 

Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”

Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink. 

“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole. 

The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”

Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”

“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”

“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win. 

“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”

“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”

If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in. 

The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.

He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck. 

“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”

Jackpot. 

A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand. 

“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up. 

Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough. 

He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering. 

“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”

Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again. 

“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”

The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin. 

“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.

“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”

You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this. 

His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together. 

Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs. 

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.

“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”

He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this. 

Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van. 

“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes. 

“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”

“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”

You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap. 

As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh. 

“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret. 

“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”

You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass. 

“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him. 

You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.

He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.

The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door. 

Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.

You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right. 

And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.

“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding. 

You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.

Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level. 

Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting. 

He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times. 

You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.

You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach. 

All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him. 

The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.

“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips. 

After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon. 

You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.

Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you. 

“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.

He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft. 

“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”

Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants. 

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.” 

“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat. 

“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”

You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it. 

Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him. 

“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”

The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.

Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips. 

“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment. 

Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls. 

You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss. 

In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself. 

“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.” 

He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides. 

You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room. 

Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end. 

“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply. 

It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is. 

Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck. 

“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets. 

“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. 

In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going. 

The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets. 

He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.

Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch. 

His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips. 

Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees. 

He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you. 

He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most. 

Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder. 

“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.

“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.

“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch. 

His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt. 

“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”

The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls. 

“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair. 

Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter. 

Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other. 

Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.

“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”

Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head . 

“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“ 

A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core. 

As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit. 

He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face. 

When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate. 

“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds. 

“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked. 

“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.

“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.” 

“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.

He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you. 

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his. 

You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.

“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole. 

“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back. 

You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set. 

Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck. 

“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. 

He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain. 

“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach. 

And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.” 

When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line. 

“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”

With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you. 

The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent. 

Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment. 

He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.

Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again. 

“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper. 

“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”

Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose. 

“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means. 

“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”

His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him. 

The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up. 

When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up. 

His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.

Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you. 

You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you. 

You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle. 

You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal. 

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response. 

After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring. 

Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door. 

“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say. 

“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”

“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”

“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did. 

You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say. 

“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson. 

“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”

Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you. 

“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”

“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”

He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“

You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”

“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart. 

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”

You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”

“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”

“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”

Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties. 

Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom. 

“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.” 

You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy. 

“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”

You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up. 

Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin? 

Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.

At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.

And there he is.

In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.

"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.

"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."

You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.

"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."

He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.

"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."

You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.

"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.

"And I owe you a few dates, for real."

As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.

"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.

"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.

You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.

[nouearth]

a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter… 

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it. 

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more. 

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end. 

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was. 

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

 “oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“ 

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy. 

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen. 

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you. 

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change. 

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face. 

you. that was all he wanted. 

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look. 

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then.  not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.  

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now. 

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,” 

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur. 

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise. 

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you. 

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it. 

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment. 

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress. 

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch. 

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

 “i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster. 

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it. 

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor. 

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.  

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed. 

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more. 

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off. 

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean. 

nothing was wasted. 

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.

Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.

His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.

The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.

"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.

As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.

He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.

"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.

There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.

So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.

But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.

The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.

She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.

She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.

Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.

She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.

With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.

“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.

[ln444]

dating lando. . .

cw: mentions of sex, f!reader, fluff, slight smut.

notes: my first post 😭 i'm not very confident abt it but i hope you guys will like it! my requests are open so don't hesitate if you have any suggestions or just want to talk ! enjoy<3

___________________________________________

physical touch; i feel like lando would be incredibly touchy, even if it's just his hand on your thigh or sitting beside you with your shoulders touching. he simply needs to feel close to you every chance he gets. in public, he might dial back his affection slightly because he treasures those private moments, but that won't stop him from stealing sweet, discreet kisses when no one is watching or quietly holding your hand because he just can't keep his hands off you. in crowded places, he's the kind of person who instinctively puts his arm around your waist to ensure your safety. when it's just the two of you, lando can't help but be hands-on. he'll find any excuse to touch you, whether it's running his fingers through your hair or playing with your hands while you're chilling. he'll pull you closer every time you're beside him, or even have you on his lap while he's engrossed in some random pc game. kissing you is practically an obsession for him, and it's not limited to your lips. he adores exploring every inch of your skin, planting kisses on your neck, nose, cheeks, hands, and thighs. however, his absolute favorite place to kiss is still your lips. every kiss from lando feels as passionate and full of adoration as the first time, and he can never get enough of it.

quality time; he would definitely message you whenever he's available to spend time with you and invite you to hang out. he absolutely loves your company, even if it's just the two of you relaxing on the bed, watching entertaining videos and tiktoks, or having silly conversations. however, his favorite moments are when you embark on fun dates, like going to the arcade or go karting. his heart is full of joy from seeing you happy during these moments and he wants to tattoo every second of them into his memory. lando likes all types of dates because his primary desire is to share time with you. it might depend on his mood; sometimes he just wants to chill with you all day, staying in bed or playing games together. other times; he wants to venture out and go dance with you all night or go for a midnight swim. in the end, what really matters is that you are together.

words; in the early days of your relationship it was kinda hard for lando to express his feelings, he felt a bit uneasy because he was not used to vocalizing his feelings, he's more the type to keep everything for himself. but, with you, he learns surprisingly fast to talk about how he feels, both negative or positive emotions. you became his safe place. he would always praise you when he has the chance to even if it's for small random things, he would always remind you how much he's proud of you (and you do the same too ofc). even if this man loves teasing you, he also knows when to be serious and how to make you feel valued and loved. he uses a lot of nicknames like "angel", "love" or "sweetheart" because he knows how much you love them and how special it makes you feel. you were definitely the first one to say i love you, not that lando didn't want to say it but he was just too nervous to do it but since you did, he can't help but say it everyday.

sex; lando always makes sure you feel safe and comfortable when you're having sex. it doesn't mean that he doesn't like it rough tho, he absolutely loves having rough sex with you, even more when he's stressed or frustrated because of a race; hair pulling, spanking, face fucking, dirty talk... but always while making sure that you're okay. when it comes to vanilla sex, lando can become the softest man ever, he would whisper sweet things to you like; "that's my pretty girl", "i'm so lucky to have such a beautiful girl just for me", "you're doing so good angel", accompanied by gentle touches and kisses all over your body or when he's softly making love to you. his favorite thing is eating you out, he's literally obsessed with your pussy and will find any excuses to get a taste, even more when you ride his face while your eyes are locked with his.

[ktgoodmorning]

Silent Communications

(love language series- physical touch)

Mapi Leon x Reader

Inspired by the love language physical touch- The team doesn't know you and Mapi are dating and you struggle to keep it hidden throughout your away game travels

Words of affirmation felt too obvious of a choice for the Mapi fic. I swear that eventually I will manage to write something shorter and less fluffy but today is not that day. Anyways, I'd love any feedback or requests any one has, my inbox is always open.

The rest of the love language series:

Perfect. A.Bonmati x reader. Quality time.

Let me spoil you. C.Coll x reader. Giving and receiving gifts.

Broken. P.Guijarro. Acts of service.

You know I love you. A.Putellas. Words of Affirmation

Masterlist

The team was unaware of your relationship with Mapi. Everyone knew you had been best friends for most of your lives and attributed your closeness to that. They knew you tended to be touchy and cuddly together but still never thought much of it because the two of you had always been that way. It also helped your case being Spanish. They were completely unaware that your relationship had turned romantic. They’d occasionally tease you for your closeness, but it didn’t bother you. You knew they meant no harm and often you were willing to join in joking.

Eight months ago, you and your best friend confessed your feelings for each other. Growing up together, you had only become closer as you got older. It didn’t surprise you. From the time you were a teenager, you knew your feelings for Mapi were different. For a while you couldn’t pinpoint why, it wasn’t until teammates would tease you about how you were “basically dating” that you realized it was true. Or at least you wanted it to be true. You learned to ignore those feelings, trying to preserve your friendship. It was more important to you to keep her close than to act on your feelings. However things changed when you had caught on that she might be feeling the same way. You’d catch her staring at you, looking at you differently than she used to. She’d always be doing little things to help you out- bringing you coffee, carrying your bag for you, buying you dinner. There were little touches here and there that just felt different. It was always small things but felt so big. 

The longer you noticed your best friend acting this way, the more it drove you crazy. One day when you were out to breakfast with Alexia, you decided to get her opinion on the matter. You were tired of trying to ignore your feelings. She knew Mapi just as well as you did, and you knew she’d be honest with you. When you asked her if she thought there was any chance of Mapi sharing your feelings, the older woman looked at you like you were crazy. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I thought you already knew, that girl’s crazy about you.” 

From then on, your world changed. You left your breakfast date with Alexia to go straight to Mapi’s house- a place that was basically your second home. The two of you had a long conversation, spilling your hearts out to each other. You discussed what you wanted to do, how to move forward. Ultimately you had both decided you wanted to try dating but planned to take things slow, making sure you weren’t doing anything that could risk your friendship in the process. 

Things couldn’t have gone better. Your friendship transitioned seamlessly into dating. It was better than either of you could have imagined (and you both spent plenty of time imagining it). In the last eight months, you continued to grow closer in ways you hadn’t even known possible and were happier than you had ever been before. 

You had decided not to tell anyone about your relationship. It just seemed easier that way. If people knew about your growing romance you’d have to deal with the media, the criticism of teammates dating, the fans, and any outside opinions that didn’t matter to you. Neither of you wanted any of that, you just wanted each other. You didn’t intend to keep it a secret for this long but somewhere along the way you became accustomed to it and it just felt easier than breaking the news.

 A few of your closest friends, as well as each of your families, knew but that was it. It felt like it was only fair to tell Alexia since she had been the one to confirm Mapi’s feelings. Other than her, Patri and Pina were the only other ones on the team to know about your relationship. Before you had gotten better at sneaking around, they had walked in on you mid-makeout session on the middle of your couch. You had forgotten they were even coming over when you and Mapi had gotten a bit distracted. It’s safe to say, after that happened the pair of you were much more careful. Even though it wasn’t part of the plan, it was helpful having the three of them clued in. The group of five spent a fair amount of time together so not having to hide around them gave you a chance to relax. 

Typically, you and Mapi were good at sneaking around. Because of how close you had been prior to dating, nobody questioned most of the things you did. As long as you weren’t outwardly kissing or saying anything too cheesy, nobody thought much of it. The only time things became harder was when you were traveling as a team. When you traveled, unless you got roomed together, there was no solace of coming back together when training was over and getting to spend time with just the two of you. It was almost harder when you were around each other so much yet never in the way you wanted. 

~

You had been stuck on the bus far longer than you would've liked. Sometimes you were excited to join the other younger players, playing games and turning the bus ride into a social event. Today wasn't one of those days.  You weren’t sure where it was you were even going to be playing, you just knew you were exhausted and cranky. You took a seat by yourself in the front, not really interacting with anyone. Mapi was with the much louder group having fun in the back. She could tell you were tired and wanted to give you some space to sleep. She also knew you enough to know that if you were in a bad mood you were going to be clingy and she didn’t want to accidentally let everyone in on your secret. When there was a lull in conversation, Lucy questioned your girlfriend, giving her a suggestive look, “Mapi, where’s your partner in crime? We don’t usually see you two apart.” It was clear Lucy was teasing but also was genuinely curious as to why you weren’t hanging out with them. 

“She’s just taking a nap, probably trying to get away from you, idiota,” Mapi rolled her eyes, trying to cover up that she too was a bit concerned about you. It was unusual for you to isolate yourself. She sent you a quick text to check in with you but when she got no response, she decided she needed to come check on you herself. 

When the defender stood up, she knew more quips were coming her way. “Ooooh Mapi? Gotta go check on your girlfriend?” The way Mariona sing-songed this made it clear she was joking but Mapi still couldn’t help but panic. She awkwardly laughed and turned away from the other girls, hoping to hide her blush. Patri and Pina shared a quick look as they knew the comment from Mariona would leave their friend panicking. They did everything they could to hold in their giggling while Alexia glared at them, hoping to make them stop. Nobody else seemed to notice this as they went back to their karaoke and left Mapi alone to join you. 

You felt someone sit in the seat next to you, immediately recognizing the scent as your girlfriend. Your eyes were shut, trying to sleep, but failing. The side of her leg pressed up against yours and she gently placed her hand on your knee. It was clear to her that you weren’t asleep because of how much you were moving around, trying to get comfortable. “Hey,” she spoke gently, rubbing her thumb against your knee to get your attention. You slowly opened your eyes and Mapi greeted you with a soft smile. “You okay? You don’t seem like yourself.” she spoke softly, voice full of worry. 

You nodded, “yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night so I was hoping to sleep on the bus.” You rubbed at your eyes, starting to accept that it wasn’t going to happen. 

“Here I’ll stay with you,” you couldn’t help but be grateful at the offer. 

Still, you tried to protest, “Maps, no. Go have fun with your friends, I know you like to keep busy on the bus. I’ll be okay.” 

The look on your girlfriend’s face made it clear she’d be staying by your side, “Hmm no thanks. We’ll put some headphones on, you can snuggle up against me, it’ll be great. It’ll put you to sleep in no time,” the way she spoke made it clear it was a statement, not a question. It’s not like you would complain, it did sound pretty great. She took your silence as agreement and pulled out her headphones, passing one to you. By the time you had put it in, she had put on a playlist that the two of you had made together. Her arm wrapped around you so you could place your head on her shoulder and use her as a pillow. You couldn’t believe how quickly you fell asleep. Mapi had that effect on you, always putting you at ease. 

At some point, your girlfriend had also drifted off. You woke up, still snuggled into her, with her head resting on top of yours, her one arm still around you, and her free hand interlocking yours. This was by far the most comfortable you’d ever been on the bus. You carefully grabbed your phone so as to not wake up Mapi. You had some texts in your group chat with you, Mapi, Alexia, Patri, and Pina. First was a picture from Patri taken from the back of the bus where you could see the tops of your heads lying against each other, you shared earphones hanging between you. It was followed by a text from Pina, “better be careful if you want everyone to keep thinking you’re ‘just friends’ ;) “. You smiled to yourself, knowing she was right, but being too happy right now to care. All you could do was close your eyes and drift back to sleep.

When you eventually got to your hotel and got off the bus, the two of you seemed to be the hot topic of discussion. Everyone was teasing you, first for Mapi giving up her precious social time for you, then for how closely the two of you had cuddled up, and finally for the way your hands remained interlocked as Mapi led you off the bus and into the hotel lobby. 

The only downside to Alexia knowing about your relationship was that she knew better than to let you two be roommates on trips like this. You were paired up with Bruna which you really couldn’t complain about, and Mapi got paired with Mariona. With neither of your roommates knowing about your relationship, finding time alone together was about to get much more difficult. 

~

At breakfast the next morning, you went to sit down next to your girlfriend. She stood up to greet you with a hug and a soft kiss on the top of your head. It was likely a bit too long of a hug to be considered friendly but somehow no one commented. Alexia just shook her head, smirking to herself at how obvious you were being. Sitting down at their table, you tried to leave space between you while you ate so as to not raise suspicion, but you should’ve known that it wouldn’t work. Mapi always had to have a hand on you in some way. It was usually subtle, but it sure didn’t make hiding things any easier. You appreciated it though. You liked how she could be talking to anyone and you still knew she was thinking of you. That’s what was happening now as she settled into conversation with Alexia. The silent communication between your touches was better than any words could express. 

~ 

Your next chance you got to be together wasn’t until after training, back at the hotel. Patri and Pina invited you both to come hang out in their room with them. That’s how you found yourself, laying against Mapi’s chest while she and Patri played FIFA. Her arms wrapped around you tightly while she held her controller in front of you. “Ay, (y/n), did you only come over so you could have time to be all cuddly without the rest of the team around?” Pina quipped at you while you both continued to watch the game, she was somehow both joking and also entirely serious. 

Before you could respond, your girlfriend spoke up for you, “hey just be happy this is all we’re doing. We could be making out right now if we wanted to.” She somehow managed to hold you tightly while still playing a close game with Patri. You giggled at how she kept moving under you the more involved in the game she got. “Amor sit still! You’re blocking the screen!” Mapi whined at you, only making you giggle more at how quickly her tone changed. You ended up moving further down to cuddle into her leg so that she could still see. She shot you a glance to make sure you knew she wasn’t actually annoyed with you but relaxed when she saw your soft smile. “Comfortable?” she chuckled lightly at how you burrowed into the side of her leg. 

“Did you really have to ask, amor?” you smiled at her before turning back to watch the game she was playing. 

All of the sudden you heard the sound of the door opening, making you jump. However when you saw Alexia’s blonde hair round the corner, you quickly relaxed again. “Ooh the lovebirds are here, are you guys just here so you can makeout?” She shot you a smile knowing that you two would always spare them from seeing you be too handsy.

You rolled your eyes playfully at your captain, “you guys always say that but we’ve really only made out in front of you once and it wasn’t even on purpose. And you weren’t even there, Ale!” You sat up a little more so you could see her face. 

“Gracias a Dios!” the blonde shot back at you, mirroring your smile. 

Deciding to have some fun with this while also taking advantage of this limited time to show affection, you decided to try something. “You know, Ale, if you wanted us to be like that, all you had to do was ask. We sure can…” As you said this, you moved back up in Mapi’s lap and started to slowly leave kisses along the side of her neck. You didn’t want to distract her too much from her game but you also knew how much she’d be enjoying it. Plus you loved a chance to annoy your friends. This time, it was Alexia who started the retching noises. You felt your girlfriend tilt her head to the side to give you more room to continue down her throat, clearly having fun with this. Pina quickly joined in the sound effects when she saw that you weren’t planning on stopping. Finally Patri wanted to know what was going on and took a quick look over at you. Of course she had no choice but to join her friends in their shouting. 

What you hadn’t planned on was that the whole scene had distracted Patri just enough to allow your girlfriend the opening she needed to win their game. “Yes!! I won!” You broke apart from her throat as she suddenly shouted. The two of you high fived and shared a real kiss in celebration of your unplanned teamwork. Everyone else in the room just groaned at the two of you, Patri flopping back onto her bed, cursing in Spanish in protest of her loss. You just settled back into Mapi, sharing a couple more short pecks as you did so. 

~

The next day was your match. When you did your morning walk as a team, nobody seemed to notice the way you and Mapi had linked pinky fingers as you went. You wanted to be close and to spend it with her but you knew that holding hands on your team walk would be too much. The pinkies worked perfectly because nobody else could see it past the long sleeves of your jackets. 

The match didn’t go as easily as everyone hoped it would. The score was tied 1-1. Barcelona had been winning most of the game but around minute 75, the other team equalized and both teams had been fighting hard for a winning goal ever since. Exhausted was an understatement. You and Mapi were both starters and were in the entire game. All that was on your mind was scoring. You had to. It was 2 minutes into injury time when Aitana made eye contact with you. She was running the ball up the field and you could tell exactly what her plan was as she did so. She slotted the ball through three defenders and directly to your feet. With one touch you sent the ball sailing past the keeper and into the back of the net. The crowd erupted and before you even had time to process, Mapi had run straight to you, beating everyone else as they all headed your way. Immediately Mapi scooped you into her arms, picking you up as she hugged you in celebration. You knew your other teammates had also surrounded you, but to you, it felt like just you and your girlfriend, alone in the middle of the pitch. She continued to hold you up, kissing your cheeks repeatedly. Your other teammates almost got bored of trying to celebrate you because of how much Mapi was keeping you to herself as the game wrapped up. You all made your way around the pitch to thank the fans, while your girl kept you at arms reach, overwhelmed with pride for you. 

The two of you were the last ones to enter the changing room, walking hand in hand pulled into her side. Lucy noticed this immediately and couldn’t help but comment, “Jesus, Mapi are you ever gonna share her with us?” You could already see your girlfriend starting to blush as you made eye contact. “Do we get to celebrate with her at all tonight or is she all yours?” The rest of the room laughed and added their own comments but you and Mapi were lost in each other’s stare, having a silent conversation among yourselves. 

You gave her hand a tight squeeze, encouraging her to do what you knew you were both thinking. “Alright you caught us,” the defendender sighed, “we’ve been dating for almost eight months now.” You held up your joined hands as if it were proof to show everyone (not that anyone needed it at this point). The room immediately interrupted into cheers. Of course it did, everyone knew how perfect you were for each other. If you had been best friends almost your entire lives, of course you’d make a great couple too. You and Mapi just smiled at each other, giving her hand another squeeze, trying to communicate that this was the right move. You didn’t even notice everyone around you until you were tackled into a group hug with you two at the center of it. It was exactly where you wanted to be- holding onto your girlfriend tight while all your best friends piled in around you, celebrating your love. It was everything you could ever imagine. Mapi was everything you could ever imagine.

The rest of the love language series:

Perfect. A.Bonmati x reader. Quality time.

Let me spoil you. C.Coll x reader. Giving and receiving gifts.

Broken. P.Guijarro. Acts of service.

You know I love you. A.Putellas. Words of Affirmation

Masterlist

Feedback and requests are always welcome! :)

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors. 

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?” 

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago. 

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off. 

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.” 

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there. 

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?” 

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.” 

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him. 

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused. 

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief. 

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out? 

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least. 

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are. 

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off. 

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.” 

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too. 

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream. 

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him? 

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess. 

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone. 

Oh he’s so fucked. 

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.” 

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late. 

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work. 

He had to. 

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen. 

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?” 

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.” 

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.” 

And you laugh. 

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions. 

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now. 

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today. 

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems. 

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg. 

And he stops looking there. 

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them. 

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away. 

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing. 

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss. 

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again. 

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen. 

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes. 

His cheeks are hot. 

Fuck is he blushing? 

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you. 

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you. 

Okay fine, it is. 

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground. 

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop. 

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor. 

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up. 

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different. 

“You good, Chef?” 

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat. 

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.” 

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Anything, Chef.” 

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.” 

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders. 

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back. 

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious. 

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief? 

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.” 

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.” 

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor. 

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you. 

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him. 

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well. 

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video. 

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

[celestemona]

WHEN THEY'RE DADS

a guide to their children personalities, looks and more

characters: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley

intro: some says children are the mirrors of their parents, reflecting their images and absorbing their surroundings. perhaps this is true as your child shows so much of your husband. nevertheless, they’re their own person too, with their own personalities and likes - but never less loved for that.

cw: kids are described as toddlers and middle-childhood

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

x x x

Hakim

Birthday: May, 7th

Appearance: Hakim has all the looks from his father including his blank expression, although he's nothing but a sweet boy. Hakim has a lot of respect for his parents, and not surprisingly, he’s a very kind and noble kid. For some reason, he doesn't like to start talks but to observe people which it is, perhaps, another trait he took after his father. He loves drawing and reading books with pictures what makes you and Alhaitham buy him a lot of art materials and encyclopedias. Even when he becomes a bit old for his age, Hakim likes to listen his father or you reading for him before he goes to bed.

Nicknames: Kim, Love (you), Son (Alhaitham).

Trivia: He likes cats but he's allergic to them.

Aryan & Isaar

Birthday: November, 26th

Appearance: They’re very identical twins which till this day it causes a lot of trouble for people to identify them. The twins are a mix from both parents, though Cyno’s genes are favored a little bit more as they share the same skin tone, the red-orange eyes and not unironically the stoic face. Aryan is the quiet one while Isaar can be more social what makes the perfect balance between brothers. They’re respectful, kind and honest, but not so easily to trick. Aryan can be more judging than Isaar, if he doesn’t like someone he won’t hide it. They’re good friends with Hakim and Zahra. Both of them are very affectionate towards you, but they enjoy to spend their time with their dad as well.

Aryan’s nicknames: Ary (mostly you), Yan (only Isaar), Son, Kid (Cyno)

Isaar’s nicknames: Isa (mostly you), Izz (only Aryan), Son, Kid (Cyno)

Trivia: They hate sweets but love sour fruits. They created their own language which they use to communicate with each other when they are around strangers. Aryan is 7 minutes older than Isaar.

Kaedehara Kazumi

Birthday: March, 3rd 

Appearance: Kazumi is nothing more than a perfect replica of his father, Kazuha. The boy received all the samurai's characteristics, barely leaving anything for your own genes. What differentiates them is the charming mole under your son's left eye, because even the calm and easygoing personality they share. Kazumi, however, tends to be mischievous and presumptuous which brings him troubles sometimes. Nonetheless, he's a loving and gentle kid; looking after his younger siblings, and listening and admiring you and Kazuha. 

Nicknames: Zumi, Son, Kazu, Zuzu (mostly Kiyomi when she wants to annoy him)

Trivia: He’s ambidextrous.

Kaedehara Kiyomi

Birthday: October, 17th 

Appearance: She definitely looks more like you, though Kazuha' characteristic features such as his crimson eyes and the red streak weren't left behind. However, your daughter is her own person as she is a very extroverted, charismatic and confident girl. She's pretty mischievous and she loves to play with Kazumi, but she can be very girly too as she adores quality times with you. She is a smart and strong type, not taking well to things she judges wrong. She deeply loves you and Kazuha, and cares for her brothers very well, mainly the youngest one. 

Nicknames: Kiki, Sweetie girl (mostly Kazuha), Yomi, Kiyo

Trivia: She loves dresses, kimonos, yukatas.

Kaedehara Haruki

Birthday: September, 21th

Appearance: Haruki is a beautiful mix of you and Kazuha. He has the same pale skin tone as his father, but his eyes shine like two jewels just like yours. As he was born sick, he is smaller than children of his age. Haruki is also very close to you and Kazuha as he rarely leaves the house, but he also likes to be included in his older siblings’ games. He’s a very shy and quiet boy, but he has a sweet and cute side that he shows to his family and some familiar faces. Haruki has a boxy smile that you and your family love very much, certainly his main charm.

Nicknames: Baby (mostly you), Buddy, Son, Haru

Trivia: He’s asthmatic. 

Zahra

Birthday: August, 13th

Appearance: Zahra definitely looks more like her father, although her goldenish eyes remind her grandmother of her late husband. She’s a sweet, cheerful and a very friendly girl, being the extroverted one from all her friends. She’s curious and smart, preferring to play with puzzles and bricks over dolls. She absolutely loves her father and not surprisingly Kaveh is her favorite parent, although she loves you equally. Zahra has natural chubby and rosy cheeks and outsiders cannot help themselves but want to squeeze them — which it makes Kaveh go all overprotective. Overall, Zahra is a good girl and barely throw tantrums even being so pampered by her father or her rich aunt. 

Nicknames: Zaza, Babygirl, Sunshine, Sweet girl, Princess (mostly Kaveh)

Trivia: She’s afraid of insects, mainly butterflies.

Corinne & Quentin

Birthday: December, 30th

Appearance: It's slightly noticeable their lilac-cat shaped eyes since they look so much like you. Even though Corinne and Quentin are identical twins, they've some physical differences if you take a close look, like Quentin being a inch taller than his sister or Corinne's cheeks being chubbier. Just like their father and aunt Lynette, the twins share the same personality’ difference as well. Although Quentin isn't as energetic as Lyney, he's the friendly and talkative twin while his sister is calm and reserved. They don't have a favorite parent, they love you and Lyney equally. The twins grew up surrounded by magic tricks and they absolutely adore when Lyney comes up with a new one. 

Corinne's nicknames: Rin, Anne (only Quentin), Dear (mostly you), Doll, Sweet girl (Lyney)

Quentin's nicknames: Quenn, Quinn (only Corinne), Junior, Love (mostly you), Buddy (Lyney)

Trivia: Corinne is allergic to shrimps and Quentin hates onions. They’ve only fought once. Quentin is five minutes older.

Éveline

Birthday: February, 4th

Appearance: She’s a very beautiful girl with the same white hair, draconian blue eyes and pointy ears as her father, but her facial features came from you. Éveline is a timid and soft-spoken girl and she tends to get easily nervous around unknown faces, hiding behind you or Neuvillette. She absolutely adores the Melusines and she gets along very well with Corinne. She's a little bit emotional but she knows she can run to you or her father if she gets overwhelmed by her own feelings. Éveline loves to cuddle with Neuvillette. As time pass by, she starts to be outdoors by herself a little bit more, whether enjoying nature or playing with animals.

Nicknames: Line, Angel (you), Child, Darling (mostly Neuvillette), Eve

Trivia: She loves Mondstadt' water and she wants to be an "animal healer" when she gets older.

Cameron

Birthday: June, 26th

Appearance: Cameron is a carbon copy of his father, not only in his looks but their likes and mannerisms are exactly the same. He’s more collected and quiet than Wriothesley. However, his personality easily changes under your caring and affection being more blushy and shy. He’s incredibly well-educated and respectful for his age, and he treats everyone the same regardless of their background or crimes. He’s very intelligent and he loves to play puzzles or create things. For a long time Cameron was the only child but neither you nor Wriothesley had doubts about how he’d react with a new family addition as he had shown to be a loving big brother already.

Nicknames: Sweetheart, Love, Baby boy, Cam, Buddy, Son (Wriothesley), Cammy (Marie)

Trivia: He loves tea but not without sugar.

+

Marie

Birthday: October, 9th

Appearance: She’s 14 years younger than Cameron and she’s the cutest girl in the world, according to her father and big brother. She looks more like you, but her icy blue eyes are a gift from her father. Marie is very innocent, sweet and empathetic. For some reason she's very small for her age, though she's a healthy and energetic girl. Marie is too precious and friendly for her own good so Wriothesley and Cameron feel like they cannot take their eyes off of her. You and your husband weren't trying to have a second kid, she came as a blessing that your family embraced with much joy.

Nicknames: Angel, Love (you), Mae (mostly Cameron), Princess (mostly Wriothesley), Sunshine, Baby girl

Trivia: Her first word was “Cam” and her favorite drink is almond milk.

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author fun facts: marie is entirely based off maria from anime film "Koe no Katachi", and zahra' insects fear are sort of personal since i'm truly terrified of them. mainly butterflies.

a/n: since it seems i'm committed to keep writing and giving life to this series, i'm bringing this character profile list for those who are interested to follow it updates or just take a look on it to get a broader look and have a detailed reference when you go to picture/imagine their kids. in my drafts, i've write and described them as teenagers/young adults. so if you want to know more just reach me in my askbox :)

[belit0]

hello!! how are you?? i really like the way you write and i wanted to make a request 🫂 (only if you have time) where the Uchihas react to a drunk reader, she doesn't recognize them and they tell them that the leave her alone because she has a boyfriend, he's the best in the world and things like that (i hope you get the idea 😭).

remember to take care of yourself, drink water and rest!! 💞

I hope I got it right 👻💕

You too nonny, take care of yourself💕

Also, HC revealed, Shisui is into CNC play🙌🏻

Indra

- First of all, why (Y/N) is drinking? Women don't drink. Second, who the fuck is this oh-so-nice boyfriend? It takes him a while to realize she's talking about him, because in his head they're already married and about to start a family. What do you mean boyfriend? Her beloved husband and future father of her children, more like? He is not even a little bit amused, but helps her gently get into bed so she can go to sleep.

Madara

- Girl... girl! How he's going to laugh at her in the morning... Madara takes advantage of the drunkenness to get everything she thinks about him out of her, and loves to hear all the wonderful qualities of her "beautiful boyfriend the Uchiha king." If this is what she genuinely thinks of him, he eats up every second like it's a sweet cake. He continues to serve her alcohol only to see what her limit is, and helps her when (Y/N) ends up throwing up.

Izuna

- He's just as drunk, and says the same stupid things. It's only the next day when he looks at his cell phone and sees all the videos they both recorded he realizes the idiotic speech they both had. Just as (Y/N) was telling him to stay away because she has a boyfriend, he was telling her the same thing, rambling on about his beautiful girlfriend and all her qualities. Hilariously fascinated by the loyalty they both have for each other.

Obito

- He gets jealous of himself. Yes, it's great to hear how his girlfriend talks about this fantastic man she's dating and living with, with whom she shares everything, but he hates how he wants to give her a kiss or a hug and finds himself rejected by his own woman, WHILE SHE DESCRIBES HIMSELF! Obito decides to never let her get drunk again to this extent, and helps her with a cold shower because he can't stand her rejection anymore.

Shisui

- He takes full advantage of it to tease her. Shisui's ears are sweetened by every word of appreciation and glory his girlfriend chats about him, but he also likes the role of the bad boy who tries to make her cheat on him... with himself? The Uchiha will judge his woman's willpower, but not negatively, but because he enjoys every attempt (Y/N) makes to get away from him, yell about her beautiful boyfriend, and tell him he doesn't even look like him?

Itachi

- Aw man... When Itachi realizes the level of inebriation his girlfriend is carrying around, he respects the space she's asking for, but with a bit of irritation. He has such a good tolerance for alcohol, practice, drunk people make him desperate, more so if it's his girlfriend, even worse if she won't let him get close because of her boyfriend (him). He'll go along with the story, put up with the ridiculousness, but they'll have a talk in the morning about it.

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO?

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: 18+, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 2.9k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, needy!spencer, vague mentions of injury, dry humping, making out, cumming in pants, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, begging, light choking, brat!spencer, softdom!reader,

꩜ PROMPT(kinda): when he's begging so nicely and looking at you with those big eyes, what's a girl to do?

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

꩜ A/N: ^•-•^

You knew that Spencer could be stubborn since the day you met him, which was never much of an issue; everyone could be stubborn at times, but this was hell in a handbag. He had only been out of hospital for two days, and you already felt like you were losing your voice from spending the entire day yelling his name, not to mention constantly forcing him to stay in bed.

"Spencer! sit down! You're not supposed to even be out of the hospital yet, let alone on your feet." You scolded for about the tenth time today. Honestly, you felt like a nurse taking care of an elderly, demented man with the willpower of a thirteen-year-old boy.

"I'm fine! I can walk; I don't wanna sit down anymore." Spencer bargained with you, trying to convince you that he wasn't in complete agony, which you knew he was, and you weren't about to let him make it any worse. You needed him healed and out of your hair as soon as possible, not because you didn't want to be around him; you just knew that he wanted to be better and back out in the field.

"You're a terrible patient, you know that?" You grumbled as you walked over to him, clearly unsteady on his feet, using your shared sofa to keep himself upright. "Sit down before you fall down," you ordered, placing your hands on his shoulders and urging him back onto the couch, where he insisted on being rather than in bed, where he was supposed to be, whining about wanting to be nearer to you, which is what made you cave. You couldn't deny him quality time with you, especially when he gave you his winning puppy eyes.

"If you don't cut it out, you're going straight back to bed, or I can give the doctor one phone call and he'll be the one taking care of you." You didn't mean to be demanding or strict with him; you just didn't want him to hurt himself further. It was purely out of love, and Spencer knew that, but he just couldn't help but want to be close to you. He had spent just over a week in a boring hospital room being showered with care, but it wasn't the care he wanted. He wanted to touch you; he needed it, and he was sick of trying to drop hints.

"Will you sit with me at least? please?" He pouted with those same puppy eyes that he used to get here in the first place, and you just couldn't say no, letting out a defeated sigh. "Alright, fine, but I'm still not happy with you," you warned, pointing an accusing finger at him as you carefully sat down next to him, lifting your arm instinctively so he could rest his head on your chest, his arms snaking around your waist.

You sat there with him curled against your chest, your fingers combing through his long hair as your chin rested on top of his head. It was a completely innocent moment between the both of you, or so you thought. Your brows furrowed as you felt Spencer sneak his hand under your shirt, trailing his way up until you grabbed his wrist, stopping him just shy of his destination.

"Nice try, mister," you quipped, Spencer letting out a whine of protest, fighting your hold on his wrist to no avail. "Come on, please? Can I please just touch you?" He begged, moving to rest his chin on your shoulder, trying to go three for three with those big eyes, but you weren't going to let him win this time. You were soft on him, but not that soft; you knew exactly where it would lead.

"Nope, hands off, hoppy; I know your little ploy and it's not gonna happen." Your tone was stern as you stared him down, his hand still under your shirt and a pout still on his lips. You did feel bad denying him, but doctors orders were no strenuous activities, and although groping wasn't strenuous, what would follow definitely was.

"Please, I just wanna feel you, I promise." Spencer bargained desperately, and you could feel him breaking down your will, but you forced yourself not to fall for it. "Spencer, no, don't make promises you can't keep." You felt a tightening in your chest as he looked back at you, pouting with big, sad eyes, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes welling up with tears.

"I'll keep it, I will, I promise. Please just let me touch you." You could hear the desperation in his voice as he begged and pleaded with you, tears now truly welling up in his eyes, and you broke. "Oh Spence, shh shh, don't cry, honey," you moved to quickly cup his cheeks, walking straight into his trap as he looked up at you with his picture-perfect sad face. Who could blame you?

"j-just miss you," he sniffled, and he wasn't lying about that or trying to trick you; he did actually miss you; he missed your warm, soft body and being close to you after having spent a week with the only physical affection being a peck on the lips, cheek, or forehead and a reassuring hand in his. Needless to say, he was sexually frustrated.

"Okay, okay, but you promised only touching, got it?" You reminded him, a stern look in your eyes as he nodded eagerly before moving to bury his face in the crook of your neck, finally inching his hand up to cup your breast, an almost silent whine falling from his lips, and you melted. You wouldn't admit it, but you'd missed his touch just as badly as he'd missed yours.

You felt Spencer breathing heavily against your neck as he continued to caress your soft flesh, his other hand gripping at your soft waist as you ran your fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head as a quiet moan slipped past your lips when he suddenly pinched your nipple between his fingers, the sound making his sweatpants tighten and blood quickly rushing south.

"I-I need you, please," Spencer whined into your neck, placing a few open-mouthed kisses over your pulse, letting his tongue dart out to taste your skin, the feeling of his hot mouth on you almost clouding your judgement enough to let him continue before you realised what he was doing, snapping out of it.

"Spence, no, remember w-what the doctor said." You tried to pull away as you spoke, but Spencer just secured his arm around your waist, tugging you closer as he continued to mouth at your neck, gently suckling and licking your smooth skin, still rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

"P-Please, I'll take anything. J-Just please, please touch me," Spencer mewled, moving to press his hard length into you, wincing as he strained his leg. "Spence, sit back, please." You placed your hand on his chest, pushing him to sit back to take the strain off of his injury, Spencer whining as you did, the loss of your body heat making him pout at you.

"Spence, come one, you know better," you sighed, a sympathetic look on your face as you kept your hand on his chest, stopping him from hurting himself further. "P-Please, I c-can't; it h-hurts, please," he panted, his eyes pleading and glassy as he shifted where he sat, his tip rubbing against the inside of his pants and making him whimper.

You felt yourself losing your composure watching him buck his hips into nothing, looking at you with those pleading eyes, his hair awry and clothes wrinkled. "You promise to stay completely still?" you questioned, watching Spencer lick his lips before he nodded quickly.

"Promise, I-I promise," he breathed, watching intently as you removed your hand from his chest, quickly moving to sling your leg over him, straddling his lap, and placing your hands on his shoulders. A whimper falling from his lips the second your clothed core pressed to his as he instinctively rutted his hips upward.

"Still. Spencer. Or I'll stop." You warned, lifting yourself off his lap to prove your point. "Sorry! 'm sorry!" He apologised quickly, forcing himself to sit still, placing his hands on your hips as you slowly lowered yourself back down, moving to tuck his hair behind his ears, letting your hands rest on either side of his neck.

"Now, behave; do you hear me?" You scolded, your eyes boring into his as he nodded shakily, swallowing thickly in anticipation before you leaned in, stopping a mere inch from his lips just to tease a little for a brief moment before you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his in an open-mouthed, almost desperate kiss.

Spencer's kissing quickly got messy, his organised, precise movements becoming sloppy and desperate as he kissed you with fervour, his hands gripping at the flesh on your hips, his cock twitching in his pants as he forced himself not to fuck into you no matter how badly he wanted to.

You let your tongue slip into his mouth, the feeling making Spencer let out a muffled moan, hands tightening on your hips to ground himself as you explored his mouth, your warm tongue sliding against his, the whole thing so messy and wet, a mixture of yours and Spencer's saliva trickling down his chin.

You were the first to pull away for air, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his, and you couldn't help but pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of him, his hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen, red, and glossy with spit, all while his painfully hard, leaking cock throbbed against you. You simply couldn't resist grinding on him, revelling in the way his eyes fluttered closed, brows pulled together, and his jaw fell slack.

"Oh, p-please," Spencer breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he struggled to compose himself as you continued to grind on him, setting a steady pace as you ran your hands down from his neck to his shoulders and back up before you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before trailing down to his jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline and down to his neck, stopping to nip and suck just below his ear, the sensation of your hot mouth on him making his hips roll into you.

Spencer couldn't resist trailing his hands under your shirt again to cup your boobs, massaging them gently in his large hands as you continued sucking red and purple marks into the smooth skin of his neck, licking over each mark as you did, tangling your hands in his hair, and tugging lightly, eliciting a moan from him as you did.

Spencer could feel an all-too-familiar feeling rising in his stomach as you rutted your hips into him at a fast pace, purposefully trying to get him to cum in his pants, and he wasn't about to stop you. The feeling of his impending orgasm completely overriding his better judgement for the mess it would make.

"I-I'm gonna-" Spencer couldn't even finish what he was saying, cutting himself off with a loud whimper as you rutted your hips particularly hard into him, a quiet moan falling from your lips, the sound making Spencer throb in his pants as he shallowly fucked into you, making sure to keep his leg completely still so you wouldn't stop your movements.

"Gonna make a mess of yourself, baby?" You husked in his ear, burying your hand in his hair and tugging at the roots, a choked whimper falling from his parted lips as he squeezed his eyes closed, his jaw falling slack.

"Mhm, d-don't stop, p-please don't stop," he mewled, rutting his cock into you as he felt his release so close he could almost taste it, letting out a constant stream of whimpers and moans as you trailed your hand around from the back of his head to rest on his throat, gradually pressing your fingertips harder into his pulse.

The feeling of your hand wrapped around his throat and the blood flow being cut off had him choking out a moan, babbling incoherently, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he shot spurts of cum into his sweatpants, completely soiling them, a slew of desperate sounds spilling from him.

"Happy now, hm? Always get your way," you murmured when you realised that you'd been hustled into giving him what he wanted, the ruse of him simply missing you clouding your judgement. Spencer couldn't even reply to you, just whining quietly, completely fucked out and pliant under you. The sight making a devious idea come to mind, a smirk tugging at your lips.

You shifted off his lap to rest on his thighs, trailing your hands down his body to stop at his hips, Spencer letting out a breath, thinking you were just sweetly touching him until you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, harshly tugging them down enough to free his spent cock, the cold air making him gasp and open his eyes to look at you, a confused expression on his face until you pressed your hand to his length.

"No underwear, huh? Was this what you wanted all along?" you teased, quirking your brow at him as you slowly stroked your hand up his slick shaft, spencer writhing underneath you at the feeling, your words not even registering in his mind.

"I-I c-can't 'm sensitive," he mewled, gasping and arching his back as you wrapped your hand around his sensitive tip, purposefully paying extra attention just to watch him squirm and hear him whimper.

"Thought this was what you wanted, no? You wanted me to touch you." Your tone was low as you spoke, your words making him whine as his hips stuttered away from you, your brutal touch on his oversensitive tip making him writhe under you, pathetic cries ripped from his throat as tears welled in his eyes.

"P-Please, o-oh my g-god, please, I c-can't," Spencer gasped, his cock throbbing in your hand as you pumped his length at a fast pace, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he panted and whimpered desperately, his hands gripping your thighs as tears spilled down his flushed cheeks, the overstimulation completely overwhelming him.

"You can, baby; I know you can; c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you breathed, clenching around nothing at the sight of him, his jaw slack and brows furrowed as he arched his back, his body tense and twitching as he felt his second orgasm approaching quickly.

"M g-gonna i-i mmph," he choked out, his head tipping back as he let out a quiet sob, his lips quivering and tears streaking down his neck. "That's it, baby, look at me. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum" you practically moaned, moving your hand from where it rested on his hip to take his face into your hand, his eyes fluttering open to look at you like you told him to.

"Good boy, such a good boy," you breathed, the praise making his cock twitch, rutting his hips into your hand as he choked out nonsense, a mix of your name and desperate pleas falling from his lips before he gasped loudly, his eyes rolling back his head and mouth dropping open as he came, making a mess of your hand and himself, his back arched towards you and hands gripping your thighs so tightly you were surprised it didn't hurt.

"That's it, baby, I've got you," you breathed, wrapping your arm around him and tugging him towards you as you continued to stroke him through his orgasm, the feeling making him let out quiet sobs into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, his body shaking and twitching in the aftershocks of his high and the overstimulation.

You finally released his spent cock when he tried to squirm away from you, whining pitifully into your neck. "Shh shh baby," you murmured, wiping your hand on your pants before placing it on the back of his head and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp to soothe him, a content sigh falling from his lips as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"T-thank you," he breathed against your skin, his words making you croon at him, hugging him closer to you. "Too soft on you, y'know that?" You spoke as you let out a breathy laugh before you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, your words making him huff slightly, knowing you were right.

"m sorry, just needed you so badly," he breathed into your skin, his voice laced with guilt and his tone hushed and meek, which made you coo at him. "Aw, don't be sorry, baby, can't say no to you, not when you beg so nicely," you teased, the reminder of how he begged so desperately, making him whine out of embarrassment, his cheeks blushing a dark pink.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?" You spoke softly, stroking his hair as he nodded into you before pulling away to look up at you with those big, pleading eyes and a pretty pout on his lips. "Will you watch Doctor Who with me after?" He asked meekly, his antics making your heart swell as you cupped his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. "Of course I will, sweet boy," you spoke against his lips, feeling him smile before he surged forward to press his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, smiling into you, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

꩜ TAGLIST:

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @deluluforu @reidsdaisies @fliesforeyes @iluvreid @unimportantweirdo

(tagging moots bcs i'm annoying asf;)

[fxtalitygod]

Survival. IX

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint)

Word Count: 3.4k

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

You remembered the most content morning you had ever had. It was a relatively beautiful and tranquil day in the garden. The sky was clear, and the sun was beaming brightly, yet the weather was pleasant. It was the most satisfying day you had ever had within the temple.

It was also the day your twins spoke their first word.

You had been spending quality time with your twins, your attendant joining the activities as you both basked in their childish nature. She had grown as close as family and acted like an aunt to your kids, and if you were being honest, she felt like a sister to you in some sense. You truly appreciated her company and assistance throughout the time you had known her— especially when sharing this memorable moment.

It felt like it was out of a dream when the word effortlessly slipped from your daughter’s mouth. Moments ago, she was a child who only knew how to babble, laugh, and cry, but now she was a little girl capable of speaking. And if your daughter hadn’t surprised you enough, your son letting the same word slip next had left you paralyzed with shock.

“Mama.”

Yes, it was a standard word for a child to speak first other than Dada or Papa— a cliché, as most would say, but that was the last thing on your mind. To hear your child acknowledge you for the first time and know they recognize you as their mother was a pleasure that could not compare to the joys of sex, alcohol, or money– it is a pleasantry of its own. You swore you would do anything to hear them call you their "Mama" for as long as possible.

And if anyone took that away from you, they would be damned to hell.

The screams of a woman echoed through the temple. The shrieks were ear-splitting and could cause anybody's ears to bleed upon walking into the hearing radius. You could only listen as the screams continued, the sound muffling out as your ears began to ring again.

Why was she screaming? The woman in question should have been thrilled that your children were deceased– they would have been a threat to her. She was probably trying to win Sukuna's favor in some fucked up way. The bitch had no right to grieve in your presence nor in solitude. You had every want to strangle her soundless; however, something stopped you from that impulse.

Your throat began to burn.

At that moment, you realized the screams of grief and agony were those of your own. Nobody was present in that room, just you and Sukuna, as your cries echoed in the room and nearby halls. You were blinded by your own tears as you stared at the now-blurry image of your twin's hanging corpses, choking on your own sobs as you collapsed to the ground, holding your midriff with the painful thought that the life you had cultivated within you for nine months and raised for six years was now reduced to carcasses hanging from a wall.

Your blessings had been snatched from you, from right under your nose.

You should have known things would have not been so simple. You should have never let your guard down for even a second. This was your punishment for being so blissfully ignorant when you should have analyzed all the possible faults in your plan and anticipated any threats that remained to perform a clean escape.

You stood on weak legs, shuffling to the wall that was covered in blood. In your mind, you always thought that the blankness of those walls would drive you mad– you never anticipated that the splash of color would be the thing that forced you to insanity. The crimson dripping down the wall proved you wrong.

Your hands shook as your fingers hovered over the pins that were holding your children in place, flinching back as you swallowed the bile rising up your throat before reaching for one of the pins again. You made an attempt to hold back your sobs but with little success. Huffs, spittles, and gurgles continued to resonate from you as you held back your cries– you looked pathetic.

Your hands felt weak as you pulled the pin, the audible squelching sound of the flesh rubbing against the item sickening you to the core, yet you persisted. You pulled the lower pins that you could reach from your son and daughter, tears gushing out of your eyes as you did so. No torture was as great as this, especially when you went to reach the higher ones. You stood on your toes, stretching for the pins that were sunk into your twin's hands, but it was futile. Under normal circumstances, you could have reached that high; you would have improvised a way to do it, but your mind was numb, and your body felt weak.

"Help me," you choked as you continued to reach.

The only response you got was silence.

"Please," you weakly whispered, "Please, help me."

Silence lingered again, but before you could plea a second time– your husband spoke.

"Why?"

You paused in your movement, your breath hitching as the simple word echoed in your head.

"Why?" you repeated, bewilderment found in your whisper, "Why?"

Your head slowly turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with fury as you looked at Sukuna.

"I'll tell you why," you seethed, "For eight years, I have lived in this temple with you and your sickened whores and bastards– lived in your residence with little to no complaint. I have endured everything bestowed upon me and have managed to keep my spine straight with my head held high– and when in your presence, I have given you nothing but the lowest bows of respect despite the falsities of that action; I sacrificed my pride!" you paused to breathe before continuing, "I bore you children and dealt the blunt trauma of my impossible pregnancy and labor without complaint or ask of favor because you and I both know I would have gladly died in the process. In my life here, I have asked you for ONE SINGULAR FAVOR that would benefit both of us!"

Another pause as you caught your breath.

"The very least you could do," your voice shook with exasperation, "is grant me this one selfish wish."

"Do you understand the line you are crossing, Little Flower," Sukuna threatened as he took a few steps forward.

"Well aware," you answered without hesitation, "but at least if you killed me now, I would reunite with my children and be rid of you," you grinned mockingly at your partner.

You watched as the menacing man raised a hand, keeping eye contact with you as he did so. Normally you would have feared that this was the end of the line, but that was before your worst nightmare had already came true. Some part of you wished that he would hit you, hoping that once he did, he would snap you out of what you hoped what was an illusion of some sort, a night terror, a cursed technique, possibly a hallucination— all three were very much possibilities, but deep down you knew you were in denial, however, you did not want to accept it.

The slap never came.

Instead, your companion reached his arm above you, removing the pins that held your twins hostage against the wall. Sukuna took his time, clearly in no rush, leaving you antsy as you began to wriggle in impatience. You just wanted to hold them and look upon their innocent face. Maybe they were not dead, maybe there was still a breath of life in them, and you could somehow convince your husband to use his curse reversal technique on them due to the terms of your contract.

Maybe, just maybe…

Once the last pins restraining your children were removed, you were quick to cradle your twins, holding them close to your chest as more sobs escaped from your quivering lips. Your fingers lightly touched their skin as you caressed their faces with motherly gentleness. After moments, your cries subsided into a quiet lament as you continued to hold your little boy and girl.

You would have done anything to prevent this fate.

"Mama..." a voice spoke, but excessively strained and quiet.

You jumped up to see your little boy's eyes open no more than a slit. Without hesitation, you rushed to grab his face, babbling words of encouragement for him to stay awake. You were eager as you prepared to attempt to perform reverse cursed technique, but before you could, another strained voice sounded.

"Ma-Mama."

You panicked once more, moving to face your daughter as her condition was nearly the same. You were torn on what to do and had almost turned to Sukuna for his assistance, but it was useless. As quickly as those words were spoken were as fast as they faded back into eternal sleep.

What was this? You had to ask again, but what had you done to deserve this? To be worthy of this torture? Was there not a more deserving candidate for this cruelty you were enduring? Had you just been born to be cursed like this?

Questions raveled your mind, and thoughts ate at you alive– you were beginning to spiral. Your voice, along with many of the other voices from your past, flooded your head, screaming at you all at once as the memories began to invade your consciousness. Your head was starting to hurt from lingering in your mind, far away from reality. If anyone were to look upon your form, you would seem like the hollow husk of a woman based on how you sat there unmoving and totally silent as you stared blankly at the bloody wall– it seemed like you were looking through it like a piece of glass, that is how lost you were, until...

Everything went silent.

The voices in your head had settled, and all you could hear was Sukuna's breathing and your own echoing throughout the room. It was eerily quiet as the two of you remained.

"Their first words were their last."

You spoke without thought; the words had just slipped as you turned back to the father of your children, being met with his expressionless stare. You did not expect a response, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no happier about this situation than you were; however, Sukuna was not grieving like you were. Your reasons for your dour moods were different, but that did not matter– you both were upset about what occurred.

As you held your husband's stare, it was almost as if you had some sort of understanding with one another, communicating without speaking before turning your attention back to your twins. With caution, you gently lifted your children into your arms, slowly standing as you managed to balance their limp bodies in your hold as you walked toward the door.

Your feet moved without command as you walked through the corridor, Sukuna walking at your side as you ventured in silence. The experience was almost that of your arrival at the temple– all eyes were on you; however, there were no whispers of gossip or vial comments and disgusting displays of arousal as you departed. The tension radiating from your aura was too great for such ill manners to be publicly displayed.

You had no clue where you were going and were hardly thinking about it. Your mind was void of consciousness as you reached the grand doors of the temple, stepping out into the cool night air. A part of you wishes you could have enjoyed it, to relish your first time outside the temple walls since your marriage, but the feeling was bitter and dull, especially as you looked upon the lights illuminating from your village.

Trekking through the terrain, you watched the lights grow brighter and more prominent, similar to the unknown feeling festering in your chest. You could hear their voices, their chanting of uprising as you approached the crowd, stopping just at the border of your village. One of the village elders was the first to notice you and Sukuna's approaching figures before ceasing the noise, focusing on your arrival.

"Y/n L/n, you have finally come home. Your family will be happy to know that you have finally returned," pausing to look at Sukuna before bringing his attention back to you, "It was wise of this monster to return you as requested. Come now child, we shall reunite you with your family."

You could hear him speak and understand his meaning and indirect stab at Sukuna's pride, but the words flowed from one ear to the other as your body remained rooted at the barrier.

"Come now, child, you are free!" the elder insisted as he motioned to you, confused and seemingly irritated at your lack of response.

"No."

The word slipped out seamlessly as you blankly stared at the man, watching his expression turn into shock.

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"It means what I said," you simply responded before continuing, "Why would I come back to a home that sent me away like a lamb to the slaughter. You presented me like a slab of meat to the man you call a monster as if he were some valued patron, but suddenly, I have become worthy of retrieval after how many years? Why is that?"

"You ungrateful woman! We have pursued you for some time due to your parents' request. They paid handsomely to bring you back home, paid enough to fund our cause."

"And what cause was that?!" you retaliated.

"To kill that vile creature who stole you from us, my dear daughter!"

"...Mother," you whispered to yourself as your mom came into view, your father following her as they made their presence known.

"But it seems his influence has already tainted your mind," your mother spoke with a solemn look in her eyes, "But we can fix that if you just come home." the woman persisted as she held her arms out for a welcoming embrace.

Her comfort was tempting, but there was a lingering feeling of hesitance the longer you looked at the picture. This was something you wished for a long time, to be welcomed home with open arms, but the dream seemed stale as you stood there unmoving.

"Then why were harmless children slaughtered in his place?" you questioned.

"Harmless?" your parents uttered, baffled by your statement, "Those children were born to become monsters along with their father! They were far from harmless! That is why we had to cut them out of the picture!" your father yelled.

"...You did it?" you softly asked.

You could see your father's mouth open before closing, moving his gaze from your eyes to the motionless bodies in your arms. The disgusted faces your parents held were replaced with one of bewilderment and fear. They could finally understand your reluctance.

"Y/n..."

"They were harmless..." you started in a mutter, "They were not monsters! They were innocent! And you accused them of crimes they have never committed!"

"With their upbringing, it would have been inevitable! They were their father's children, after all!" the village elder interrupted, disdain laced in his voice.

"They were not guilty of Sukuna's crimes! They were innocent children!" you voiced, outraged with the small-minded thinking.

You looked to your parents for support but were only met by them avoiding your stare. They believed their actions were reasonable and considered them valid. You were not the one who was influenced... they were.

"Damn you all," you muttered, turning your back to the villagers.

"We did this for you to survive, Y/n! And here you are, well and alive. You kept your promise, so please come home!"

"Survived...survived..." Your chest heaved as you began to laugh hysterically. You placed your children down before rising, "Is this what survival is, just staying alive? Well, if that is the case, then yes, I have survived just like I promised, but with the cost of my life! I may have survived, but I will never live...not without them."

"There will be other opportunities to have children, my dear, with a far better suitor," your mother attempted to persuade, her arms still held open.

"Excuse me?"

That had done it.

"The man you practically sold me to was far from my first choice of significant other, but at least he managed to give my life some meaning, something to live for...and you took it from me, the last crowd of people I thought would do such a thing...how naive of me."

"Y/n, if we-"

"If you what?! Tell me, if you had known those children were mine, would you have spared them, given them mercy?"

No response.

"That's what I thought. You know I had hoped to come home with open arms, and shown by tonight, my wish came true; however, that was before I had the twins– the dream expanded to have all three of us welcomed with warmth...how pitifully optimistic of me."

"Y/n, I cannot tell you those events you hoped for would have come to fruition, but I can tell you this: you can start over, have a family you have always dreamed of... pure children."

Silence.

"They. Were. PURE!"

And just like that, the extent of that unusual feeling lingering in your chest had unleashed. The full extent of your furry had combusted in the form of your cursed energy and technique. Within the blink of an eye, what was once a bustling village full of chatter and laughter was now a blazing inferno filled with screams and cries.

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their bodies contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were retired to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollers of distress with its rapid thumping.

They were now suffering the pain and torture you had suffered for years to its full extent...

Unlike you, it was the kind of punishment they deserved.

You allowed yourself to view the sight for a few seconds longer before picking up your son and daughter, balancing them in your embrace again, and turning your back towards the village. You began to walk toward the temple, knowing better than to run off, but it was not like you had a reason to go anywhere else. There was no life for you. You were to remain by Sukuna's side until you died, and you were content with that.

"Y/n."

With all the heightened emotions and events that occurred only moments ago, you had forgotten Sukuna was there. The curse user had not muttered a word nor made a movement. He idly watched your wrath unfold, watched as you burnt your home to the ground.

You paused for a minute, looking blankly ahead as you thought of the past and reflected on your choices. Out of every action you committed, there was one you regretted most.

"I should have killed myself that morning, the morning after the ceremony. It would have saved me a lot of trouble and heartache."

With that, you walked off into the night, letting that thought of regret linger in your mind.

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya@pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one@rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade

[kitasgloves]

— ♬ NSFW

SUNA RINTARO hated himself for being the nosy person that he was. He had a knack for sticking his nose where it shouldn't belong. It began in high school with recording quarrels between the Miya Twins in his volleyball club, and it expanded to his entire social circle and he's now well known for sharing hilarious and horrible pictures of his friends. But Suna also dipped his toes into gossip, not that he shares gossip but he does enjoy listening to it. The absurdity of knowing something controversial or embarrassing served as entertainment for Suna for years to come. Suna had knowledge of the recent dramas trending on the internet or around his friend group. Essentially, Suna Rintarou loves to know everything despite how forbidden it can be.

However, now, Suna is beginning to regret it. He knows it's wrong, he's aware that he shouldn't be investigating, but something sick and twisted bloomed in his chest when he went past his roommate's door and heard a muffled whimper.

His stoic and mysterious roommate, Sakusa Kiyoomi, has been living with him for two and a half years. They got along relatively well with their shared interests in volleyball and music. Suna thinks Sakusa is a clean freak like his former-captain back in Inarizaki but he doesn't think less of him. The man was impressively handsome, intelligent, and famous so it was no surprise that people were fawning for him and worshipped the ground he walked on. Suna did his research on him, a.k.a. some stalking. From his Instagram with a scarce of posts, stumbling across some fan edits of him here and there. To old articles about Sakusa that shared rare and low-quality photographs of him. Though it seemed like no matter how deep he dug, he couldn't find any filth about the man.

"Oh, Kiyoomi is a private person. No matter how close me and him were, I have no idea what's going on in his life"

Suna recalls Komori, Sakusa's cousin, telling him that. He thought if he silently fucked around he would find out something incriminating or embarrassing about the unshakeable Sakusa Kiyoomi. Now, he wished he didn't. Suna was absolutely embarrassed and intrigued when he listened to the moaning on the other side of Sakusa's door. It was unmistakably a girl. Suna already made assumptions that Sakusa was too busy with his volleyball career to hook up or make romantic relationships, but he was wrong and he found it in the worst possible way.

"Omi, please"

Something about that woman's voice hypnotized Suna. As his shaky hand tried to push the ajar door further, he was greeted with a delicious sight. It was you, Sakusa's friend, on the bed, naked with your legs spread out as Sakusa settled between them ramming against you. Your hair was a mess, sweat glistened on your skin, and your eyes kept shutting when Sakusa hit a specific spot. Suna felt his throat go dry as his heart leaped out of his chest. He was stuck in a trance, unable to pull away from the erotic sight of Sakusa Kiyoomi pounding against you.

"You like that pretty girl?"

Sakusa purred. It was so uncharacteristic that Suna had to blink several times if this was the same man he saw every day who was always so put together now sweaty and messy. You were lying down at the edge of the bed, facing away from the door while Sakusa kneeled on the bed fucking into you. Suna had the perfect view of your tits bouncing while Sakusa drills his cock into your pussy. He knows better to pull his fucking eyes away and mind his own goddamn business, but Suna knows he wasn't that kind of guy. He was the type to always want to know more.

He wanted to know what Sakusa does to make you scream deliriously. He needed to know what makes your eyes roll back, how your lips taste, how your pussy felt. Suna knows he has no right to fantasize about you like that but he couldn't help it. He's already palming the bulge in his pants when Sakusa picks up the pace. He listens intently to your mixed moans and pants as you both chase your sweet release. The longer he watched the more he was convinced he was also inside of the room.

"Fuck, Omi!"

You screamed and reached your orgasm, Sakusa grunted and cums inside of you. At the same time, Suna was reaching inside his pants and pumping his cock. What he wasn't expecting was to lock eyes with Sakusa. His blood went cold but a rush of warmth spread across Suna's face. He was waiting for Sakusa to give him a terrifying glare, release his grip on your thighs, and march over to him to strangle him. No, instead, Sakusa smirks devilishly as he puts his cock back inside of you.

"No! Omi, it's too much!"

"Shhh, I know you can handle one more"

Sakusa begins to earnestly fuck you but his eyes were now on Suna's. He wanted to pack his bags, leave the country, and change his name, but Suna kept watching. Sakusa was looking at him teasingly, undressing his brain and finding all the filthy thoughts he was hiding. Sakusa pounds into you faster making you shut your eyes and fall into the pleasure, blissfully unaware of the voyeur in the doorway, shamelessly watching.

"Oh, just like that Omi!"

Now, Suna is matching his pace with Sakusa as he imagines himself in his place. He imagined you moaning his name. Suna locks himself into an intense state of lust as Sakusa watches both him and you with complete amusement. He was delighted by the fact he's responsible for both of your pleasures. With every pump of Suna's hand on his own dick and his cock kissing your cervix, Sakusa can feel you both getting close. His eyes trailed from Suna to you.

"Kiyoomi!"

You shut your eyes and arched your back as Sakusa feels you clench around his dick, cumming hard. His ears catch the muffled moan from Suna as he cums around his hand. When Suna realizes that Sakusa is still looking at him, he finally has the ability to retreat to his bedroom. He cleans himself up as he tries to process what the fuck he has done. A billion thoughts race his mind. Suna becomes too ashamed and weak to leave his room and face you or Sakusa. Fortunately, he heard you leave a few minutes later he locked himself up. Suna grew nervous the longer he remained alone with Sakusa in their shared apartment. He lasted two hours until he felt himself growing hungry. Suna waited for a moment when Sakusa switched off the television, seemingly now retreating to his room. When Suna opens his door and sneaks to the kitchen, he finds Sakusa leaning against the wall next to the refrigerator with a cunning smirk.

"Took you long enough to show up"

Suna gulped and tried to flee but Sakusa grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close, towering over him. Suna scrambles and tries to make up with an excuse.

"Lo-look if this was about earlier, I didn't mean it I swear"

"No, it's fine. I'm not angry"

"...You're not?"

"If I was, I wouldn't have looked you right in the eye and fucked [Name] again"

"What do you want from me?"

"Would you mind watching another round of me and my girl later? You seem to enjoy it so much"

"What the fuck?"

"Head to my room at eleven"

Sakusa whispered against Suna's ear and released him. Bewildered but excited, Suna returns back to his room. He paces around and waits until he hears the door open and your voice greets Sakusa. He mentally prepares himself for fifteen minutes before he approaches Sakusa's room. He knocks on the door and hears Sakusa saying it was 'open' before entering.

"Holy shit"

Suna said breathless because you were sitting on the edge of the bed completely naked and smiling sweetly at him, tilting your head and waving at him.

"Hi Rintaro"

Fuck, he can feel his cock stirring awake with the way you say his name. Sakusa, still dressed, instructs him to take a seat. Suna could feel his heart racing miles per second when Sakusa stripped off his shirt and started kissing you. He knew Sakusa told you about him watching you two fucking earlier, he was just not expecting you to be on board with it. Sakusa caressed your cheek with a smile.

"Are you ready to give him a show, darling?"

Your eyes meet Suna's and he melts in his seat, it is a mixture of playfulness and desire. Suna forgets about his raging boner as he stares hungrily back at you. You nod towards Sakusa.

"Let's give him the best show of his life"

You say. That alone made Suna think that tonight is going to be one fucking ride. He didn't have his phone to record the moment, only his eyes were going to capture everything. Suna wouldn't mind keeping this one a secret.

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you. 

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings. 

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before. 

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia. 

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry. 

 It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of  love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk. 

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her. 

⋆｡ °✩

“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all. 

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare. 

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it. 

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll. 

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father. 

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence. 

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all. 

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it. 

⋆｡ °✩

Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness. 

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.  

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers. 

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two. 

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat. 

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model. 

⋆｡ °✩

It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you. 

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers. 

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns. 

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point. 

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him. 

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat. 

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing. 

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing. 

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap. 

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you. 

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says. 

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise. 

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice. 

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him. 

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother. 

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them. 

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote. 

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed. 

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you. 

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch. 

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room. 

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery. 

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately. 

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while. 

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine. 

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces. 

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles. 

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

⋆｡ °✩

It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them. 

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form. 

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic. 

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out. 

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks. 

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep. 

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby. 

[hedghost]

maya le tissier | love languages

maya tells you she loves you in just about every way she can, all day, every day. she just doesn't say it in so many words. it takes you a while to catch on.

not enough maya appreciation on this app - enough is enough

word count: 8.7k

quality time

the empty bottle of wine stands sentry on the coffee table. you watch as the low glow of the tv reflects in the dregs left in your finished glasses. the volume is too low to hear what's being said, the show you were previously watching reduced to a steady background hum, but neither of you mind; you'd both stopped paying attention long ago.

you glance up from your book momentarily, your eyes flickering over the figure at the other end of the sofa. maya is similarly occupied; one hand softly tracing the words as she reads, the other absentmindedly tangling back and forth in mocha’s fur as he stretches across her feet. her hair hangs loose around her face, the lamp beside her casting her half in shadow and half in warm, orange light. mocha looks up at you, but maya doesn’t.

your attention shifts back to your book, and you settle back into familiarity. this nightly routine is one you love; the shared moment of respite from your busy schedules. it’s getting late though, and the words are starting to blur together on the page. you don’t want to disturb the peace just yet.

it’s only when you find your eyes running over the same sentence for the third time that you shift. the old sofa creaks a little as you stretch, and you let out an exaggerated groan to match it as you stand. maya laughs a little, but she doesn’t lift her gaze from the page. if she had she would have caught the way you poked your tongue out at her, and probably would have responded in kind.

maya cooked tonight, and so you begin to dutifully gather the empty dishes. it’s only when you’re arms deep in soapy water that you hear maya stand too. her book thuds against the coffee table, and mocha lets out a low bark.

“just taking the dog out,” maya calls, and you hum in response. the latch clicks. you reach a soapy hand out of the water to flick the kettle on. it’s all part of the routine.

they aren’t gone long, and their return is soon heralded by the gentle patter of mocha’s claws against the hardwood. maya pads into the kitchen, pulls two mugs and two teabags out of the cupboard, pours the water, now boiled, then hauls herself onto the worktop beside you.

“i was thinking of going on a dog walk in the woods tomorrow, you wanna come?”

“yeah sure, are the others coming?”

it’s a running joke that the 'unoffical manchester united dog walker's club' is the apex of the team’s social ladder. forget the coffee mornings, the brunches, the team nights out - if you wanted a way in for true bonding, you had to own a dog. it was common on days off for a group of the girls to get together to walk their dogs, with the intensity ranging from leisurely stroll to outright hike, depending on who had planned it. you’d learnt the hard way to politely decline when leah chose the route.

sure you didn’t technically own a dog, but having been roommates with maya for the best part of a year, and best friends for far longer, mocha was basically in shared custody. you regularly tagged along, as an honourary member of a tight-knit group.

it’s why you weren’t expecting maya to shrug and shake her head.

“i haven’t asked - i figured we could just go together. we haven’t hung out just us in a while.”

you chose not to mention that the two of you spent almost every night together in your flat, or that you’d gotten lunch together just two days ago. instead you grinned and nodded, drying your hands and taking the cup of tea that maya held out to you.

“sounds good,” you sip gently at your tea - before spitting it out with a yelp, “fuck, that’s hot!”

maya laughs brightly at you, even though you do this pretty much every day, “yeah no shit, i just made it - be patient for once!” you stick your tongue out at her, and this time she does see it, and she does return the gesture. it’s childish, sure, but your friendship had started in the youth age groups, and, although you were responsible adults now, some things never change.

you lean back against the counter as you wait for the tea to cool, and the two of you begin chatting a little while longer about not much at all. eventually maya jumps down, rinsing her mug and heading to her room, mocha in tow. you follow her, your own cup only half-drunk, flicking off the lights as you do so.

“night y/n,” maya says softly as she pushes her door open, lingering slightly in the doorway. she watches you clumsily shoulder open your own door, opposite hers, waiting for you to reply.

“goodnight maya.”

—-

maya was already up when you emerged the next morning, early mornings always coming to her more easily than they did to you. she always looked so put together when she woke up, a stark contrast to your disheveled appearance. not that either of you cared - those boundaries of self-consciousness had long been washed away between the two of you. it was only maya after all.

“there’s coffee in the pot,” she mumbled, chewing her words around her cereal.

“thanks, you’re an angel.”

“you ready to head out in a bit?” maya asked, having now swallowed her mouthful. you groaned a little in jest, but maya’s bright eyes shone with humour, and you nodded.

“sure, sure - although you know it’s called a day off for a reason?”

“you agreed to it, plus you’ve had like a two hour lie-in.”

“i know, i’m actually feeling very well-rested.” you placed your cereal down, seating yourself across from maya with a grin, “it’s just more fun to moan at you.”

“glad to hear it,” maya smirked, taking another spoonful. she knew you well enough to know that your moaning was only ever lighthearted, and she was perfectly happy to indulge you. you liked that about her, liked how easy it was to settle into that playful teasing whenever you were around each other, which in fairness, was most of the time.

---

you walked barely a half-step behind maya, eyes focused on the imprints her shoes left in the rain-softened ground, but ears firmly locked onto her latest anecdote. she turned slightly to look at you as she talked, and when you laughed, she did too. she looked so comfortable when she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled and her head tilted back. walking alongside her, you felt equally light. she paused to fall in step with you, still smiling. the two of you made eye contact, and you couldn't help the way your smile grew. maya looked away, fiddling with the dog lead she held in her hands.

"by the way, the girls were talking about having dinner tonight at millie's, do you wanna go?" maya asked, eyes flickering over the trees that surrounded you, before eventually landing back on you. you shrugged, giving maya a guilty smirk.

"is it bad that i can't really be bothered?" you scrunched your nose up, but maya smirked back again, shaking her head. maybe you were imagining it, but her posture almost seemed to loosen, as if she were relieved. you didn't ponder it long though, because the splitsecond thought faded as soon as maya spoke, and your attention diverted back to solely her.

"no, me too!" she grinned conspiratorially, "i'm glad it's not just me - i love them and everything, but we see them literally all the time, i kind of just want a quiet night in."

"well, you see me all the time - better not be getting sick of me now le tissier?" you raised an eyebrow playfully. with anyone else, maya's words might have worried you, might have played on your insecurites of being too much, too overbearing. with anyone else, your reply might've been edging on serious, might've taken every inch of your body not to let your worries seep into your voice, but this was maya. you didn't have to worry about that with her, and so your tone was light, purely joking. maya's reply confirmed as much.

"oh god, like you wouldn't believe," maya countered back with a grin, before she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out to the empty woods around you, "somebody help! this fucking stalker won't leave me alone!"

the sound echoed through the trees, and you nudged her with your shoulder, hard enough to send her stumbling, feet slipping off the path and into the muddy ditch. you laughed, before wrapping a hand around her bicep and pulling her back to walk beside you. all this time, maya's grin never wavered, and she looked up at you, eyes shining.

"you’re such a dickhead, these trainers were clean earlier."

"that's on you for wearing white shoes to the woods to be honest."

maya rolled her eyes, before calling for mocha to come out of the same mud she'd just stepped into. you loved days like this, so familiar, so comfortable, where you and maya just slipped into playful teasing. it was this easy banter, the kind that comes with years of friendship, that made hanging out with maya so, well, easy.

"seriously, though," maya's voice was softer as she looked over at you, a little shyer. "i could never get sick of you - you're different." this side of her you loved too, the warm, gentle soul, always willing to extend a hand of comfort, or an olive branch.

"i could never get sick of you either maya."

she smiled back at you, and it was like the sun got a little brighter.

---

the rest of your day off had passed similarly, with shared smiles, inside jokes, and teasing banter, until you and maya found yourself collapsed next to each other on your shared sofa. the same positions as always - you curled up against one arm, maya reclined comfortably against the other, legs outstretched.

maya picked up her book, immediately immersed, but yours remained closed on your lap. you snuck a look at her, chewing your lip in thought, replaying the day in your mind.

it had been nice - as it always was with maya. you appreciated it, the quiet time with her, where you never had to do much except exist. maya gave you that - the freedom to just be.

your musing was interrupted by the harsh buzz of maya's phone against the coffee table.

"pass me that?" maya murmured, too engrossed in her book to even look up. you reached over, not without an exaggerated groan to hint at your displeasure at being made to move. maya kicked you as you held out the phone to her.

"shut up - can you just read it to me?"

you groaned again at being given the laborious task of unlocking her phone. opening her messages though, your attention piqued a little. the text from mary was innocuous at best, but it was maya's earlier messages that caught your eye.

"well," maya looked up at you expectantly, cutting you off from your thoughts, "who was it?"

"oh uh," you internally shook yourself a little, still a little confused at the messages, "just mary, she said, uh, she'll see you tomorrow."

"oh cool, thanks y/n," maya turned back to her book with a smile, a preoccupied air clouding her words. silently, you clicked maya's phone shut and placed it down, thoughts firing. you were a little perplexed - maya was never one to turn down plans, and especially not with made up excuses. she loved getting coffee with mary; they did it all the time. or at least, you realised, they used to.

you tried to think back to the last time maya had met mary for coffee. now you thought about, it must have been a while. your schedules were jam packed, and you and maya had spent pretty much every day off recently together. first you wondered if they'd had a falling out, but from the way they were texting you dismissed it quickly.

then it occurred to you, just briefly, that maybe maya was one to turn to down plans, and maybe you just hadn't noticed it, because she never did it with you. you shook your head. that wouldn't have made any sense. the dog walk earlier had probably just been one of the errands maya had mentioned, and she'd just asked you along for company.

yeah, you thought, slowly picking up your book, that was probably it.

words of affirmation

the thoughts flickered in your head the next morning, as maya picked up an extra coffee on your way to training. they stirred a little more as you watched maya interact with mary, searching for any irregularites, but finding none. they resurfaced again over the course of several days, as you noticed maya turn down coffee, then lunch, then dinner with various teammates. all in favour of just hanging out at home.

but this was maya, you thought, so she was a homebody, so what? who were you to judge, given that usually you'd also gladly take a calm night in at your flat over a hectic night out with the girls. the thoughts faded pretty quickly after that, and by the time sunday rolled around, they were pretty much nonexistent.

your attention focused instead on the game ahead of you. as with every week, the nerves seemed to roll inside you like waves cresting over one another, instead of neatly against the shore. it was something you'd never quite managed to shake, the overwhelming feeling of stress before a match, leaving you feeling disjointed, all jagged around the edges. it was fine usually, something you'd come to deal with. you'd learnt to take those feelings and channel them into fire.

nobody's perfect though. sometimes, you needed a helping hand. and true to form, maya could always tell when. no man is an island, as they say, and there was maya, always ready to leap into those stormy waters, paddle in hand, lifejacket on.

"hey you."

"hey," you sighed, looking over at maya as she sat down heavily next to you. you could tell maya didn't need a second look to understand how you were feeling. you gave a half-heartened smile.

"sorry," you murmured, trying to shake yourself out of it, "i'm all-"

"jittery?" maya filled in, soft smile gracing her features, "yeah, i know."

you nodded begrudgingly, taking a deep breath in. you wanted to speak, to explain more, but it was as though maya sensed you couldn't quite do it. she stepped in.

"hey, you got this okay? you always do."

you opened your mouth, but maya's gaze found yours, and you found yourself believing her. you were never really one for eye contact, but something about maya made it easy. maybe it was how kind her eyes looked, how knowing; like every thought or worry you'd ever had was reflected back in them - broken down, understood, seen. maybe it was just because they were pretty.

"nerves are good, remember? they mean you want to do well," maya echoed your mantra back to you, and you listened. words always sounded better coming from her.

"i know you'll play well, because you always do. you're a great player, you're tough, you're smart, you're good. there's no one else i'd rather have next to me on the pitch. the team trusts you. i trust you."

you nodded, pulling maya in for a hug. you closed your eyes, breathing her in. her breath tickled your neck as she whispered, "and if it goes wrong, i've got your back. always."

"thanks," you smiled, though she couldn't see it, "love you."

maya nodded, pulling back with a smile. her hand lingered on your thigh as you met her eyes once again. "let's smash it."

---

you did, in fact, smash it. the game went well, a perfect result - clean sheet and a win - and right at the heart of it, was you and maya. maya and you, ever solid, ever present. she was right, as she always was.

your defensive partnership had seeded itself from the early ages, when the two of you were young, shy kids in the england youth groups. it had blossomed and strengthened through your brazen teens, and now, finally together at club level, it was a force to be reckoned with.

you were both good players individually, but your closeness off the pitch was what cemented it as brilliant. you read each other so well, it was honestly sometimes scary. sometimes it felt like maya knew what you were going to do before you did. you often didn't even have to speak, but you did anyway, because it was maya, and you liked speaking to her. any excuse for a chat.

"see? told you you'd be fine," said maya as she sidled up next to you when you left the pitch. you elbowed her side and laughed.

"just fine? did you see that sick tackle i did?"

"hmm, mine was better," maya winked, and you rolled your eyes, pushing her into the changing rooms with a loud laugh.

---

the day ended as it always did: you and maya (and mocha) on the sofa, too worn out to do much else. today though, the tv was blaring, its sounds interspersed with your laughter and commentary of the godawful show maya had turned on.

"can you believe this shit?" you laughed, turning to look at maya, "why are we watching it?" she rolled her eyes.

"because its funny, shut up."

"and because you fancy the main character." you gave maya a sly smirk, which she returned with an eyeroll.

"maybe..." then she grinned widely, "can you blame me?"

"nah, i get it."

you laughed, reclining back into the sofa. mocha gave you a disgruntled look as you pulled your feet up to rest in maya's lap, nudging him from where he lay. you turned back to the show. okay so maybe you were a little invested now. feeling eyes on you though, you looked back to realise maya hadn't done the same.

"what?" you smiled.

"nothing," if you didn't know better, you'd say maya looked a little sheepish. you weren't sure why. you gave her a questioning look, complete with raised eyebrow, "just zoned out a little."

you shrugged and nodded, half turning back to the tv. maya, however, seemed to want to say more.

"your, uh, your hair looks nice like that," she said. you tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze was back fixed on the tv.

"oh, thanks," you murmured, a little surprised. not at the compliment - maya gave you them all the time - but more at her tone. it was soft, borderline shy. you weren't sure why she was being weird.

"you should wear it down more often," maya looked back at you, and just like that her usual easy smile back, her brief awkwardness now dissipated.

"i mean i would if i could - having it up for training all the time kills my head."

"god same," maya gave an exaggerated whine, and the laughter was back, "i'm not going to have a hairline by the time i'm 25."

---

by the next morning, you barely remembered the compliment, having gone on to spend the rest of the night fixated on that stupid tv show, admittedly only to loudly debate the attractiveness of each character with maya.

it was only when you reflexively went to put your hair up that it crossed your mind again. you made pensive eye contact with yourself in the mirror, before gently placing the hairband down. no particular reason.

it seemed mary had finally managed to corral maya into getting coffee, and so she was nearly out the door by the time you headed into the kitchen for breakfast. digging around in her bag for her car keys, she looked up at you briefly, smiling in small greeting.

"you doing anything today?" she asked, and you shook your head, fully intent on just relaxing on your day off, "i'll be back in a couple hours, shall i pick up a few bits for lunch?"

"sounds good," you nodded, although your attention was very much focused on finding yourself some breakfast first.

"cool," maya shrugged on her jacket hurriedly, only pausing at the door to call back over her shoulder, "that outfit looks really good on you by the way!"

you barely even had time to look up before she was gone.

---

you'd be lying if you said the compliment didn't put a little spring in your step for the rest of the morning. you told yourself it was just the same as any old compliment, but there was a niggling feeling that it was made that much sweeter just because it came from maya. two compliments in two days - you were being spoiled.

although now you thought about it, maybe it wasn't that out of the ordinary. you'd intended to spend your free morning slothing out on the sofa, maybe catching up on the shows you'd missed, or finishing the book you'd been neglecting of late. instead, you found yourself thinking back on your many interactions with maya.

the more you thought, the more you realised just how often maya said nice things to you. for all the two of you teased and joked, you could pick out a dozen examples just this week of maya complimenting you - superficial things like your hair, your clothes, your make-up, but not just that.

on the pitch, you realised, she would frequently offer words of appreciation, calling out that you'd done well in a drill as she ran past you, patting you on the back as she congratulated you on a tackle, a block, a pass. even beyond that, just yesterday in an interview she'd said you were her favourite person to play with. the day before that she'd mentioned how much she loved being around you.

the moments, all seemingly inocuous at the time, now seemed to pile up before your eyes. linking them all together was the warm feeling you felt whenever she'd say something, and the soft smile she'd offer in return. you sipped your coffee slowly, a startling thought dawning on you - were you a compliment whore?

with this newfound information about yourself, you tried to think of compliments you'd been given by others, but surprisingly came up short. with a jolt, you realised you didn't remember because in all honesty, you didn't really care. it was only maya's opinion that mattered.

this realisation was somewhat startling, and you didn't quite know what to do with it. you knew from past experience that you often had a tendency to come up with wild fantasies, to see things that weren't quite there when it came to romance. you shut down the thoughts, refused to think about what it might mean. maya was your best friend, of course you wanted her to think highly of you. it didn't mean anything.

you pushed the thoughts away, locking them up for a rainy day. this is why you shouldn't be left alone - you started thinking. as maya had joked to you many times before; that was dangerous.

the door opened, and maya appeared, laden with bags.

"this doesn't look like just 'a few bits', maya," you grinned, watching her struggle for a second before standing to help.

"shut up," she said, watching as you took the, admittedly heavy, bags and placed them on the counter. she walked past you, squeezing your upper arm in the process, "nice biceps."

you made a playful show of flexing them, and tried not to think about the warm feeling that swelled up inside you. the realisation that you'd do pretty much anything to get her to compliment you again hit you like a slap to the face.

physical touch

thoughts and feelings continued to rattle around inside you for the next few days. now that you'd opened the floodgates, it was getting harder and harder to deny the brewing thoughts that accompanied every single thing maya did. you tried endlessly to push them back down, adamant that you just saw her as a friend. and it worked, if only for a little while.

the thing is, the harder you tried, the more you denied it, maya had this uncanny way of worming her way back into your heart. you supposed it was a side effect of her being just so, well, perfect.

you told yourself it was only because she was your best friend, your, strictly platonic, soulmate. these past few weeks however, try as you might, you couldn't deny that, just maybe, you were developing a crush.

maybe you had been for a while.

you tried to ignore it, but every day you registered a new thing that dragged you down a little deeper. maya could make you smile by just being around you. maya could say exactly what you needed to hear. every word was like a breath of fresh air, every look was warm sunlight, and every touch was a spark of electricity.

and, as you'd recently realised, there was a lot of touching. you and maya were touchy friends, the kind who had no qualms about casual embraces or friendly physicality. you'd never noticed it before, probably because it had never meant anything before, but lately you noticed just how frequently maya sought out your touch.

the first time you'd really registered it, you'd been out at a bar with the girls, celebrating the latest win. you hadn't quite realised the extent of your feelings, still in the early phases of filtering through what they all meant, and steadfastly denying most of them.

the air was warm and stuffy, contributing to that heady feeling of the alcohol catching up with you. you leant against the bar, watching the girls gathered together in a booth, their raucous laughter audible even from where you stood. you tried to ignore how your eyes unconsciously shifted back over to maya, or how her laughter seemed to stand out as louder than the rest.

your thoughts were cut off by a rough hand grazing your waist. you shifted out of the stranger's grasp, but there wasn't much leeway at the packed bar.

"you here alone, sweetheart?" you took another small step back as the man turned to you. his heavy scent of beer and sweat clung in the air, almost suffocating.

"no, i'm with friends, thanks," you muttered, trying to make eye contact with the bartender so you could get your drinks and go.

"i'm sure they wouldn't mind if you found some other company..." his rough hand reached out to touch your hand, and you grimaced, pulling away.

"i'm okay thanks."

"at least let a guy buy a pretty girl a drink."

you were just considering leaving the bar altogether when you felt another arm slink around your waist. this one, however, was soft and slight, and welcome. you sank backwards, letting the familiar smell of vanilla shampoo envelope you.

"she's already got one, thank you." maya's voice was firm, and you let her drag you away, back to the table. she passed you a drink, her arm still comfortably tight around your waist.

"you okay?" she asked, voice low and concerned, as you both sank into your seats. you nodded, trying to regain a bit of clarity.

"yeah thanks, fucking creep," you shot a quick glance over to the bar, where the guy still remained, before looking back into maya's concerned eyes and nodding again, "thanks for the drink."

"no problem - just, stay with me for the rest of the night, yeah?" you nodded, having no intention of doing any different. maya's expression flickered protectively, making her eyes look several shades darker.

it was only a little later, when you were halfway through your drink and had all but forgotten your vile encounter, that you registered that maya still hadn't moved her arm. you were unaware if she even knew herself, the both of you now comfortably drunk. the two of you were pressed up against one another in the booth, her fingers stroking absentmindedly at where your shirt had ridden up. an unbidden shiver ran through you, your sudden awareness making each touch feel like a static shock.

"you okay?" maya must have noticed the way you tensed up, because she turned to you, lazy smile clouded with inebriety. you could only nod. shaking yourself internally, you resolved yourself to dealing with your feelings tomorrow, and sank back into her. you leant heavily into her, missing the way her soft smile grew as you did. maya didn't move her hand all night.

when you woke the next morning, it was to a headache and hazy memories of the early hours. you dragged yourself to lie on the sofa, only after downing some water and painkillers.

maya joined you some time later, looking equally worse for wear. she sluggishly filled her water bottle, before trudging over to the sofa.

"i knew those jagers were a bad move," she groaned.

"i distinctly remember you saying the complete opposite last night," you laughed, opening your arms for her. you didn't think much of it as you did, but when maya collapsed on top of you for a hug, the memories of last night flooded back. you couldn't argue with the warmth that flooded your body as maya nestled on top of you. it was time to accept that you felt more for her than any friend should.

"you should've stopped me," she groaned into your chest, her arms wriggling their way around your back. you swallowed, before deciding, perhaps stupidly, to just give into it. you'd deal with the consequences of falling for her later.

"i tried! you called me boring then bought another round," you laughed, your hand coming up to rest on her back.

"oops," you felt maya grin into your chest, "what are you watching?"

"just shitty tv," you replied, "wanna change it?"

"nah, i'm okay," her reply was muffled, and you nodded, stroking her back softly. as you felt maya's breathing even out, you had a sinking feeling that there was no going back now.

---

from then, it was like a switch had been flicked. whereas before, you'd barely noticed all maya's hugs and touches, now, each one seared itself permanently into your brain - and your skin.

some of the touches were accidental, you assumed, maya brushing up against you as she walked past, or her thigh pressed up against yours as you sat together in the changing room.

others were obviously intentional - maya playing with your hair as you lay on the sofa, or placing a casual arm around your shoulder during training, maya leaning her head on your shoulder during team talks, or taking your hand to drag you around behind her. and of course, the most frequent of all, the hugs that punctuated pretty much every single interaction you had.

it would be a lie to say you didn't enjoy it, but now that you'd had to accept why each touch meant a little more, sometimes it bordered on some kind of glorious torture.

there were also other instances, where you were unsure if maya even meant the touches or not, her actions hanging precariously in the balance between conscious and absentminded. as her hand grazed the small of your back for the countless time that morning though, you were starting to suspect it wasn't all entirely accidental.

this gave way to another problem though, in that it was getting harder and harder for you to deal with, without melting each time she so much as touched you, or breathed in your direction.

it didn't help that you were starting to notice how naturally flirtatious maya could be. if you weren't certain that maya didn't have an evil bone in her body, you'd almost believe she was doing it on purpose. luckily, you knew maya was absolutely unaware of her nature, and this was just something she did with everyone. sucks for you.

the unfortunate thing about having a crush on your best friend is that you find yourself accidentally staring at them far too often. it was no surprise, then, that a lot of your free time was allocated to observing maya. any time you weren't sneaking glances at her you spent thinking of ways to make it not obvious that you were sneaking glances at her.

okay, so yes, you definitely needed to get over her, but you could allow yourself some indugences, right?

the thing was, you were starting to observe new things about maya. firstly, the way she always threw her head back when she laughed, properly laughed. secondly, the way she'd play with her ring whenever she was either nervous, or bored. and thirdly, that maya was not actually a naturally flirtatious person.

contrary to what you'd been firmly telling yourself, maya was not like this with everyone. sure she was still touchy, but the longer you watched, the more you noticed the differences in how she acted with the others, and how she acted with you.

---

the uncharacteristic spring heat clung in the afternoon air around you, disturbed only by the occasional breeze. you paused your run down the field, sensing that maya had the play under control, and had gone herself. you dropped back slightly to cover her, watching her recieve the ball and expertly pass it on to lucia, who was straight through on goal. you didn't need to hear the way the crowd exploded to know she'd scored.

you pumped your fist and watched as the girls further upfield swarmed one another, but even from where you stood you could pick out maya amongst them. you took note of the way she hugged lucia, the way she clapped the other girls on the back, filed the images away in your mind.

maya jogged back towards you, so you grinned and held out a hand to congratulate her on the assist. you noted the way her smooth palm clasped yours, and the firmness of her grasp as she pulled you into her. you'd seen how she'd hugged the others, firm and fast, clapping them twice on the back before pulling away.

the way she hugged you, the way your body slid into hers, just seemed different. this was steady, grounding. her arms seemed to envelope you, slotting you gently into place, and when she pulled away her hands lingered, fingers smoothing out your shirt collar, her touch feather-soft. it seemed like more.

you tried to ignore it, really you did, but when the final whistle blew and her hand found yours, you couldn't help but wonder. you compared the way she congratulated the others on the win, all friendly grins and joking pushes. sure, she did that with you too, but with you it always seemed a little softer, a little longer. you started to wonder if all those casual touches you'd labelled as accidental were anything but. maya didn't seem to do that with anyone else.

you must've been reading too much into it, you eventually decided. maya was probably just more relaxed around you since you were best friends. you were just getting ahead of yourself, thoughts clouded by your unhelpful crush, seeing things you wanted to see. surely.

that's what you told yourself as maya sat next to you in the changing room, her fingers brushing your thigh.

gift giving

you sighed, running your hand down your face. your thoughts had been running hard and fast since the game yesterday, and you were desperate to think of anything else. you'd spent the day trying to busy yourself, but it was a difficult feat given that you and maya had still spent the day joined at the hip.

it had been hard to not think about it when you walked the dog together and her arm kept bumping up against yours. it had been hard when you'd gone out for lunch and she'd loaded you with covert compliments. it had been even harder when she'd bought you a coffee, completely unprompted, your order memorised to a tee.

as much as you loved spending time with maya, you were somewhat grateful that she'd since headed to the shops alone, giving you a slight reprieve. it couldn't be healthy, reading far too much into situations that were clearly just based off years of friendship.

"i'm home!" the shout echoed around the flat, and you swivelled in your seat with a smile that you just couldn't help. maya dumped the bags then padded towards you. "close your eyes, i got you a present."

"should i be worried?" knowing maya she was probably about to put something absolutely ridiculous in your hands, but you dutifully did as she asked anyway.

you felt the crinkle of packaging as your hands closed around the mystery item. you opened your eyes cautiously, but your heart melted a little as you saw a packet of your favourite sweets.

"for me?" you asked, slightly confused. maya nodded, eyes sparkling, "aw thanks," your voice was genuine, if a little perplexed, "uh, why?"

maya shrugged, flopping down onto the sofa next to you, "why not?"

you smiled, glad maya couldn't see you blush. pulling the packet open, you held it out to maya, who popped one into her mouth, then leant her head against your shoulder.

---

it was a few days later that you realised the sweets weren't an isolated incident. in the past week alone she'd brought home coffee for you (three times), some chocolate you liked (twice), a new waterbottle (yours was always leaking and it was apparently 'doing her head in'), a mug that she thought you'd like, and a small stuffed crab that she said reminded her of you (that one had definitely been a dig, but you chose to ignore it). for a second you had a worry that you'd forgotten your own birthday.

it seemed like every time maya left the house, she came back with some little snack that she knew you liked, or some trinket that 'made her think of you'. she was like a fucking magpie.

you said as much to mary at lunch, maya having just deposited her protein bar that she 'didn't want' in your lap. it just so happened to be your favourite flavour.

"sorry, am i hearing things, or are you complaining about getting free food?"

"i'm not complaining! i'm just... confused," in fairness, you weren't even sure what you were confused about. mostly you just wanted to vent about your crush - without actually having to own up to the whole crush thing. "and it's not just food! yesterday we walked the dog on the beach and she kept collecting pretty stones for me,"

"well, you know, it's maya, she's not much of a talker."

"what? maya talks all the time," you looked at mary incredulously. maya had literally just been chatting her ear off.

"no, i mean she's not much of a talker," she gave you a knowing look, and you just stared back, even more confused now. mary rolled her eyes, "about her feelings, idiot."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"god, the pair of you are as thick as each other." mary slapped your shoulder and then rose from her seat, leaving you staring after her, more lost than ever.

---

it was only when maya tried to pay for your dinner the next day, that you wondered if mary was suggesting that maya had feelings for you. you tried not to even entertain the thought, because regardless of how much you wanted it to be true, you knew it couldn't, wouldn't end well.

the smallest part of you, the sensible part, the part not yet utterly consumed by all things maya, knew that you'd only be getting your hopes up. as much as it hurt to pine after maya like this, any sort of rejection would hurt far, far more. and so, you ignored and dismissed it. there was no way that someone like maya could ever fall for someone like you.

maya's actions were purely platonic, you decided. she was a good friend, and that was the end of it. that was what you convinced yourself, that was what you repeated as a mantra every time you looked at the little crab toy that maya had placed beside your bed, 'to keep you company'.

that was what you tried your best to believe when maya came into the kitchen the next day, hands behind her back. you looked up from cooking with a soft smile and a raised eyebrow. she looked back at you, almost shyly.

"i, uh, i thought you might like these," maya didn't make eye contact with you as she thrust a modest, yet beautiful, bunch of daffodils towards you. your heart melted, and you tried desperately to not let your mind run away with itself. still though, you couldn't help it. maybe, just maybe, maya felt something for you too.

your mind lit up with possibilities, with fantasies, with dreams. maybe this was the moment you'd dreamed of. maybe she was about to confess, to ask you on a date, maybe-

"you know, for the flat," maya said hurriedly. maybe not, "the shop was uh, they were going to bin them so they were on clearance, they might be a bit manky," maya trailed off, still avoiding eye contact.

you tried not to let yourself get disappointed. this was exactly why you shouldn't get head of yourself. reaching out to take them, you smiled and inspected them. there didn't seem anything wrong with them at all.

"no, they're lovely," the emotion crept into your voice despite yourself, and you had to clear your throat, "uh, for the flat - they'll look lovely in the flat."

maya smiled and met your eyes, properly this time. for a split second the shyness was gone, just pure, honest maya. then she swallowed, turned, and hurried out the room.

acts of service

the thing about trying to get over maya, was that she made it so fucking difficult. how were you meant to forget about someone who treated you so perfectly, who could do no wrong, who regularly went out of their way to do things for you? how were you supposed to do anything other than fall in love?

so you stopped denying it, and instead you justified it. you let the full delusion of falling for your best friend overtake you, and let maya's endless perfection drag you deeper and deeper each day.

now that you'd accepted maya didn't see you like that, every day felt like a constant bombardment of kind gestures. the worst part was, you could never ever hate it. that was the thing with maya - she didn't even realise how good she was.

and so, you did the only thing you knew how to. you started to withdraw from maya. not majorly, not enough that she would notice, of course, just enough distance to give yourself a little time to get your head straight.

distance had never really factored into your close friendship before though, and maya was unwavering in her presence. it was like she had a sixth sense for when there was something weighing on you, and she made it her mission to help ease that load.

"hey, i made you a cuppa," maya knocked lightly on your open door and poked her head around. you couldn't help but smile genuinely at the gesture, "i'm doing some washing, you want me to do yours too?"

"oh, thank you, is that okay?" you asked hesitantly, and maya nodded. you slid off your bed and began to gather the dirty washing that lay strewn across your floor. you were never too great at keeping your room tidy on the best of days, but whenever your mind ran away from you, it was always the first thing to deteriorate. of course, maya knew this.

"yeah course," maya placed the tea down on your bedside table, then perched in her usual position on your bed to watch you. "you okay?"

there was a slight waver in her voice, and you could read her so well that you immediately recognised it as concern, laced with a tiny bit of anxiety. you knew maya, knew her mind would worry. you didn't want her to blame herself, and instantly you felt bad.

arms now laden with clothes, you straightened and nodded, "yeah sorry, just tired." then, seeing the soft smile on maya's face, you couldn't keep it up much longer, "i'm coming in now anyway, you want to watch something?"

maya smiled, taking the clothes from you, "sounds good, give me five minutes!"

sighing, you watched her leave. well, your plan didn't last long. picking up the tea, you followed her into the living room. distance clearly wasn't going to work.

---

"hey, maya?" you called hurriedly, rummaging through your cupboard. she hummed in response, "have you seen my-"

"your boots?" maya appeared in the doorway, holding out your shoes with a smirk, "they were dirty as hell so i cleaned them for you."

"oh," you blushed, "thank you," you took them from her, almost reverently. she was just too good for you.

"now let's go - we're gonna be late!"

you followed her out the door, taking a deep breath in. you were already stressed, you had so much to do, and if maya was going to be this sweet to you all day, you were worried you might just keel over and die.

---

"i'll make dinner tonight, okay?"

you nodded, peeling off your soaked through socks with a wince. maya sat next to you in the changing room, already showered and dressed, her hand placed comfortingly on your thigh. training, as expected, had been awful, it was cold, wet, and your mind had been occupied. you knew you'd played crap, but coach had so kindly reminded you multiple times, leaving you to run an extra few laps once training was done.

you only had yourself to blame. things with maya were just piling up, everything else seemed to be going wrong, and it was taking all your effort to keep yourself sane without upsetting her. distance might've been the easy way out, but there wasn't a chance in hell that you'd do anything to make maya feel guilty, or worried.

all you wanted was to have a warm shower, go home and collapse on the sofa, preferably next to maya. unfortunately, your agent had other plans, and you were required at some media thing before you could relax. you sighed at the thought. you had so much to do this weekend too, plus your room needed cleaning, the mess having steadily piled up from the stress of it all.

and now here was maya, ever thoughtful, offering to cook dinner, even though it was your turn tonight. she was so sweet, you could almost cry. you took a deep breath, turning to look at her.

"you're the best maya." she smiled in response, and squeezed your thigh, before standing.

"i know, now go shower, you look like shit."

only maya could pull a laugh out of you at times like this. you nodded, and dragged yourself dutifully to the shower, wishing you could fast forward the next two hours so you could just go home.

---

the media stuff, as expected, had been shit. sure, some people enjoyed that kind of thing, but to you it felt like being paraded around like a dancing bear, just being poked and prodded with sticks. okay, maybe you were exagerrating, but today had just been really, really shitty, and you wanted to go home.

you fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the rain, before finally, thankfully, managing to push the door open. you stepped inside, soaking in the warmth, and the smell of maya's cooking. your eyes adjusted to the low, orange light, and you felt yourself relax almost immediately.

there was low music coming from the kitchen, and you could hear maya humming gently along. hoisting your heavy bag a little further up your shoulder, you elbowed open your bedroom door, before stopping in your tracks.

your eyes widened as you took in your room - what had earlier resembled a bomb site now looked cleaner than you'd ever seen it. there were even candles lit on the desk, filling the room with flickering shadow and the comforting smell of vanilla. maya's vanilla.

you heard hurried footsteps behind you, before you felt maya come to a stop behind you. you couldn't quite bring yourself to turn around, for fear of her seeing the emotion threatening to spill out of your eyes at such a small, but meaningful, gesture.

"i, um, i tidied your room for you," maya sounded tentative, nervous even. she rushed to continue. "i just knew you'd had a rough day and i know your room gets messy when you're stressed so i just wanted to help, i hope you don't mind," you didn't know what to say, it was so small, but it felt like the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for you.

when you didn't reply maya spoke again, quieter this time, "i'm sorry, did i do the wrong thing?"

at maya's apology, you spun to face her, rapidly shaking your head.

"no, maya, i- thank you," you rushed to placate her, not wanting her to worry. your voice was choked, full of feeling. you pulled her into a hug, and she breathed an audible sigh of relief, as though she had been expecting you to be angry.

you held on tighter than you should've. you couldn't think of any other way to convey your thanks. it was such a tiny gesture, but to you, it meant everything. after such an awful day, maya had gone out of her way just to make things a little lighter. something she knew you struggled with when you were stressed, and she'd just helped you like it was nothing. you couldn't put it into words.

you'd never felt so loved.

you paused, pulling out of the hug, deep in thought, because that was exactly it. you thought back to why you were so desperate to get over maya, driven by fear of repeating the past, full of failed relationships and heartbreak.

before, in relationships, you'd always been filled with doubt. they'd said the words, sure, but how were you ever meant to be certain that they meant them? you'd keep yourself awake at night, worrying if they were serious, until either they proved you right, or your insecurites drove them away.

but here, with maya, it felt different. all that doubt, all that insecurity, you realised you've never felt like that with maya. all of a sudden, and with some certainty, you realised you've known for quite some time.

you think back to all the gifts, all the touches, all the time and the looks, the actions and the words, and you realise there's never been any lingering doubt. maya has shown you time and time again that she loves you. now you had some catching up to do.

"hey maya?" she hums, already moving to leave your room. ordinarily, you would never have been this bold, this confident. ordinarily, you would've been twisting your fingers in anxiety, stuttering out the words. right now, however, you had never been so sure.

"i love you too."

you've said those words countless times to her, but you know it's different now. you can tell maya can tell from the tone of your voice too, because when she looks up at you there's no confusion, only eyes swimming with hope, and pure, deep, boundless affection.

you reach out and pull her towards you, so your faces are barely inches apart. her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes.

"i um, i didn't say-" her voice is low and hoarse, and she cuts herself off, because you both know its not true. tension ripples around you, until you can't stand it. when her eyes flicker down a second time, you close the gap. her lips are soft, and she lets out a pleased little gasp as you kiss her softly.

"yeah, you did," you smile, and maya returns it, "you say it everyday."

this is actually so shit i'm sorry, the idea's been in my drafts for literal months, i wanted to do it justice bc mlt deserves all the love but i hate like at least half of this lmao it got so repetitive i'm sorry

all love, soph xx

[aokoaoi]

saw the request was open and id love to request an ao’nung x reader where they’re arranged to be mates, reader is the ‘it’ girl along with tsireya, graceful, kind, and beautiful but still with that fiery spirit in her. females and males in their clan show off or surround her and ao’nung wouldn’t admit it out loud but he would kiss the ground she walked on. he has loved her ever since they were children. upon the arrival of the sullys, reader gets along with neteyam in only a friendly way ofc bc man theyre the mature and level headed ones. ao’nung gets jealous and confesses his undying love for the reader? 🫶🏻 please n thank you i love your writings

— pairings : ao'nung x fem!metkayina!reader.

— warnings : avatar the way of water spoilers. small arguments. bruises. mentions of death. very horrible way of confessing.

— author's note : so i searched up what cheeky actually meant, i was so heartbroken when i learned it actually wasn't what i thought it meant☹.. anyways enjoy ! i love ao'nung sm so i love this request<3 ty for requesting this !

You were sort of known as an 'it girl' in your village if you were to describe it in modern ways. No matter where you go, who you were with, you were always the same kind of lady everyone would talk about.

Elegant, graceful, admirable and compassionate. Not to mention attractive.

That had always been how the village folks describes you, and you never had a problem with it. It started when you were fairly young, adults would come around you and your parents and share how they think you'd grow to be such a fine lady. And you did.

But you weren't only compassionate, 'soft and gentle'. You were also fierce and bold when you had to. You'd do anything for your family, even if it'd have to ruin your perfect image.

By the day you were fourteen, you learned from your parents that you have been set as a mate of the clan leaders son, Ao'nung. You were still young, and you didn't know what or how to react, but you didn't have a problem with it since you'd only be his mate once you both are old enough.

Still though, you were fairly upset that you couldn't be free and choose a man or woman of your own.

Ao'nung wasn't all that bad. He did have a ruthless side to him, but he does show you some decent qualities of himself whenever it's just you two. The village people are already aware about how you two were set to be mates when you're of age, but that certainly didn't stop na'vi's your age from showing themselves off for you.

You and Ao'nung's sister, Tsireya had also gotten close considering both of the 'popularity' you two had. Tsireya had only heard talks and gossips about you from the beginning, but she never got the change to talk to you. That was, until Ao'nung introduced you to her.

You two were basically platonic soulmates. You adored the girl so much, probably more than you adored Ao'nung. You two basically acted like sisters with eachother, always seen laughing and gossiping together like you're still cheeky little girls.

But back to the present.

You trailed behind Tsireya after she dramatically emerged from the waters, watching as she swiftly finds her way to her brother and his friend, Rotxo. She scolds him, slapping his hand away as he was pointing at two boys' tails, and instantly the duo shuts up.

You turn to look at the two boys, seeing as they were trying hard to ignore the teasing of your two friends. The shorter one of the two boys nods his head at Tsireya, speaking up a short; "hey,"

The girl beside you giggles with a cheeky smile, and you smugly grinned at her, teasing her with small nudges of your shoulders.

You watched as the siblings father, Tonowari, fly down into the water his spear raised up high in confidence. You smiled at his presence, and then you noticed a figure slip past from behind you. You turn to see Ao'nung walking past you, and towards his father.

He gives you a look, gesturing movements with his hands that just screamed, 'follow me'.

And to which you did. You took light steps towards him while you still paid attention to Tonowari's conversation with the Omaticaya clan leader, Jake Sully.

"We are reef people, you are forest people. Your skills will be nothing here." You heard him speak.

You saw Ao'nung's mother walk to where the Omaticayas where, circling them as she was examining something. She looked at the arms and touched their tails. She stopped by a small child, and you watched as the poor girl look at her mother in worry.

"Their arms are thin. Their tails," the girl winced a small 'ow', shoving the Tsahìk's hands away from her tail. "Are weak." Ronal finishes.

"You'll be slow in the water." She stoicly spoke, her eyes looking down at something. She grabbed the girls hand before speaking up again. "These children.. are not even true na'vi." She reveals the girls hands, and you heard gasps ring around you.

"Yes we are!" The girl harshly says, pulling her hand away from Ronals hold.

The woman walks to another direction, towards the two boys and immediately grabbed the shorter ones hands. "They have demon blood!" She exclaims. The na'vi around you gasped, and started hissing, making you worry.

Their father speaks up for their children as they hung their heads down in shame. "—I was born of the sky people, and now I am not. Alright you can adapt!" He says, trying not to come off as threatening.

"My husband was Toruk Makto." A tall woman perks up, and you immediately saw her husband make a face at her words. You slightly grin, biting your lip at their chemistry.

"He lead the clans to victory against the sky people."

"This is what you call victory? Hiding amongst strangers?" Ronal immediately retorts. The woman looks down at her words as Tsahìk nears her.

"It seems eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one." She turned to the clan leader, and in an instant his wife hissed at Ronal.

You looked at Ao'nung secretly, wondering what his thoughts on this scene was right now.

"I apologize for my mate, chief."

"Do not apologize."

"We've come a long way and she's exhausted." — "Jake!"

Tonowari looks at the three, making sure they were done before stepping in to speak. "Toruk Makto was a great war leader. All na'vi people know his stories." He gestured to the clan members around, putting a hand on the man's shoulders. "But we Metkayina, are not at war." He assures the people.

"We cannot let you bring your war here." He spoke as he turned to the Omaticaya clan leader.

"I'm done with war. Okay? I just wanna keep my family safe." Jake says as he places a hand in his youngest daughter's back. You looked at them sympathetically, wondering what decision Tonowari and Ronal would make.

"Uturu has been asked." Says the woman.

You observed as the scene went silent, and Tonowari turned to look at his wife, letting him know of her decision.

"Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. They do not know the sea. So they will he like babies taking their first breath."

"Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the same of being useless." You bit your lip at his bold words, wincing slightly.

Jake sighs, turning to his daughter as the girl looked up at Tonowari gratefully. "What do we say?"

"Thank you."

My son Ao'nung, our daughter Tsireya will show you daughter what to do." Tonowari informs, hid hand pointing at the said siblings. Ao'nung looked at him in confusion before coming up to question him.

"Father why—?"

"It has been decided." He cuts Ao'nung off.

"Come! I will show you our village." Tsireya speaks up, swiftly moving towards the other clan and greeted them with a big smile. Tonowari turns to you as you grasped Ao'nung's hand, rubbing it in reassurance.

"You're free to help those children as well, child." He informed you, and you just nodded your head, bowing slightly.

Ao'nung sighed before letting go of your hand, wrapping it around you shoulders instead. "Let's go back to meet Tsireya." He says, walking to the direction where the girl and the other clan went to.

You held a small girl who you knew as Tuktirey as you watched his brother try to make a bond with an ilu while Ao'nung stuck close with his sister.

"It's just like you're riding an Ikran, but a different species and on the ocean." You told him, attempting to make a conversation with the boy to make things less awkward. You flashed him a smile as he only nodded, nervous.

"Be careful of how fast you go. It's your first time, so you're definitely not used to it yet. The pressure of the water is different from the air when riding after all." You informed him, watching as he listened closely.

"How about you try leading him above the water first? It's simpler that way." You instructed, your hand brushing on the boys Ilu.

"..what's your name?"

You looked at him as he questioned you this. You slightly grinned at his shy expression, and it made you wonder how long he's been waiting to ask you that.

"(name)." You answered. He nods, smiling slightly. "It's nice to meet you, (name)." He bows his head, almost falling off his Ilu in the process. You softly laugh at his clumsiness, your voice ringing in his ears.

Ao'nung turns at the sound of your laughter, seeing you and that four fingered boy talking and smiling at eachother. He scrunched his nose, clicking his tongue before averting his gaze, displeased by the sight of you smiling because of another boy.

You irritatedly looked at Ao'nung's face, face scrunched at the sight of his bruises. "Why would pick a fight on Sully's kids?" You hissed out of concern, but at the same time scolding him. He puffs out a breath, rolling his eyes and looking away as you treated the bruise on his face.

"He blew the first hit. Not me." He corrected you, still avoiding his gaze.

Your hand and the herbs your holding moved away from his face, and you pursed your lips tightly. "From what I heard, you were picking on Kiri and called the siblings freaks. Why did you do that?"

"It's true. Didn't you see how they had four fingers and a thumb? They're not real, (name)."

"It's still not right to act like that, Ao'nung. You should treat them like that just because they're different." You lectured him before you continued to dab a few more healing herbs on his face.

"Why would you care now? You didn't care before when I picked on someone. Why are the Sully's any different?" He questioned you, looking at you suspiciously.

You sighed, putting the herbs away. "Because they're my friends. I care about them." Ao'nung scoffs at your response, standing up.

"Yeah right. You just met them yesterday, (name). They might seem nice now, but you wouldn't know. They may be plotting something." Ao'nung retorts.

"Don't talk about them like that."

"It's about that boy, isn't it?" Ao'nung questioned you, catching you off guard. He crouched down to your level as you were sitting on the ground, intently watching your expression.

"I'm sorry? What boy?"

"That eldest Sully. I saw how you were getting comfortable with him earlier, you think i wouldn't?"

"Neteyam..? He's a friend, Ao'nung." He scoffs again, standing up from his crouched position and walking away irritatedly. Your gaze followed where he left, and you looked down at the bowl of herbs on your lab sympathetically.

"Greatmother, what will I do with that boy.."

"I wish I had been there. The ocean blessed you with a gift, brother."

Your group and the Sully siblings had been gathered around somewhere in the village. Lo'ak as telling you the story of when he was lead to the three brothers rocks and almost died, but fortunately a tulkun saved him.

You sat next to Neteyam, but you were also beside Ao'nung. He was standing and leaning on a tree, though. It seemed as if he was avoiding you.

"The tulkuns have not returned yet. And anyway mo tulkun is ever alone." He made gestures with his hand. He leaned forward, and you watched as his necklace that always clung onto his collarbone swing back and forth at the motion.

"This one was." Lo'ak spoke. "He had a missing fin. Like a stump on the left side."

Your eyes widen in realization, "Payakan. Lo'ak, you just met Payakan." You told the boy, nonexistent brows slightly furrowing. Ao'nung turns at the sound of your voice, but pettily looks away.

Neteyam noticed this, and gave you a questioning look. You only shrugged your shoulders, making gestures with your hand to just leave him be.

"Who's payakan?"

"A young bull who went rogue. He's outcast, alone, and has a missing fin." Rotxo answers Kiri's question.

"They say he is a killer." Tsireya tells the boy beside her, looking at him worridly. Lo'ak shakes his head, muttering a small 'no' before getting cut off my Ao'nung.

"He killed na'vi and other tulkuns." Says the boy. "Not here, but far to the south." You and Neteyam exchanged looks, and you turned to see what Lo'ak was feeling.

The boy immediately shots down the accusations of his new friend being a killer. "Lo'ak, you're lucky to be alive." Tsireya's voice falters.

"I'm telling you guys he saved my life," Lo'ak attempts to convince the group. "He's my friend."

Neteyam stands up, and at those actions Ao'nung gestures you to stand up and come beside him. You did as what you were told, leaning your head on his shoulders as you watched the two brothers interact.

"The mighty warrior who faced a killer tulkun and lived to tell about it." He teased the boy, both hands coming up to his brothers shoulders as he puts his weight on the younger boy.

Lo'ak hissed, pushing his brother away. The boy stands up from his position, putting a hand up in exasperation. "You guys aren't listening."

"Lo'ak— I'm listening." You heard Tuktirey call out for her brother. Your tongue clicked at her attempts to try to make her brother feel heard, looking at her sympathetically.

"Lo'ak, come back."

"..is it weird that I believe him..?" You perked up after the boy leaves. The group turns to look at you after your statement, looking at you as if you were crazy.

"I mean.. he couldn't like about something like that, yknow? How would he when know about Payakans existence in the first place?"

"He met Payakan and he survived? Are you hearing yourself right now, (name)?" Ao'nung questions incredulously. You sighed, rubbing your shoulders as you removed your head from the boys shoulders.

"The possibility isn't impossible. If he actually saw Payakan then he wouldn't even be here anymore. He'd be dead. He couldn't possibly fight against that creature especially when he has nothing to defend himself with."

Ao'nung looks at you incredulously. His sister steps in after the both of you have a glaring competition, pulling you away from her brother and distracting you with flowers.

You looked down at the water beneath you with a peaceful smile, throwing petals on the clear liquid from the flowers Tsireya placed on your hair earlier. You and Ao'nung had split ways earlier, once again without saying anything.

You didn't know what was happening to the both of you, but you were just being pulled apart the past few days by a nonexistent force.

Biting your lip, you wondered where it went wrong. The flowers on your hand remained there was you thought carefully. A few days ago, he showed signs of jealousy just because you shared a few laughs with Neteyam.

And then you got into another argument because of how he almost got Lo'ak killed, and then what happened earlier with the Payakan thing was another one.

So yes, it's safe to say it went downhill when the Sully's showed up. You can't blame the Sully's though.

You were too lost in your thought to notice the boy you were just thinking about approach you and take a seat right beside you. He looks at you, noticing that you weren't paying attention and was lost in thought. He fakes a cough, and nudges your shoulder with his own.

You snapped out of your train of thoughts, looking at him in surprise. Your body slightly shifted from the thick woven material you sat on, facing the boy. "What are you doing here?" You asked him, your fingers subconsciously curling around the flowers that peacefully sat on your hand. You didn't crush it though, not wanted to destroy its pretty petals.

Ao'nung looks at the water as his feet got wet from it, swinging it back and forth. "I wanted to check up on you." He says, his eyes not leaving the soft moving waters.

You took the chance to admire the sharp features on his face, from his jaw and to his cheekbones. Your head leaned against his shoulders, your soft and slightly wet hair touching his skin.

"Alright." You simply responded, letting out a small exhale. Ao'nung glances at you, seeing how you were looking up at the stars.

"..I also want to apologize." He perks up after the silence. He hears you let out a breathy chuckle, and he feels your body slightly shift. He hopes you don't move your head away from his shoulder, and he let's out a relieved exhale when you don't.

"Apologize? For?"

Ao'nung bobs his head around for a few seconds, "Yknow.. for being an asshole to the siblings. And to you." He eventually says.

"Well I forgive you. But you shouldn't be apologizing to me for the siblings." You respond to him, a hand coming to touch his arm and you patted on it gently.

"And I'm also sorry for not being understanding and always shutting you out when you confront me about my behavior." He ignores your words, continuing to apologize to you. He shifts slightly, removing his gaze from the water and finally facing you.

"Ao'nung—"

"No, listen to me. I'm apologizing for my wrongs okay? I was such an asshole back then, I not only did others wrong, but also you. I should've tried to be a better person to you back then and stopped treating you like trash. But—"

"There's a but?" You cut him off, looking at him incredulously. He grins slightly at your words, trying to get back to his point.

"I was dealing with my feelings. You know what cheesy romantic stuff and all. Yeah I was basically going through that. I was pushing you away because figuring out if I.. liked you or not."

"And a few days ago— I was jealous. I didn't like how close you and that sullys eldest son gotten and I accidentally hurt your feelings in the process. I'm such a bitch, aren't I?"

"No you aren't." You shook your head, holding his hand reassuringly. He looks at you with a 'seriously?' face, and you pursed your lips. "You kind of are, but there's still hope that you'll change." You sweetly smiled, bringing his hand you're holding up to your bottom lip.

"So.. you forgive me?" He asks you, anticipating your answer. You nodded at his question, still smiling.

"You weren't that all bad to me. You were mostly nice to me after all, you were only mean to me when there's other people."

"But I was still a bitch."

"Mhm." You cooed, your hand falling back to your lap. You grabbed one of the flowers that you left on your lap, gently holding it in between your fingers and placed it on Ao'nung's hair. You giggled at his confusion, watching as he held up his hand to where you placed the flower.

He grins when he realized what it was, nudging your side with his hand, slightly tickling you. You two shared a few laughs together, eachothers voices filling up the silence of the village, no shame in disturbing the people sleeping near your area.

Your laughter died down, and Ao'nung leaned his weight onto you. He leaned his head onto of yours, looking like he was trying to say something but was hesitant.

"I don't know if now is the right time, but I have something to confess." Your heart skipped a beat at his words, thinking of every possible outcomes on what he meant by that.

"You don't have to respond right now, but I simply cannot keep it to myself anymore—"

"Get to the point!" You hissed, anticipating his words. There was only one thing on your mind right now, and one only.

Ao'nung clears his throat at your hiss, trying to his his smile. "I know I haven't been the best, but I am willing to change. (name) (fullname), i like you, would you be—"

"Yes!"

"I haven't finished yet—"

"Yes! Greatmother, yes! Took you long enough." You laughed loudly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you engulfed him into a tight embrace. Ao'nung's hand holds your back as you both slip down from the woven material, and onto the waters with a splash.

You both come up from the water, breathing loudly as you flicked your hair away from your face. Ao'nung chuckles at your enthusiasm, looking at you fondly as you gave him the biggest grin you've ever had.

"I'm so happy." You cooed, pressing your forehead against his ad you let the cool waters relax you. Ao'nung's hand wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer, biting his lip as he smiled cheekily.

"Is this your way of saying you like me too? Pulling me into the water?" He teases you, and you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head.

One of his hand comes to your cheek, thumb caressing your skin as he pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"Mmm, you missed, silly." You cheekily grin, peaking at him with mischievousness. Ao'nung snorted at your words, softly hitting your back as he hides his face from the curve of your neck.

[arcan3-reliquary]

VERITAS RATIO HEADCANONS (because we need more content of him that's him-centric)

And because you guys asked. Most of these headcanons are purely based on my readings of him or have 0 basis in canon, so if you don’t like them, feel free to scroll past them!!

fighting the war on autism on the side of autism. As a neurodivergent he's very nd coded to me, especially with the fact that he's a very caring person but terrible with emotions and words. He's losing the idgaf war so badly like there's no way a neurotypical person has a temper that short over the most (seemingly) inane shit

Kind of pasty. not just like porcelain skin, like clay-sickly-victorian-boy type palor. He tries to go outside more often, but by the nature of his job he's rather sedentary and inside alooot. He's perfectly healthy, he just looks like that. Same complexion as Freminet in my head, with fewer freckles and a tooth gap he likes to deny he has.

Wears the alabaster headpiece not just to deal with idiots, but to self regulate out in public. It blocks out smells, and dampens sound and light enough for him to tolerate some of the veeery overstimulating environments he visits.

For a man that values creativity explicitly, not enough people seem to believe he’d have an interest in the arts. So I think he's into sculpting. A chisel and hammer are very comforting weights in his hand, and while he doesn't particularly care for pottery or wet clay, he gets why it's so well liked. He uses himself as reference mostly because he's most familiar with his own body and asking others can be awkward or seen as weird.

The dude has extremely obscure taste in sci-fi novels. Like he will yap on and on about why he can't stand most sci-fi and recommend the most odd shit out there if asked.

Not really a hc, but he has very brittle self-esteem. It simply comes with the territory of being labeled “gifted” or “a child genius.” For years, a lot of his perceived worth came from the quality of his work or academic validation, and now his big reason for staying in academics isn't the knowledge itself, but rather the joy of teaching and sharing the things he knows.

Somehow both touch starved and touch averse. Contact must be initiated by him on his terms, or a shutdown will happen. But when someone he trusts does this, it's the funniest thing because he thinks he's being so subtle about his enjoyment of it. (Aven played w his hair once and Veritas passed tf out like that and Aven couldn't move for an hour.)

Chronic over-explainer. Either he misreads someone's tone and thinks they need the detail, or past conflict was caused by him thinking he didn't explain enough (it was usually just people being purposefully obtuse or daft.)

Unsurprisingly terrible to deal with when sick. Non-verbal, sits under a mountain of weighted blankets, and only communicates via the notes app on his phone or having Aventurine help him.

Ratio is terribly farsighted - just genetics. Lasic surgery fixed most of it, but he still needs reading glasses and contacts.

Intimacy issues alert. Vulnerability is scary and being put on a pedestal your whole life tends to make letting down pretenses a lil nauseating. Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

Girl Anachronism by the Dresden Dolls makes me think of him. I can't explain it. I think it's a combo of him being hella self aware of his issues but also just kinda treating them like something of a character flaw or moral failing rather than something he can ask for help with. Just a thought

AND THATS ITS IVE YAPPED ENOUGH ABOUT RATIO. The Aveenturine and Golden Ratio posts will come soon but for now have these. He makes me insane.