yooniivrse · 2 days ago
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uh oh, i'm falling in love | myg
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summary. the night that yoongi realises you might be a lot more than just a close friend to his heart.
pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: fluff, best friends to ??, one sided love? (up to reader's interpretation)
word count: 1.5k
warnings: none <333
notes: this was a request from my love, @perfectlyoongi-main. you can find the ask for this oneshot here. listening to labyrinth by taylor swift on repeat while writing this definitely made me feel very very single, but i loved writing this sm. as always, likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback is so so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333
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You stop in front of the small, old-fashioned photo booth, hands on your hips as you look it over with mild scepticism.
It’s a flimsy structure tucked in a quiet corner of the mall, slightly worn down with chipped paint and a fading sign hanging above it. It’s the kind of booth that hasn’t been updated in years, where the pictures are low-quality and slightly off-colour, but you look at it with the excitement of someone who’s just discovered a hidden gem.
“I don’t think we’ll both fit inside,” you muse, tilting your head as if a different angle might magically increase its size.
Yoongi stands beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket, eyeing the booth with a barely hidden look of reluctance.
If he's being honest, he’d much rather be back home with you, watching movies in the comfort of his living room, eating pizza, and letting the night pass by as it usually does. It’s how he’s spent his birthdays for the past three years since meeting you, a quiet tradition he’d grown to look forward to. But this year, you’d insisted he get out of the house, brimming with excitement at the idea of taking him somewhere, refusing to tell him what you had planned.
And even though he could’ve turned you down, Yoongi knew he wouldn’t. Not with the way your face lit up when he agreed, that joyful glint in your eyes that made his heart beat just a little faster.
“Maybe we should just do this somewhere else,” he suggests, already eyeing the dim mall corridor as an escape route. “There’s no way we’re both fitting inside unless you sit on my lap or something.”
He means it as a joke, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he realises the weight they carry. His heart skips a beat as you turn to him with that playful smile he knows so well, eyes sparkling with a mix of determination and mischief.
“I don’t think—”
“Oh, come on! It’s your birthday,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “And we’ve been best friends for long enough that it won’t be weird.”
Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, but the words seem to disappear before they can reach his lips. The suggestion should feel casual, even funny, but there’s a strange tension that settles in his chest, stopping him from brushing it off like he usually would. It’s the same tension that’s been creeping up more often these days, the one that leaves him feeling almost breathless whenever he’s around you.
“Unless,” you add with a sly smile, your expression feigning innocence, “you’d rather sit on my lap?”
He chuckles, the sound more nervous than he intended. “Fine. Whatever,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. But as he steps forward, he feels a strange warmth creeping into his cheeks, something uncomfortably close to anticipation.
You squeeze into the booth first, settling onto the small, tacky leather stool with a satisfied grin. You pat your lap playfully, but Yoongi only shakes his head, stepping into the cramped space behind you.
His heart thrums erratically as he settles onto the stool, his knees brushing against yours as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you both fit within the booth’s limited space. You lean back against him, so naturally that he wonders if you can feel the way his heart races at the contact.
“See?” you say, glancing back at him with a grin. “This isn’t so bad.”
The camera’s light starts blinking, giving a brief warning before the first picture snaps. You immediately turn to him, nudging his cheek to bring him closer, and in the tight space, it’s all he can do to keep his balance as he leans in, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Smile!” you chirp just as the flash goes off.
The light catches him off guard, and he blinks, momentarily dazed by the brightness. He hears you laughing softly, your shoulders shaking against him, and he’s hit with a wave of warmth, one that spreads through him as he watches you, momentarily forgetting about the camera entirely.
With a slight grin, you shift in his lap, angling the two of you for another shot as the timer counts down again.
You’re so close he can feel the faint trace of your perfume, the warmth of your skin, the rhythm of your breathing as it syncs with his. And for some reason, the thought of being this close to you—closer than he ever thought he’d be—stirs something unexpected within him.
Another flash, capturing you mid-laugh, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing within him.
As the countdown begins again, you glance back, your gaze meeting his, and Yoongi feels himself freeze. There’s a hint of something in your eyes—an invitation, perhaps, or maybe a question—that makes his heart race all over again.
His eyes drift to your smile, the soft curve of your lips, the brightness of your gaze, and he can’t ignore the way his own heartbeat echoes in his ears, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it too.
The timer clicks down to the next flash, and he forces a smile for the camera, though his mind is elsewhere entirely. He’s trying to make sense of the strange rush of feelings flooding through him, feelings that have been building up slowly, subtly, over time.
The booth is quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of machinery and your shared breaths. You tilt your head slightly, resting it against his shoulder, and his entire world narrows down to this single moment. Yoongi feels his arms tightening around you, an instinctual gesture that’s both protective and vulnerable.
The timer clicks down to one last shot. "Alright, funny face!" you call out, pulling an exaggerated grin, and he chuckles, trying to shake off the gravity of his own emotions as he mirrors your expression. The flash captures the both of you, frozen in a moment of joy.
As the final picture fades, you stay in his arms a beat longer than necessary, and the realisation hits him like a tidal wave, too strong to ignore. This isn’t just friendship, he thinks, feeling a pang of something so overwhelming that it borders on painful. Somewhere along the line, he’s fallen in love with you, and he doesn’t know if there’s a way back.
But you’re oblivious, still laughing as you climb off his lap, crouching down to grab the strip of photos as they print out. “Look at this!” you say, waving them in front of his face. “I'm definitely hanging these up on my fridge.”
He blinks, his gaze lingering on you as you sort through the photos, laughing at the silly faces, the close-ups of your laughter, and his slightly dazed expressions. You’re so focused on the photos that you don’t notice the way he’s looking at you now, eyes soft with something deeper, something he can no longer deny.
“See, I told you that it'd be fun.” You glance up, still beaming, and he forces himself to nod, plastering a smile over the vulnerability he feels beneath the surface.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice almost lost in the small space. “I guess it was.”
But even as he smiles, the weight of his realisation settles heavily in his chest, pressing down on him with a strange mixture of longing and fear.
He wonders if he’ll ever find the courage to tell you, or if he’ll spend his days hiding this quiet, aching love, content to stay by your side as a friend, the way he’s always been.
You turn to him, still laughing over one of the photos. “Hey,” you say softly, a note of seriousness creeping into your voice. “Thanks for tonight. I know this isn’t your usual birthday thing, but… it means a lot.”
And for a brief moment, he thinks about telling you everything. He thinks about confessing, about admitting that the thought of spending his life without you, without these small moments of joy and laughter, terrifies him more than anything else. But the words catch in his throat, stuck beneath the weight of a love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.
“Anytime,” he finally says, his voice a whisper, barely audible above the hum of the booth.
You look at him for a moment longer, a soft smile playing on your lips before you hand him one of the strips of photos. As you walk out of the booth, he follows behind you, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, the quiet, unspoken confession that lingers in the space between you.
Maybe one day, he'll find the courage to tell you how he feels; maybe one day, he'll get to be more than just your friend.
But until then, his love will stay hidden in the attic of his thoughts, known only to him.
And for now, that's enough.
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stormz369 · 19 hours ago
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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 20
Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader
written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!
warnings/labels: non-consensual drugging (still not reader), still dealing with themes of medical trauma, boundary crossing, non-con theming (no SA, no hard R, just ... theming), brief mention of masturbation, angst (no comfort yet) wc: 3.4k
Chapter Selection
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Eventually we parked, and Spoiler helped me out of Hood's grip. The man growled at her pulling me away, flinging himself out of the Batmobile to follow. He landed hard on his knees and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close again.
He roared; “MINE!” And soon his helmet was pressed into my hip, his fingers digging in to my thighs. He trembled against me, breathing hard. Nightwing parked his bike, setting my helmet on his handlebars before turning toward us. Red Hood growled at him as he approached, and I blushed a bit, frowning. What on earth had I done to make this guy so territorial over me? Or was it all the pheromones?
Spoiler sighed, pointing to some seating at a long table. “Well, if you can get him to chill out a bit, you can have a seat over there. Just don't touch anything.”
I nodded, resting a hand on Hood's shoulder and pushing back a little. “Mr. Hood, you're squeezing too tight…”
He whined, releasing his grip a bit. “Ahhh … s- sorry … sorry, sorry, sorry….”
“I- it’s ok. … Come on, let's go sit, yeah? You can't possibly be comfortable down there?”
He let me coax him to stand, but as soon as I took a seat he flung himself onto the floor in front of me again, nuzzling into my knee now. I shrugged, patting the top of his helmet; at least he wasn't pressed so close to my crotch anymore…
Batman took a seat at a giant computer, pulling up reports and speaking with someone called Oracle. I didn't pay attention; I didn't want to know anything I didn't have to know here. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, but there were no responses from anyone yet. No Jason, no Dick, not even Steph…
“Alright, B, where is he?” A familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up.
Red Robin had a small metal case in his hand. He looked over toward us, a determined look on his face. The fingers of his gloved hand slid across his face as we made eye contact and he realized he didn't have a domino mask on.
“.... Tim?!?!” My voice sounded shrill to my own ears. Batman's typing stopped and he slowly turned to stare at us.
“Shit!” He spun on his heel, clearing his throat. In a deep voice, he called out; “um, no…?”
“.... You came in here without a mask on?” Batman grumbled quietly.
“No one told me she was here!? Why did no one tell me she was here??? We never wear masks in the Cave!” Tim rambled animatedly. He turned on Nightwing, shouting; “you should have told me!”
Nightwing frowned; “I told you I had to get her to wrangle him into the Batmobile, I didn’t think I needed to spell it out for you that that meant she was coming here!”
My eyes snapped onto him, really taking him in for the first time. I sighed softly, “... Dick?… the easiest way to get me to open my door would have been to answer my goddamn text!”
Dick shifted awkwardly. “Um … oh fuck it,” He took his own mask off; “… I don't have my phone on me. Do you see pockets in this thing??”
“I'm not looking for pockets!” I blushed bright red, looking away entirely.
“... Well, since you're already figuring it out …” Spoiler slipped her mask off, smiling brightly at me. “Nicely done out there! Pound it!”
She held a fist out to me. I blinked a bit and giggled erratically, shakily fist bumping her. “Thank you?...”
“Father! Duke stole one of my cookies while we were fighting Freeze! I had 30 cookies here, now I only have 29!” Damian shouted from the other side of the room.
“... No.” I whispered, slowly turning to look. “No, no, no…”
Robin was storming down the stairs toward us, clutching my tupperware to his chest; the tupperware I had filled with Damian's ma'amoul cookies. He had an irritated little sneer on his face, a very Damian expression. At the bottom of the stairs he looked over, finally seeing me, and froze.
Tears filled my eyes as I choked out a laugh; “no… I'm not seeing that. … That's a hallucination or something, … c- cause I know … I know none of you are stupid enough to let Damian put himself in danger like that!!!”
He looked between me and Batman for a moment before running back up the stairs. With a flutter of his cape, he was gone, and I was left staring at the spot he’d once occupied. Red Hood shifted at my feet, trying to get closer to me again. I slowly looked up at Batman, typing away at his computer, and down at the man nuzzling into my lap. Only two left … and something told me they wouldn't have brought me out to get Bruce into the car.
Trembling, I gently rubbed Hood's shoulder. I could barely hear my own voice over the sound of my blood pulsing in my head; “.... Jason,” he perked up, sighing happily, “... You can take your helmet off now, sweetie.”
His arms shot up to comply. He fumbled for the latch, and after a moment he managed to remove it, throwing it across the room. I flinched at the sound echoing throughout the cave, and slowly looked down at him. Jason's pupils were dilated so wide that there was barely any color visible at all. A thin layer of sweat clung to his flushed skin, and his hair was a mess. He beamed up at me, clinging to my legs. My hands slowly made their way into his hair, fluffing it up the way he liked it, and a deep grumbling moan rippled out of his throat. He leaned into my hands, tilting his head to press kisses to the fleshy part of my palm, and squeezed my knees tightly.
“... What exactly is happening here?” I whispered.
“... We think Mr. Freeze’s experiment was meant to make the victim more compliant. When Ivy’s pheromones are in your system, you’ll do anything to … scratch the itch. So if he used them as a base for some kind of obedience serum …” Dick shuddered; “Small mercies though; it’s not nearly as effective as he meant it to be. It’s not terribly hard to resist, unless you … already want to obey the person.” I clenched my jaw.
Steph nodded; “He didn’t fully understand what he was messing with. No one does when it comes to Ivy’s pheromones, except for Ivy. And now we think the pheromones are fighting back against whatever he did, trying to return to their natural state, so …”
“So there’s a chemical imbalance war-zone going on in Jason’s body right now?” I sighed softly, stroking his cheek. Jason looked up at me with a type of unwavering adoration that made me a bit sick. It was like he wasn’t home; like something was puppeteering his body. All of his usual walls and boundaries had been turned to rubble to make space for this thing in his body to do what it pleased with him… “And you used me to control him against his will…”
“... It was necessary. He needs to be cured before the experiment gets any more unstable in his blood and does who knows what to him...” Dick frowned.
Tim nodded. “I need to get a blood sample…”
Jason either didn’t hear him, or was so far gone that he didn’t care. But I wasn’t about to let them surprise him. I made a promise, after all. I gently stroked Jason’s cheek, looking into his eyes; “... Jason?”
He moaned happily, pressing in closer. “My love~”
I could feel everyone around us cringing. “Honey, Tim needs a blood sample, is that ok?”
Jason’s eyes shifted in and out of focus as he whined, squirming. “.... Don’t like needles…”
I nodded slowly; “I know. I’m so sorry, sweetie. But it’s important. We’ve got to make you all better…”
“Better?” He blinked a bit. “... Am I … not good …” He whimpered, suddenly gripping me very tightly.
“H- have I done something wrong? I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll be good! Please, le- let me be good for you! I can! I can be so good! Y- You can have the blood! I’ll be good, please!” He gasped, tripping over himself trying to get closer and closer. His hands gripped everywhere, mindlessly pulling me out of my chair and into his lap, desperate to be pressed together.
“Ah! Jay!” I pressed on his shoulders, blushing bright red. “Jason, honey, it’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Please, let me be good for you! I wanna be good! I’ll make you so happy, I promise! I’ll do anything, I promise, I promise, I PROMISE!” He screamed, tears cascading down his cheeks, his fingers digging firmly into my ass.
“Ow! Jason, stop!” He froze, looking up at me desperately. I slowly slid his hands off my ass, letting him hold my waist instead, blushing bright red. “... Jay, … we need this blood sample. … Would you be more comfortable if I did it?”
He nodded quickly, eagerly agreeing; “yes! Yes, anything. Anything you want, you can do anything you want! I’ll be good for you~”
I sighed, clenching my jaw. I felt disgusting; how was Jason going to feel about this when it was all over? Was I wildly overstepping here? I didn’t have time to dwell on it; Tim stepped forward, pressing the syringe into my hand.
“Have him roll his sleeve up.”
Jason did whatever I asked, always accompanied by eager cries of; “yes, anything! Anything you want! Anything! I want to be good!” My stomach churned unpleasantly with every word.
As soon as the sample was done, Jason was gripping my thighs, pulling me close. “I did good? I wanna be good for you~”
I pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his face into my shoulder so he couldn’t see the tears filling my eyes. “Y- yes, baby. You did good. Thank you…”
He sighed happily, the desperation easing out of his grip, nuzzling into my neck. My arm went limp, I could barely feel the cool glass vial in my hand. Tim grimaced and took the sample from me, hurriedly tidying away the equipment. Batman continued to work at his giant computer, seemingly ignoring everything happening behind him. Dick and Steph offered me awkward smiles.
“You did good too,” Steph offered weakly.
“Don’t say that. Please, just … don’t.” I sighed. I hadn’t done good here. I had used whatever Mr. Freeze had put in my boyfriend’s body to manipulate him into letting me do something he would never have been comfortable with otherwise. It didn’t matter that it was necessary, or that he seemed fine with it right now, it didn’t even matter if it saved his life. I knew I had seriously crossed his boundaries. I knew he would have a hard time trusting me again when they got him cured, and I would deserve it. Hell, if he broke up with me after this I would deserve it…
I sniffled softly, trying to keep it together. Whatever else was going on, I needed to keep it together for Jason’s sake. He could be angry with me later, and that would be fine, I would deal with that then, but for now, he was happiest and calmest in my arms. Every time I shifted he whined, desperately pulling me closer again.
“... You're not happy… what can I do?” He whined, stroking my thighs.
“Nothing right now, baby. You're perfect just as you are.” I stroked his hair, trying not to cry.
He purred softly, pressing kisses to my throat and shoulder. “Wanna make you feel good… my pretty girl~”
I blushed bright red, grateful when Dick and Steph walked away. “... N- not right now, sweetie. Let’s get you well first…”
He whined, licking my collarbone; “Mhhh. …. Please … want you …. Wanna make you feel good~ I’ll be good for you, please~”
I shivered, gently pushing him back. “No, Jason. We aren’t doing that right now.”
He whined more, looking up at me; “whyyyy?”
“... Because you don’t want that right now, baby. I know you think you do, but that’s just the pheromones.”
He nuzzled against me, sniffling. “... You don’t want me?”
I chewed on my lower lip, glancing at Batman. He seemed determined to pretend nothing was happening over here, so I leaned in, whispering; “of course I do, my love. But not like this.”
He tilted his head toward mine, trying to get a kiss, but I pulled back, running my fingers through his hair instead. He turned to kiss my palm, whining; “... don’t you love me?”
“I love you very much.” My voice cracked sharply.
“Promise?”
“I promise, I love you with all my heart.”
He pouted a bit, kissing and nuzzling my hand. “... It hurts …”
“What hurts, baby? Did you get injured in the fight?” I cupped his cheek, gently moving his head a bit to look for blood. He clung to my wrist, spreading his knees a little and pressing his hips forward. “... Ah … I’m sorry sweetie …”
He whined softly, kissing my knuckles. “Please … help …”
I groaned softly, chewing on my lower lip. I turned toward Batman, frowning. “Um … should he ….?”
Batman looked over his shoulder at us. “It won’t fix anything, but it would alleviate the discomfort for a time.”
I nodded slowly, stroking his hair. “Ok, why don’t you go do that then honey?”
He frowned, confused, and tugged my hand; “... with you?”
“No, you go ahead, I’ll be right here.”
He whined sharply, shaking his head. “Want you!”
I sighed softly, cupping his cheeks gently. “My love, we are not doing that right now. I’m sorry, I know it’s uncomfortable, but I will not do that to you in this state. Do you want to go take care of it by yourself?” He shook his head, whimpering softly; “then I need you to be very brave for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”
He slowly nodded, clinging to my wrists. “.... ok…"
I kissed his forehead, stroking his cheeks. “Thank you sweetie~ You’re doing so well; Oracle and Tim are almost done making your cure, just hold on a little longer…”
He sniffled softly, letting me sit in my chair again and resting his cheek on my knee. “... You really still love me?”
“I really still love you.”
“... Even though I lied to you? … I lied for so long …”
I chuckled softly. “I don’t feel lied to. We’ll talk about it more later, after I’ve had some time to process. Ok?”
He nodded, clinging to my leg. “... Are you gonna leave me?”
“No, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
“... You promise?”
“I promise.” 
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Once Jason was sedated, and the cure Oracle made -Babs, I had to remind myself- was starting to work its way through his system, Bruce led me to his office so we could talk. There he told me a very long story; Dick, Babs, Jason, Tim, Steph, Damian, Cass, Duke. One by one they took on hero personas, some under Batman's tutelage, some on their own. They had all been so young when they started, seeking justice, or vengeance, or security. Bruce smiled a little when he told me how Jason had always insisted that being Robin made him magic. That smile disappeared quickly, and I learned how Tim implanted himself as the third Robin when that magic was snuffed out by the Joker's hands. They came together for different reasons, but there was one thing consistently linking their stories; tragedy, which led each of them to the BatFamily.
“... Obviously none of us wanted you to learn these things this way. … Jason meant to tell you himself, he just-”
“Couldn't find the words.” I finished numbly. “... I understand that.”
Bruce nodded, watching me across his desk. “... Are you alright?”
“... I … I knew that there was bad shit in Jason's past. I knew it would be hard to hear. … But … He’s so loyal to you, even when he’s frustrated by you, I … I really thought you had saved him from the worst of it … but you didn't. … You supplied it.”
Bruce stilled, taking a slow breath. “... I did what I could for him-”
“You taught those children that they could be heroes. And then you allowed them to dress up like fucking traffic lights, and pointed them at psychopaths and murderers. …” I slowly looked up at his face, my vision blurring with tears; “they were children, Bruce. … Your children. … You had one job when you took them in; to protect them. … Joker may have pulled the trigger on Jason's life, but you painted the fucking target on his back. … He was a child, a child you took in off the streets. You were supposed to give him comfort and safety, not hand him on a silver FUCKING platter to the FUCKING JOKER!!!”
I shrieked; rage and sorrow bubbled in my chest like a poison, and I threw myself out of the chair. I couldn't sit still. I had to move, had to scream, had to do something! I found myself pacing the room, unable to stop the tears that ran down my face; “do parents not even FUCKING try anymore?! Why are everyone's parents so fucking terrible???!? Why can't anyone do this one SIMPLE FUCKING THING?!?! Just protect your kids!!!! Let them BE kids!!! It's not that FUCKING HARD!!!!!!” 
I tripped over the edge of a rug and landed hard on my knees and face, screaming at everything and nothing. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a broad chest, and I vaguely heard Dick murmuring, trying to soothe me. “... Y- you had… o- one … fucking … job …”
Dick rocked me gently as I sobbed. We sat like that for a long time before Bruce finally responded in a quiet, broken voice; “... I know.”
Dick stroked my back gently; “... You've had a long night. I know, I know this is a lot. It feels like too much right now, but it won't feel like that forever. … Why don't I take you to a guest room so you can get some sleep? You'll be ok in the morning, and so will Jay.” He smiled weakly, like he was trying to convince himself more than me.
“... No … nothing will ever be ok again…” I whispered.
“... Come on, let's get some rest. I promise, things will look better in the morning.” He helped me up, leading me toward the door.
I paused in the doorway. Damian was in the hallway staring up at me, changed into casual clothes, that same guarded expression in his eyes that always meant he was bracing for something. I could feel my heart breaking all over again; he was so little, and it was so unfair. I turned back to look at the man hunched over his desk, narrowing my eyes a bit; “... Bruce?”
He slowly raised his face out of his hands, looking up at me. His eyes shone with unshed tears. Good.
“... Have you ever considered the idea that, if Gotham's safety can only be bought with the blood of children, … Gotham might not be worth saving?”
I didn't wait for an answer; nothing he could say would make me feel any different. He had offered up half a dozen children to live and die for the supposed safety of our city, and it meant nothing. They died, and came back, only to have to keep fighting the same fights, night by night.
Images of the scars that littered Jason's body flooded my mind. How many scars had branded the young Robin's flesh? How many were earned as the Red Hood? Did it even matter? They were both Jason; Jason who threw himself into harm's way without a second thought, taking those scars, because it was all he knew. It was what he thought he was for. Jason, who deserved so much better, but never got it. Jason, who's father knew who murdered him, but did nothing about it. Not for him, not for the next kid, not for the city. The Joker murdered Robin, and the Batman let him live.
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Divider by: @saradika-graphics
Taglist (open):
@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men
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catladyoftheyr · 2 days ago
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🎲 .☘︎ ݁˖𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙧.☘︎ ݁˖ 🎲
𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (18+ Smut!!)
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Synopsis: You walk out on your date after getting dumped in a restaurant and call Stan to take you home. He comforts you and you end up in his bed 👀🤫
Warnings/highlights: alcohol use, cigarette smoking, shoplifting, blood mention (skinned knee), arguments, implied age gap (I envision reader in your mid-late 20s), protected sex, condoms, romantic sex, cunnilingus, pet names, strong language, enthusiastic consent at multiple points.
Notes/ word count: 3.2k ish, about as slow burn as a one shot smut can be lol, uhhh this took like a week on and off almost so I hope you guys like it 🫠
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
“I want to be more serious about my future. I have a lot of important plans and responsibilities. And… I don’t think you’re the right kind of woman for my future. I’m sorry.”
You coughed, choking on a sip of your cocktail. You’d thought things were going really well. You hadn’t expected to be dumped, especially not over a candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant. The look in his eyes didn’t seem sorry to you either, rather he looked chagrined to have to explain this to you. “You’re leaving me? You dragged me all the way out here to dump me?!” Your voice rose and attracted stares but you didn’t care at the moment.
“Please, let’s be rational. I understand you’re upset by my decision but there’s no need to act out like this.” Your date's voice remained steady, but hints of embarrassment were clear on his face.
“Of course I’m upset! You drove me to a nice dinner, held the door for me, told me I looked nice, and then we sit down and you tell me I’m not good enough to be part of your future.” You felt the tears start to well in your eyes. You were angry with him or course, but you were truly heartbroken. You’d just said ‘ I love you ‘ two weeks ago and now it was over.
“You’re causing a scene,” he hissed under his breath. “This is what I’m talking about. I want to run for Mayor, take over family estates, things that require class and sophistication. I just don’t think someone from your, um, background would fit in with that kind of lifestyle. It’s just not compatible.”
You swallowed more of your drink, hoping the alcohol would calm your nerves. Tears were flowing by now, and the surrounding tables were gawking at the ongoing argument. “So you’re breaking up with me because I’m not classy enough for you? Because you think I’m trailer trash? Fuck you.”
“Can’t we at least finish our meal? I wanted to do one last nice thing for you. You’re acting like a child. Have some decorum, please!”
Something about that sentence sent you over the edge. You grabbed the whiskey glass sitting in front of him on the table and splashed its contents down the front of your date. “How’s that for decorum? I’m out of here. The check’s all yours.” You grabbed your bag and stormed out of the restaurant, tears streaming down your face. You pushed the front doors open, intending to sulk on a curb for a while and collect yourself. You heard your date calling after you and saw him weaving through tables and waiting patrons with “sorry” and “excuse me”.
“Hey! Wait up please!” He called after you, reaching out to grab your hand. You yanked it away and stumbled through the threshold into the parking lot. Your heel caught in a small pothole and sent you tumbling onto the asphalt. You swore and pushed yourself into a sitting position to inspect the damage. The heel was cracked, but seemed walkable for now. You’d skinned your knees and roughed up the skin on your palms though. You picked gravel from your skin and sighed as a thin line of blood dripped down your calf. Apparently your date had gotten the message, because he’d stalked back inside the building. You saw his car parked nearby, shining in the sunset, and considered letting the air out of his tires but decided it wasn’t worth it.
You stood, wobbling on your damaged heel. You ambled down the street, not ready to have to find a ride home. You knew there was a gas station a block or 2 over and headed in that direction. You saw the familiar lights of a convenience store and went inside, immediately going toward the coolers and shelves in the back. You grabbed a small bottle of whiskey off the bottom shelf and glanced toward the register. The cashier was involved in a newspaper and hadn’t glanced up once since you’d come in. The security cameras seemed to be long since operational as well. You slid the bottle into your purse covertly, fishing out some cash at the same time.
You strolled toward the register and asked for a pack of cigarettes. You handed over the cash in exchange for menthols and stuffed the change in your bag. You walked out only having paid for one of the items and with no one the wiser. You sighed and sat down on the curb, pulling the liquor from your purse. You might as well drink your sorrows away, you figured. You pulled out your cell as well and scrolled your contacts while knowing there was really only one option.
You pressed call and held the phone to your ear waiting for him to pick up. Soon enough you heard a gruff voice on the other end sounding surprised to have you call him. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me. Um things didn’t go well tonight and I kinda need a ride home. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”
“Where are you? Give me 20 minutes. No, no it’s no big deal. Quit apologizing. I'm grabbing my keys right now.”
“Thanks, Stan. I owe you one.” The line clicked and you lit a cigarette. The lung cancer warning on the box was starting to seem like a promise rather than a threat. Life was a shitshow. Your leg had stopped bleeding and now there was a trail of dried crust on your leg. Your palms still stung from your fall and the skin was raw. Soon enough a shiny red Cadillac pulled up in front of you and your boss was getting out of the front seat.
“Jesus, Doll. You look like hell.” The older man’s face wrinkled with disapproval as he glanced over you.
“Thanks, Stan. You really know how to boost a gal’s self esteem.” You cracked a smile anyways, his presence was familiar at least. You knew he was just ribbing you anyways.
“Seriously though. Must have been a helluva bad date to leave you like this.” He sat down next to you on the curb and draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. “You’re gonna catch pneumonia, it's cold out here.”
“Thank you. Do you want a smoke?” You offered the carton toward him. Stan pulled one out and pulled his own lighter from a pocket. His face turned sour as he inhaled.
“Yuck! Menthols? I thought you were better than that!” He handed you the cigarette and pulled out his own box. You couldn’t help but laugh at him as you smoked. He was technically your boss, but he’d been letting you stay in the extra room at the shack rent free. He’d told you that you were welcome as long as you wanted or needed and that helping out around the shack was more than enough for him. You’d settled into a comfortable routine in the last couple months since you’d been in town.
“Thanks again for coming to pick me up. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“Hey, like I said, it’s no sweat off my back. I’ve had my own problems in life. I might be a cranky old man but I’ve got my good qualities. And you’re a real help around the shack. Those teenagers don’t know what they’re doing.” Stan put out his cigarette on the curb and looked over at you again. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Can we go home first?”
“Alright, doll. Let’s get going.” Stan got up, wincing slightly after an audible pop in one of his joints. He still offered you his hand and you took it. He held the car door and shut it softly after you. He turned the key in the ignition and turned up the radio. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You’ve had enough trouble tonight.”
You drove home in relative silence, staring out the passenger window and fighting the urge to cry again. Once you arrived at the Mystery Shack Stan made sure to grab the car door for you again. You tried to convince him you could walk without leaning on him, but after wobbling on your broken shoe he pulled your arm over his shoulder. Once inside he flipped on one of the light switches, leaving the room dim but still visible.
“Hold still” Stan said, and lifted you onto the shop’s counter before you could protest. He pulled up a chair and sat in front of you, his jacket still draped over your shoulders. “My God, girl. What the hell happens tonight?”
You flushed sheepishly. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got all the time in the world. But first let me grab the first aid kit; we’ll get you cleaned up.” Stan went into a back room and rummaged around, swearing when you heard something fall. He returned with a large first aid kit and a damp towel. “Thought you might wanna wipe off your makeup.” You took the towel and cleaned your face, touched by the thoughtful gesture.
Stan sat on the chair in front of you, assessing the damage you’d done to yourself after the tumble in the parking lot. “Let me see your leg” you obliged, lifting your leg and resting your foot on his knee. He unbuckled the straps of your heels, tossing them aside. He opened the first aid kit and pulled out alcohol wipes and bandages. “You talk, I’ll fix. Deal?”
You nodded and started to try and explain the events that had transpired earlier this evening. Stan interjected at regular intervals, using less than pleasant words to describe your now ex lover. When you’d told him that you’d dumped the drink on your date at the table Stan chuckled and “atta girl!”ed you. You winced when he wiped your knees and the alcohol stung.
“I know sweetheart. I know it hurts.” His tone was gentle, like he was speaking to the twins or another loved one. He placed a bandaid gently on your knee and wiped your palms. “I think that ought to do it. That guy’s a real piece of work, you know. You’re better off without him. All these rich folks think they’re better than us, but money can’t buy everything. I’m getting off track. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, hun? How’s that knee treating ya?”
His eyes were soft and his questions genuine. Tonight had proven that Stan cared for you. It also awakened something in you. He was handsome for his age, and there was a soft side under his gruff exterior. “Well, you could kiss it better?” You asked, giving him your best doe eyes. Stan swore under his breath, probably cursing your name.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”
“I’ve seen the way you look at me. You stare when you think I’m not paying attention. When my shirt rides up because you just really needed help getting that box off the shelf?”
“Fuck me, darling. You’re a troublemaker.” Stanley took a step closer and brushed the jacket off of your shoulders. “Such a pretty sight. You really are beautiful, I hope you know that. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“Let’s get lucky tonight, Stan.” You placed your hands on his shoulders. “Kiss me” you whispered.
He couldn’t hold back anymore and closed the gap between you. His lips met yours and it was gentle. He cupped your face in his hands softly as he kissed you. When he broke the kiss he still cradled your face. “I haven’t kissed anyone in a very long time. You’re something special, sweetheart.” He kissed you again, a hint of sensuality deepening it. “Let me show you how a gentleman is supposed to treat a lady.” He murmured as he helped you off the counter. Stan took your hand and let you to his bedroom.
He kissed you firmly as you both tumbled onto his bed. His hands continued to cup your face as you kissed, and yours tangled in his hair. Your legs twist around each other, allowing you to feel Stan’s erection through his pants. You moaned into his mouth, trailing your hands down his back. He pulled back for a moment, staring down at you on his bed. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart? Say the word and it stops now. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to do this. Please, Stan. I want you.” You ached for his touch, the pressure of him on top of you, hips lips on yours. Stan nodded his head and kissed you once more. He sat you up and slowly undid the zipper on your dress, watching it pool on the floor. You laid before him in just a bra and panties, barefaced and messy hair. Stan looked at you like a priceless painting.
“Shit, sweetheart. You’re so goddamn good looking. I’m the luckiest man on earth tonight.” Stan licked his lips before kissing your collar bone. You tugged at the buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel his skin on yours. Stan helped you unbutton and remove his shirt, gray chest hair trailing down beneath the waistband of his slacks. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down to meet you. Your kisses were passionate, tongues melting into each other and hands intertwining.
Stan kissed down your neck and chest with a trail of light pecks. He unhooked your bra and paused, seemingly marveling at your bare breasts in front of him. “You’re an angel,” he whispered in the dark. You smiled in between breaths, unsure if he could even tell. Stan kissed down your breasts and gently took one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasped softly as he sucked, careful to never use his teeth. His rough hands fondled the other one and you felt his erection grow stronger as he worked on you.
Stan kissed his way down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. “May I?” He asked as he glanced up at you.
“Please” you murmured softly. You needed more of him desperately. Stan nodded and ran his fingers gently against your sex through the fabric. Though light, the touch sent electricity through your body. His fingers found your clit and kept circling it over your panties, the fabric dulling the sensation; you arched your hips in an effort to gain more friction and pressure. Stan smiled and pulled you closer to his face, kissing your inner thighs. He hooked his fingers in your underwear and pulled them off. “My god, angel” he whispered before planting a soft kiss on your folds.
You gasped as you felt his tongue slink between your folds. He licked and sucked around your clit with the expertise only age and experience could lend him. Stan lapped at you with a sincere focus you’d never seen in a partner before. Someone being so focused on your pleasure rather than going through the motions was an incredible turn on. “Fuck. Please-don’t stop” you moaned. Stan took your words of encouragement and became even more voracious.
You gasped as you felt one of his fingers enter you and work its way back and forth. The added sensation led to the beginning of that swell of pleasure. He added one more finger and pumped them in and out with steady rhythm, hitting your g spot on every forward movement. You could feel your pleasure building and wrapped one of your hands in his hair. He wouldn’t have dared to pull away anyways but the grip reassured you that you wouldn’t float off the bed. “Stan! Oh my god. I’m gonna cum! Please keep going” you were almost breathless as your orgasm reached its breaking point. Pleasure burst through you and you cried out, gripping the sheets and Stan’s hair with enough force to make a grown man shudder.
Stan pulled back once you released your fist from his hair, his erection straining his pants now. “You taste incredible sweetheart. You really are an angel.” Before he could say anything else you sat up and were pawing at the buckle of his belt.
“Please. Let’s keep going” you said in a low voice. Stan chuckled and helped you undo his belt and drop his trousers to the bedroom floor. The outline of his cock stood proud in his white boxers. You’d never looked closely before and he was large. His size was intimidating but you were already imagining it inside of you, pulsing against your walls.
“Slow down a little, sweetheart. I’m not as spry as I once was. I don’t want to break a hip.” Stan was smiling as he swatted your hands away. He discarded his boxers and his member stood at attention in front of you. You felt a flush of arousal in your lower core as he stroked himself. Stan fished a condom from his nightstand and smoothly rolled it onto himself. “Too old to become a dad, doll. The twins are already a handful and they’re only here in the summer.” He leant in to kiss you and your bodies tumbled back onto the mattress.
Stan’s cock was at your entrance but paused. He locked eyes with you to ask for one more silent confirmation and you nodded, whispering “I’m ready” in his ear. He pushed forward and you gasped as he fully entered you. “Oh my god” you murmured as he began to slowly pump back and forth. You wrapped your arms around Stan’s back, pulling him into a tight embrace as he fucked you.
“You feel so fucking good, baby” he panted in your ear. Stan nipped and kissed at your ear lobes while he thrusted. He couldn’t get enough of you and wanted to kiss every part of you he could manage. He grabbed your legs and pushed them up against your chest, allowing him to enter at a deeper angle. The switch in position ensured that every thrust sent you deeper into your own pleasure.
You were lost in each other’s bodies and you couldn’t think straight, only wanting him to keep pushing into you. You were digging your nails into his back, trying to find a way to pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, Stan! I’m so close!” You cried out. You were surely loud enough to wake anyone else up in the house, and Stan kissed you to quiet you. His thrusting was getting faster and he was surely close to his own release. Moments later you felt your second orgasm begin and your eyes rolled back as you rode the wave. The sensation of you clenching down on him sent Stan over the edge as well. He groaned into your mouth as he came, panting as he pulled out slowly.
He discarded the condom before joining you in the bed again. He slid in beside you and pulled the covers around you both. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly into his embrace. “It’s been so long since anyone else has been in this bed,” he murmured softly. “Kind of hope it doesn’t change.” He kissed your cheek with a sleepy softness. “Good thing I like trouble” was the last thing you heard before you dozed off in his arms.
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bteezxyewriter12 · 4 hours ago
Text
Never Let Me Go
Pairing- Seonghwa x Named Reader
Word count- 7.7k
Includes- Angst, mean girl co-worker, pussy eating, blow job, deep throating, cum eating, cock riding, missionary, love making, multiple orgasms, fluff
Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa
@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote @amyz78 @blueie-things
Masterlists- check out for more fics
📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Seonghwa Masterlist
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J POV
I separate a section of his hair at the side of his head, then use a clip to hold the rest back
"Tilt your head this way a little Hwa", I tell him, slightly leaning his head to the right
He does and I take the section of hair, spraying it with hair spray
I separate that section of hair into two and start the tiny twist braid on the side of his head
As I twist the silky strands, I add more hair into the braid, making a sort of Dutch twist braid
Stopping when the braid is just past his ear, I take a small black elastic hand and tie the braid off, making sure it's tight and flat against his head
Then another layer of hair spray
I do three more tight twist braids, then another looser one, leaving hair out to frame his face
Moving behind him, I tilt his head back and start the Dutch braid where his part is, braiding the hair back off his face
"It feels good jagi", he murmurs, "You do it so gently"
"Well I don't want to hurt you baby", I tell him
As a hairstylist for ATEEZ, I definitely don't want to hurt any of the members when I do their hair
That'd be disastrous
I know some of the hairstylists are rougher than me sometimes and I see the guys grimacing in the mirror
I make sure I do the job right and as gentle as I can, especially with my boyfriend
I remember my mom pulling my hair when she brushed or did mine when I was a kid and I hated it
I'd run when she came near me with a hair brush
When I started cosmetology school for hair, I vowed never to be rough with someone's hair
"It never hurts jagi", he smiles at me, taking my breath away
He's so fucking beautiful it's a crime
Barefaced or made up like he is now, he is the handsomest man I've ever seen
I smile back at him, then continue to work on his hair, making another Dutch braid next to the first one, then five more twist braids on the other side of his head
Once those are done, I turn on the flat iron and section off his hair again to straighten it
I go slowly so I don't accidentally burn him, making his soft black hair pin straight
Moving in front of him, I run the flat iron over the pieces of hair framing his face, then spraying it again
Finally I walk around him running my fingers in his hair to mess it up slightly, then strategically "mess up" the hair framing his face
"Done Hwannie"
He nods, standing up, "Thanks baby"
"Yeah Hwa", I answer, turning the flat iron off and putting it on the table
"Jagi", he says softly, his hand on my arm, turning me to him
I look up at him just as he leans down, his soft smooth lips against mine in a gentle kiss
My head spins, my heart pounding just like it does every time he kisses me
All too soon the kiss ends, a smile on his face
"I'll see you later ok?"
I nod, "Yeah baby, ok"
He kisses my cheek, then goes across the room to the tables with makeup
I watch him sit down, one of the make up artists, Eun, glaring at me
I just raise my eyebrow
I don't know what her problem is
She's always been mean to me since I started over a year ago
She was never nice, gives backhanded compliments and is just rude
Like a popular mean girl except the other stylists and staff don't really like her
I stay away from her, I don't engage in her bullshit
She's never said anything directly to me but when she does, I'll shut her down, no problem
Ignoring her, I call Mingi over for his hair to be done
--------------------------------
I watch my baby dance, sweat pouring down his face as he smirks and sticks his tongue out
A group of us staff are watching the guys perform on a monitor in the dressing room
He's so beautiful, everything he does so effortless
He's amazing to watch
"God, Seonghwa is so hot", Eun says, when a close up of Seonghwa breathing hard after the performance ends appears on the screen
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"Eun!", Rose shushes her
"Oh what?", Eun rolls her eyes, "Joanne knows she's dating an idol. A hot idol at that and she knows girls are going to talk about him, lust after him"
Eun looks right at me, smirking haughtily, "Right Jo?"
I just nod because she's right
I know Seonghwa is lusted after by lots of women and some of those women work with me
I'm used to hearing people talk about him
Wishing they could have him
He's not only hot but he's the whole package
Sweet, kind, so caring, so affectionate, so gentle, so loving, attentive, supportive
He's honestly the perfect guy
"His duality is insane. How he goes from hot to freaking adorable is crazy", Eun continues
Again she's right
And its such a turn on seeing it happen during sex
How he can go from a cute cuddly baby to a dominating rough demon in seconds can give someone whiplash
Not me though
Not anymore
I'm used to it
"I wish I could fuck him"
Ok that's a new one
"Jesus Christ Eun! His girlfriend is standing right there!", Kamou snaps
"Please, I'm just saying what everyone is thinking", she answers, "Every woman here wants to fuck him"
Again, she's not wrong but really she doesn't have to say it in front of me
"I'd do it too", she says, looking at me, "Nothing against you Jo, but if Seonghwa came on to me while he's with you, I'm going for it"
I guess that's supposed to be a warning but I'm not worried
I made Seonghwa swear up and down before I agreed to go out with him that he won't cheat on me
I'm not dumb, I know he's around beautiful idols and beautiful ATINYs all day, almost everyday
I know he'll be hit on, he'll be tempted
But I made him promise to break up with me if he wanted to fuck someone else or just fuck around in general
I was cheated on before, I told him about it and I made sure he knew that was a condition of me saying yes to him
Do not cheat
So the only time Eun would ever get him is after he breaks up with me
By then he's free and it doesn't matter who he sleeps with
"Goddamn Eun. Rein it fucking in and stop talking to her like that", Kamou growls
"Please Kam. I'm just giving her a reality check", Eun says pompously, "Seonghwa is twenty five years old. He knows he's a hot guy who millions of girls want. He can have his pick of anyone and he chooses Jo? C'mon"
What she's saying is insulting and I am offended but she's also right
I often wonder why he did pick me
I'm definitely not the prettiest staff member here, not the smartest, not the most outgoing
In fact, when I was first hired, I didn't speak to any of the members for months despite them trying
I was just nervous and I knew I'd make a fool of myself
Seonghwa was the one who actually got me to start talking
He was just so sweet, trying to make conversation and I didn't want to hurt his feelings
But once I opened up to Seonghwa it was easy to open up to the other guys too
Four months after I started talking to Seonghwa, he asked me out and we've been together for almost a year
But really if you look at us, it's clear we don't belong together
He's way out of my league
Anyone can see it
"That's so fucking rude", Kamou snarls
Eun scoffs, "The truth is rude. She's definitely not his type. Not with her tattoo sleeves and that weird piercing on her face. They don't go together. They look weird together. He should be with a girl who's classically pretty, whose skin isn't all inked up. That's probably why he hasn't gone public with her. Because of how she looks. He's probably ashamed of her"
I hate how she's talking like I'm not here
Like if you're gonna talk shit, talk to my face
"That's so out of line", Rose tells her
Eun just shrugs then actually turns to me
Finally she's not being a coward
"Not for nothing Jo, you and Seonghwa aren't end game", Eun says snottily, "He'll leave you eventually, probably for an idol"
"Eun what the actual fuck is wrong with you?", Rose gapes
"Nothing. I'm telling her reality. Her and Seonghwa aren't going to last"
"I know", I say, all of their eyes landing on me
The thing is Eun is telling me this shit as if I don't know it already
As if I haven't painstakingly thought of and worried about every single thing she said
I know me and Seonghwa aren't endgame
There's just no way
I don't look like a "normal" girl
I have lots of tattoos
Visible tattoos
I don't have sleeves on my arms but I have a lot along the length of my arms
I have more on my thighs, my ankles, my calves, my body
And I have an anti eyebrow ring, a barbell on my cheekbone under my right eye
Big no no's, especially in the idol world
I figured Seonghwa would never go public with me
I'm not exactly idol girlfriend material
And it doesn't help that I told him I love him a few weeks ago and he said nothing
We had just finished being together and were cuddling and I just said it
I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't complete silence
It wasn't the look on his face like he wanted to be anywhere but with me at that moment
And that moment confirmed what I already knew
He doesn't love me
After two minutes of complete silence, I had to get out of there
I kissed his cheek, disentangled from him and went right to the bathroom
I cleaned up and desperately hoped he wouldn't bring it up ever again
When I got back to my room, he acted as if I didn't say anything to him
And I just went with it
He went back to acting normal, never bringing up my love confession again
And I just let it go
I decided to just enjoy the time I have with him, however long that will be
"Jo?", Kamou asks
"Look, I know Seonghwa and I aren't going to last ok? I know he'll probably end up with an idol or even an ATINY. I'm not stupid", I tell them, "I know how lucky I am to have the chance to be with him. I know I'm not good enough for him. But I'm just going to enjoy being with him. However long that is. And when he's tired of me and wants to break up, I'm gonna let him go"
I'm not about making someone who doesn't want to be with me stay
I can't make him love me, I can't make him want me
And I don't want to be with someone who doesn't want me
It'll hurt but I'll just have to find a way to get over it
"So anything you think you have to say to let me know about Seonghwa and my relationship, save it", I tell Eun, "You can't tell me anything I don't already know or thought about"
Eun just shrugs, "Well just know that once he dumps you, I'm going after him. I'm at least going to fuck him"
I snort, glaring at her, "Why wait? Why don't you go after him now?"
She sneers, "Because I don't get into girl fights and I know you're the pathetic type to fight for a guy who won't want you soon. Seeing as how I know you two won't last anyway, I can wait a little while longer"
"I'm pathetic?", I snort, "You're the sad desperate skank who's pining over someone else's boyfriend"
She huffs, glaring at me, "We'll see how much of a smart ass you are when your boyfriend is with me"
God, she's so full of herself
I know Seonghwa would never go for her
He doesn't go for bitches
And she's a mega bitch
"Whether Seonghwa is with me or not, it won't stop me from shutting your fucking ass up", I growl, "It won't keep my mouth shut when you're acting like a bitch. So how about you go fuck right off?"
She sneers but doesn't say anything, instead walking away to the other side of the room
She's a fucking coward, all talk with nothing to back herself up
"Don't listen to her", Kamou says, "She's an idiot. She's just jealous"
I shrug
I don't care about her
As long as she stays away from me and keeps her mouth shut, there will be no problems
Now that ATEEZ is done performing, I take my phone and sit on one of the chairs, starting the long process of waiting for the show to be over so Seonghwa and I can go home
🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉
Seonghwa POV
I stand outside the dressing room completely horrified at the conversation I overheard
I came to find my jagi after the performance when I saw she wasn't backstage
I heard everything Eun said to her
The fucking audacity she has saying those things to my baby
As if I'd ever be with Eun
Not a chance in hell
Eun can chase me to the ends of the earth, I will never be with her
She's nothing I'd ever want
She's mean and nasty to all the staff and it's a huge turn off
I'm so upset hearing everything Joanne said....everything she thinks- how she "knows" I'm going to get tired of her, that I'm going to break up with her...that I'm out of her league....that she thinks I'm ashamed of her....it breaks me that she thinks she's not good enough for me
Because it's completely not true
She's out of my league not the other way around
She's my everything
I love her with all my heart, she's my one, she's all I want
I hate how clear it is that she thinks I don't love her
It's because of what happened when she told me she loves me
I was completely shocked, I was happy but also unsure if I heard her right and I choked
Badly
I didn't say anything and then she ran away
I was horrified and yelling at myself when she left her bedroom
I don't know why I just didn't say it back
I just froze like a dumbass
And when she came back, she had a look on her face, almost like she was begging me not to bring up what just happened
So I didn't and acted normal
But I've been kicking myself ever since that day
I've been trying to find the right time to tell her that I love her more than anything but every time seems wrong
It's like that moment was the right time and I blew it
One thing is clear though, I have to tell her that she's wrong
Tell her everything she's thinking is so wrong and I love her so much
I will
Tonight when we get back to her apartment
I'm telling her everything I should of said that night
I walk into the dressing room, looking for her
I spot her in a chair, scrolling through her phone, lost in her own world
I smile watching her
She's so oblivious sometimes and it's adorable
"Jagi", I call when I get to her
She looks up at me and gives me her gorgeous smile that takes my breath away
"Hi Hwannie", she says, "What are you doing here baby? Shouldn't you be in the viewing room with the guys?"
I nod, "Yeah but I wanted to find you first"
"Oh. Well here I am"
I smile at her, reaching out and running my fingers in her hair
God, she's so fucking beautiful
I can stare at her all day
"You still want me to come over after?", I ask
She nods, "Yeah. Unless you don't want to"
"No I do jagi"
"Ok Hwa", she smiles
Leaning down, I kiss her soft lips, my head spinning just like every time I kiss her
I love that feeling
"I'll see you later jagi"
"Ok Hwannie"
Kissing her forehead, I reluctantly leave her in the dressing room
I don't want to go back to the guys, I want to stay with her but I can't
'Just a little longer', I tell myself as I enter the viewing room
--------------------------------
I follow her into her bedroom watching as she kicks her shoes off in the closet
"What do you wanna do baby?", she asks, "Are you hungry? We can order food"
I am hungry but I want to address what I overheard first
"Jagi, can...can we talk?", I ask
She freezes, a look of fear on her face
And I mentally palm myself in the face when I realized what I said
What it sounds like to her
Those words are the words everyone who's going to break up with someone uses
She swallows, then nods, forcing a smile on her face, "Yeah sure Hwa. I uh ...I'm just going to change first ok?"
"Yeah jagi, ok", I answer, hoping that by using a pet name she realizes I'm not breaking up with her
She faces her dresser as she changes, her body slightly trembling, her breathing increasing, her nose sniffling
I immediately get up and get to her, knowing that she's either crying or trying not to cry
Taking her arm, I turn her to me and wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly
She clings onto me, her face buried in my shirt, her fingers gripping the fabric hard
She's standing stiffly in my arms as if that will protect her from any hurt she thinks is coming
"Jo", I whisper, needing to tell her how I really feel, so she knows she had nothing to ever worry about, "I love you"
I feel like a weight is lifted off me now that I told her
Silence fills the room and she doesn't move a muscle
It takes a minute before she moves her face away from my shirt, slowly looking up at me, confusion in her beautiful eyes
"What?", she whispers
I push her hair off her face, looking in those dark brown pools I drown in every time I look in her eyes, "I love you Jo. So fucking much jagi"
"You don't have to say it just because I did Hwa", she says quietly
"I'm not jagi", I assure her, "I...I'm sorry I didn't say it before. When you said it. I was just shocked and I froze. I...I was worried I was hearing things. But baby I love you so much. I never fell in love with anyone before but fuck, I love you so much"
"You're....you're serious?", she asks hesitantly
"One hundred percent", I answer
I breathe in preparing to talk to her about what I overheard
"Jo....I heard....what Eun said to you. And what you said to her"
Her cheeks turn pink as she looks away
"Baby", I say softly, touching her cheek gently, her eyes slowly moving back to me, "Everything she said, everything you think, it's not true"
"It's not?"
I shake my head, "Jagi, I'm not ashamed of you baby. I never would be. I think...I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen"
"C'mon Hwa", she says, clearly not believing me, "That's not true"
"Of course it is Jo. The second I saw you, I was mesmerized. All I wanted was to be near you. To get to know you. But you were so shy and I backed off, giving you time to get adjusted to everything. Until I couldn't wait anymore. That's when I started talking to you. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. Only you"
Her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink and I smile softly, running my fingers in her long hair
"You're stunning to me Jo. And I absolutely love all your tattoos. I love looking at them, I love tracing the lines, I love how they look on you", I confess, "And I love your piercing too. It's unique and interesting and looks so fucking good on you"
Leaning down, I kiss her cheek where her piercing is
She is honestly the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen
Like an ethereal angel
An ethereal tattooed angel
"I happen to think we look incredibly good together", I tell her, smiling
"Yeah?", she asks, giving me a small smile
"Oh yeah", I confirm, "We are definitely a hot couple"
She giggles, the sound warming my entire body
"We look perfect together", I tell her honestly
"I...I thought we did too", she whispers, "But I could be wrong"
"You're not, baby", I say, "Jo, I know that you think I'm going to leave you eventually but I'm not"
"You don't know that Hwa"
"I do", I say firmly, "See jagi to me, we are endgame. I went into this knowing you're my one, knowing we're endgame. The only way we're not together is if you walk away. If you leave me because I'm never going to walk away from you. Never. Of that I'm sure"
I can't be without her
I don't know how I lived without her before
And I know if she ever left me, I'd break completely
Just thinking about it makes my heart pound, makes tears spring to my eyes
"You are more than good enough for me baby. Too good", I tell her, "I'll never get tired of you Jo. I'll never hide you like you think I will. I was waiting to tell you I love you before I go public with us"
"You were?", she questions, surprised
"Yeah jagi. I actually can't wait to show everyone the beautiful girl I love with all my heart. To have the world know I have an amazing girl", I answer, looking in her gorgeous eyes, "I don't want you to ever let me go baby. Please don't"
She shakes her head, hugging me tightly, whispering in my ear, "I never will Hwa. I love you more than anything Seonghwa. You are the one I want, always. I was scared you weren't going to want me"
"Don't be afraid jagi", I whisper, "I'm never leaving you. I'm never letting you go. You're my everything"
"You're mine too Hwannie"
I breathe in relief, holding her tightly
"I love you", I tell her
Now that I said it, I don't want to stop
"I love you Hwa"
Leaning down, I kiss her softly, pouring all my love into it
She kisses me back, her arms moving around my neck where they belong
Picking her up, I carry her to her bed, laying her on it, kissing her desperately
I need her right now but what's more, I need to show her how much I love her, how much I want her
As her tongue plays with mine, I move my hands down her body, pulling her pj pants down
Sitting up, I get them off her, her panties and the rest of her clothes following
She sits up, taking my shirt off, then tugging on my pants, whining a soft "off"
I do as she asks, taking everything off, then gently pushing her back on the bed
"Fuck jagi", I murmur, my eyes and hands roaming her body, her soft skin under my fingers, "How could I ever want anyone else when I have you? You're perfect baby"
Leaning down, I press a kiss to the skin between her boobs and keep going, making my way down her body, giving kisses along her pretty tattoos
She whimpers, her body pressing up into my lips, her skin trembling
I open her legs as I kiss her lower stomach, forcing myself to go slow and not just bury my face in her sweet cunt
Finally I get to where I want to be and give her little pussy a kiss, then run my tongue up her cunt eagerly
We both moan at the same time, her from pleasure, me from how utterly sweet she tastes
I swear I can never get enough of eating her pussy
I can eat her out every day, for hours
The whole rumor about me loving to eat pussy is right
I love it and I love hers
With every lick I give her, I move my tongue faster and faster until I'm swirling it around her cunt, pushing my face right into her
I grip her thighs hard, keeping her wide open for me as I eat
"Seonghwa", she moans, her voice sending shivers down my back
I can never get tired of hearing her call my name
It turns me on like nothing else
My tongue runs down her pussy and I dip just the tip into her hole, feeling her trying to clench on it
I pull away, listening to her cute whines
"Mmm jagi, want me to tongue fuck you?"
"Yes Hwa", she whines, her hand sliding into the back my hair, pushing my face right against her cunt
"Anything you want baby", I promise her
"You, I want you"
"You have me baby", I answer, "Always"
I kiss her pussy again, then slide my tongue all the way in, moaning as she squeezes my tongue hard
I moan in her cunt, pulling my tongue out then slipping back in
I thrust in and out of her hole, slowly increasing my speed with every thrust
Her pussy soaks my face, drowning me just how I like it
I swallow her juice over and over, so much of it filling my mouth, while her pussy creams my tongue
"Mmm jagi", I moan, lost in her cunt, "So good baby. Fuck, taste so good. Love eating your cunt"
"Hwannie", she whines, her hips moving against my face as I pleasure her
"Good girl", I praise her, continuing to fuck her little hole
We move together, her cunt throbbing around my tongue faster with each stroke, with each grind against my face
"Seonghwa", she moans,
I thrust my tongue as far as I can inside her cunt just as cums, her legs shaking hard around my head
Her pussy spasms so tightly around my tongue, her cream coating it and pouring into my mouth
I moan as her delicious taste fills my senses and I keep swallowing until I get it all
God, she's the best tasting thing I've ever had in my mouth
As soon as I get it all, I slide my tongue up, flicking her clit
"Yes Seonghwa!", she cries just as I wrap my mouth around her throbbing clit, sucking harshly on her
I close my eyes, reveling in the way her clit pulses against my lips, each spasm sending pleasure down to my already hard aching cock
I alternate between licking her clit, flicking it and sucking on it, her cunt getting even more drenched, it's dripping down my neck
She cries my name as she squirms on the bed, the pleasure in her face so fucking pretty
She's fucking perfect
I slip my tongue down, just to taste her cream and swallow it, then I return to massaging her clit
"Seonghwa", she moans, "So good, fuck"
"Mm, gonna cum for me again?"
"Yes!", she yells, "Yes. Please...need...need"
"I know what you need baby", I murmur, sucking her clit in my mouth and slurp hard on it
"Oh my fucking god yes, Seonghwa!", she screams and I watch the gorgeous sight of my jagi coming
So fucking pretty
I suck her through it, not wanting to let go but wanting to be buried in her cunt at the same time
I reluctantly let go, then lick up her cum from her hole, reveling in the sweet taste
I make sure I clean her pussy up completely before sitting up
She reaches out for me and I take her hands helping her sit up, her chest heaving
"Good jagi?", I ask, tucking some hair behind her ear
Her beautiful brown eyes meet mine as she nods
"Good baby", I smile
"Come lay down baby", she says
I comply, laying against the headboard, waiting for her
She moves on top of me, kissing me and I eagerly kiss her back
There is no time where I will not kiss her
Anytime she's willing to give me her kisses I'll gladly take it
After awhile she breaks the kiss, her lips moving to my neck, making me whimper from how good it feels
Her kisses keep moving down, spreading all over my chest so slowly
It feels amazing and I feel so loved, so wanted
She's the only girl who's ever taken the time to kiss my whole body, like I do to hers
"I love you", she murmurs into my skin, her fingers running along the side of my body
"I love you Jo"
I feel her smiling against me, her lips moving lower, kissing along my abs and lower stomach
She moves lower when I stop her
I don't need a blow job
Tonight isn't about me, it's about her, about me showing her how much I love her
"You don't have to jagi", I tell her
"I want to", she says
I shake my head, "I don't need it jagi. I-"
"Please Hwannie. Wanna suck your cock baby", she pleads, making her eyes big and innocent
Fuck, those eyes, they can get me to do anything
"Are you sure baby? You don't have to if you don't want to", I assure her
"I want to Hwannie. I love blowing you just as much as you like eating me out"
Huh, I didn't not know that
Now I do
"Can I?", she asks
I nod, "Yeah jagi"
She smiles and it blows my mind that she's happy to go down on me
Her head dips down, her lips pressing kisses along my hard length, my body shivering with pleasure
God it feels so fucking good, it's insane
She kisses my head, her tongue pressing against it, licking and getting my leaking cum on her tongue
She swallows, her eyes looking at mine, smirking, "So good Hwannie"
I swallow hard, so turned on
My girlfriend is the hottest girl on this planet
Her tongue runs up and down my cock, wetting me, then swirls around my head, pleasure creeping into my veins
I watch her mouth wrap around my head, sucking softly, sending bliss exploding into me
I groan, watching her move down my cock more and more, her sucking getting faster
Harder
"Oh god jagi", I moan, her mouth feeling utterly amazing
She bottoms me out quickly, deepthroating me, it feeling so good in her tight throat
Her mouth sucks desperately on my dick, her hands holding my hips hard
I can't tear my eyes from her as I move my hand in her hair, wrapping it around into a ponytail
She bobs her head, going up my cock, then back down fast, taking me in her throat hard, stars blasting in my eyes
She moves quickly, up and down, tears filling her pretty eyes
She moans loudly, spit all over, making the blow job so messy, just how I like it
"So good", I whimper, my body tense with bliss, "Doing such a good job, sucking my cock like this jagi"
"Mmm", she whines, her teary eyes moving to my face
It's too good and my body has a mind of its own, my hips lifting up as she comes down, meeting her bob and sliding in her throat faster
"Oh fuck", I cry
We start moving together, my hips lifting and thrusting into her mouth while she slides up and down, meeting my thrusts, a mix of throat fucking and deepthroating that feels phenomenal
With each move, we go faster and I'm right there
She takes my cock deep in her throat, bliss tsunaming over me as I cum
"Jo, baby, fuck", I cry, her mouth sucking and swallowing as I shoot cum in her mouth
"Mmmm", she moans, sending shivers up my spine, her mouth sucking all the cum from my dick
"Don't stop baby", I moan when I finish, oversensitivity hitting me
I can get past it soon, I want her to keep going so she can get me hard again
After a few minutes, I'm hard and I stop her
"Baby, come here"
She moves off me and I pull her into my lap, kissing her, my head spinning
How can her kiss always make me feel so good?
How?
She slides her hands in the back of my hair, her tongue playing with mine while my hands move up her body slowing, tangling in her hair
One of her hands slowly moves down my body, her fingers running along my chest, then abs, my skin on fire from her touch
Her hand moves between us, grabbing my cock, holding me up
Without breaking the kiss, she moves up then sinks down on my cock, her arm wrapping around my neck again
She moves down slowly, her pussy splitting around my hard cock, soaking me completely
God, it feels so fucking good
I lift my hips up, helping her get me inside her, her hips moving as she wiggles down my length
Once I get all in, we both moan from how tight of a fit we are
Fuck me, she feels so goddamn good
Always
So fucking tight, so wet, latching onto my cock and pulsing hard
She gently pushes me back until I'm laying down, looking down at me
Bouncing on me, she moves slowly but hard, taking my cock in deeply, her pussy squeezing along my length as she moves
Taking my hands, she puts them on her body
"Touch me Hwa", she murmurs
"Always jagi", I whisper, running my fingers up and down the sides of her body, her skin trembling against my fingers
She closes her eyes, biting her lip as she moves and I'm completely hypnotized
The way her boobs jiggle, the pleasure on her face, the way she rocks on my cock when she takes me back inside
She's so fucking gorgeous
"Hwa", she moans, when she rubs her spot on my head, shivers running up my spine
God, I love the way she moans my name
Screaming it, calling it, moaning it, saying it, I love hearing my name in her voice
The next time she comes back down, I thrust up, right into her spot, watching her pretty body shiver
Gripping her hips, I thrust up every time she comes down, my cock slipping in deeper, making her stomach bulge with each move
That's such a fucking turn on
"Fuck", she moans, her gorgeous pussy lips petaling open for my cock, her pretty hole slipping up and down my length, straining as it gets down to my base
As we move together, I keep hitting her spot over and over, stretching her wide open, her pussy clenching my cock in a vice grip, cream pouring out of her, soaking my cock and lap in it
She's close
"Look at me jagi", I call, wanting to see her cum
Opening her eyes, she looks down at me, meeting my gaze
"Cum jagi. I want to watch you", I say softly
Bringing herself down on me again, she explodes, shaking on top of me, her legs quaking around my body the sight of her coming so fucking ethereal
"Seonghwa, Seonghwa", she moans softly
"Fuck jagi, you're so fucking beautiful", I whisper, intense pleasure coursing through my body from her orgasm
I don't know how or why her orgasms give me so much pleasure, but they do and I'm fucking addicted to them
When she finishes, I sit up, wrapping my arms around her waist and turning us, getting her on her back, going on top of her
Slipping back inside her welcoming cunt, I begin thrusting in and out, slowly, feeling every inch of her pussy stretching for me
As I move, I can feel everything- every clench, every drop of her cream all over my shaft, every move of her fingers running along my back, her fingers running in my hair
It feels so fucking good
"Seonghwa", she moans softly, clinging onto me tightly as I make love to her
I bury my face in her neck, kissing her, breathing in the scent that is just her
"My jagi feels so good for me. All the time", I praise her, feeling her pussy pulse rapidly
She close
"Almost baby", I whisper, lifting my head
I kiss her jaw, then down to her boob, knowing what will get her over the edge
Taking her nipple in my mouth, I suck lightly and gently, loving how her hard nipple feels in my mouth
That's just what she needed because the next thrust and suck have her climaxing around my cock, her body arching into mine
"Seonghwa", she cries, squeezing my length so hard, over and over, throwing me into ecstasy
"So good jagi. Fuck me. I'm coming, I'm-", I moan, burying my throbbing cock in her pulsing pussy, shooting my cum deep inside her, "Yes, yes, yes Joanne, yes!"
"Hwa, baby", she moans, holding me tightly, milking my cock for every drop
"Yes jagi", I groan, the bliss so fucking amazing
As the pleasure slowly leaves, she pulls me on top of her, my head on her chest, her fingers playing with my hair
"I love you Jo", I tell her
"I love you Hwannie"
I smile, snuggling into her, so unbelievably happy
I stay in her arms for awhile, feeling sleeping as she runs her fingers in my hair
"Hwannie, don't sleep yet baby. I have to take your hair out"
"Mmm. Ok", I murmur
She giggles, "Lay on the pillow baby"
She helps me move, putting my head on the pillow, turning so I face her
I feel her sit next to me, her fingers gently taking out the rubber bands and undoing the braids, then finger combing my hair
It feels so good, she's always so gentle with my hair
She finishes one side, then turns my head to get the braids out of the that side, making me sleepy
No wonder she loves when I play with her hair
It's relaxing and feels amazing
"There baby", she says, "All done"
"Yeah?", I yawn, "All done?"
"Yeah", she confirms
"Good jagi", I say, then pull her down to me, cuddling her
"Hwannie", she giggles, settling in my arms, pulling the blanket over us
"Sleepy time baby", I murmur, "We have another performance tomorrow and we both need sleep"
She needs to be up at the same time with me since she's one of the hairstylists
"Yeah ok Hwannie", she says softly
Leaning down to me, she kisses me softly, her kiss full of love
I pour all of mine into the kiss, hoping she feels it too
"I love you Hwa", she smiles, touching my cheek softly
"I love you Jo", I smile, "So much jagi"
She nods, "So much Hwa"
She kisses my lips again, then lays her head on my chest, her arm around me
I move my arm around her, holding her as I play with her hair, relieved that she knows I love her more than anything in this world
🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉
J POV
Seonghwa holds my hand tightly as we walk into the dressing room
Whispers begin, every one looking at us, Eun glaring at me angrily
Uh what the hell?
"Hwannie", I whisper, "Do you notice people are looking at us and talking?"
He looks around, "Yeah"
Uh ok, is he not worried?
"Don't you care why?"
"I know why jagi"
I blink in surprise
"Ok well why?"
He takes his phone out, presses on it a couple of times and hands it to me
It's his Instagram
I look at the picture and my mouth drops in shock
It's a picture of me and him
Standing by a pool
Him in his swim shorts and me in a bikini
That shows all my tattoos
I remember Hongjoong took this picture of us a few months ago when ATEEZ went to perform in Japan
The comment under the picture is- Me and my jagi. She has my whole heart. I love you jagi"
I look up at him, shock in my body
He smiles softly, taking my hand, "I told you I was waiting until I told you I love you before announcing us"
"Well yeah but so soon?"
He just told me he loves me yesterday
He nods, "I didn't want to wait jagi. I told you I was excited to show the world the girl I love"
My god, that's so sweet
But I'm also worried
"Baby, this isn't going to get you in trouble?"
I'm worried about ATINYs giving him and ATEEZ hate
"No jagi. I cleared it with the managers. They're ok with it"
Ok that's a relief
But there's still ATINY
"And ATINY?"
"They're ok baby. If you look at the comments most are supporting us. Of course there's some hate but we can just ignore those"
I look at the post, clicking on the comments, reading them
He's right
Most are positive, congratulating us, saying how good we look together, wishing us happines, praising Seonghwa for being brave and going public with his relationship
There are a few mean comments, mostly about my tattoos and scolding him for dating but they're certainly not the majority
"Are you...are you mad?", he asks quietly
"No baby", I answer right away, shaking my head, "I was just surprised that all"
"Is it a good surprise?", he asks shyly
The fucking best
I nod, smiling, "The best surprise baby"
He smiles, leaning down, his lips against mine in a kiss
"So how did you do it?", Eun growls
I turn to her, rolling my eyes
I'm on a break, waiting for the guys to finish with their outfits before retouching their hair
"Do what?"
"Get Seonghwa to announce your relationship"
"I didn't do anything", I snap, "He did it on his own"
"Yeah right", she snorts, "You had to do something. He'd never announce you"
God, I want to punch her in her bitchy face
"I didn't-"
"Did you beg him? Ask him to post the photo?", she says snottily, "Did you fuck him in exchange for the post? Blow him? Let him do whatever he wants to you like the whore you are? That's the only way I can see him posting this career ending post"
Clearly she didn't read the comments
"She didn't do anything of the sort", a growl coming from behind me
I turn to see Seonghwa standing being me, an angry look on his face
"She didn't beg me, she didn't have sex with me to get something out of it. She didn't even know I did it. It was a surprise", he snaps
"A surprise? For what?", Eun asks, giving me a dirty look
Seonghwa steps in front of me, blocking me from Eun's line of sight
"Because I love her"
"You...what?", Eun splutters, "You love her? You can't"
He snorts, "I can and I do. Not that it's your business but I told her I was waiting to tell her I loved her before I announced us. I told her last night and I announced us today"
"ATINY-", she starts
"Is happy for us", he cuts her off, "Read the comments instead of guessing. This is not a career ending move. And if it was I don't care. I love her more than anything. She's worth it"
My mouth drops at his words, my heart warming at his love for me
"And by the way, I heard all the things you said to her yesterday", he snaps
Eun's face pales, worry on her face
"To be clear, I would never date you", he says coldly, "You're very rude and just a mean girl. That is not attractive in the slightest. So they're is no way you'll ever have me or fuck me. So you can get that out of your head for good"
Oh my god this is amazing
The shock on Eun's face is hilarious
She really thought she had a chance with him
Even I knew she didn't but I let her talk
"I love Joanne more than anything. We are end game. I'm going to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. She's my one and only. That's the end of it"
Oh my god, I have the best man in the world
I mean I knew that already but hearing him makes me so happy
Eun nods, her face so red, looking as if she's gonna cry
Seonghwa turns away from her, to me, looking down at me, "Are you ok jagi?"
I nod, "Yeah baby. I'm fine"
"Ok", he nods, "I'm sorry I cut you off from answering her but she just got me so mad. After what she said to you yesterday, hearing the shit she said today was the last straw"
I smile, moving closer to him, my arms around his neck, "Thank you for defending me baby"
"Always jagi", he smiles
"Oh and by the way", I tell him, looking in his eyes, "You're my one and only too Hwa. I'm gonna marry you, spend the rest of my life with you baby. My perfect man"
His smile brightens as he looks at me, "My perfect girl", he says softly
Leaning down, he kisses me in a searing kiss that has me seeing stars
I feel his love for me and bask in it
"I love you", I whisper after the kiss
"I love you jagi"
Smiling, I take his hand, "C'mon baby, let's go make sure your hair is good"
He nods, grinning, "Ok jagi", then follows me to a chair
16 notes · View notes
cinnamorollcrybaby · 1 month ago
Text
Giving the nerd a chance
tags: nerd!nanami/fem!reader, college!au, stsg, nsfw, dirty talk, asphyxiation, size kink, mdni!!
a/n: this one’s a long one :) pace yourself and enjoy!
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Kento Nanami is a social enigma. He is a total outlier but in the weirdest way possible.
This man is conventionally attractive. Some would even go as far to say Nanami’s handsome, almost in a filthy way. His looks are sneaky too. He’s not someone you’d immediately notice in a room, but once you did…
You would notice his sculpted jaw line first. Then, his naturally high cheekbones that gave way to his soft hazel eyes. He had a serious look on his face always, but his eyes told a different story. Maybe you’d notice his blonde hair that sat neatly on his head, styled with an undercut. Yeah, Nanami was fucking hot.
But that’s not the weird part. No, you haven’t heard him utter a single word except to answer the professor’s unanswered questions once the silence was unbearable.
That’s not exactly weird either. There are tons of people who go through college without the intention of making friends… but Nanami has friends. He doesn’t just have like one friend. No, he’s apart of a friend group.
The weirdest part was he seemed to be close with the most popular guy in your university, star quarterback Satoru Gojo. Gojo was seemingly every college girl’s wet dream. He’s the type to stand out in a room. His looks and personality demand attention.
He’s the complete opposite from Nanami.
Then, there was Suguru Geto… Geto was also a strange friend for Nanami to have. Geto was smart, funny, and well-mannered… when he was in class. But you’ve seen how Geto acts at parties. He smokes cigarettes, shotguns whiskey, and keeps up with all of Gojo’s antics. Shoko was the exact same way, except she didn’t care enough to keep up with Gojo’s buffoonery.
They were the complete opposite from Nanami as well.
Yu Haibara was a cutie patootie. He’s also a sweet social butterfly. Another one of Nanami’s friends that just didn’t seem to be his type.
You caught yourself staring at the friend group as you’re sitting on a couch at a frat house. Your college team just won the game, so Satoru had invited a whole slew of people over. You somehow made it on that list. Your friend, Utahime, is begging you to leave, but something is telling you to stay.
“Go on without me, Uta. I’ll be fine, promise.” You say over the music as you flash her a small smile to assure her.
“I really, really, really don’t want to leave you here alone, yn. I don’t want you to end up on the front page of the news.”
“Don’t wish that shit upon me.” You laugh as you gently nudge her arm, urging her towards the door.
“I’m serious, yn. Please text me. If you’re not back in the dorm by midnight, I’m calling the cops.” She says as she grabs your shoulders, forcing you to face her directly.
You admire your friend’s caring demeanor, but she was being a total cock block for you right now.
“I will text you. I promise.” You assure her once again. “Go back to the dorm. Love you.”
She sighs deeply as she lets you go. She’s still not comfortable with the idea of leaving you here, but she can’t force you to leave. “Love you too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Oh, that’s all I’m gonna do.” You smirk as she flips you off and leaves the frat house.
You take a drink from your red solo cup to gather your nerves. Nanami has been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all night. He’s alone, but he doesn’t look lonely. Sometimes, Satoru will drunkenly slouch his weight onto the blonde and slur something inaudible to him. From what you can see, Nanami just rolls his eyes and shrugs his friend off his shoulders.
You want to approach him, but you’re still too afraid he won’t talk to you. As you sit down your cup, an intoxicated Satoru is standing over you.
“I’m sorry- I don’t remember your name.” He gives you a slanted smile as he crouches down a bit so you two are face-to-face.
“That’s okay. I don’t remember yours either.” You snip back with a small grin. Something sparkles in his eyes as you give him a little bit of a challenge. He finds it to be endearing.
“Cheeky. Give me your number.” He demands, keeping his smirk on his face.
“Why should I give it to you?”
“Because it’s not for me.” He slurs as he leans in close to you. He nods his head towards the kitchen. “I’m doing this for my pussy friend over there.”
Your eyes dart towards Nanami. His eyes are glaring holes into Satoru with more anger and emotion than you’ve ever seen from him. Your stomach swirls with butterflies.
“That is a really good reason.” You murmur as you quickly type your number into Satoru’s phone.
*** *** ***
It had been days since the frat party and not a single word from Nanami. Your excitement had honestly fizzled out into sulking. Were you not good enough for him? Did Satoru lie? Was it all a sick prank?
Not even Utahime could get you in a good mood.
“Yn. This is so ridiculous. If you like him that much, just go up and talk to him.” She chides
“Noooo.” You groan into your pillow as you turn onto your stomach in your bed. “He’s too cool. Out of my league.”
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Kento Nanami? The nerd who barely ever talks? The know-it-all in class?”
“Utahimeee.”
“You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Let me wallow in my self pity.” You gripe before you hear your phone buzz. The sound of your phone notifying you doesn’t even excite you anymore. It’s always some lame ass notification.
Unknown Number: Is this yn?
Your eyes widen as you stare at your phone in disbelief. Your body involuntarily sits up in bed, startling Utahime.
“Jesus Christ. What? What happened?”
“He texted me!” You beam proudly. You are embarrassing. Utahime scoffs and walks away from you, unable to take the second-hand embarrassment.
Yn: Yeah, that’s me :)
Unknown Number: This is Kento Nanami. I’m sorry Gojo felt the need to disturb you at the party. 
Yn: No need! He didn’t disturb me too much.
Nanami: That’s good to hear.
God. Now, what do you say? Of course Nanami is a dry texter. You stare at the text conversation for a while, trying to think of something.. anything to break the ice.
Yn: Did you ask him to get my number, or did he do that on his own volition?
Nanami: Gojo does things on his own volition.
Yn: Ah.. I see.
He left you on read.
Goddammit.
You had your chance, and now, you blew it. Sighing, you lock your phone and try to forget he even ever texted you in the first place.
*** *** ***
I mean, who even needs Nanami? He’s really not even that handsome or mysterious. You keep telling yourself as you get ready to go to another party Gojo invited you too.
Oh, also, Gojo kept your number for himself as well. He mostly asked to copy your notes when Nanami refused to let him copy his notes. He would also send the occasional invitation to one of his signature parties.
This one was apparently labeled as “exclusive”. You had no idea what that meant, but you weren’t allowed to bring a plus-one this time.
Luckily for you, Utahime was visiting back home for the weekend, so she couldn’t scold you for going out to another party this weekend.
Black eyeliner was smeared across your waterline, and you puckered your lips as you carefully applied some sheer gloss. You decided to be casual with your outfit, wearing a basic off-shoulder black top with some jeans.
As soon as you got to the frat house, you quickly understood what “exclusive” meant. It was only their closest friends in the house. Satoru and Haibara were on the couch, lounging. Suguru and Shoko were sitting by the window, sharing a cigarette. Nanami was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking as stoic as ever. Immediately, you were grateful for going with a more casual look.
“Yn! So glad you made it!” Satoru grinned in a more sober voice than the last time you spoke with him.
“Am I imposing on something?” You ask as you close the door.
“Of course not, silly. I sent you an invite for a reason.” Satoru says casually as he pats the spot between him and Haibara on the couch. “Come have a seat. Get comfortable. We’re just hanging out tonight.”
You stare at the seat between Gojo and Haibara, and you decide to sit in the open chair next to them instead.
“Afraid that we might bite?” Gojo grins as he leans over the arm of the chair towards you.
“Stop it, Satoru. You’re going to scare her away.” Shoko scolds before taking a drag off her cigarette.
Your phone gently buzzes in your pocket as Satoru and Shoko begin to bicker about his social skills. You sneakily check your phone.
Nanami: You look pretty tonight.
OH. We are so back, baby.
Yn: Thank you :) You look as handsome as ever.
Nanami: Oh yeah?
It is so small and insignificant, but that little “oh yeah?” makes your stomach flutter with excitement.
“Yn?” You snap your attention up to Shoko and realize she has been trying to talk to you.
“Shit- sorry. What’s up?”
Your phone lightly buzzes again, and you quickly glance down to check.
Nanami: You’re blushing.
“I was asking what your major is.” Shoko smiles calmly as she’s sat upon the windowsill. She flicks her cigarette outside before blowing out a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore how your heart is skipping beats right now.
“Oh, I’m just in general studies right now. I’m kind of indecisive. What about you?”
“I’m pre-med right now.” Shoko answers.
“I thought you swapped to nursing.” Haibara asks as he shifts his body to face her. The two start conversing together, giving you a chance to check your phone.
Nanami: Are you ill, or do my words just affect you that much?
Yn: I’m actually ill.
Nanami: You’re also apparently a liar, sweetheart.
How the fuck was this man so bold over text, but wouldn’t speak to hardly anyone in person?
Yn: Sweetheart? I didn’t know we were on that sort of level yet.
Nanami: Does that make you uncomfortable?
Yn: No
Nanami: Good. Then don’t complain.
The throb your cunt just did should’ve been illegal. There was no reason for you to be so turned on by that, but you were.
Yn: What would you have done had I said that it did make me uncomfortable?
Nanami: I would’ve found you a nickname you were more comfortable with.
He was being sweet, and you were over there clenching around nothing like a whore.
You had been so caught up in your phone that you didn’t realize Yu had went and gotten everyone a beer out of the fridge. You decide to risk a glance at Nanami. He looked calm and composed. You wondered if he even knew the effect he had on you truly.
“Shoko, when are you finally going to get some bitches?” Satoru asks with a laugh. Your eyes widen as you notice Suguru is on his lap now. You had really been so distracted by your phone…
“At this rate, I think Nanami will beat me.” Shoko laughed as she took a drink of her beer. You shift slightly in your seat as Shoko cuts her eyes towards you with a small grin.
Nanami: I will
Yn: Will what?
Nanami: I will beat her.
Yn: Confident or competitive?
Nanami: Both.
Yn: You didn’t strike me as the type.
Nanami: You don’t think I can do it?
Yn: I never said that.
Nanami lays his phone on his lap, and you can feel his eyes trailing up and down your body. Feeling your heart skip a beat, you decide to look up at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you glance over him. He looks relaxed. His head is propped up in his hand, and he’s almost giving you a lazy smile.
Knowing more about Nanami, you recognize it as a cocky smile now.
The rest of the “party” goes without a hitch. You decided it was time to leave once Suguru and Satoru were obnoxiously making out, Shoko was asleep on the floor, and Haibara wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the intricacies of anime.
“I’m gonna head back to my dorm now. Thanks for inviting me.” You say quickly as you stand from your seat.
“Hey yn-!” Satoru says as he tugs from Suguru’s lips. The dark-haired male made quick work of moving down to his neck. “Thanks for coming. You should come out here more often.”
“Oh um, I’ll think about it.” You smile politely as you head out the front door. The cold night air nips at your skin. The only light was from the moon high up in the sky. The dorms were a few blocks away.
You never like walking alone at night, but you try to remember that college campuses have security patrolling at all times. Taking a deep shaky breath, you step off the porch.
The sound of the door closing again immediately startles you. You quickly flinch and look towards the frat house. Nanami was calming walking up to you.
“Let me walk you back.” His voice was calm and steady, just like his presence. He really wasn’t phased at all by your subtle flirting earlier?
“Thanks.. I was actually kinda scared.” You mumble as you two walk side by side on the pavement. Your arms hug your body, trying to hide from the snippy air.
“Why didn’t you ask one of us to walk you home then?” Nanami asks as he slips his coat off from his shoulders. He then loosely drapes it over your shoulders. You feel your heart skip a beat as you mumble a quick thanks. Your body snuggled into his coat as it swallowed your frame whole. It was the first time you realized… Nanami is a big man. He’s not just some scrawny nerd. He’s actually pretty well built.
“I didn’t want to be a bother.” You answer quietly, noticing how Nanami shoves his hands into his pockets while you two walk.
“That’s foolish. We invited you. The least we could do is make sure you make it home safely.”
“We?”
Nanami goes silent, and he looks away from your shorter self. The wind blows harshly, making the leaves crinkle and hiss on the trees.
“Yes, we.” He finally answers your question. You smile softly as you look down towards the ground. It seems like Satoru wasn’t the only one who wanted you around.
Standing in front of your dorm door, you slowly slip the coat off from around your shoulders and try to hand it back to him. “I don’t want it.” He answers calmly, making no effort to take the jacket back from you.
“It’s yours, silly.”
“And?”
“Take it.” You gestured the coat to him once more
“No, I want you to have it.” He says as he towers over you. You subconsciously take a step back to create space, and your back hits the door. He leans over you, having to angle his back to see eye-to-eye with you. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your cheek as he cocks his head towards your ear and neck. “Text me.” He murmurs lowly before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
You were left against your door blushing madly as he casually sauntered away.
*** *** ***
You almost think you dreamt that kiss up come Monday morning. You hadn’t texted him all weekend, not even knowing what to say. You felt scared about messing things up and taking his advances the wrong way. He hadn’t reached out to you either.
You were sitting in Neurology, half-ass paying attention as the professor lectured about neuron pruning. Nanami sat a few rows over. He always appeared to he intently listening when you glance over at him. You perk up as you feel your phone buzz on your thigh.
Nanami: You’re not going to do well if you don’t pay attention.
Yn: I could say the same for you.
Nanami: Could you?
Yn: …. point taken
Nanami: You know, you could’ve at least texted me if you didn’t like the kiss.
Yn: Who said I didn’t?
Nanami: So, you disobey my request for fun?
Yn: Disobey is such a strong word. You told me to text you, and I just.. haven’t yet.
Nanami: We’ll come back to the disobedience topic. Why haven’t you texted me “yet”?
Yn: Nervous.
Nanami: You’re adorable. What’s there to be nervous about?
“Can anyone name an example of synaptic pruning?” The professor’s sudden loud voice catches you off guard. You hadn’t been paying attention at all, and you feel your heart start to race at the thought of being randomly called upon.
“Anyone?” The professor asks once again. “Yn-“ She almost says your first name before Nanami interrupts.
“Crown thinning.” He answers the question, saving you from total embarrassment.
“Very good. Thank you, Kento.” The professor praises as she turns back around to start lecturing from the powerpoint again.
Yn: You totally just saved me.
Nanami: Pay better attention.
Yn: Then stop texting me.
Nanami: No.
Nanami: Answer my question. Why were you nervous?
Yn: I just didn’t want to say the wrong things.
Nanami: You’re hopeless.
Yn: You’re starting to sound like Utahime :(
Nanami: Will you coo to me that you love me if I act like her?
You feel your heart start to race as you read his text over and over. He was way more observant than you gave him credit for. You couldn’t even think of a time where you told Uta that you loved her in front of him.
Yn: Is that what you want?
Nanami: That does sound nice. Though, I think I’d rather hear you breathlessly professing your love to me.
oh…
oh.
You sat your phone down. No way were you going to let some simple words over a screen let you get horny in class. You didn’t dare to glance in his direction as you suddenly decided to start paying attention and taking detailed notes on Neurology.
Nanami: You’re blushing again.
Damn him and his observant personality. Damn him and his filthy words that make you squeeze your thighs together to soothe the ache.
Yn: I’m well aware.
Nanami: It’s cute. Makes me want to say more things just to get a reaction out of you.
Yn: Please don’t
Nanami: Why? Scared you might like it?
Nanami: Scared you might like the thought of being beneath me, begging for more?
Jesus. There was no misinterpreting that. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared down at your phone, rereading his message over and over. It painted a picture in your brain.
Yn: As if you could make me do that.
Nanami: I can, and I will. Come over tonight.
Yn: To the frat house?
Nanami: No, to my room. I’ll tell Haibara to not come back until late.
Yn: That seems rather rude.
Nanami: It’s far better than the treatment you’ll be receiving later.
Your head feels like it’s spinning as the professor dismisses class. The rest of the day drags by painfully slow as you feel every little heartbeat and flutter in your chest. Nanami talked big game for someone who seemed too shy to really speak to you. It made you feel intrigued. How could he be so confident in his ability to make you beg?
You took your time once you were back at your dorm: going through your everything-shower routine. You wanted to make sure that every inch of you was soft and smooth just in case! It’s not like he’s actually going to make you do anything.
Knocking on his door, you feel your stomach churn with anxiety. You two seemed to be doing better at keeping up a conversation, but you were still deathly afraid of that awkward silence sinking in.
The click of the lock gains your attention, and Nanami opens the door for you. “Come in.” He says flatly, moving out of the way of the door so you can squeeze past him. He’s wearing his usual button-up shirt with black slacks on. How does this man even relax?
Of course his room is completely clean. His bed was even made military style for crying out loud. What the fuck does this man know about making women beg?
“Your room is nice.” You compliment, trying not to sound too awkward.
“It’s a room.” He shrugs nonchalantly before his eyes travel your body.
“How did you tell Haibara not to come home?” You ask, and he gives you a slightly puzzled look.
“I told him the truth.” He says as he loosens his tie from around his neck.
You swallow harshly as you watch his slender fingers pull at the fabric. His jaw is perfectly sculpted along with his neck, and his adams apple bobs as he steps towards you.
“Which is?” You reluctantly ask.
“I told him not to come home unless he planned on watching me fuck a pretty girl to tears.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, and you stare up at him with almost a frightened gaze. His movement feels much more predatory now as if he’s been watching you for a while, sizing you up. He had observed and stood by, waiting for the prime opportunity to pounce.
“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Nanami asks as he steps forward again. The back of your knees hits his bed, and his smile shifts to a lopsided grin.
“No. I just…” You had no idea what to even say to that! You weren’t use to a man so confidently bolstering about his skills without sounding like a total idiot. Nanami was a rarity. He could talk the talk and walk the walk.
“No. I just..” He mocks you. “You’re awfully nervous for someone I haven’t even touched yet.” His fingers gently caress over your collarbone, before he carefully nudged you back. You tipped over and found yourself sitting on his bed, looking up at him with big round eyes.
“Christ. Have you ever even done this before?” He asks as he leans over you. His hand press down on the mattress at both of your sides, effectively trapping you beneath him.
“Yes!” You exclaim with a huffy attitude that makes him chuckle. “Have you?” You ask, trying to even the score.
“No.” He responds before closing the distance between you two. His lips press against yours and move delicately. Your eyes widen before you realize what was going on, and you slowly melt into the kiss.
Lips smack together as he takes the lead on the kiss. His hands gently cup and caress their way down your body before resting upon your hips. His knee finds it’s way between your thighs, and he applies pressure to your core.
Stifling a small whine, you entangle your fingers through his blonde hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be. His kisses are growing more and more demanding as he’s pushing you back onto the bed more and more.
He gently bites at your lip, and he applies more pressure with his knee. As soon as you let another another small whimper, he slips his tongue into your mouth.
He’s taking complete and utter advantage over your body while you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact he said “no”. He’s claiming to have never done this before.
His thumbs dig into your hipbones before he makes you grind against his knee.
“That’s right. Use me.” He purrs lowly, encouraging for you to keep rolling your hips. Once you found a steady rhythm, rubbing yourself against his knee like a desperate slut, he releases your hips and grabs your wrists, pinning you down to the bed.
“Ken..” You gasp out lowly, and he immediately eats up your words, forcing his lips right back upon yours.
The grinding was slowly making you feel all dizzy in the head as you slowly start to mess up your rhythm. He immediately notices your messy state. His hands leave your wrists to grab back ahold of your thighs to make sure you don’t stop. If his slacks weren’t black, he was sure there would be a small damp spot on his leg from your delicious juices.
“Hah~” You gasp as you lean your head back.
“Does that feel good?” He questions lowly before carefully nipping at your neck.
“Yes… Yes, Kento.. more..”
“Oh, what was that, darling? I didn’t hear you.” He taunts as he bites his way down your neck.
“M-more!” You whimper out as you grow impatient.
“So greedy…” He murmurs before his sucks a small hickey on your neck all while he’s still making you grind your pitiful pussy against his thigh. “Beg.”
You feel that defiant nature wanting to kick in. You were needy for him, but you weren’t to the point of begging yet.
“Did you hear me? I said beg.” He demands as he forces you down on his leg harder. Your legs tremble around him as he’s making you rock hack and forth.
“Please-“ You finally choke out against your defiant nature. “I-I.. want more, please… I need you to.. to ruin me.”
“Ruin you, hm?” He asks as his hand carefully trails upwards to your neck. He applies just a bit of pressure. “A pretty girl like you asking for me to ruin her… How could I say no?”
He removes his leg from between your leg, and he quickly replaces it with his hand. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth of your leggings. You immediately shudder from the new stimulation. You hold his gaze as he lightly chokes you.
“I think I want to see you come on my fingers first.” He says as he’s quick to shove your leggings and panties down. You gasp quietly as you look down at him. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and he has a determined look on his face. He was set on making you come with his hand.
You push your thighs together with a small whine as he gives your glistening cunt an amorous gaze. Nanami places his hands on both of your knees as he forces your legs back apart. “Now, you know why you came here. What are you running from?”
“I- … You’re looking at me like…” the words ‘like you want to eat me’ die upon your tongue. His aura is just so.. almost intimidating. Not in a scary way, just in a he’s-not-here-to-play way.
“You’re so pretty, but gods, you’re so confusing.” He shakes his head as he carefully drags his tongue up your slippery folds. “Just sit still and let me take care of you, darling.” He mumbles before he laps at your cunt again. He purses his lips and gently sucks on your clit. It almost feels like he’s making out with your pussy.
“Oh.. f-fuck..” You gasp as you lean your head back into his mattress. Your hands fist at the blanket beneath you, ruining his perfectly made bed.
Nanami continues to lick and suck. The sounds in the room were nothing short of erotic. The wet sounds of his lips and tongue smack and almost slurp at you. His hands hold your thighs up, practically wearing them as earmuffs as he eats you like a starved man.
His fingertip gently traced over your opening before he carefully slipped a finger in. He continued to lap at your cunt as his finger pumped in and out and prodded around.
“Oh my-! .. N-Nanami.. ah~” You pant out. In his eyes, your entire body was flushed. You were so subtly grinding yourself against his tongue. In his eyes, you were a goddess in touch with her sexuality and femininity. You just needed a small nudge to get there.
He adds a second finger, and he so carefully curls them upwards to gently press right on the spot that made you see stars.
Your hands abandoned the bed, and you grabbed onto his hair. His hazel eyes flutter up at you, and his glasses were pushed up onto his head.
Your orgasm was building quicker than it ever had before. “Nanami-! fuck, I’m gonna..” You try to warn, but he’s already a step ahead of you. His fingers start pumping a big more aggressively, and he’s pointed with his tongue, focusing all his attention on your clit. His tongue swirls in tight circles around the small bundle of nerves.
Your orgasm washes over you as you clench around his fingers, spasming on his face. He continues to thrust his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face and hand. Pressing a few more small kisses to your overly sensitive cunt, he slowly pulls away. “Good girl.” He praises lowly.
Your heart is pounding in your chest as you recover from the best orgasm you’ve ever received. Your eyes flutter open weakly to see Nanami ditch his glasses. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and chin dry.
He then places the fingers he so deliciously used to fuck you into his mouth, and he sucks them clean with a satisfied groan.
“You taste so sweet.” He mumbles as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. It falls to the floor as he starts to unbuckle his belt. You can already feel your arousal building up again as you see the absolute tent in his slacks. Of course the nerd was absolutely hung.
Without another word, his pants and boxers are on the ground. His dick stood hard at attention. It was too heavy to press all the way up towards his stomach. Speaking of stomach, he was absolutely fucking built. He had well-defined solid abs and a broad chest.
You watch carefully as he fists his length a few times. You admire the way the veins bulge from his hands and arms. He wastes no more time: climbing up on top of you. He guides your legs up onto his shoulders, and he leans forward, putting you in a mating press.
His hand suddenly covers your mouth. “Spit.” He orders bluntly.
“W-what-?”
“I didn’t stutter. Spit. Unless you want me to go in dry.”
The thought of that sounded like a nightmare, so you gathered as much saliva into your mouth as you could, and you spat into his hand.
He doesn’t look phased in the slightest as he lubes himself up with your spit. He lets out a soft breath as the wet sounds of him gliding his hand up and down his cock fill the room. He then wipes his hand off on the bed, and he covers your mouth tightly with his hand. “Try not to be too loud, darling. I don’t want anyone to come and bother us.”
He was so fucking confident that he was going to make you noisy. It almost pissed you off, but Nanami was a man of his word.
He aligned himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, he buried himself all the way to the hilt. You let out a silent scream into his hand, and your back arches up off the bed. His eyes darken as he lets out a guttural growl.
Your cunt was just too precious to him, squeezing him so perfectly. You were absolutely sopping wet and so goddamn warm. He actually had to bite his tongue to not come prematurely. Once he tasted the hint of metal in his mouth, the urge to finish subsided.
“Shhh, shh. Be a good girl. The pain will subside soon.” He assures you quietly as his hips gently rock back and forth shallowly.
“Mmmnnf~ K-kento!” You moan into his hand. He hates having to muffle your pretty noises, but he really can’t risk getting a noise complaint right now.
“That’s right, darling.. Take it..” His hips start to roll with a bit more conviction. His thrusts are slow but powerful. Each time he buried himself deep in you, you went all dizzy in the head.
“Oh fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” He praises as his other hand holds one of your thighs up for you. Your body is almost slack from how harsh his hips are snapping into you. His leaking tip was bruising your cervix with each brutal thrust.
Nanami wishes he could take a picture right now. Your eyes are all glossed over. Your face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, and your lips are all puffy and slightly parted. Your babbling utter nonsense as your greedy pussy takes him in with each thrust.
“F-fuck..! So big.. can feel you right here~” You moan as you point towards your lower stomach.
Nanami looks to where you’re pointing, and as if this man needed anymore courage, he begins to fuck you harder.
Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!
“Yeah? Y’feel me in your womb, darling?” He groans. Noise complaint can be damned. He lets your mouth go and grabs your hips as he continues to pound your pretty pussy.
Tears involuntarily spring into your eyes from the sheer intensity. When Nanami said he was going to fuck you to tears, you thought it was just a figure of speech. Nah, you were lying in his bed, crying because the dick was so good.
“Look at me.” He demands as he grabs your blushed cheek and forces you to look up at him. “This pussy’s mine from now on, understand me?”
“Y-yes!” You cry out to him. Your stomach starts to coil with white hot pleasure as your orgasm builds up again.
“Tell me you love me when you cum on my cock.” He demands lowly. You’re too fucked stupid to argue.
The bed squeaks and wails in agony as he his thrusts are growing more erratic and sloppy. You could feel him getting closer and closer to his release as he gets more vocal and noisier too.
Your eyes cross as you feel your body gyrate on him. Your second orgasm crashes over you so suddenly you didn’t even have time to warn him. Your soul nearly floats away from you as you feel warm juices flood out from you. “Fuck~.. I-.. I love you, Nanami!” You whimper out. In the heat of the moment, it does feel like love.
Such pure pretty words being uttered during such a lewd time. Nanami is instantly emptying himself into you. His dick throbs as he shoots ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of you. His hands are shaking as they hold onto your hips. “Ngh.. I love you, darling. Take it.. All of it. Don’t waste a drop.” He lowly growls.
The room is quiet as both of you pant softly. After a few moments, you realize you had professed a love to him that you weren’t even sure about. Yes, Nanami was attractive physically and mentally. Sure, he was apparently a god in bed, but love???
What if he wasn’t even being serious when he told you to say that? He probably didn’t even mean it when he said it back. What if you made things weird? Is that why he’s being so silent?
Nanami leans down and presses a small kiss to your forehead. “That was intense. Are you alright, darling?” He asks affectionately.
You nod weakly, not wanting to frustrate him with your insecure thinking style.
“Are you sure? I’m not only talking about physically.” He murmurs softly as he slowly allows for your thighs to slip down to around his hips. His hand carefully strokes your cheek.
“I told you I love you..” You murmur out quietly, avoiding his gaze.
He exhales softly in amusement. “You did do that. It was very sexy. Do you regret saying it?”
“I.. I don’t know.” You confess quietly. “You said it back too…”
“I did. Seeing your body in such a vulnerable state as you were trusting me with your very essence made me feel full with love.”
You look up at him as he just said the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard.
“I don’t think I regret it.”
“I’m glad. I don’t regret it either.” He smiles and presses another small kiss to your temple.
*** *** ***
“Was that really your first time?” You giggle as the hot water coats your body. Nanami’s fingers are attentively massaging shampoo into your scalp.
“It really was.” He laughs quietly. “Why is it so hard to believe.”
“You were too good for a virgin.”
“I’m glad my darling thinks so.” He smiles and carefully leans your head back, so the water can rinse the shampoo from your hair.
“Where did you even learn that stuff from?” You ask curiously, wondering if Nanami just had a secret raging porn addiction.
“I have the horniest friend group. They don’t understand the concept of too much information.”
Ah. That makes sense.
tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog
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selfcarecap · 26 days ago
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✧ Manipulative best friend!Logan with a corruption kink
warnings: smut 18+, this is not a dark fic, Logan isn’t truly manipulative but we have a very naive/innocent/inexperienced reader; first time masturbation, JOI, handjob, fingering (in front of a mirror), first kiss, pet names (bub, baby, my girl, good girl), Logan doesn’t always fully ask for consent but if he did reader would want it, so those are the type of vibes, Logan takes advantage of the situation but reader is into him too, it’s implied that reader is a mutant too but powers are not specified, mentions of alcohol, reader wears Logan’s (big) shirt, Logan is a bit gross 
This kind of got out of hand lmaoo it was just supposed to just be a short concept but I ended up writing 5.5k words lolll. It’s not a fully fleshed out fic (it’s in full sentences etc but still just kind of loosely written scenes) but I thought I’d still share <33 (gorgeous divider by @anitalenia <3)
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Logan knows he wants you from the moment he meets you. He knows he needs you the second you come to the mansion and join the school. But you’re so shy and nervous that he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he tells himself he’ll wait for a bit and let you get used to your new life here first. 
What he isn’t expecting is that you become really good friends in the meantime. Yes, he still wants to fuck you but he also genuinely enjoys your company and cares about you. Logan has a big, fat crush on you and there’s not really anything he won’t do in order to be closer to you.
But the problem is that you’re so innocent and he can’t tell if it’s an act, if you just don’t like talking about sex in front of other people, or if you’re really like this. 
He hears you talking to Storm and Jean one night and Storm is trying to convince you to get a vibrator and you’re asking “what would I need that for? I don’t… y’know”. Storm says “you don’t what? Masturbate?”.
Logan knows exactly what shy expression you’re making even though he can’t see you, and you’re all like “oh my god, don’t say it that loud”. And he knows your pretty face must be getting all hot with embarrassment and the thought alone turns Logan on to no end. It’s quiet for a bit and Logan gathers that Jean reads your mind, and she confirms to Storm that you’re not lying.  
Logan can only hear the conversation because he’s in the kitchen and you’re all in the room next to it, but some students come in so he can’t keep eavesdropping, as much as he wants to. And he knows there’s no way you’re continuing the conversation if he’s in the room, so he has to give up for the night. He tries to ask Storm the next day about what you said and she just calls him a pervert and says to ask you himself if he wants to know so badly. 
But that’s kind of the thing. He’s become your best friend over the last few months, but there are still some things you’d never tell him just because he’s a guy, even if you don’t see him as more than a friend. Yet.
And Logan only gets more desperate when you’re drunk one evening after a girl’s night and you’re knocking at his door. It’s really late but Logan lets you in of course. You’re crying a bit and he makes you sit in his bed and takes off your shoes and slides off your jacket while you hiccup something unintelligible. 
He sits down with you and you can barely focus on what you’re saying, and then you get up mumbling about your uncomfortable tights and your skirt and suddenly you’re in front of him in just a top and panties. Logan has to gulp down a moan as he stares at the flesh of your thighs and the rolls on your belly and all he can think about is devouring you whole – until he hears you mention the conversation with Storm and Jean from the other day, “wait, what was that?”
You pout, “Well I was talking to them and turns out apparently I’m the only woman in the world that doesn’t masturbate and– and Jean went home to Scott, and Storm went home with someone she met at the bar and I’ve never even done anything with a guy, not even with myself. I just feel left behind.”
And Logan tells you something about how you’re just a late bloomer and there’s still time, because that’s what he thinks you want to hear, but you tell him it’s condescending. You don’t want to be a late bloomer, you just want to have sex. And oh– Logan can help you with that.
He has to do his absolute best to keep calm and not mount you immediately, but you’re drunk so that’s what’s stopping him. He might manipulate you a little to get what he wants but he’s not that bad. He asks “you don’t like touching yourself?” And you just shrug and say “dunno”. 
“You never feel an ache between your legs?” Logan asks, keeping so calm it’s painful. And he can practically feel the heat melting off your face at the question as your eyes dart around the room, “I don’t know, sometimes”.
 “And you don’t touch yourself?”
You shrug again, looking everywhere but at Logan, “I never really know what people mean when they say that. I, like, touch myself and it feels nice but that’s it.” 
Logan smiles, “how long do you touch yourself for?” 
“I don’t know, a few seconds.”
And he chuckles and says “it’s normal that you don’t get anywhere in a few seconds, bub.” 
“Oh. I didn’t know that,” you manage to meet his eyes briefly but look away again as you sit on your hands shyly.
“You ever watched porn?” Logan asks and your eyes go wide as if he’s just committed the worst sin known to womankind in front of you and you hug your legs and say “noo, I would never. I’m not, like, a pervert.”
Logan laughs, “Porn isn’t just for perverts. There’s more to it than choking and bondage, there’s tame stuff.” You just say “well I’ve never watched any.” 
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe, I don’t know.” 
He can tell you’re getting a bit ashamed and while he would love to train that shame out of you when it comes to sex, now isn’t the time when you’re drunk in his bed at 2AM. 
“You wanna go to sleep?” He asks, failing to resist giving a small squeeze to your knee. Your eyes fly to his hand there, gaze lingering on his fingers even as he pulls them away. You nod after a few moments, and Logan reaches out to wipe away the remnants of your tears and says “you wanna sleep in my bed? We could cuddle”. 
You grin like a child who’s just tried ice cream for the first time at his suggestion and he gives you a bigger shirt of his so you don’t have to sleep in that small, tight top you’re wearing. You pull off your top without warning and then he’s looking at you in just your underwear and he feels like he’s died and ascended to heaven even though he’s probably more likely to go to hell with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. 
You cast a shy glance over your shoulder as you undo your bra and Logan wills himself to shut his eyes, putting his hand over them because he knows otherwise he’d look.
He only wants to fuck you more when he sees you in his shirt though, and he’ll definitely have to go to the bathroom to jerk off once you’ve fallen asleep. Except that you snuggle against his side so cutely, head resting on his shoulder with a leg thrown over his. 
You’re fast asleep before he can even say good night and when he moves to get up you move closer, and now he’s got your plush tits pressed up against his side and your arm over his waist. A tent has formed in his pants and he feels pathetic that he’s measuring the distance between your elbow and his crotch, silently willing you to move just a few inches. 
He’s so horny that he’d feel no moral qualms at jerking off right next to you. He’d cum so quickly with you pressed to his side, but he wouldn’t know how to explain it if you woke up. He doesn’t want to scare you away. So he pulls away to get up, and you wake up and whine when he stands up, telling you he just has to pee to which you grumble, and you grab his pillow to cuddle with instead. 
He jerks off shamelessly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His spit slicked-palm is starting to get loud as he strokes his cock to thoughts of you, but he doesn’t care if you hear. You probably wouldn’t know what he’s doing anyway with how innocent you are. 
He doesn’t even have to fantasise about any sexual scenario with you. Thinking about the pretty smile you have whenever you look at him is enough to have his fists drenched in his cum as he jerks himself off with both hands to stroke his entire length. 
He can’t hold back the small moan that spills over his lips when he cums, torn between hoping you heard and hoping you didn’t. Logan washes his hands and rejoins you in bed. 
He takes a moment before he slips under the covers, taking in the sight of you in his bed, imagining you’re his and that it’s the norm for you to sleep together rather than an exception. You stir as the mattress dips with his weight, swapping the pillow of his that was clutched between your arms for his bicep that you hold onto instead. You’re way too gone to have heard any of what he just did, and for a moment he feels dirty for thinking about you the way that he does. 
It doesn’t last long, of course, as he dreams of you most nights. He can’t feel bad about it though – he’ll take any dream over one of his nightmares (that he hasn’t had since he met you). And if he’s honest it turns him on how innocent and unsuspecting you are of what goes on in his head when he thinks of you. 
-
You wake up still wrapped around his body the next morning. You have a headache and Logan brings you something to soothe it, offering to massage your stiff neck too. You sigh in bliss as soon as Logan’s hands are on you, and he reminds himself that you must be touch-starved. You’ve never touched yourself, let alone felt the touch of another person that went beyond platonic or familial affection. 
He revels in the sounds he pulls from you with ease with the most basic massaging technique there is. He never wants to leave. He started off hovering over the back of your thighs, but he’s been making his way forwards and now his crotch is nestled right against the soft swell of your ass. You either don’t notice that he’s slowly moved or you don’t realise what exactly is pressing into your backside. 
It’s obvious that you’re enjoying his hands on the back of your neck and the top of your shoulders; he doubts there’s anything that could distract you from it. Except if he got hard maybe, but he’s got more self control since he jerked off in the bathroom again after waking up with morning wood and with you by his side, just before he brought you some painkillers. 
“You’re so good with your hands, Logan,” you tell him, voice all raspy, and he smirks at the innuendo you don’t realise you’re making. 
“It’s what my girl deserves,” he says, pulling a smile and a hum from your lips. 
“I’m your girl?” you ask shyly, eyes still closed as his knuckles drag over your skin. 
“O’course you are, bub.” He’s not sure in what way you interpret the pet name but he can tell you like it, hearing how your heartbeat speeds up just that little bit. You like being his, and he likes that. 
-
It’s during a particularly horny evening that Logan comes to your room. He’s jerked off twice today to pictures of you — pictures he’s snuck over the time he’s known you, you smiling as you laugh at a tv show, stretching on the sofa not realising that he’s got his phone out, or that one photo of you smiling all shyly on the day you first met him and he showed you around the mansion. Jean asked to take a picture to commemorate the day you joined them, and he remembers the way he slid his arm around the back of your waist and you placed your hand shyly on his back, smiling all adorably. 
He’s got a picture of you in a bikini from that one time you two went swimming but he keeps that for special occasions. Today was one of those special occasions, and he came all over his phone screen, cursing when he had to clean it afterwards; he even had to get the phone case off and all. 
But you still won’t leave his head for even just a second, so he decides it’s time for the next step. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with anything, but he also just really wants you. Can’t help it. He’s a selfish man but any man would be if he knew you the way Logan did. He knocks at your door. “Yeah?” you call out. 
You grin when he steps in and closes the door behind himself. You stretch out your arms for a hug to greet him, even though you only saw him a few hours ago. He joins you where you’re sitting on your bed with your laptop. Logan turns the screen towards him, hoping to find something naughty but he should have known better. It’s just some video essay on a topic he’s never even heard of. He shuts the laptop. 
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you tell him, genuinely focussed, “If I’m your girl then what are you to me? My boy sounds weird, and my man.. I don’t know.”
He almost forgot that he called you his girl to your face, and he smirks when he imagines you thinking about it these past few days. He lies down on his side, invading your space, almost touching you with how close he is next to you.
 “I can be anything you like, bub.” 
You shrug shyly, “Maybe you’re just my Logan.” 
He’s surprised at how much that turns him on. You being his, that’s one thing. But him being yours? Those two things go hand-in-hand, of course, but he thought you were still a long way off from liking him as much as he likes you. 
It encourages him to ask you what he’s been thinking about for days. He says it casually. “So, had any success touching yourself?” He uses that tame expression so that you’re less embarrassed.
Still, your eyes widen slightly and you immediately start playing with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “What do you mean?” 
“You know what I mean,” he smirks, “Don’t gotta be embarrassed around me. We’ve been over this.” Although, for a second he wonders if you even remember the conversation. You were drunk after all, and he considers feeling bad, but then you smile. 
“I know, but… I haven’t tried it since. I’ve thought about it but I still don’t know what to do.” He’s got you right where he wants. 
“Y’know, I don’t mind showing you. You deserve to feel good.” 
You look away, “What would you even show me? And how? Guys are different down there.” Oh, you’re so innocent. He’s having so much fun. 
“I could touch you.” He watches you experience a multitude of emotions as you think about it. Shame, intrigue, resolve. 
“Wouldn’t that be weird for you?” 
“Not at all, don’t worry about me.” 
“Are you sure?” 
“I’m sure, bub.” 
You look around you, putting your laptop and your phone on your nightstand, “What do I do?” you ask, playing with the blanket. 
“I’ll just touch you a bit, okay? Just get you used to the feeling,” he tells you, both of you sitting up and he pulls your legs around his waist, gently touching all over your inner thighs, squeezing the flesh.
You’re already arching your back, scooting closer to him, and he lifts your shirt up over your hip and sees the wet spot on your panties. He’s not sure if you notice how hard he is under his sweatpants but no one could blame him for that. You’re getting so worked up and he hasn’t even touched you anywhere near your pussy, you’re breathing so heavily and your heart is beating so fast.
“Y’want a kiss, bub?” Logan asks you all sweetly, and you lean in as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your lips on his are messy but eager, and Logan loves that he can feel that it’s your first kiss. You don’t know what you’re doing but you need it – need him. 
But he has to stop at some point because it’s getting harder to not fuck you, so he gently pulls away, and you grin shyly when the kiss is over. Logan leans in one more time for a quick kiss. He pushes you backwards a bit and looks between your spread thighs. You’re so wet. You’re squirming under his gaze.
“Can I take these off?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your panties and your breathing gets shaky when his finger grazes your belly. You bite your lip and nod.
“Good girl,” he says, pulling your underwear down your thighs with one hand, eyes glued to your pussy. You’re so wet and sticky already, and your pussy looks even better than anything he’s imagined – and he’s imagined it a lot.
He wants nothing more than to fuck you, or eat you out at least, but he’s supposed to be showing you how to masturbate, so he lies down next to you.
“So, if you were alone, you might touch yourself like this.” He takes his hand between your thighs, softly touching your clit. You’re leaning into him, head against his shoulder as you watch his big hand between your thighs. It looks so right there. You look to your side and gaze up at Logan, and you can’t help but just kiss him again.
And while you’re kissing, Logan puts his palm on your pussy and starts rubbing you a bit rougher, and you become too distracted to keep kissing him.
“You like when I play with your clit?” he teases you and you nod, hiding your face in his neck. Logan moves down to fuck one of his fingers into you, then two, and you’re whimpering against his warm skin. With his palm still rubbing against your clit, you have your first ever orgasm with Logan and you hold onto him as the pleasure flows through your body.
He keeps going until you put your hand around his wrist to stop him and you shyly smile up at him. “Was that good, bub?” 
You answer with a weak “yeah”, your voice hoarse but you’re smiling and your skin is glowing. Logan pulls his hand away and shows you how your arousal sticks to his fingers, and your eyes search his because you’re not sure if this is a good or bad thing.
Your mouth opens when Logan takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks your taste off them. “Taste so fucking good, baby. You wanna taste yourself?” And he waits patiently until you’ve made your mind up but you nod and let him put one of his fingers into your warm, wet mouth. You suck on it for much longer than necessary and Logan tries to save the image in his brain for later.
He holds you for a bit as you comprehend that you’ve just had an orgasm for the first time in your life. You shyly thank him before he leaves and he makes you promise that you’ll try it again by yourself soon. That was the whole point of this, after all – nothing to do with Logan or anything.
-
Logan thought he’d be satisfied for a bit, but all it’s done is make him even needier for you. You’re so oblivious to all his flirting, and he’s sure you genuinely thought he just wanted to show you how to masturbate the other day. 
Of course, he could just ask you out, but it’s more fun this way. He likes watching you figure stuff out. He wonders how long it’ll take you to realise that he actually likes you, that teaching you how to jerk off maybe wasn’t only in your best interest but in his too.
He’s a bit pathetic when it comes to you at this point, though. As much as he’s teasing you, it’s also teasing him. It’s a bit of a low point, but he pretends to be in a bad mood to get your attention.
You come to his room in the late afternoon when you haven’t seen him all day, and you’re so kind and so caring and immediately worried when you see him sprawled in bed in his pyjamas that consist of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.
“You okay? What happened?” you close the door and sit on his bed immediately.
Logan fake sighs, suppressing a smile as he pouts exaggeratedly. “Nothing, bub. Don’t you worry about me.” He squeezes your knee to reassure you, and he watches you perk up at his touch.
“You know you can always talk to me,” you smile kindly, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He doesn’t usually talk about emotions and feelings all that much, but you’re always trying to get him to open up because it’s good for him, so he knows he’s got you with this.
“I’m just feeling a bit down today. That’s all. Don’t wanna bother you with my problems.”
“You’re not bothering me. I’m always here for you.”
He watches you gnawing on your lip as you think about what to say next, and Logan waits curiously. “Have you uh, jerked off today? I think an orgasm would cheer anyone up, if it feels as good as you made me feel the other day.”
And Logan’s all like “I’ve tried but it’s been so long since a woman touched me, and my own hand just isn’t doing it for me anymore.”
He gets hard immediately when you perk up, smiling with your sweet expression and saying, “I could help you! I hate seeing you so sad”.
And Logan pretends, saying “no, bub, I’d never ask that of you,” but you sit up on your knees and say “I really wouldn’t mind! And I owe you for last time anyway.”
“If you’re really sure?” 
You nod sweetly and brush your hair out of your face and ask, “where do you want me?”
And even just you asking that is something that will stay in his mind for a long time. He feels like you’d do anything he asked of you right now and it’s already driving him crazy. He says “just next to me here, bub. Yeah there is fine”. 
You lean in to kiss him and he only pulls away out of surprise, and you’re blinking back at him with wide eyes, apologising, “It’s just cause you kissed me last time, I thought— I thought it’s part of–”
“Yeah, baby, it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me again.”
You give him a cheeky smile and nod, “of course I wanna kiss you. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you”. 
Logan grins and bites his lip and says “me too, bub”, and leans in and kisses you again, basically attacking you with his mouth. He can tell it’s getting a little much for you with the way he’s eating you alive so he stops himself and asks “was that too much?” 
You shake your head, “just don’t know how to kiss like that yet.” And he likes that. Yet. Maybe he can sneak in some kissing lessons at some point, just to show you how it’s done of course, no other reason. 
You look down at his lap then and it’s obvious how hard he is. “Y’wanna you touch it like this first?” he asks you, grabbing himself over his sweatpants, the outline becoming clearer.
And you nod so eagerly, but get a bit shy when you’re touching his cock, one of your knees pulled up to your chest as you palm him over his sweatpants. “It’s so big,” you marvel, oblivious to how much this is affecting Logan.
“You wanna see?”
You tell him yes and he pulls the waistband down, and you lean closer when he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself just a few times to relieve the pressure. 
You bring a finger to his mouth like he did for you the other day, and he chuckles, “that won’t be enough, bub”. Your cheeks burn when you say “oh”.
“Here,” he moves your hand so your open palm is facing him and he spits into it.
“Now do this,” Logan tells you, taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock, guiding you up and down with your spit-slicked palm. You watch in awe as you jerk him off, his hand never leaving the back of yours.
He could cum immediately like this, but he tries to savour the feeling a bit longer.
“Does it feel good?” you ask him.
“Yeah, doing so well, bub. Think you can do it by yourself?”
You shake your head with a smile. Yes, you could do it by yourself, but you like the feeling of him guiding you, setting the pace and intensity. He grins and continues, squeezing your hand tighter so that your grip on his cock tightens too.
Logan lets you jerk him off a bit longer before he gives in. He’s proud of you for not pulling away in surprise when he cums, coating your hand and his in his cum as ropes of white shoot over your skin and onto his shirt. He lets go of your hand to pull off his shirt and watches you examine your hand full of Logan’s cum.
“Can I taste it?” you ask in a quiet voice, and Logan just about gets hard again.
“Yeah,” he tells you, but pushes his own fingers into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his two fingers and suck the cum off, and Logan can’t help but push them further into your mouth, making you giggle. You pull his hand away after a bit, only to lick your own fingers. He uses the clean part of his shirt to dry your hand off after, and you lie down to cuddle him.
“Do you feel better?”
Logan chuckles, “Yeah, bub, I feel better. Thanks.”
“Good,” you grin, proud of yourself. Logan’s proud of you too.
-
It’s still the same day when you come to his room the next time. You left after a bit to go to sleep, but now there are knocks on Logan’s door that he recognises as yours before you say anything.
You enter his room in your pyjamas – a big shirt – and some fluffy socks, a plushie under your arm. You look so oh so innocent that he almost feels bad for corrupting you. You come in, close the door, and sit on his bed again, legs dangling off the side of it. He could really get used to you being in here.
“Can’t sleep?” He asks, but you ignore him, hugging your plushie for comfort.
 “I… can you maybe…” you let out a sigh, “I tried to masturbate but I can’t do it by myself. Can you show me again?” 
Maybe you’re not so innocent anymore. He chuckles and tells you of course, and he’s starting to wonder if you’ve caught on to the game that he’s playing, and if you’ve joined him, but he’d still bet money that you really are this naive. Logan pulls his full length mirror in front of his bed, not too close, but close enough that you can see yourself in it. 
He moves to lift your shirt to get your panties off, and his heart skips a beat as he’s greeted by the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening.
“It was easier to come with them already off,” you say, and he reaaally has to restrain himself so he doesn't bend you over and take you right here.
You drop your stuffed toy to the side of Logan’s bed as he sits you in front of the mirror, getting behind you, putting his legs either side of you.
“God, you’re so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it as he makes you look at yourself in the mirror, legs spread.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Logan,” you say, shying away from looking in the mirror.
“You can do it, bub. I got you, okay?”
You’ve turned around to look at him better, and he chuckles when he gets it.
“Is this what you need?” he asks as he leans in to kiss you, and you moan yes into his mouth. He loves you so fucking much.
His dick is already so hard and he’s not sure if you can feel it pressing into your ass, but either way you’re not complaining. He takes your chin to make you face yourself in the mirror, and he can’t get enough of seeing you two in it together – the way he’s sitting behind you like this, imagining other positions you two could be in.
“Here,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, even though you’re already wet enough, watching you suck on it eagerly. His finger stays in your mouth much longer than necessary.
He starts gently rubbing your clit in circles, and you squirm in his arms that are around you, one on your waist, the other between your legs.
“I did that too, but it feels better when you do it,” you mumble after a while, clearly enjoying it but unsure what you were doing wrong when you did it yourself.
“Try it.” Logan takes your hand, and makes you do it yourself. You’re squirming with him watching you like this, but it is useful to sit in front of the mirror, copying how he played with your pussy just moments ago.
Logan’s not blind to how wet you are, at having him watching and guiding you, and he can’t help it as he reaches into his boxers to jerk off. He doesn’t get his cock out but he’s not hiding it. You can see the movement of his arm in the mirror and you might even be able to feel it at your back, as Logan’s fist grazes your shirt every now and then as he strokes himself.
But you’re so focussed on looking between your own legs that Logan is genuinely not sure if you’ve noticed him jerking off, and the sounds of your wet pussy are louder than his hand on his cock.
“I… I can’t,” you whine after a bit, taking your hand away from your pussy, but Logan is close, and he wants you to cum too.
He keeps jerking off, and he sees you noticing it, sitting up a bit taller but you don’t seem to mind. You’re smiling, biting your lip.
“Yeah, you can, baby. Here, we’ll do it together.” He keeps a hand on his cock, reaching around you to put your hand back between your legs, and then he pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, fucking you with them.
“You close, bub? I’m close,” he says, and the idea of cumming together with Logan makes your pussy squeeze around his fingers, so you do your best to recreate the pattern on your clit that Logan showed you, rubbing it in circles until you get the right angle.
“Good girl, that’s it. So tight around my fingers. Come on now.” Logan’s so close he has no idea how he’s still holding off, sloppily jerking his cock with one hand and fucking your pussy with his fingers on the other hand.
You lean your head back, landing on Logan’s shoulder, as your orgasm pulses through you. Logan can feel your pussy spasming around him, and he lets go too, cumming over his hand and his boxers.
You’re both out of breath for a while after, barely moving.
“Y’did it, bub,” he kisses the top of your head, and you smile at him through the mirror, turning to press a messy kiss to the side of his face. He won’t take that though, so he grabs your face, smearing some of his cum on your cheek, and pulls you to face him for a proper kiss. You smile against his mouth as you make out.
You sleep in his room again that night, but he can’t say it feels like you know that he likes you yet. He’ll have fun watching you figure it out soon.
-
✧ reblog and let me know your thoughts for Logan to appear in your dreams tonight <3
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calypsocolada · 4 months ago
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how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru
authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!
cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread
wc: 5k
click here for my masterlist
Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.
“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 
“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 
“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 
“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.
“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 
“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 
“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.
-
You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 
“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.
“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.
“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”
“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 
“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.
“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.
“I know that.” 
“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.
-
Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 
“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.
“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 
“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.
“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 
“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.
“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 
“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.
“Anything enlightening?” 
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.
“I would.”
“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.
“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”
“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 
“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.
-
Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 
“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.
“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.
“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 
“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 
“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 
“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.
“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”
“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”
“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 
“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 
“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 
“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”
“Why though?”
“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.
-
Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 
The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 
“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.
“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 
“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”
“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 
“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”
“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”
-
Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 
You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 
He’d never chased after someone so hard. 
You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 
It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.
“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.
“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 
“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.
“I’m very busy, you know.”
“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.
“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.
“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.
“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.
“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”
“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 
“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”
“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 
“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 
“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.
“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 
“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.
“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.
-
Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 
“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.
“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 
“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.
“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.
“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.
“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.
“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”
“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 
“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 
“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.
“I- I came to relax of course!”
“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 
“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 
“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.
“Uhm… y-yes?” 
“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 
“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 
“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 
“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 
“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 
“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 
“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 
“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”
“Kill me?” You filled in.
“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 
His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 
“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”
“Yes.” He says sharply. 
“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.
“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 
“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”
“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.
“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.
“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 
“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.
“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?
7K notes · View notes
luveline · 4 months ago
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Jade can I please get a chatty af yapper sunshine girlfriend with Sirius?? Like May be someone tells her she talks a lot so she's super quiet around him cuz she's worried he'll get annoyed and break up with her but poor Sirius he misses his chatty girl and just angst with fluff
thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k
James Potter means well. Honestly, you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body, so you try not to take it to heart. 
Unfortunately, your attempts to do so don’t work. They really, unquestionably don’t. By the time you’re outside of Sirius’ flat that afternoon, James’ small comment is all you can think of. 
“You’re so chatty I’m surprised you don’t run out of breath,” he’d said. Not without love. You’d bumped into him in Sainsbury’s and ended up talking for ages about one thing or another, you know him well, you’d even say you were friends, though he’s of course Sirius’ friend rather than your own. “But I’m the same. God, Sirius used to hate how much I talked, he’d be sick of me. I think I numbed him to it over the years.” 
You can’t imagine it. Sirius and James are best friends. With Remus, they’re the most in love threesome of friends you’ve ever met, and it’s nice; it makes you very proud to have a boyfriend who cares for others as deeply as Sirius cares for them. It’s like a constant demonstration of how he’s a good man. 
But you’d never stopped to consider that they weren’t always so seamless, and you’ve regrettably never considered that your constant talking is something that could put him off. 
You talk to Sirius about everything. There isn’t a word to describe the excitement of having someone waiting to listen to you every single night. You could tell him every detail of a day down to what colour socks you wore and you know he’ll sit there listening with his hand on the small of your back, or his fingers twined between yours. You’ve never felt so loved as to be able to just talk about everything and have him talk back. 
But… what if, this whole time, he’s been wishing for a little bit of quiet? 
What if eventually, the talking becomes too much? 
He must be with you for a reason. You aren’t holding the poor guy hostage, he acts like he’s mad for you ninety percent of the time (while the other ten percent is spent sleeping on your shoulder). 
Like now —you knock his door and you can hear him scrambling up from the sofa, the sound of a book dislodged or a remote hitting the rug, you’re not sure. The door yanks open and Sirius smiles at you, pulling you in through the gap with a familiar hand on your hip. 
“Hey,” Sirius says, tucking you against his side, “hey, did you get lovelier over the weekend?” He shoves the door closed and gives you a hug with one arm, pausing in the hall. “Sorry I couldn’t see you. I don’t think we should miss another weekend.” 
You have a lot to tell him. It’s been ages since you spent nearly three days apart, but James’ conversation stays at the front of your mind. 
You decide to be less overwhelming, but not less loving, curling your arm behind his head to pull his cheek down for a kiss. “I don’t think so, either.” 
Sirius tilts his head away from you in an invitation for more kissing. 
You’re at home in his flat. You take off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You change into a pair of jogging bottoms with loose legs and let him hoist you onto his bed for a few stolen kisses, though he isn’t propositioning you, and you end up laying across his bedspread with one of your legs in his lap as he tells you about his days without you, his thumb sliding with pressure down your calf. 
“Mostly I wished I’d asked you to come over anyways, even if it was just to sleep together at the end of the day. Maybe next time we can do that?” he asks. 
“Of course we can.” You smile at him indulgently. “I’d come over for twenty minutes if it was all I could get.” 
“Or I can come to you,” he says, “even if it’s just twenty minutes.” 
He smiles, a beaming thing, and leans down slowly for a soft kiss. 
“So,” he asks, his breath on your lips, “how was your weekend? Lonely?” 
“So lonely,” you tease lightly, eyes fluttering closed as he continues his massaging of your leg. “But it was okay. I missed you, really, and didn’t do much else.”
“No?” he asks. 
Your voice takes on a shine as he squeezes your knee, “Missed your hands.”  
“I missed your everything.” He grabs for your forearms and pulls you into a sitting position. “But everything was okay?” he asks more seriously. 
“Everything was fine.” 
He raises his eyebrows, but eventually lets them relax. “Well, okay. Good, sweetheart, I’m glad it was okay.” 
He persuades you into the kitchen to sit with him as he makes dinner, refusing to let you help, and yet insisting you be there in the same room, as though you’d like to be anywhere else. Sirius makes your favourite of his usual rotation, offering you spoonfuls for tasting, gaps of silence stretching as he struggles to find new conversation. You start answering his questions but remember time and time again that Sirius could become totally sick of you. He might already be. 
Sirius puts the food on a low heat and washes his hands. He wipes them dry, but when he takes your face, dampness lines the inside of his fingers. 
“I’d like for you to tell me what’s wrong,” he says gently, stroking at the line of your startled frown, “before it gets worse. Do you want to talk about it?” 
“Nothing’s wrong.” 
“Please don’t, lovely. If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. I want us to last forever, and we can’t do that if you won’t tell me when I upset you.” 
“It wasn’t you,” you say instinctively, then regret it. 
“So someone has?” he asks, still so gentle as his hands coast down your neck like he’s sculpting you, coming to rest on the slopes leading to your shoulders. “You can tell me anything. You don’t have to keep it to yourself… please.” 
“Are you sure?” 
“Sweetheart.” He frowns deeply. Couldn’t look more upset. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” 
You chew it over, not wanting or willing to cause ructions between Sirius and his oldest friend. “Well, I saw James today at the shop, and… we were talking about you…” 
He waits. “And?” 
“And he told me you– you don’t like talking. That you didn’t like talking, that James used to make you sick of it. So I know I talk too much and you’ve never made me feel like I shouldn’t, but I guess I got into my head thinking you’d get sick of me, too.” 
“When we were younger I didn’t like much of anything.” He curls an arm behind your neck to hold you in place, but it’s not a dominant sort of movement, only protective as your noses inch together. “Did you ever read that poem by Bukwoski? Let It Enfold You?” 
“What?” 
“I’m not very good at explaining myself. I thought if you knew the poem, you’d–” He laughs near your cheek. “I hated everything. It wasn’t James’ fault. He did make me sick of it sometimes, but I just wanted to hide from everything.” He breathes out slowly. “I’ve never wanted to hide from you. I can’t get sick of you. Do you get that? I can’t get sick of you. Listening to you is the best part of my day, you’re my personal chatterbox.” 
“Chatterbox,” you repeat teasingly. 
“You could talk for Wales,” he says. “And I love it, I don’t want you to stop, because I’ll never be sick of it.”
“I don’t want it to be some secret resentment.”
“I don’t resent you for anything. I knew exactly who you were when we met and I love it.” He takes your face again. “I love it,” he repeats. 
You steal a little kiss against the corner of his lips. “What was the poem?” you ask. 
“I’ll find my book, and you can read it to me. What do you think?” He takes a slow kiss as you had in the same place, words like honey. “I miss your voice.” 
He’s basically pleading. It’s not like Sirius to plead, but you pull it out of him. 
“Can I have my dinner first?” 
“The one I made while you deprived me?” he asks. “Yes, if you must.” 
He takes another kiss, but you’re happy to give it. 
3K notes · View notes
januaryembrs · 6 months ago
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WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader
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Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?
Length: 8k
Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.
main masterlist.
author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!
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He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression. 
He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul. 
Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl. 
Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.
“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”
She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek. 
She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.
Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal. 
“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie. 
“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not. 
Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before. 
“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his. 
“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,” 
She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them. 
“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”
She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,” 
But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t. 
“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word. 
Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him. 
“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,” 
Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.  
Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. 
For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.
Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together. 
Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice. 
Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.
Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning. 
“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”
He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask. 
“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee. 
“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her. 
“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,” 
“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore. 
“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable. 
“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating. 
Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel. 
Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue. 
“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question. 
His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?” 
Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly. 
“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him. 
“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair. 
“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror. 
“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy. 
“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her. 
“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her. 
“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague. 
“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”
He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that. 
He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.
And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor. 
The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning. 
-
They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive. 
“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house. 
The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“ 
“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?” 
“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud. 
But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features. 
“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole. 
Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified. 
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it. 
“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,” 
“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified. 
She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window. 
“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?” 
He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would. 
He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.
Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.
“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”
“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”
“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.
“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”
Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it. 
“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”
“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.
“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”
“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”
“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”
“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”
“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”
She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.
They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of. 
And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.
She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.
“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”
“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”
“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.
She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.
“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”
“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies. 
She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face. 
“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.
“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.
“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”
Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”
“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love. 
“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”
JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.
Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”
She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.
The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.
“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.
“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.
“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”
Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.
But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.
He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.
It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.
In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.
It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.
“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.
“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,” 
Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.
“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”
“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”
And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.
They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?
Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.
She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft. 
“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.
“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.
“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too. 
Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.
“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.
“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”
He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response. 
“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.
“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”
“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months. 
Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”
“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.
“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem. 
Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him. 
“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time. 
He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world. 
“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”
“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips. 
“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,” 
“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”
Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.
“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.
He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground. 
“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”
She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped. 
“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?” 
He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?” 
She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.
“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?” 
He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.
“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.  
“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”
Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right. 
He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.
He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.
He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.
“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”
Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.
“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.
And she believed him.
--
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eddiernunson · 7 months ago
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I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+
Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.
Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.
Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie
I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)
-
As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.
Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”
Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.
“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.
You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.
“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.
Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”
He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.
You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.
Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.
Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”
“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”
“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”
“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.
He melts. “Sure.”
You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.
“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”
As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”
Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?
The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.
The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.
“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.
“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”
“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.
“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”
Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.
You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.
“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”
“Payback?”
“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.
“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”
You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”
“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”
“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.
“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”
Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”
“Eh, ten.”
You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.
The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.
The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.
That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.
Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.
The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.
The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.
You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”
Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.
“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”
“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”
You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.
Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.
“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”
You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”
“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”
You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”
“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”
You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”
“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.
“What?”
“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”
You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”
“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”
“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.
“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”
Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.
You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.
You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.
Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”
“Absolutely!”
-
Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.
Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.
At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.
The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”
He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”
He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”
Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”
He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”
Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.
It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”
A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”
“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”
Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.
“She asked you out?”
“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”
That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.
Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.
This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.
“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”
“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”
“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.
Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”
This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.
“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”
You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.
Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.
You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.
-
A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.
The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.
For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.
“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”
Your heart shatters. “That good?”
“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”
Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”
Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”
The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”
He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”
“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”
He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.
“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”
You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.
“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”
The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”
He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”
“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.
“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”
The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.
His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.
He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.
-
The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.
“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.
It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.
“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.
“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”
Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”
“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.
Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.
“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.
“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.
In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.
“Sure.”
As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.
On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.
The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.
The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.
The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.
That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.
His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.
By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.
Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.
“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.
“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”
Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”
You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”
“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.
Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”
“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”
How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?
“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”
Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”
“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.
The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.
“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”
Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”
You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”
After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”
“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”
You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”
Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.
The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.
Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.
The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.
Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”
You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”
“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.
“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.
“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”
“Why?”
“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”
You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”
“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.
“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”
He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”
“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”
“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”
“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”
“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.
“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”
“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”
No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.
“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.
You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”
“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”
“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.
“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”
“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”
“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”
“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”
“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.
“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”
“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”
“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.
“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”
“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.
Because it turned into hell.
-
As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.
It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.
Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”
“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.
He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”
“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.
“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.
You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.
The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.
Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.
Right?
The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.
It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”
“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”
“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.
She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”
“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”
“Yes please!”
You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.
“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”
As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”
You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.
“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.
“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.
“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.
“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.
“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.
The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.
She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.
You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.
Where she’s a friend.
You have to try.
“What are we watching?”
Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”
“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”
Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”
“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”
As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.
“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.
“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.
You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.
Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.
He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.
With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.
His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”
Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.
Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?
Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.
Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”
Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.
Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.
You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–
“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”
No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.
Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.
As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”
You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.
“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.
Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.
“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.
You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.
“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”
She nods.
“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”
“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.
“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.
Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.
“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”
Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.
“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.
“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.
“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”
“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.
“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”
“When did you start coming?”
“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”
“Why didn’t you want to go?”
Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”
Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.
Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.
Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.
The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.
“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.
“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.
Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.
“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”
“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.
“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.
“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.
“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”
“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”
“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.
In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.
The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.
As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”
The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.
Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.
Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.
“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”
Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.
Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”
“Hmm?”
“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.
“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”
If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.
“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”
That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.
-
There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.
On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.
Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.
Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.
She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.
“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.
“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.
You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”
“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”
“Sweet.”
“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”
“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”
“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.
You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.
“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”
You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”
“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.
“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.
She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.
You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.
Oh. He’s not going to.
“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.
Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”
Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.
If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.
Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”
You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.
You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”
Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.
-
Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.
“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.
“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”
“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”
You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”
“To who?”
You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”
“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”
“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”
“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”
That, you agree with.
“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”
You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.
You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.
That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.
The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.
It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.
It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.
As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.
Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.
Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.
As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.
A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.
Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.
The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.
You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.
Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.
His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.
She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.
Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.
You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.
You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.
The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.
The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.
When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.
You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.
-
The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.
Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.
He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”
You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.
“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”
“Hey. How was the cupcake?”
“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”
You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.
“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.
“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”
“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”
“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.
“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.
“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.
“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.
“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”
Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.
“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.
“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.
“Can we do something? Just you and me?”
He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”
…that never happened.
-
The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.
That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.
Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.
Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.
Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.
It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.
Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.
It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.
Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.
Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.
It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.
Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.
Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.
When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.
“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.
“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”
“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.
“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”
You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.
News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.
Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.
When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.
As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.
“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.
“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”
Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.
You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”
“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.
Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.
You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.
Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.
“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.
The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.
Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.
“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.
Daniel.
“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”
“Retribution.”
“Huh?”
He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”
What the fuck?
The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”
“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”
Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”
“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”
You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?
His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.
The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”
The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.
Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.
When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.
The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”
You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.
Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”
He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”
He stands there, blankly watching.
“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”
Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.
“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”
“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.
“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.
“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”
You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.
Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.
“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.
By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.
He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.
“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.
He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”
He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.
The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.
As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.
Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.
From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.
-
The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.
As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.
On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”
You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”
He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”
As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.
“Anything after that?”
You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.
“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.
“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”
“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?
Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.
“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.
Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.
“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”
Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.
Eddie.
“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”
“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.
Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.
“Is that all?”
He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”
That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.
From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.
The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.
Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.
Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.
For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.
Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.
This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”
You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.
“It’s me.”
You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.
-
Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.
He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?
You would think.
So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.
Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.
The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.
“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.
Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.
“I didn’t even know he was having one.”
She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”
He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.
He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.
By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.
He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.
Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.
Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.
He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.
Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.
“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.
His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.
The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.
Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.
Fuck this guy. Fuck him.
Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.
Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.
He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.
Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.
Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.
When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.
Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.
No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.
That conversation goes as well as can be expected.
In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.
Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”
“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”
“Is she okay?”
“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”
Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.
“Physically?”
Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”
“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”
“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”
Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”
“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.
“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…
Should Eddie have called the ambulance?
“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”
“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.
“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.
“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.
“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.
“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”
“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.
Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”
“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”
Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”
Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”
“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”
“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”
“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”
“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”
-
“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.
But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.
“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”
You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”
“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”
You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”
Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”
You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.
It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.
Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.
“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.
Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.
The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.
Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.
“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.
“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”
You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”
“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”
If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”
As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.
He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–
“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.
“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.
His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”
Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”
“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.
“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.
“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.
She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”
“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”
“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”
Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”
“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”
“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.
“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”
It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”
Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.
“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”
“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”
“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”
Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.
“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”
On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.
Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”
“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.
“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.
“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”
His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”
Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.
You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.
Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.
It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.
You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”
“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”
“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”
-
You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.
The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?
He’s more than willing.
When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.
Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”
You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.
White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.
The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.
As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.
It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.
The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”
You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”
You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”
You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”
You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.
He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.
The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.
Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.
“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.
You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.
“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”
Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”
“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.
His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”
“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.
“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.
You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”
His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.
Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.
His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.
The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”
You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.
You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.
Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”
It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”
“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.
“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.
Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”
The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.
He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”
“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.
“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”
“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”
Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”
Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.
It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.
Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.
“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”
“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”
Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”
You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.
He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”
You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.
“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.
On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.
The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.
You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.
Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”
He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.
There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.
Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.
All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.
Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.
“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”
You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”
“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.
“Probably.”
He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”
Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.
“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”
The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.
Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…
“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.
“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”
It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”
Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.
This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.
“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”
He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”
“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”
You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”
“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”
You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”
He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”
He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.
“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.
Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”
You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”
“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”
His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.
Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.
You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.
He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.
He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.
You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.
You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”
“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”
With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.
Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”
You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”
Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”
“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.
“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.
“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”
He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.
You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.
I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.
You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.
The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.
You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.
The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.
At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.
You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.
You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”
You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.
“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”
Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.
“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”
Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.
“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”
Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.
His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”
His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.
“What was that?”
He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”
You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”
“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”
A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”
You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.
He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”
You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”
You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.
“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.
You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”
“Mm, almost there, baby.”
“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”
Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.
You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”
“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”
“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.
“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.
“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”
“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.
Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”
You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.
“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”
You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”
You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”
He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”
Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.
His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.
“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.
“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”
“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.
“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.
“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”
“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.
Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”
His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.
He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.
“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”
“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”
“Fuck-you, y’sure?”
“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.
“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”
Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.
You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.
“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”
You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”
He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”
It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.
-
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bold means it wouldnt let me tag you so I DM'd you in private to you know.
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disgustingtwitches · 2 months ago
Text
MDNI
Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)
You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.
"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"
Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.
"Probably just a prank call."
Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.
"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."
He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,
"Looks fine to me."
He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.
"Fucks sake, lemme do it."
Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,
"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"
You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.
"No, don't bother. Jesus."
He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.
"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."
Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.
"Everything alright?"
He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.
"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"
Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.
"Go get Johnny."
You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.
He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,
"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."
His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,
"Problem?"
Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.
"Grab the cheque."
You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,
"Cash only."
"I don't have cash."
"There's an ATM around the corner."
The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,
"Right. Be right back."
He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.
"Oh there's no need-"
"Making sure you don't get lost."
Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,
"I need my change!"
He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair
"You alright, darling?"
Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.
~
That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,
"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."
Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.
"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."
Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.
"Pampered little princess, you know that?"
Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?
**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**
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shadow4-1 · 7 months ago
Text
I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.
Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?
Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.
"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"
It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.
Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.
"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."
"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"
Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.
"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"
Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.
KORTAC
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."
"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."
"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."
The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.
"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."
Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.
"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"
A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.
"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."
Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.
"Wait!"
"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."
Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.
"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.
You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.
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suguann · 8 months ago
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There comes a point where Simon finally admits that he hates your new boyfriend—not that he’s liked any of your past relationships over the years, but this one he’s more vocal about—with a name not worth remembering. Matt? Martin?
He’d stopped trying after his first week back from work.
“I don’t fucking trust him,” he says one night while at the pub right under your apartment; it’s become a weekly ritual of sorts when he’s on leave ever since meeting you there on Soap’s birthday several years back. 
“You say that about every guy I have you meet,” you tell him in that know-it-all voice that you always use with him. “You hardly even know him, and his name’s Marcus, by the way. It wouldn’t kill you to use it.”
He snorts. “Love, the bloke would put his cock in anyone with tits and a warm cunt.”
“He wouldn’t,” your voice is soft because maybe you already know.
He would.
You’re so fucking oblivious that you don’t even realize this, but there’s nothing except stars in your eyes whenever you look at (or even talk about) the Naval officer who thinks he’s some bigshot because he can fly a plane. 
Even now, at your boyfriend’s promotion after-party in some back alley nightclub, he’s hardly talked to you or offered to get you a drink. You’re always too nervous to order one by yourself, and only Simon—tall and imposing standing beside you—could have the grumpiest bartender reach for the blender to make a blended cocktail. 
When he comes back with your drink—too big fingers unfolding the tiny umbrella for you—he watches your boyfriend (Marcus) flirt with a girl in a tight leather dress on the other side of the room. It’s that moment that he decides he’s tired of you giving your attention to someone who doesn’t deserve it, tired of you lying belly up for men who only want to sink their teeth into you and leave once they’ve had their fill. 
He likes to think he’s a pretty good friend—opening your eyes to something better is a job he takes rather seriously.
“It’s just a bit of fun,” he says after coming back with your third margarita, a small amount of frothy liquid sloshing over the side when he sets it down in front of you. “It’s okay to want it.”
You bite your lip, eyes dropping down to where he’s patting his thigh. “Just fun?”
“Yes, love.” He smiles. “Just fun.”
Let me.
Whether you’re tipsier than he thought or he’s just really persuasive, it’s easy to get you crawling into his lap in the corner of the cracked leather booth. His hands wander the span of your smooth thighs where your short skirt doesn’t reach, and he muffles a groan in your shoulder when you start squirming against the tent in his jeans.
You say his name like a warning when his hands find their way under your skirt, yet you’re biting back a moan and don’t tell him to stop.
Simon undoes his jeans and shifts them down before pushing up the back of your skirt and adjusting your hips to watch the tip of his dick slide between the covered cleft of your ass. Nobody in the room can see what the both of you are doing with your skirt fanning around his lap, but someone could if they were truly looking, and that has him tugging your panties to the side so he can feel you.
"Your boyfriend is too stupid to realize you're sitting here riding my lap. What do you think he'd say if he saw you like this?"
 “W-wait, Simon!” you squeak. “What if he sees—”
He’s almost tempted to roll his eyes at your blind devotion—I’ll deal with it—dealing with it would be him making sure the prick never tries talking to you again.
Then, his fingers, like iron at your hips, jerk you back to impale you on his cock. "Fuck," he says, voice trembling around the edges.
“O-oh! It’s too—ah—too big!”
He wraps a hand around the slender slope of your throat, fingers digging into vulnerable flesh as he pulls you back until his lips are at your ear, nose pressing into the soft skin of your cheek. “Come on, love. I know you can take the whole thing. Right inside this tight cunt.”
Simon thrusts into you shallowly, just the tip going in and out, and you whine, little fingers scrabbling at his wrist—gasping and shivering and bucking in the trap of his arms.
A smirk curls at the edges of his mouth when he finally bottoms out in your hot-wet cunt for your boyfriend to see from the other side of the room. He'd laugh at how his jaw drops, but he can only manage little choked intakes of air at the feel of you wrapped so tightly around him.
“Squeeze my cock for me—fuck, there you go.” He presses a kiss below your ear and reaches down to pet your soaked clit with his thumb. Feels the moment you realize that your boyfriend is watching when you tense up.
“I’ll deal with it,” he says again and again until you’re melting into him, thighs trembling around his. “Promise. I promise…”
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I apologize if you see this again! I was trying to edit it, and it wouldn't format right with the gif. You can find part two here.
masterlist
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alexiroflife · 5 months ago
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sukuna would kill for you….
just a thought, mentions of assault, violence, but also fluff if you squint
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… and not just in the cutesy, romantic way that held no weight to the promise. no, sukuna will plot and execute someone’s death for you over and over again. as easy as it has been to kill for centuries, it only becomes easier when he’s killing for the sake of your protection
it doesn’t take much to get sukuna riled up on your behalf. he’s quick to jot down names and addresses when you approach him with tears in your lashes, upset over harsh, misogynistic words from your boss or frustrated over an acquaintance who constantly antagonizes you for no reason. it takes one look into your sad eyes and he’s off on a manhunt
you normally advise sukuna not to kill people who have done little things to push your buttons, but that doesn’t stop him from rousing them up a little bit for good measure. he’ll track a rude encounter down, corner them in a secluded area, and beat their ass to a pulp until they’re begging for mercy. only then, when they plead for their life, does sukuna decide he is done and returns home to you. though the fools are beaten so badly they can hardly see out of their swollen eyes by the time he is done, he hasn’t technically killed them so it’s fair game
there is a time, however, when sukuna ignores your wishes and acts on his own accord, and that is when any guy decides to hit on you and not take no for an answer
you’re fuming when you march into his room, face red and fists clenched tightly at your sides. sukuna looks at you with a cocked brow, asking what the hell happened to get you all worked up. you tell him that on your way to his place from work, a man stopped you in your path to ask for your number. you had politely declined, but when you tried to walk past you could feel his hand grope your backside. you were quick to spin on your heel and land a stinging slap to his face that sent his had snapping into the other direction, and then you ran off to sukuna
the king of curses stares ahead and says nothing for moments that feel like hours, then stands abruptly. “what did he look like?” “where was he going?” “where was he coming from?” you barely get the chance to detail his features and the area the interaction occurred in when he’s cutting you off and telling you that he will take care of it. you catch his arm, eyes glossy as you plead him to stay with you and not get himself caught up in too much trouble. he can only promise the former, as he lets you take him to bed for the night
the next day, sukuna finds your assaulter with uraume’s assistance within twenty minutes. your description of his face in addition to the location you saw him hanging around allowed him to discover his LinkedIn profile, which took him to his place of work. sukuna waits outside of the building all day in dark sweats until he sees the culprit leave. he follows silently from afar until he arrives at his nearby apartment. he watches from an alley as the man disappears into the building and minutes later a light flicks on in the third room to the right on the second floor. sukuna knows he’s got him when his face appears in the window to close the blinds
sukuna waits for him to leave his apartment again to go out to grab food, then seizes his opportunity. he scales the building and climbs silently into the home through the window, then waits for his return in the dark. when the front door swings open, it takes your assaulter moments of shifting through the darkness before he finds sukuna’s shadowy figure sitting in his chair, red eyes aglow. he yelps in fear, reaching frantically to flick on the light. sukuna’s teeth grind together, the sight of this scum before him making his skin crawl
“w-who are you?! what are you doing in my house?” sukuna stands and the man stumbles back, cowardice revealing itself. he presses himself against his now locked door as sukuna approaches with a blank face and dark eyes, glaring down at him over his nose. “please! is it money you want? you can have it all, just- just don’t hurt me!”
christ, how pathetic. sukuna watches him tremble, eyes wide and lips quivering as he shivers in the corner of his own home. sukuna clicks his teeth. “what I want is for you to keep your fucking hands to yourself.” he snatches the man’s wrist up in his tight grasp, claws sinking into his skin. the man writhes in horror upon seeing the blood drawn from sukuna’s fingers digging into him. “why don’t we start by getting rid of them, hm?”
sukuna leaves the now blood spattered apartment unit the same way he came, brushing a gunk of brain matter from his sweatshirt with gritted teeth. he wants to come home to you, annoyed with his day out
when he shows up at your door, he lets you wrap your arms tightly around him in relief. his cheek rests on your shoulder boredly as he 'tolerates' your affection. when you ask him where he has been all day, he shrugs and says: “out” and leaves it at that
sukuna would kill for you any day with no hesitation but bides by the one rule you have to keep his hands clean when it comes to insignificant matters. yet when it comes to someone threatening your safety, comfortability, and body all in one, sukuna thinks it’s only right for him to break his promise to you and slaughter the pathetic lowlifes who even so much as think about laying a finger on you
sukuna’s love language is violence. while he may be poor at refraining from making you mad or gaging when to give you verbal affection, he will put somebody in the ground for you in a heartbeat
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samaraxmorgan · 2 months ago
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Your Roommate Sukuna
“That Time He Sabotaged My Date”
Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader
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Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!
Contains: yandere(ish)!Sukuna, fluff but he’s kinda very toxic, stalking, fem implied reader (wearing a dress and heels), brief mention of a bomb (there aren’t any bombs present), narration is from Sukuna’s POV
Word Count: 1.78k
Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist
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Whoever decided this dingy shithole is a decent place to take you on a date should be fucking shot.
Maybe it was wrong of Sukuna to eavesdrop on your private conversation this morning, but in his defense you were talking on the phone loud as hell in the middle of the living room. Should’ve been quieter when you were telling your friend about the date you had planned for tonight.
And maybe it’s weird that Sukuna secretly followed you here to keep an eye on you, but it’s not like he has nefarious intentions. He’s heard of this place and one, it’s fucking gross, and two, it’s got one hell of a reputation to say the least. Definitely the kind of place for someone to get murdered, he’s just watching out for your safety!
Oh christs sake, who is he fooling? No, he followed you here because he’ll be damned if you get a boyfriend.
He feels like a creep, sitting at the bar behind your table in a black hoodie and an old baseball cap, eyes fixed on the back of your head. The guy sitting across from you is so bland, yet for some reason you’re still giggling and twirling your hair around your finger as if you don’t know that you can do so much better.
There was no need for you to doll yourself up for this fuckin’ loser; you’ve got on a pretty red dress and stiletto heels, probably anticipating him to take you somewhere nice, decent, at least. But he brought you to some run down shithole restaurant that hasn’t been renovated since the 70’s and is definitely bearing several health code violations. It’s honestly embarrassing, Sukuna would take you somewhere so much nicer than this, he knows what you deserve.
He’s been sitting at the bar sipping on his drink for the last half hour, watching the way you prop your elbow onto the table, cross your legs in your seat, tap your heel against the leg of your chair, listening to you laugh and chat about your job. Meanwhile, mister nobody in front of you is chewing with his mouth open like some kind of ape, not realizing how much of a privilege he has by being able to treat you to dinner. Un-fucking-believable.
Finally the moment he’s been waiting for happens. Bland And Boring stands up from his seat and leaves you at the table to go use the restroom, so now it’s time for Sukuna to get this fool away from you. His eyes follow the man as he walks past the bar, not even trying to be discreet. He gives Sukuna a quick glance and nods his head politely, making his way towards the bathrooms near the front of the restaurant.
There’s no time to waste.
Sukuna stands from his seat at the bar, trailing behind your date and following him into the bathroom. As the door clicks shut behind him he realizes that it’s just the two of them. Perfect, no interruptions.
He walks up behind the man, watching him through the large mirror above the sinks. Now that he’s up close he can really see how pathetic this guy is, nervously looking up towards Sukuna as he absolutely towers above him, his stature menacing and the look in his eyes bordering on deadly.
“D-do you need some-”
“You should leave.” Your date jumps at the sound of Sukuna’s voice; dark, deep, and serious.
“Um… why?” His eyes flicker around the room, definitely praying to whatever god he believes in to come save him.
Sukuna is surprised he isn’t immediately obeying. Has he grown soft? Surely not, this guy just needs a little extra push.
So Sukuna says the first thing that comes into mind.
“I have a bomb.”
Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but god damn does it do the trick. The guy looks like he’s about to fucking piss himself, eyes widening in terror as he quickly nods his head and runs out of the restaurant.
Sukuna keeps a keen eye on him through the windows, watching him nearly leap into his car and hearing the tires screech as he speeds out of the parking lot. It seems you also had an eye on your date, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as you assumed that he just ditched you with the bill.
Now’s his time to shine.
He stuffs his hat into the front pocket of his hoodie and strides up behind you to your table, bending down to be eye level with you in the booth and putting on his best mildly surprised and kind of amused expression, “Well look at that.”
“Ugh, god.” You bury your face into your hands, “And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.”
He can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. It is his fault you’re in this situation, but I mean come on, that guy was no good for you anyway. “You sample the whole fuckin’ menu or something?”
You groan and roll your eyes, perfect, you took the bait, “I just got dine and dashed, asshole.”
Sukuna lets out a laugh as he flops down into the seat across from you, god if only you knew. A man would have to be a real idiot to stand you up, but he has to try and keep his act together, “Yeah? Guys are fuckin’ assholes, surprise.”
The pout on your face is too sweet, makes it hard for him to really feel bad, “I was really liking him too.”
Oh, he definitely doesn’t feel bad now. He pulls his card out of his wallet as the waitress approaches the table, handing it off to her nonchalantly as he continues the conversation, “Don’t know why you bother going on dates with these guys.”
You try to interject the waitress but she walks away before you can stop her, a defeated frown pulling down your lips, “What are you doing here anyway?”
He plops his elbow onto the table, shrugging his shoulders casually, “What? Am I not allowed to go to my favorite shitty restaurant?”
You perk up slightly, “Right? I saw a roach on the way in, I can’t believe he recommended this place.”
The waitress comes back and hands Sukuna his card, he quickly scribbles his signature on the receipt and stands from his seat at the booth, “Let’s get you out of here before you get ringworm or some shit, nasty fuckin’ place.”
Finally a smile creeps onto your face, lighting up the dreary atmosphere. You adjust your dress as you stand up and he can’t help but smirk at how good you look all dolled up, dark red dress hugging your figure as if you wore it for him. He leads you out of the restaurant, making sure to hold the door open for you since he noticed that your loser date let it slam in your face on your way in.
Droplets of rain were starting to sprinkle down, which is pretty unlucky considering it’s a ten minute walk back to the apartment. But that’s not a problem for Sukuna, if anything it’s a perfect opportunity. He catches the frown curling down your pouty lips as you fix your fingers through your nicely styled hair, probably trying to keep it from getting messed up, and without missing a beat he pulls his hoodie off, sliding it over your head and down your arms.
“I’m sure you spent hours dolling yourself up, would hate to ruin it.” His voice is smooth as butter, leaning down to eye level with you as he adjusts the hood to make sure your hair is covered.
A blush creeps onto your face, mumbling a quiet “Thank you” as you pull your arms through the sleeves. It honestly looks like you’re drowning in his massive hoodie, the sleeves too long for your arms that your fingers can’t even peek out and the hem at the bottom falling at your upper thighs.
Sukuna thought you looked good in that red dress, but god damn you look heavenly wearing his clothes. Why didn’t he do this sooner?
You both start to walk down the sidewalk to the apartment, the evening is quiet save for the muffled sounds of music and chatter coming from the bars and restaurants that you pass by. You’re walking right up against his side, your arm occasionally brushing against his and he can’t help but wonder if you’re getting closer on purpose.
Sukuna breaks the peaceful silence, “So was the food good at least?”
You look up towards him quizzically, squinting your eyes in a way that’s too fucking cute for him to handle, “Shouldn’t you be the expert?”
“Why t’fuck would I know? Never been there.”
“I thought that was your favorite shitty restaurant?”
Oops.
He got way too distracted looking into your pretty eyes. Lucky for him, he didn’t need to come up with an excuse to cover him because a loud snap rings through the air as you stumble forward. His arm quickly wraps around your waist to steady you before you can fall, holding you flush against him.
You look down at your feet and let out a loud groan of frustration, “Fucks sake, really?” You lift your foot up to inspect your shoe, your stiletto heel barely dangling by a thread as it snapped off from the sole.
Sukuna didn’t mean to laugh, but there was no containing it. You look up at him with an adorable angry face, cheeks burning red as you curse him out and it only makes him smile more. You’re just too damn cute when you’re pissed off.
“It’s not funny! These were expensive!”
“Yeah yeah, c’mere.” His arm stays wrapped around your waist as he leans down and hooks his other arm behind your knees, lifting you off the ground with ease as you squeal in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck to cling onto him.
Now he could bet that other guy wouldn’t do this for you, not just was he scrawny as all hell but he wouldn’t be nearly enough of a gentleman. Your arms tighten around the back of Sukuna’s neck as he starts walking to the apartment again, your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder as you slowly relax into his hold. He’s actually liking this a lot, silently considering purposely taking a wrong turn on the way home so he can hold you longer.
Hopefully after this you’ll stop going on stupid dates with worthless men, you’ve already got everything you could ever want right at home after all. Soon enough you’ll realize that you don’t need anyone but him.
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A/N: This was SO FUN to write!! I love him he’s such an asshole askakksksk, I rlly liked the idea of doing a light hearted yandere part (even tho NOBODY asked for this skaksksk) Dividers by @adornedwithlight
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!
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thinkinonsense · 2 months ago
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ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY
i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader
part two *mdni
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"i love you, logan."
four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.
from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.
seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.
"lo, are you going to say some-"
"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.
"what?"
this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.
"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.
"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.
"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."
a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.
you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"
logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.
"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.
all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.
"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.
"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"
"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.
who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.
"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"
you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.
logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.
"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.
logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.
the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.
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