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hunnylagoon · 4 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)

Ellie Williams x reader

I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.

Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.

Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three over here!

Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao

I think that I have unlearned how to love.

That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.

Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.

I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.

The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded.

She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.

Almost.

It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.

Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas.

The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again.

So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do.

I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.

When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.

As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.

"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.

"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"

Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."

"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"

I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."

"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."

"So?" Cat asks.

"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"

"Why not?"

"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"

"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.

She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.

Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.

I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"

My heart drops "I'm not?"

Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."

I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.

"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"

My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."

Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-

"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.

"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.

Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"

"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."

While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret.

She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.

The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.

"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"

The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.

"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.

"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.

I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."

I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.

Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine.

As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.

After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"

"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"

Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-

"Yes, I have."

"Who?"

"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."

She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."

"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."

"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"

I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.

Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.

'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?

AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?

She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together.

God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.

I think I've had my fair share of partying.

After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.

I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter.

Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.

When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things.

"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray.

Thirty dollars?

Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).

I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."

Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.

"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off.

After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-

"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen.

I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.

Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.

"Make a wish!"

Age Sixteen- Grade 11

I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.

How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.

"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.

The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

"What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.

I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?"

He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand.

"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.

I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline.

"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?"

I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.

"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."

"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.

"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"

"Because I don't."

My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.

I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."

Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."

I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.

My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.

"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."

She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.

"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-

My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-

Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.

I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her.

"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!"

Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.

Frankly, I'm fucking scared.

She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body.

Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.

This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.

"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain.

I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.

I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air.

Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it.

I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.

She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.

"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."

"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.

"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."

"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"

"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."

"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."

"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."

We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.

"Fine."

I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.

I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.

When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"

Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.

We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.

She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"

"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness.

"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."

"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."

Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing.

She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"

My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.

She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night.

Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."

"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.

"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."

I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."

I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.

"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."

I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.

"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it."

The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"

I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."

She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"

"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."

Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.

How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.

A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀

Thanks for reading!

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carolmunson · 1 year

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let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie.

g’morning pretty ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go.

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture. “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.”

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it. “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?” “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.” “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again.

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :) see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :)

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning. You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.” “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you. “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks. “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.” “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.” He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed. “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.” “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.” “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?”

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.”

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.”

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?”

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.”

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable.

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice.

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face.

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.”

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?”

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.”

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?”

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return, “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them.

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again.

��Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday.

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.”

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles.

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him.

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.”

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do.

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.”

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.”

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.”

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.”

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.”

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.”

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.”

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card.

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions.

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?”

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box.

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you.

“What can I get you?” he asks again.

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take.

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see.

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.”

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck.

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically.

“Another banger,” he exclaims.

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise.

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did.

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines.

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s.

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it.

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.”

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is.

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway.

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.”

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’”

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target.

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you.

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.”

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?” “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it.

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?”

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through.

“We have all day, right?” you smirk.

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?”

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow.

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.”

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.”

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?”

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand.

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.”

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.”

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels?

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy?

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?”

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.”

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly.

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.”

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever.

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing.

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.”

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf.

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?”

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.”

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.”

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something.

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be.

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store.

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.”

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.”

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it.

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?”

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.”

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.”

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again.

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.”

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you.

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention.

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words.

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?”

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.”

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?”

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?”

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.”

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries. “Easter candy?” he asks.

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.”

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?”

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?”

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.”

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in.

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile.

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?”

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully.

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you.

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease.

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.”

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point.

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.”

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console.

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you?

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire.

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?”

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?”

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.”

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?”

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze.

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back.

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks.

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.”

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.”

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more.

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.”

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face.

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts.

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.”

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’”

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head.

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.”

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth.

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.”

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.”

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.”

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage.

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green.

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.”

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly.

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now.

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?”

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.”

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.”

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask.

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest, “You gettin’ sleepy?”

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.”

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.”

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?”

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do.

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now?

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped.

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.”

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no.

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping.

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard.

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.”

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again.

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!”

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes.

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.”

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.”

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile.

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you.

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.”

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.”

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.”

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.”

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception.

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.”

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch.

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth. it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you.

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand.

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy. oh, so you miss me? of course i do :) i miss you, too :)

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?”

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met.

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.”

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.”

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?”

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.”

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted.

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks.

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back.

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.”

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?”

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.”

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.”

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them.

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.”

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds.

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.” “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.”

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees.

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks.

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.” “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage.

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser.

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark.

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late? grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.”

yeah, show me :)

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand.

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it.

jfc you know what you’re doing whaaaaat? what do you mean? ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean. do you not like it? i like it a little too much you wanna see it from the back?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers.

of course i do

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru. you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn? lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it.

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?”

yeah? you’d take care of it? only if you asked nicely :)

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand.

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please. what a good boy. :)

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.”

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth?

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first.

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full oh you wanna shut me up? is that it? i don’t think it takes much.

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off.

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that?

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat.

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it you sound very confident because i am is it big?

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit.

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it. i know i can take it. so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here. so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that. so you are jerking it in your bedroom? the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good.

🙈 stop yeah? i can stop. don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come? cause i do have my fingers between my thighs

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls.

does it feel good, sweetheart? it would feel better if you were doing it for me. can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…”

absolutely.

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring.

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does.

“Hey there,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan.

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again.

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh.

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm.

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.”

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax.

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.”

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead.

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you whine to him.

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”

“How?” you ask breathily.

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.”

“I’m not needy,” you protest.

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.”

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver.

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?”

“Yeah…”

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?”

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly.

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?”

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you.

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.”

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over.

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low.

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea.

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?”

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you.

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm? Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.”

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down.

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.”

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober.

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully.

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly.

“Poor thing,” he offers.

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.”

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.”

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters.

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.”

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.”

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours.

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned.

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere.

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go.

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.”

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.”

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy.

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment. “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling.

“I missed you,” he says confidently.

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group.

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug.

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over.

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose.

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.”

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind.

“Guess who it is,” she laughs.

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand.

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.”

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts.

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.”

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face.

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.”

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.”

“So you like her?” Eddie grins.

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.”

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort.

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.”

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs.

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all.

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses.

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat.

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt.

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too. He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it.

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit –

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse.

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.”

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines.

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.”

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time.

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs.

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair.

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs.

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks.

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this.

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going.

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently.

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room, “You even know how to play?”

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain.

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.”

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again.

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not. Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade.

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest.

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting.

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin.

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen.

“Do I win a prize?”

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.”

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.” He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again.

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.”

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other.

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.”

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips.

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands.

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths.

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.”

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums.

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp.

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.”

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.”

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?”

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar.

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually –

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves.

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.”

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck.

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind.

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft.

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips.

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.”

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.”

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks.

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel.

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit.

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead.

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.”

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout.

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again.

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him.

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger.

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue.

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles.

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.”

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time?

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.”

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?”

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…”

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game.

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish.

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you.

“Eddie…”

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him.

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.”

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch.

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back.

“M’gonna cum…oh shit — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers.

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead.

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate.

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?”

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.”

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?”

“Much better.”

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks.

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen.

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face.

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate.

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –”

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is.

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?”

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn.

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping.

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.”

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?”

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed.

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.”

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.”

Jingle. Click. Creak.

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.”

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen.

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.”

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second.

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.” Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.”

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him.

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit.

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?”

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much.

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x y/n

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bimboamyrose · 7 months

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Unfamiliar - Ch. 16: The Fool

Art: @mmm-asbestos ☆ First 2 chapters ☆ Prev. (Ch. 15) ☆ AO3

Ch. 16 - The Fool

“Did you have an errand in town or something?” Amy sensed his anxiety.

In minutes, the pair were miles away. They quickly found themselves in town, in the center of a populated shopping area. Some passerby who recognized Sonic began rubbernecking as they milled about.

He shifted his vision around apprehensively as he allowed Amy to step down from his arms.

“Do you think he’s tailing us? Don’t think it’s the best idea to bring him right back to your place, considering…”

“I don’t think Eggman has anything fast enough to keep up with you” she started. “Oh- well, not anymore. Besides, you’re hungry, remember?” Amy joked. They stood near a selection of restaurants and cafes.

“Oh- yeah!” Sonic exhaled. “We should give Tails a call, though-”

“Let’s not,” Amy blurted out. It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned it, but this was just the opportunity she needed to be alone with Sonic.

“Huh? Why?”

“I didn’t bring my communicator,” she tried to sound nonchalant.

“I’ll just run over there-”

Amy dashed past him to a glass storefront, gasping theatrically. “I’ve been wanting to check out this new cafe!”

“Well I was thinking to grab Tails and-”

“Let’s sit down inside!” Amy insisted, pushing her way through the front doors.

Not in an arguing mood, Sonic followed inside begrudgingly.

A hostess escorted them to a small table by a window. It overlooked a fountain in the square. It was past lunchtime, but a few other pairs lingered in neighboring tables; couples gazing dreamily at each other or sharing desserts. Sonic shifted his own eyes to the window. He fidgeted in his chair.

“So,” Amy sighed, “that was… interesting.”

“No kidding.” He didn’t turn to her.

“He… knows about Metal,” she continued.

Sonic spun back to face her gravely.

“Oh, come on, there’s no way he’s listening to us here. Relax!”

“Guess you’re right.” He turned bleakly back to the window. “What do we do?”

Amy was unsure herself. “Maybe… Going to this grand opening thing won’t be so bad?”

“Come on, Ames, that’s an obvious trap.” Sonic leaned an elbow onto the table and turned to her. “And what about your roommate? Eggman kinda owns him.”

“Metal will make the right choice,” she waved off his question.

He looked skeptical. “Why are you so confident about that?”

“‘Cause,” she trailed off, unclear of her own reasoning. “Well, he barely even remembers right now. I’m not worried about him.”

“Eggman wants him back.” Sonic returned with a concerned frown. “He can’t live with you forever.”

“I know,” Amy replied sheepishly. There hadn’t been much thought put into what exactly was going to happen to Metal, or when. Though she understood Metal couldn’t hang around much longer if she got involved with Sonic.

“What do you think he wants him for?”

“To… build?” Amy shrugged. “It seems like Eggman’s only priority right now.”

The pair each looked somberly to the window until they caught each other’s eyes in the reflections. Amy pouted, uncertain of what else to say about the situation. Sonic grinned at his friend gingerly and met her face to face.

“We always figure it out,” he said as confidently as he could manage. “We’re a great team, after all.”

The misgiving situation weighed on Sonic, his usual direct approach to problems ineffective in all the uncertainty. But he was nothing if not a pacesetter for his team. It didn’t do them any good for him to be gloomy.

“Yeah,” Amy smiled with a similar hesitance.

A waiter interrupted them with his introduction. The short minutes they spent ordering lavish sounding drinks and pastries calming Amy and Sonic. By the time the waiter retracted the menus, the two had relaxed in their chairs. They smiled more comfortably now, no less uncertain but confident they could tackle the situation as a team.

“If Metal’s really on our side, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to send the guy back his bot,” Sonic commented between bites of a croissant.

“If he wants to go back.” Amy took a sip from her tea, lifting her eyes to him over the rim, hesitant about what he’d think of the remark.

“Well if you want him on the team,” Sonic shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not about what I want…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sonic smiled at her knowingly. “Metal can do what he wants. I won’t give him a hard time- if he really isn’t up to something with Eggman.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll talk to him.” Amy was eager to get off the subject.

“So… what’d you think of the food?”

“Pretty good, I guess.” Sonic took a sip from a tall glass of some kind of local handcrafted soda the waiter had offered as an alternative to tea and coffee. It was the only drink that sounded mildly good to him. “Little fancy, though.”

“Mhm…”

She reached into her pocket for the all-important card she’d pulled that morning and told herself it was time to broach the subject. Her cheeks felt warm.

“I like it,” she continued, “It’s kinda- I don’t know- romantic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess you could say that.” He took an uncomfortable look around the room, sucking up his drink impetuously.

Amy brought her cup back to her lips apprehensively. “It’s a cute place for a date. Maybe- maybe we can come back for one sometime?”

A fizzy gulp caused Sonic to cough and clear his throat. Amy blinked at him from behind her teacup, hiding her flushed face, panicking internally.

“I-” he started, pausing to clear his throat a second time. He looked away from her in embarrassment. “I mean, we’re not, uh, dating, though.” A flight response kicked in and he glanced toward the front door.

“But… We could be.” Her words were a demure squeak. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m gonna be heading back to Tails’, I think-”

“Sonic.” Amy set down the cup. She swallowed. “Can we try?”

Sonic steadied himself with a deep breath. It felt wrong to continue dodging the matter. He met her pleading face with a poignant seriousness he didn’t often display.

“Amy, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he said plainly.

Expecting some hesitancy on his part, she pushed on. “Aw, but we’d be so good together! You even said we make such a great team!”

“We do, but-”

“And we’ve known each other for so long! Think of all that history! We’ve always been there for each other and stayed friends even when I was, well, a little obsessed- But you stuck around and that meant so much to me! And-”

“Stop.” Sonic clanked his glass on the table between them. “All this romantic stuff putting everything at stake- I can’t do it, Amy. Much less with you.”

The response left her taken aback, even more than she could have predicted. “So… it’s a problem because it’s me?”

“Sort-of- I-”

She sat upright, loudly clanking her teacup on the table. “And it’s not just because you don’t like me?” Amy’s eyes began to sting as tears threatened to well up.

Sensing an outburst, Sonic leaned away nervously. Being on the receiving end of Amy’s anger was never an enviable position to be in. “Uh…”

“Well? What’s so wrong with dating me? Are you still mad about how immature I was back when we met or something?”

“No! Listen, Amy, I don’t like you that way,” he searched for the right words, frantically and unsuccessfully. “And even if I did, I just don’t think I could ever be in that kind of relationship with you. You’re-”

“I’m what?” Angry tears escaped the moment she stood up abruptly. Her chair screeched against the floor loudly, attracting the attention of the diners around them. “I’m not good enough for you somehow?”

“Amy, that’s not fair,” he scolded. “You know that’s not what I was about to say!”

“What’s not fair is that you always reject me and never tell me why.” She threw her napkin against the table to free her hands, digging through her pocket aggressively. “But I get it now.”

“Amy, come on, please-” Sonic lowered his head in embarrassment as whispers circulated around them. He lowered his voice.

“Please what? Please stop being so loud and obnoxious? Stop being a pest? Stop,” a sob gave her pause, anger melting into heartbreak. “Stop being an annoying little rascal around you?”

The other patrons were staring daggers at them. Sonic melted further into his seat. “This is why I didn’t want to go out,” he muttered. “I was trying to avoid this-”

“Seriously? Ugh!” Amy scoffed, indignant and deeply frustrated. In that moment, that embarrassingly public moment, the only sensible explanation for his rejection were the parts she hated about herself. Her angry outbursts, the insufferable clinginess. Tears continued their path down her cheeks as she dug through her pockets again. Finding the bills she was after, Amy tossed a fistfull onto the table.

The back of her gloves became smudged with makeup as Amy fiercely wiped at her eyes and cheeks. At least she could manage not to sob her way out. At least she wouldn’t add pathetic to the list of her flaws. “I’m leaving!”

“Amy, wait!” Sonic shot up from his seat. “I didn’t mean that-”

“Don’t follow me!”she cried, asserting herself past the hostess and front door. She felt everyone’s eyes on her back, right until the door shut loudly behind her.

Once she was out of sight, all those eyes briefly turned back to Sonic. The other guests began muttering to each other or turning away with secondhand embarrassment.

More than the outburst itself, Sonic immediately felt self-conscious about his response to Amy’s distress, letting all those nosy strangers get in the way.

He sighed at the crumpled notes on the table, letting the public shame wash over him. Amid the wadded bills, he spotted a familiar symbol adorning the back of a creased card. Recognizing it as part of Amy’s deck, Sonic picked it from clutter.

Flipping it on its face, he grimaced at the irony.

“The fool, huh? Man…”

In the square, Amy stomped through walkways and around pedestrians. Her cloudy sights were set on the nearby bus stop. The last thing she wanted to do was sob on public transportation, but what choice did she have?

She planted her hunched form on the bus stop’s only bench. A man in a pressed suit stood nearby and ogled for a few moments, turning and stepping away only after being met by a snapping, fiery glare from the sad-looking girl.

“That’s what I thought,” she grumbled, bowing her head back down onto her palms.

For however much she tried, there was no holding back the floodgates. She sat breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. But her eyes spilled over with tears, leaking between her fingers and onto her lap. Her face was red hot. She didn’t even want to think about how she looked.

Just as she’d resolved to breathe through her woes until she got home, Amy caught a familiar whirring growing closer overhead.

Amy sat up, quickly wiping at her face with the back of her hand. Sitting on her hands to hide her dirty gloves, she spotted him.

“Metal,” she sniffled, “what are you doing in town?”

Metal floated toward the bench, touching down just next to her.

She spun away from him, trying desperately to tidy herself up. She was hardly excited to explain her current state.

Sensing something was off, Metal leaned in for a closer look at her.

“Um… a- a-choo!” Amy forced a sneeze. “Sorry, I have some allergies,” she lied. “All the pollen this time of year…”

That was strange to Metal, being that Amy always seemed to have her nose in some kind of spring bouquet. He was about to press further when she sneezed again.

“I don’t have any tissues with me,” Amy blubbered. “It’s sorta embarrassing…” That much was true.

Rather than question it, Metal scanned their surroundings for a solution. He spotted the man who’d been staring at Amy moments earlier once again gawking, this time at both of them. Metal hardly noticed the man’s gaze, however, more preoccupied with the neatly folded pocket square adorning the front of his jacket. He started toward the man.

Realizing the danger, the guy backed away, holding up his palms in surrender. He grinned awkwardly at the menacing robot approaching him to cut the tension.

It didn’t stop Metal. He pointed at the man’s chest, indicating the blazer’s front pocket. He then held up his palm in command.

The man looked around frantically for the possibility that he could be approaching someone else, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Not understanding Metal’s intentions, the man rustled through his pockets in a panic.

As Metal closed in on him, the man whipped out his wallet, shakily holding it out and turning his face away from the frightening sight.

Believing himself to be in the middle of a mugging, the man finally pleaded meekly, something about taking the wallet. Metal ignored him and his outstretched hand and instead reached forward towards the cowering man’s chest. The man shut his eyes.

Metal snatched the pocket square out of the man’s jacket pocket and promptly forgot about his existence as he rotated back around to Amy.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding the crisply folded handkerchief in front of her. She raised a brow, confused at the gesture.

She turned to him. “Where did you get that?”

As Amy took hold of the pocket square, she caught sight of the man cowering nearby. She gasped in realization.

“Is this his?!”

The man’s eyes snapped open, only just understanding what had occurred. He patted at his chest, realizing he’d been robbed of a mere square of fabric.

“Sir!”

Amy shot up, intending to return the stolen accessory, but the man quickly turned and ran off with a squeal as he noticed he was being approached once again.

“Sir! Oh, come on…”

Amy turned her attention back to her friend, shocked at what had just occurred.

“Metal! You can’t just take some random creep’s handkerchief!”

Metal stared at her blankly. He analyzed her flushed cheeks and watery eyes, ignoring her protests. Her gloves were stained front and back with makeup. Was she just crying?

Perturbed, Amy turned away, one again feigning a sneeze. She brought the handkerchief up to her face out of habit. “Well, I guess he’s not gonna be coming back, so…”

Unhappy with the circumstances, Amy wiped away her tears in resignation. The whole scene at least distracted her from her woes- and it was better than blubbering into her damp gloves. She folded the square away into her pocket and looked to Metal.

“Thanks for the tissue, but please promise you won’t go around snatching people’s things,” she managed calmly,

Metal continued to study her expression. He concluded that she was decidedly composed and he could’ve been mistaken about her emotional state. But now there were these supposed allergies to worry about-

“Metal? Hello?” Amy waved a hand in front of him, vexed by the lack of response. “Are you listening?”

He nodded instinctively. It wasn’t what he was focused on.

“Anyway,” Amy sighed. “Did you have an errand or something?”

Metal shook his head and gestured to her with an open palm, clad in his new gloves.

The gesture confused her for a moment, but quickly understood what he had to say. “Oh… did you come just to get me?”

He nodded.

Amy tilted her head with some uncertainty. “How did you know I was here…?”

There was no simple way to explain it to her. He didn’t understand it himself, in fact. Just a few minutes prior, he felt an urgent need to come to this precise spot to find her. It was as if he’d received a signal with a command. So, he rushed over, flying faster than he had for as long as he could recall. It felt almost out of his control, his body propelling him to meet her here. An unexplainable urge. A hunch, he’d heard such a feeling called.

Not knowing any other way to answer, he performed his characteristic shrug and reached closer toward her with his still outstretched hand.

Amy couldn’t help but giggle. His cryptic and limited responses were charming, in a way.

“Well, thanks for picking me up.” She took his hand. It beated taking the bus.

They took off in what was becoming a typical way for Amy and Metal to travel together. It was even more comfortable now that his pointy claws were under wraps. It felt like floating to Amy, who didn’t even have time to recall her sorrow; they arrived at her front door in no time.

“By the way, Metal, I wanna talk to you about today,” she said as he allowed her down. She reached for her front door, continuing. “I gotta call Tails, too. We should all chat about-”

The door eased open. Amy couldn’t believe her eyes.

There must not have been a mug, tumbler, or bowl that wasn’t filled with spring blooms. Lilies sprouted out of drinking glasses and a bushel of peonies practically spilled out of her biggest sauce pot. The bushiest of hyacinth stems poked out of the top of an empty wine bottle. Mason jars sat on every inch of her counter filled with daisies, daffodils, and primroses. Every counter, every chair- every conceivable surface of her home was littered with flowers. Unprecedented and breathtaking.

She stood at the door, speechless. Amy forgot all about the conversation she was about to propose, along with her rejection, the stressful mission, and her “allergies.”

Metal stood back, observing; apprehensive. She’d just had a reaction, and here was every type of flower he could find within a 100-mile radius diffusing pollen into her home. He reached out, intending to hold her back.

But it didn’t stop her. Amy practically sprinted toward the living space, rustling through every vessel, burying her face in as many bunches as she could get her hands on. She gasped and sputtered as she went.

Radiating joy, she looked back to Metal. “You got all these? For me?”

Metal nodded at her tensely from the doorway.

Amy erupted with laughter. “It’s amazing!”

Though muddled by it, her positive response put Metal at ease as he followed her inside.

“Thank you!” She twirled around, taking stock of all the bouquets. “Where did you find so many? Look at these peonies, and those hyacinths, and the daffodils, and- and-”

Her eyes landed on the small bunch of assorted wildflowers she’d received from Sonic that morning.

“-and…”

She trailed off, stroking a little blue cornflower from the motley assortment. They sat next to her one other proper vase, stuffed neatly with pink tulips.

Bittersweet tears flooded her eyes. A conflicted sob escaped her as they flowed down into her smile.

Amy’s emotions had overwhelmed her by the time Metal reached her across the room. He took a cautious step back when he realized her cheeks were already soaked.

For however conflicted she felt about the day’s events, Amy was overjoyed at the thoughtful gesture. There was nothing to do but throw her arms around Metal with all the affection she possessed.

Not anticipating tears, Metal hesitated for a moment. But she clutched and squeezed him with an intensity which he thought could practically crush him. He was as impressed with her strength as he was concerned for her.

Metal wrapped an arm around her slowly. Carefully, he reached a finger to her cheek, catching a tear as it spilled from her eye.

She sniffled, breathing deeply. “Oh, me? Don’t worry,” Amy turned her damp eyes up to him, still beaming. She laughed. “It’s just allergies!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me in may: hehe I will have so much time to myself this summer i will be able to write sooo much

Me in june: (takes the hardest class I've ever done in my entire life)

Me in july: (builds an entire kitchen)

Me in aug: (gets married)

Me in sep: (picks up twice as many responsibilities at work because the assistant quit)

but hey I got married and we later went to LA to see Sonic Symphony! So it's been a good summer/autumn so far. Other than you know. working 6 days a week. eugh

#btw i love this art so much i think its my fav so far!!! i adore my wife so much its unreal #pls reblog!#amy rose #metal sonic #metamy #sth #sth fanfic #ch 16 #unfamiliar

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months

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Before You Go

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is a grad student in college trying to work hard for her degree, but a certain green eyed stranger keeps showing up and turns her life upside down. Will she push him away? Or will she finally realize that he’s not going anywhere? (I’m so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early 30's)

Word Count: 5.5K (I have an addiction don't judge me)

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), mentions of sex (not explicit at all), implied sex, self-deprecating thoughts (Dean), Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. I’m not going to lie, this one is a little self-indulgent. This is only my second supernatural fic, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

Part 2

********************************************

"Did you understand anything from that lecture?" Tim asks nudging your shoulder.

The sour smell of beer and sweat fades in and out of your nose as you make your way to the Science building through the mass of students on the way to the football game. It was a Thursday night, Thursday night for everyone else meant tailgating, cheap beer, and face paint, but Thursday night for you meant four hours in the anatomy lab surrounded by the oppressive smell of formaldehyde and bent over a table examining the internal intricacies of the human body.

It wasn’t unwelcome, you knew what you signed up for when you decided to go to medical school, but you still wished that the lab was earlier in the day instead of at 6 pm.

The air is filled with the dull throb of energy, pulsing with the music from speakers all over campus, and through the throngs of people that pass you on the way to the stadium. The buzz of excitement in the air vibrated through your nerve endings. If you paid attention to how well the football team was doing, you would have known that tonight was the championship, but the closest you got to pigskin was the bag of pork rinds in your backpack and the occasional football player that asked you for help finding research materials during your shifts at the library.

"Nope." You reply jostling past a group of guys toting a giant stuffed pig wearing jersey of the school’s rival while they catcall some girls up ahead dressed from head to toe in bright red.

"Then why did you keep nodding?"

"Because Professor Drake was staring right at me!"

"You didn't have to make eye contact."

"It's a little late for that don't you think?" You smile up at him. He's taller than you, with dark hair falling forward into his glasses and a lean build. "But it's alright, I'll just binge watch YouTube videos."

Tim laughs adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You had been lab partners since your first year, randomly assigned and forced to collaborate, but after many late night study sessions and mental breakdowns, Tim was one of your only friends.

“You seem to spend a lot of time on YouTube." He smiles.

"It's free education."

"Seems ridiculous to pay all this money just to learn it on YouTube."

"If YouTube handed out degrees for watching videos I’d be a doctor by now. I’d probably also have a degree in culinary arts.” You look down to check the watch on your wrist. You were both running late for lab. Dr. Welsh hated it when students were late, in fact, he was notorious for locking the door. Each week there was always some poor soul that banged on the door for entry, but Dr. Welsh knew no mercy. One time, you witnessed another student attempt to sneak in through the window an hour late. Dr. Welsh made them go back out the way they came, despite the lab being on the third floor.

At least the student brought a ladder with him.

“Culinary arts?”

“I like pie. Plus baking helps me cope with my stress.” You knock into his shoulder to shut him up. “What? You don’t watch anything weird on YouTube?”

“I usually start watching videos to understand the lectures and suddenly it’s been 7 hours, it’s 3 am and I’m watching a timelapse of metal rusting.”

“We’ve all been there buddy.”

"Hey doll-face!" You hear from somewhere behind you, but you ignore it, believing it to be another group of guys who splash beer over the sidewalk.

You glance down at your watch again.

"We're not going to be late." Jake says sensing your anxiety. "We've got 5 minutes."

"Early is on time, on time is late, late is inexcusable." You sing-song.

"Dr. Welsh embroider that on a pillow for you?"

"No it’s just-"

Someone grabs your backpack and pulls you back a step. What the- You whirl around prepared to cuss out a drunken frat boy, but you weren't expecting Dean Winchester.

"Dean." You say in surprise.

He looks better than you remember. Dean's wearing a red flannel covered by a black jacket, his hair tousled just the right amount to look effortless, his green eyes crinkled around the edges as his mouth pulls into a smile that makes your knees weak.

Your relationship, if you could even call it that, began your first week of classes, two years ago. You had just moved into your apartment and met your new roommate, but instead of going out to the new student mixer with her, you decided to stay in and unpack. It was past midnight when you heard a commotion in the apartment next door and when you opened your front door to investigate, you found Dean in the hallway leaning against the wall. His clothes were torn, he had a knife in his hand, blood was soaked through the front of his shirt, but when his eyes met yours, you weren't afraid. He looked so broken, so small that you had to help him. So you pulled him into your apartment and stitched him up the best you could, while he tried to lie about how it happened and explain why he looked like he'd been through a blender. Dean had never been good at lying to you, not even then. He was also the biggest baby you had ever met when it came to wound care.

In the months that followed Dean continued to show up, each time with injuries less and less life threatening asking you to help him, until one day he showed up perfectly fine and continued to show up. You would spend every minute together for a few days and then he would leave like nothing happened, only to show up again in a few weeks and it would start all over again. Sometimes you thought that he wanted more than just a few days together, but then he would just leave, not giving you any other explanation. You hadn't expected to fall for him as hard as you did, but each time he left it broke you. You found yourself hoping each day that he would show up, only to be disappointed when he didn't. Days would drag by fading into shades of gray until finally Dean would show up and everything went back to color, only to sink back into monochrome when he left. The last time you had seen him was a month ago, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and told him not to come back.

But now he was here, again.

"Hey Doll-face." Dean smiles wider.

You try to ignore how your heart stutters in your chest when he smiles at you.

"Do you know this guy?" Tim asks you taking a step forward to put himself between Dean and you.

Dean's eyes trace Tim, smile slipping into confident smirk as he sizes him up. He opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever thought was about to come out.

"Unfortunately I do." You sigh. "Tim can you give us a minute."

"Sure. But-"

"I know." You say, understanding that he was going to remind you what time it was. "We won't be late."

"I'll be over there." Tim puts a healthy distance between the two of you, far enough to give you space, but close enough that he can see you.

Dean is still smirking at him. "Boyfriend?" His eyes flit to yours, amused.

"Lab partner." You adjust your grip on your backpack unsure what to do.

I said everything I needed to say the last time. I thought that was it. Did he think I didn't mean it?

You think about the last time he was here, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and when he finally left, how you skipped all your classes and stayed in bed for two days clutching a pillow to your chest and wishing that it was him. It had felt like the end. The end of whatever the hell this had been. Sometimes you wished that you had defined it the first time you slept together, wished that you had told him you didn't do that ever, that you didn't just sleep with people without feelings because you knew sooner or later it would end up like this.

Then again you knew that you always had feelings for him, since the moment you locked eyes with his the night you met.

"He’s cute. If you’re into that geeky kind of thing. Though you could always date Sam-"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Plus I didn’t want to miss the big game.” Dean's eyes flit to the mass of people swarming around you, shouting and singing as they stumble down the cracked pavement. The dark shadows of the buildings stretch long over campus, illuminated by the lamplights that line the sidewalks.

"You should have called"

"I did. You never pick up" He arches a perfect eyebrow.

"Most would take that as a hint"

"Well Sweetheart given my profession you not picking up made me worry."

By now you knew exactly what he did. Despite Dean not acting like he wanted a relationship, when all was quiet and it was just the two of you laying in bed he confided in you, told you things about his life that made you hold him close and wish that you could make him forget all about it. You loved those soft moments with Dean, when it felt like more and you could imagine that Dean wanted to be as wrapped up in you as you were in him.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you try to forget it all, forget the day he walked into your life, and forget how much you like him.

"I can’t do this with you right now, I’ve got a lab in 3 minutes." You turn towards where Tim is standing, prepared to leave.

"Come on you can blow off one lab.” Dean grabs your backpack turning you back to face him. “We can go to the big game. You know I can’t say no to free beer-“ The look in his eyes is joking.

He doesn't understand.

You shake him off. "No I can't Dean. This is important to me. This is my life. I can't drop everything just because you show up out of the blue."

"It wouldn't be out of the blue if you picked up your phone." His smile dips into an attractive pout that makes it very difficult to think.

"Dean why are you here?"

"I told you, I was in the neighborhood-"

"We talked about this. I can't do this anymore."

"I remember you talking about it."

"Yes and I remember you leaving." You snap as the memory of the last time you saw him rises in the back of your throat. You think about the days that followed, when you couldn't focus and flunked a test.

"Y/n-“ Dean sighs.

"Look, I like spending time with you, but I can't keep doing this to myself. You show up, we spend every second together for days, and then you leave. It would be one thing if we were trying to do long distance, but we’re not. All I get is radio silence for weeks and then you show up all over again like nothing happened, expecting to pick up right where we left off, and the cycle begins all over again."

"I don't go radio silent for weeks. It’s you that doesn’t pick up your phone or text me back.”

"Yes you do and I can't do it. I won't do it. Because every time you leave I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see you and-" You take in a breath to stop the ball of emotion that lodges itself in your throat. "It does something to me. And I'm not saying that what you do is any less important than what I'm trying to accomplish here. I’m not telling you to stop hunting. But this is my life Dean, my future. And I don’t want to put that in jeopardy because you show up every few weeks when you’re feeling restless. I want more than a few days every few weeks. I want more and I'm worth more. And if you can't give that to me that's fine, but please stop coming around and so I can find someone else who can."

The expression on Dean's face shifts, it's no longer the playful smirk or attractive pout, it almost looks heartbroken.

But that can't be right. Dean doesn't see me that way.

You look at where Tim is waiting for you to avoid Dean's gaze. He’s looking down at the watch on his wrist and you can feel his apprehension.

"I've got to get to my lab." You turn away from Dean, but stop halfway to Tim. "It was good to see you Dean. I wish you the best."

As Tim and you begin to walk away, you can feel Dean's eyes on you the whole way up the stairs into the science building, but you refuse to turn back.

"Are you okay?" Tim whispers.

"I will be. Let's just go before Dr. Welsh locks the door." You mutter while pushing down the guilt that rose when you thought of how Dean looked when you walked away.

********************************************

Despite Dr. Welsh’s attempts to lock the door, you were far too angry with Dean to let another man stand in your way, so when you and Tim arrived to lab 10 seconds before the clock struck 6, you shoved your boot in the door before Dr. Welsh could shut it. And by some miracle he let you in. Maybe it was the murder in your eyes.

Tim had been stunned, you were usually more reserved, not quick tempered. But everything that happened with Dean rubbed you the wrong way.

You couldn’t decide if you liked him or hated him. Right now the hate was winning.

How dare he? You thought to yourself, hand clenching on the scalpel so tightly that Tim backed up. How dare he just show up again after I told him not to?

“Y/n, are you okay?” Tim had asked.

“I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?” You’d snapped at him.

Even Dr. Welsh had given you a wide berth through lab.

After you cleaned up everything it was 10:26 pm, which meant you had a little time before your late shift in the library.

“Did you want to go see if that shawarma food truck is still parked around the corner?” Tim asks hesitantly.

“No. I’m just gonna go to the library and study before my shift.” You mumble, shouldering your backpack and ignoring the urge to think about Dean.

Hopefully he took the hint and he’s gone. The thought brought a prick of guilt. Would that be the last time I ever saw him? Would those be the last words I ever said to him? You fight the urge to call him, to apologize, because the one thing you had wanted to say was that you liked him and you didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay in your life permanently. Sure long distance was hard, but for him it would be worth it.

“Oh.” Tim pauses for a minute. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?”

“Well that Dean guy. You seemed kinda upset.”

“I was- am. But it’s okay, give me a few hours I’ll be over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Make sure to send the link to that Timelapse of metal rusting.” You try to smile, but the joke falls flat.

“Okay.” Tim watches you go.

The library was only a 9 minute walk from the science building, but it still felt too long. You longed to be lost in your notes, to think of anything else other than Dean, but you couldn’t.

Why did he have to come back? Why couldn’t he have just let it lie? I was doing better- You think about the weeks that followed his last visit, a haze of homework, tests, and work. Well, I was doing okay.

The thrum of music is still in the air, but now less people pass you as you walk down the sidewalk, and the ones that do are holding hands and laughing. Your thoughts shift to Dean again.

I like him, but I have to get over him because it’s not going anywhere. You think about the first time you slept together. Maybe this is my fault, maybe I should have defined this from the beginning. I mean, I know the kind of person he is… That thought makes you pause. Sure the first few times you’d patched his wounds Dean was sexy and flirty, but all the times that followed he seemed, sweet, charming. It wasn’t that you spent every moment in bed, he had taken you out to dinner at the diner down the street, fought with you over the last slice of pie, took you to a bar for drinks where he shamelessly beat you at pool, other times he waited for you to be done with your classes to make sure that you didn't have to walk home alone at night. You remember how mad he had been when you told him you did that, but gas was so expensive and it was easier to walk the four blocks.

Someone grabs your arm from behind, pulling you out of your memories, and you finally snap. Using the only self defense move you knew, besides S-I-N-G from Miss Congeniality, you knock off the hand and flip the offender over your shoulder prepared to spray them in the face with the mace in your pocket.

But then you realize who it is.

Dean frowns up at you from the ground. “When I taught you that, I didn’t expect you to use it on me.”

“Just be happy that I didn’t pepper spray you.” Your eyes narrow.

Maybe I should. It would make me feel better.

“Would have been the highlight of my night.” He stands up from the ground brushing off the front of his clothes with a pointed look.

“Dean what are you still doing here?”

“I want to talk.”

“I’ve said all I need to.”

“But I haven’t.”

“I don’t care. You’ve heard what I need to say and I’m sick of you not listening.”

“Y/n-“

“Fine, I’ll say it one more time, but listen this time. I've never, never depended on anyone else in my life. It's been me, me for a long time.” You poke your finger into his chest to emphasize your point. “Then you just sauntered in and changed everything. You made me care about you, worry about you, and you made me depend on you showing up in my life. Every time you leave it breaks me. Every time I’m in a funk for days. The last time you left, I cried for two days and I didn’t go to any of my classes! I'm trying to be serious about my life. And I can't do that if you show up every few weeks and make me expect something and then leave a few days later and I'm devastated.”

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I have to get over you Dean, and I can't do that if you keep showing up. So please just go.” You turn away from him.

His hand comes down on your arm again to turn you back to him. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?”

“Do you think I like leaving you? Do you really think it’s that easy for me?” He looks hurt.

“It certainly seems to be when you walk out after a few days with a smile like it means nothing! Like I mean nothing-“ You fight the tears that burn against your eyes. You wanted to be something for him just as much as he was something for you, but you were afraid. You hadn’t depended on anyone since you graduated and moved away from home. You weren’t used to needing someone in your life this much.

"You mean everything!” Dean shouts grabbing your shoulders. “It’s me that means nothing."

You blink your eyes for a second, not comprehending what he’s trying to say. "Dean what are you talking about?"

"I didn't think you wanted that-" He looks down.

Your eyes trace the slump in his shoulders, the frown on his handsome face, and the way he won’t meet your gaze.

What is he talking about?

You try to think of a time that you’d seen him look so vulnerable, but the only time you imagine was the night you met.

"Wanted what?"

"Me.” Dean’s voice is a whisper.

"I'm confused."

His eyebrows are furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m nothing like you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re a little younger than me and you’re smart and you’ve got this bright future ahead of you. You don’t need someone like me dragging you down-“

“Someone like you? Dragging me down? Dean what are you talking about?" You can't comprehend what he's saying. You reach up to cup his cheeks, but Dean pulls back from you, glancing away.

“I didn’t go to a fancy college, I barely finished high school. I’ve spent most of my life in motel rooms committing credit card fraud and trying not to die. And then I met you. You’re funny and caring and so smart, and I just thought that you would like it more if I came by every once in a while to relieve some tension. I didn’t think that you would want me to stay.”

He didn’t think that I would want him? That can't be right. Dean is so confident usually. You search his face and see the genuine vulnerability behind his green eyes.

“Are you serious?” You ask him.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Dean, you are smart-“

“Not the same way you are”

“Dean.” You can’t help but take his hand. Dean’s green eyes focus on yours for a second, wide and open. “You don’t have to go to college to be smart. You’re resourceful and you know more about supernatural creatures than anyone else. Even the top scientists and doctors in the world don’t believe in them and they went to stuffy old colleges and fight with one another over who’s smarter. I don’t care that you didn’t go to a fancy college. What you do is important, probably more important than what I’m going to do. You protect people, you’ve saved the world more than once, and sure maybe it’s not glamorous to some people but it is to me.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“Have you thought that maybe I like spending time with you because you’re so different than the people I see everyday?” You ask him softly, squeezing his hand.

“No.” Dean mutters.

“I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I don’t have lavish wealthy parents bankrolling me. My dad is a mechanic. I work two jobs and send him money so I don’t have to worry about him. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. But when you show up I don’t feel like a freak. With you I feel like I don’t have to pretend, I can just be me. And I like you, a lot. This has never just been about relieving tension or sex for me. Ever. I mean it’s nice-“

“Just nice?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

You flush bright red. “I like spending time with you without that too. All the times we spent laying in bed or went to a bar or went to get food, and we talked were equally as wonderful for me. I like talking with you. I like hearing about your life. I just assumed that you had someone in every state that you visit when you’re feeling restless and that you didn’t want a relationship.”

“There’s no one else. Hasn’t been since I met you.”

Deans eyes lock with yours as you comprehend what he just confessed.

“Really?” Your voice is only a whisper.

“Fuck I’m not good at this romantic comedy shit-“ He mutters to himself shaking his head. “I like you too. I wish that I could be here all the time. I hate leaving you. It’s too quiet. When I’m not here all I do is think about you, what you’re doing, how your day was.”

Your entire body explodes with his words, heart beating so fast you think it’ll grow wings and take flight.

“When I was younger I used to laugh at Sam because he wanted a normal life, but with you I understand. You’re so different than anyone I’ve ever met and it hurts me when I’m away from you.” Dean continues with a soft smile that makes you lose all feeling in your legs.

He takes your other hand. “I understand that what you’re doing is important and I’m not asking you to quit school. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. I want to make this work. I know that long distance isn’t easy, but I want to try.” His eyes search yours, begging for a answer, but you can barely breathe let alone speak. You watch his face fall as he takes your silence as your answer. “But I understand if you don’t want to, because you are worth more. You’re worth more than a few days, than a phone call or a text. You deserve someone who can be here with you all the time. You’re worth more than what I can give you. And you shouldn’t have to settle-“

You grab the front of his flannel because you can’t think of anything to say and pull him down to you for a kiss. Pins and needles trace down your spine as his soft lips move against yours. He smiles against your mouth, folding you into him, his large hand on the small of your back just under your backpack causing warmth to shoot down your spine. You lose yourself in the way his body fits around yours

“I’m not settling.” Your hands cup his cheeks as you look deep into his eyes. “I never want you to feel that way, because you are worth a hundred of any man I have ever met in my life. And if it’s my cross to bear to make you understand that every day of my life, then so be it. Because I would be lucky to spend any amount of time with you. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, Dean. I’ve wanted you since the day we met and every day after. And I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Dean’s smile breaks open something in the pit of your stomach and goosebumps scorch across your skin. “I can’t imagine not wanting you.” He presses his forehead against yours.

You stand there with his warm hand pressed into your back trying to think of another time that you felt even a fraction of what you feel for him. You think about your high school boyfriend, about a few of the guys you dated in during your undergrad years, but you come up with nothing. Because you can’t compare him to anyone else you’ve ever met. And it hurt you to think that Dean thought so little of himself in the grand scheme of things.

He leans down to kiss you again, pulling you against his chest so tight that everything blissfully falls away.

“Are you hungry?” He whispers against your lips after a minute.

“Yes, but my shift at the library starts soon. I’m there til 2.” You tighten your hands at the back of his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“Dean it’s okay if you just want to go back to my apartment and sleep. I can give you the key-“ You notice the dark circles under his eyes, but you know that Dean wasn’t one to complain about being tired.

“It’s worth being tired if I get to see you.” Dean smiles. “But I’ll go get us some food, because I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t forget the pie.”

“Have I ever?” He brushes his lips to yours one more time, but you don’t remove your arms from around his neck. “You’re going to have to let me go doll.”

“Just 5 more minutes.”

********************************************

You spend the weekend together in your apartment. All those blissful moments together solidify the thought that this is real, that this time it’s going to be different. Every night going to bed with Dean tucking you against him and waking up every morning with your head on his chest feels like a dream, and you never want to wake. Every kiss and intimate moment between you feels like more, and you have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t just sex, hasn’t ever been just sex. Dean wants to be there with you all the time, hold you close to him and share things with you. And this time you finally understand that you do help him forget and know that you do bring him as much comfort as he brings you.

When Monday comes and Dean has to go, you try not to think of it as the end.

Dean leans back against the door of the Impala, his hands on your hips, green eyes blazing in the sun, but it’s his eyes that warm you more than the sun’s rays.

"Sweetheart-" Dean begins, sensing what you’re thinking. His thumbs rub smooth circles against waist where your t-shirt rests.

"I know." You press your face into his flannel, inhaling the scent you ascribe to Dean. He smells like oil, leather, and the spicy scent of the soap he uses that tickles your nose.

"Hey." His free hand comes under your chin to raise your gaze back to his. "I promise I'm gonna come back. I promise that we're going to make this work. It’s going to be different.” He cups your cheek, eyes soft and understanding.

“I know, but you’re still leaving.” Your tighten your arms around his chest.

“I wish I didn’t have to. But Sam called, he needs me-“

“I know.” You breathe.

You don’t want Dean to feel any worse than he does about leaving, especially when you remember what he said to you a few days ago, about you deserving more and about how he wished he could be more for you. Deep down you know that both of you are determined to make this work, so you put on a smile.

“It’s okay.” You gently rub his back. “You’ll be back in 2 weeks and I’ll be on spring break in a month.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to see you in a bikini?” Dean grins.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Hmm. Well until I see you-“ He raises his right hand from where it rests on your hip to remove the large silver ring from his finger. "Don't panic, it's not an engagement ring." Dean's smile breaks you a little. "Just me promising that I'll come back, that I'll call and text you so much that you'll be sick of me." He slides the ring onto your thumb, the weight comforting.

"I could never be sick of you."

“Just you wait.” He winks, holding your hand to his chest. “I bet I can prove you wrong.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

The kiss goodbye is bittersweet, but you hold yourself together, refusing to cry as Dean gets into his car and leaves. You watch the Impala disappear around the corner, taking your heart with it, but just as it does your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I miss you.” Dean’s voice fills the line and this time you can’t stop the tears.

“I miss you too.”

“I promise I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Okay. Please be careful.” You remember all the stories he's told you over the time you’ve known him, all the horrible things that happened to him and Sam. Sometimes you wish he hadn’t, because you can’t help but worry.

“I’m always careful.” You can hear him rolling his eyes.

“As the person who has spent the past 2 years patching you up, I can say with certainty that you are not always careful.”

“Then I promise to be more careful than usual.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The wind picks up, pulling your hair from the ponytail at the back of your head.

“I’ll call you when I make it back to the bunker.”

“Good.”

“Bye y/n.”

“Bye Dean.”

Your gaze drops to the heavy ring on your thumb and you hold tight to the hope and belief that this time is different, allowing the memories of the past few days to brush away any doubts that threaten the thought of what the future will bring.

********************************************

Thank you so much for reading! I am considering doing a series with this reader and Dean, but let me know what y’all think!

#spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #spnfandom #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fluff #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #soft dean

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strawhbrrries · 11 months

Text

Inked

pairing: tattoo artist!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: frank castle was praised for his work constantly, leading you to get a thigh piece. which then leads you into a problem because your artist is so fucking attractive

warnings: cussing, masturbation (m and f), fingering, frank with no shirt, tattooed frank!!!, no use of y/n or description of reader, not proofread

word count: 2732 words

author’s note: this has been a looooong time coming so i'm excited to finally be able to share it with you guys!! i hope it does the drabble that started it some justice. dedicated to the sweet anon that requested it be turned into a full fic! please enjoy! mwah!

tags: @kloofspeaks

inspired by this drabble!

Your wallet was burning a hole in your pocket, a big gaping tattoo shaped hole. To match the tattoo shaped hole in your wallet was a perfect spot on your thigh just begging to be decorated, but your current artist was booked so far out and you needed it now.

“Just go to this guy.” Your friend mentioned, giving you the contact information for one of the artists at the studio they frequented. His work was insane, you spent an entire week looking and relooking at all the pictures he posted before ever working up the courage to email him, he was faceless and you assumed he was some old man who’d been in the game a long time.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

“Can I help you?” A deep voice snapped you back to reality, you had gotten side tracked looking at all the art on the wall from all the artists in the studio. The guy you were seeing, Mr. Castle, had the best work though and you were glad your friend had mentioned him.

You turned around and immediately wanted to hide, a very handsome man with a tall stature was the source of the voice. It made your panties wet and made you want to rub your thighs together to relieve the building tension, not that it would help but you sure could try. He was rugged, in a gorgeous way, his hair was fluffy and fell over his ears but his jaw was sharp and complimented the style. His face was serious, not that he was trying to be but it made you nervous. Made you want to confess every bad thing you’d ever done out of sheer anxiousness, to fill the silence as he waited for your answer. You hoped he wasn’t your artist just for your sake, and maybe for your underwear.

“Yeah, uhm. I have a consultation with Mr. Castle.” Your voice was much softer than his, you looked down to avoid eye contact with him. To avoid spilling your guts to some handsome stranger who was probably married because how could he not be?

“That’d be me.” For the first time since you saw him a smile appeared on his face, it complimented him more than the stoic look he carried. The blush that arose was almost embarrassing, he thought it was cute. “Just Frank though.”

“Huh?” You stopped listening after he mentioned he was your artist, the blood pumping in your ears being the only sound you heard. Of course you would end up with the world's most attractive man as your artist and of course he was going to be touching all over your legs, this was a cruel dream. You’d practically broken a finger from how hard you were squeezing your hands.

“Just call me Frank, Mr. Castle is my dad and I hate the formality.” He chuckled, writing something on the clipboard he’d been holding. You hadn’t noticed anything below his neck and now you were actively, and very obviously, checking him out.

His arms were veiny and filled with tattoos that disappeared under the sleeves of his shirt and poked back out at the neck before disappearing down his back, it seemed he had one big connecting tattoo but you couldn’t exactly ask him to strip in public. You couldn’t see his legs or his chest but you assumed they were also covered in tattoos, you wanted nothing more to learn about them all.

“You can just follow me this way, the consultation won’t take long.” He cleared his throat, clearing the awkward air that hung between you.

He walked to a booth all the way in the back and to the left, pulled the curtain closed after you walked in. Motioning to the chair that sat in the middle of the space you sat down and placed your purse on your lap, mentally cursing yourself for being so fucking awkward. This wasn’t your first tattoo so what was your problem? He was and you knew it.

“Did you get the email I sent? I know my description of the idea was bad so I can explain it better.” You rambled, watching him sit on the swivel chair next to you and pick up an ipad from the counter that sat in the back.

“Yeah, let me show you what I drew up and we can go from there.” He looked at you through his hair as he leaned his elbows against his knees, pulling up the drawing. He turned around and the ipad and handed it to you, chuckling when your eyes lit up at the design.

“It’s like you read my mind, holy shit. This is exactly what I envisioned.” For the first time since you saw him your voice was confident and loud, your eyes bright and your mouth a bright smile. He slowly took the ipad back and let out a laugh, god he was attractive.

“It’s what I do. Do you like it, does it need any change? If so I can fix those right now and then I can print it out and we can play with sizes.” He watched your face, he could almost see the gears turning in your head as you processed his words.

“It’s perfect, no changes.” You nodded, smiling big.

He printed out a few sizes and tested each of them against your thigh, he pretended not to notice the blush that only darkened in shade every time he touched you. You appreciated it, trying your best to regulate your breathing and the pounding your heart was doing. You worried if you’d be able to control yourself when it came to the actual tattoo, he would be touching you nonstop for an unknown amount of time. He settled on the middle size, taking up a big chunk of the free space you had but not so much it looked awkwardly big and not too little so it looked too small.

You had trusted him and set the date for your actual tattoo, two weeks from the day you went in. You spent every day and every night for the next two weeks thinking about him. If you were making breakfast you thought about how he liked his bacon cooked, his coffee, or if he even ate it at all. If you were showering you thought about the products he used and if he used a loofah or a rag, if he had separate conditioner and shampoo. When you laid awake at night, hands stuffed in your panties wanting to cry his name, you thought if he was doing the same. Came to the image of his smile and fell asleep to the sound of his voice playing in your mind.

He’d seen thousands of clients, tattooed plenty of attractive women, but nobody had been so stuck in his head like you. After he walked you to the door he went back to his booth, closed the curtain and fucked his hand like a teenage boy. Washed his hands in the bathroom and went to greet his next client like he wasn’t thinking about bending you over the counter. Having you ride him in the tattoo chair. Making you be quiet so no one else heard you. Shit, he was hard again. He didn’t know if his self control was strong enough to avoid hitting on you and being unprofessional the next time you came in.

The day finally came, you had counted down the days and the minutes until you could see him again. There was this incessant need to see him and try to figure out the mysteries that stood behind Frank Castle. You asked him what kind of coffee he preferred, black, and picked it up on your way to the studio. The nerves were hitting you, not only would you be getting a decent sized tattoo but it’d be done by the most attractive man you’d ever seen. The man you’d spent two weeks masturbating to, this was going to be fun.

“God, this is just what I need this morning.” He groaned, taking the paper cup of coffee out of your hand and taking a long sip. “Typically I try not to drink caffeine on days I’m actually tattooing, makes the hand shake sometimes. I was up late last night so this is a must.”

“And I’m using it to get rid of the shakes.” You joked, taking a sip of your coffee and following him back to the booth.

You’d opted to wear a yellow sundress, not by choice as it was one of the only clean articles of clothing you had that left your thigh relatively exposed. It was a choice you were now regretting, in the days leading up to the appointment you apparently did everything but laundry. Frank was trying his hardest to ignore it, he was insanely glad he’d walked in front of you. Had he been behind you he’d for sure stared at your ass the entire walk to his booth. He can’t deny that he hadn’t when he made you enter the booth before him, it was a glorious sight. He adjusted his pants before he did anything else, this was going to be a grueling few hours.

He carefully placed the stencil on your thigh, being careful to move the dress up just enough that it wasn’t in the way but not too much so your pussy was on display. He wished it was. He wanted to eat you out like it was his last meal. But he refrained. He’d been on his best behavior so far and he was determined to stay that way, no matter how much he wanted to hike your dress up and pull your panties down to your ankles. Once he finally was satisfied with the stencil placement he asked for your opinion, as it was going on your body forever and not his. You had him adjust the angle once before deciding it was perfect, he had to ask three times before you admitted you didn’t like the original placement.

The tattoo took three hours, three long hours of his hands touching you in the most non-sexual way but yet turning you on ridiculously. You were sure that by the time he’d wrapped your tattoo there was a large stain on the fabric of your panties, a part of you wanted him to see it and know he caused it. The other part was embarrassed. They were fighting to see which part would take over.

“Can I see your tattoos?” You asked softly, an attempt to stay with him longer and avoid going home. You knew you could just book another appointment but what fun would waiting be? You could just stall for as long as you could.

“Oh? Yeah, sure.” His face was shocked, like nobody in the entire world had ever asked to see the intricate tattoo that was drawn across his body. You refused to believe it.

You watched intently as he removed his shirt, your eyes following the lines that were revealed by the lack of fabric. He watched silently as you raked your eyes over his skin, a small hint of a blush covered his cheeks. He’d never had someone so curious about his tattoos and want to see them, it was odd to be the one in the spotlight.

“Can I touch them?” You looked up at him, moving a bit closer as you waited for his response.

“Yeah…” He breathed out, quiet and waiting for the feeling of your hand on his skin. His breath hitched in his throat the second he felt it, the warmth of your hand felt incredible on his skin.

You trailed your fingers over every line, starting from the bottom of his left arm and down his chest. Goosebumps followed closely behind your fingers, the contact was something unusual to him. Welcomed, but unusual. He watched you the entire time you marveled at the ink, answering every question you had. He’d had people be interested in the ink before but never to the extent you were, he appreciated it and would think about it forever. He’d think about you forever.

“Frank…” You whispered, looking up at him as you placed a hand on his chest.

He looked down at you and groaned, the self control he had was no longer a thing. The pink staining your cheeks and the way your eyes were glazed over and he hadn’t even touched you made him want to do bad things. He wanted to corrupt you, bend you to his will for only him to have. His head dipped down, softly placing his lips against yours. A small whimper escaped your lips as he brought a hand to cup the side of your face, switching positions with you on the counter. Now he had you pressed against it and was able to do whatever he desired.

He nipped at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue across it to soothe any pain. He’d slipped his other hand under your dress at the same time, rubbing the skin just above your panties. You leaned your hip into his touch, bringing the hand that was on his chest to his hair. Using it to ground yourself just a bit, the fact that you were making out with the man you lusted after for two weeks was insane. It felt like a dream.

“Can I touch you?” He mumbled against your lips, playing with the band of your panties.

You shook your head yes and helped him slide your panties down, stepping out of them and scooting them to the side to be discovered later. He slid his middle finger between your lips, gliding it up and down a minute as he continued kissing you.

“You’re so wet, who did this?” He mocked, circling your clit a few times.

“You did.” You whimpered, trying to grind down against his hand for just a bit more friction.

“That right? Been thinking about me this whole time? Wanted me to help fix your problem?” He slid his middle finger inside of you, curling it against that wonderful spongy spot.

You couldn’t muster up a response no matter how badly you wanted to, his singular finger felt better than any of your fingers had for two weeks. This was everything you wanted and more. He chuckled at you, flattered that him barely doing anything set you off like it had.

He pumped his finger in and out slowly, watching as your juices coated his finger. Enjoying the moans he was pulling out of you, even if they were trying to entice him into adding another finger. He gave in, the pretty noises you were making he just couldn’t resist. He would do anything in this moment to please you, if you had this effect on him for everything he’d be screwed. He added another finger, kissing along your jawline as he did so. You could’ve seen stars right then and there, if this was how full you felt from just his fingers you could only imagine the fullness from his cock.

He curled his fingers rhythmically with the pumping, using his thumb to circle your clit as best he could. The knot in your stomach that had formed the day you stepped into the studio was bubbling, you could feel it twisting and tightening. Your orgasm was on the tip of your tongue and it felt explosive, three more pumps of his fingers and your vision went white. His name falling off your lips like a mantra, like it was the only name you knew and you didn’t care if the rest of the studio could hear. He was making you feel so fucking good, you could scream it from the rooftops.

Nearing the end of your orgasm he slowed his fingers down, placing one last kiss to your lips before completely removing them. You whined at the loss, feeling so empty now that they were gone. He smiled softly at the whine, washing his hands in the sink next to the counter before bringing a towel over to help clean up any mess.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” You joked, fixing the sweaty hairs sticking to your forehead.

“No, only you. Step in here in a sundress again and we’ll see what happens.”

#maddies fics #frank castle #jon bernthal #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal imagine #jon bernthal smut #frank castle smut #daredevil #daredevil smut #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #punisher smut

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domjaehyun · 2 years

Text

HUSH, HUSH.

༄ pairing » jeno, haechan, jaemin x fem!reader

༄ genre » smut

༄ word count » 19.5k

༄ smut warnings » foursome, praise kink, some degradation, mild dubcon (bc it’s me obviously), a good ol’ “just the tip” moment, some marking, spit play, cum eating, finger sucking, handjob, slightly sadistic dom!Jaemin and dom!Haechan, sweeter and softer dom!Jeno, slight dumbification, fingering, oral (receiving & giving), overstimulation, and more 💖

༄ notes » i hope you enjoy! please leave feedback if you liked it :)

“Mark, please tell me you’re joking.” You’re positive your frown can be heard in your voice as you whine into your phone.

“I really wish I was,” Mark groans, the now muffled words most likely meaning that Mark’s just clapped his hand over his face. “Coach says we’re gonna be stuck here until the mechanic from the next town over can get here to fix the bus.”

“Why would you guys go to an away game in a town so small it doesn’t even have emergency services?” You ask in disbelief.

Mark sighs. “I don’t know, but you know how this goes; Coach says ‘jump’ and the whole ice hockey team says ‘how high?’”

Huffing, you glower at your phone like he can see you. “Wimps, all of you.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell that to Chaewon.” He suggests, and you’re suddenly glad he can’t see your face fall.

“Oh, boy…how’s she holding up?” You ask hesitantly, and your question is answered when the tell-tale sound of a notorious Chaewon Tirade filters in from the background. You wince, feeling for the poor recipient getting chewed out by her, and realize that the sound of her ranting is getting louder.

“…I mean, honestly, Coach, what did you expect when you take a rickety old bus, drive it for miles without getting a check up before we left in the first place, like I suggested to you—hello?” Chaewon’s rampage comes to a screeching halt when she realizes it’s you on the other end of the phone. “I’m guessing you heard that…” Her pout is audible through the phone, your irate best friend now sounding more like an upset child.

“I sure did,” You snicker. “Cannot believe you regularly yell at Coach Park.”

“I think I’m the only person he lets yell at him.” She whispers back, and you laugh. “I made him book us hotel rooms so we can stay here overnight until the mechanic comes tomorrow and we can get the hell out of here, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other and maybe he’ll finally get sick of me.”

“Just another day as the ice hockey team manager.” You joke, and Chaewon sighs deeply. “Is it still worth the credit?”

“It sure is! No homework, barely any actual work, and I get to yell at the teacher? So worth it.” She answers incredulously. She has a point, you realize, nodding in understanding to your audience of approximately no one. “Next year, you can be my assistant manager and get course credit, too!”

“We’ll see,” You reply with a smile that fades with your next words. “I’m bummed you guys can’t come to our sleepover. It’s tradition!” You sigh, pacing around your living room double-checking to see if there’s anything left to tidy up that you might have missed. You fluff a couch pillow and prop it up, patting it for good measure before continuing, “I mean, first Renjun has an art project due Monday, then you and Mark were gonna get here later because of the away game, but now you’re not coming at all,” You frown, “So now it’s just me, Haechan, Jaemin, and Jeno.”

“Well, that’s still fun! Chaotic, really, because Mark, Renjun and I regularly do damage control and run interference between you four, but definitely fun.” Chaewon’s attempts to console you end up helping more than her actual words, but you’re still downcast, picking invisible pieces of lint off of the other pillow on the opposite end of the couch.

“Are any of them there yet?” She asks, and you sigh.

“Nope,” You mutter. “Jaemin and Jeno have to finish some project they’re doing at the library, and who even knows where Haechan–” Your doorbell rings, and you flinch at the unexpected sound. “Hold on one second,” You murmur into the phone, making your way to the front door as Chaewon hums in acknowledgement. You look through the peephole and swing your door open. “It’s just you.” You sigh in relief as Haechan stands before you, duffel bag in hand.

“I think I deserve a little more excitement than saying it’s ‘just’ me.” Haechan narrows his eyes at you, a playful glint to them, and breezes past you, kicking off his shoes in your hallway and dropping his duffel bag by the couch. Rolling your eyes, you shut and lock your front door, walking back to where Haechan sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“Oh, my God!” You gasp in exaggerated excitement, bouncing up and down. “It’s Haechan,” You sigh dreamily into the phone, shooting Haechan a brow-raised look of “is that what you wanted?” and barely bite back a laugh at the retching noise Chaewon makes. Haechan lunges at you with one hand outstretched, ready to flick you on the forehead, and you yelp in alarm, darting around your couch so it’s separating the two of you.

“I’m gonna let you go before things get weird—or, should I say, weirder—and I have to bear witness to it.” She says with a shudder, but, if you’re being honest, you’re barely focusing on her words, your mind more preoccupied with dodging Haechan’s attempts to reach you. “Have fun tonight! Mark and I will see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Bye!” You say distractedly, thumb blindly tapping at the red call-ending button as you adjust your position for the third time, running around one side of the couch as Haechan chases you. “Haechan, it was a joke!”

“Too bad,” He replies easily, staring you down with a gaze so intent and determined it brings heat to your face. “This is what you get for being so bratty.”

“Aw, come on! That was barely bratty.” You defend yourself, huffing and crossing your arms. “You’ve seen me do worse.”

“So? That was then. This is now.”

“‘This is now,’” You mock his words in a high-pitched, nasal voice before you can stop yourself and swallow thickly when Haechan raises his brow in a challenge.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Haechan, it slipped out—” You start, but he’s not listening at all, his eyes darting around the living room and studying the layout as he undoubtedly brainstorms some sort of attack plan. He stops, finally, and looks directly at you with a sly smile that definitely doesn’t bode well for you before he darts forward. You shriek and make a run for it just as he’s about to vault over the couch to reach you, your legs autopiloting you into the kitchen.

Haechan’s hot on your heels, fingers still outstretched towards you. His fingertips graze the back of your shirt and you shriek, now startled enough for Haechan to surge forward and snag the fabric, curling his hand into a fist and yanking you back towards him. Your back collides with his chest none too gently, and you crane your head to look behind you at him with worry sitting in your throat like a lump.

“Hi,” You try, shooting him a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“Shut up,” He scoffs, whirling you around and flicking you directly on the forehead before you can defend yourself. “That’s for the sarcasm earlier.” He says with a huff as you hiss in pain. “And that–”

“Ouch, damn it–”

“–is for mocking me just now.” He smiles tauntingly at you, and you glower at him, rubbing your sore forehead, now doubly so because Haechan had the audacity to flick you twice in the exact same spot and you don’t think he held back very much, if at all.

“You know what? Sleepover canceled for you.”

“What?!” He squawks indignantly, and you nod resolutely, pointing dramatically towards your front door.

“Yep, you’re uninvited! Get out of my apartment.” Jerking your chin towards the door, you wait not-so-patiently as Haechan complains loudly.

“Come on,” He groans, and you turn your nose up and away from him with a dramatic sniffle.

“That’s what you get for the cruel and unusual punishment you inflicted on me just now,” You decide, rubbing your forehead gingerly with a frown.

“It was two flicks to the forehead!”

“It hurt, you ass!”

“God, okay, what…um…” He trails off, lost in thought before a slow, flirtatious grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, boy.” You sigh loudly, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose to calm yourself. When you reopen them, you flinch at Haechan’s sudden proximity to you, and he chuckles as you glare at him.

“What if I offer to kiss it better?” He lilts, leaning closer to you with a wiggle of his brows.

“No.” Your flat reply doesn’t seem to discourage him, Haechan only stepping closer to you with a widening grin.

“Aw, come on,” He murmurs, his lips gradually making their way to your ear, “I bet you’d like it.”

“This is exactly why I need Mark around. Or Chaewon, or Renjun, or—really, anyone who’s not you.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” You hum remorselessly. “But I’m right; this is why we shouldn’t be alone together—you just torment me.”

“You think we shouldn’t be alone together because I’m too attractive for your own good.” Haechan says smugly, and you snort derisively.

“I think we shouldn’t be alone together because you’re too sleazy for my own good, Haechan.” You counter smoothly, and you half-predicted Haechan’s offended gasp that rings out, but it still startles you all the same.

“I’m sleazy.” Haechan’s tone is flat and entirely disbelieving, staring you down. To his credit, the reality of the situation really is closer to his interpretation.

There’s always been some sort of tension between you and Haechan—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t swoon a bit when he pulled you against his chest earlier and when he cornered you in the kitchen—that manifests from time to time as lingering glances and touches, flirtatious remarks that land a bit too seriously, and an underlying desire neither of you can seem to shake.

“Yep. Sleazy.” You say, lying through your teeth as you drag out the syllables of the insult. “It’s a miracle you pull at all.”

“My reputation precedes me,” He answers with a smug edge to his defensiveness. “When you’re as good as I am, people line up around the block for a chance with you.”

“Maybe they just wanna witness the trainwreck that you are in person,” You snicker mischievously. “Y’know—up close and personal.”

“I get the feeling you wanna experience it for yourself.” Haechan’s smug grin damn near knocks you off of your feet from how dazzling it is, and you can’t help but acknowledge internally that he kind of has a point; you do kinda want to see for yourself, but you’re not exactly keen on admitting that right now.

“Shut up, you’re so obnoxious.” You huff, pushing his chest to move him back and away from you. He barely moves, his smile widening as he takes a step forward instead.

“Wrong direction,” You gripe.

“No, I’m pretty sure this is where I want to be,” He breathes out, seemingly distracted as his gaze slowly drops to your lips. An alarmed squeak escapes you and he chuckles. “Matter of fact, I think you want me here, too.”

“What?!” You exclaim indignantly, and he brings one hand to your mouth and presses a finger to your lips to silence you.

“Anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” He rolls his eyes and presses forward until he’s got you pressed up against the cool metal of your fridge, dark brown eyes boring into your own.

“No,” You counter, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m sure you get that a lot.” You jerk your head forward in an attempt to snap at his finger, and Haechan pauses, letting out a hollow chuckle as he pokes his tongue to the inside of his cheek and stares you down and you hate to admit it, but that was one of the most attractive things he’s ever done.

“You know what?” Haechan doesn’t give you a chance to answer before his free hand is wrapping around the base of your throat and squeezing—not too tight as to alarm you or truly choke you, but tight enough to make his hand’s presence impossible to ignore. The gasp that slips from your lips brings a wicked little smile to his face and he leans in closer so his lips are pressed against the back of the finger he’s holding against your mouth, the slender digit the only thing separating your lips. “You’re gonna regret that.” His warm breath fans over your lips and you swallow thickly, widened eyes darting between his temptingly parted lips and his intent stare.

You watch in a frozen fascination as Haechan slowly removes his finger from between you two, his lips now but a breath away, and watches you in turn. His hand trails from your face down your front, just lightly skimming over your stomach to draw out a sudden exhale from you, and to the hem of the large oversized shirt you’ve been wearing around the apartment. He watches your face with a challenge twinkling in his eyes as he slips his hand under your shirt, almost daring you to stop him. When his hand slides up to cup your breast through your thin, lacy bra, you just barely manage to bite back a whine, and he traces small circles around your nipple, soon pinching it lightly between two fingers and tugging, a triumphant grin curling his lips when you hiss, the sound a combination of surprise and desire.

“You look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your throat,” Haechan coos fondly, voice dripping with condescension, and you whine softly in despair, wanting him to just do something. “So fuckin’ pretty,” He whispers, almost to himself as he studies your reaction while he toys with your stiffened peak.

His lips are getting closer by the second, his head tilting slightly to the side, but when you lean in to meet him, his hand on your throat pushes you back against the fridge, moving you away from his gradually approaching lips. He leans in close enough that you could count every one of his lashes, and wets his bottom lip, the tip of his tongue ever-so-slightly grazing your own lip, and you whimper in anticipation, trying to lean forward again. Haechan scoffs under his breath and remains unyielding, your head still pinned against the fridge as he brings himself right up against you—surely any closer and you’d be kissing—and just…stops.

“Maybe I shouldn’t kiss you right now,” He murmurs, and you’re surprised to realize that you genuinely don’t want him to stop.

“Why?” You ask breathlessly, and he looks upwards as if in thought, his hand under your shirt starting to caress your breast, the male seemingly oblivious to the way your back arches, pushing your chest into his hand for more.

“Isn’t this kind of…y’know…sleazy of me?” He throws the word back in your face with such a smug tone, so unbearably cocky that your knees almost buckle. “I mean, I’ve got you pinned up against the fridge…my hand’s up your shirt and playing with your tits…and I’m about to kiss you. Sounds pretty sleazy to me,” He shrugs, actions both supporting and contradicting his words as he swirls his finger around your nipple again, flicking the bud.

“Haechan, please–”

“Can I tell you something, though?” He brings his lips to your ear and you freeze in place, barely managing a stiff nod. His soft chuckle sends warmth fanning over your skin and you shudder before he continues on, “I think you like it.”

“Wh—um,” You stammer, and he pulls back to grin at you, eyes scanning your face. “Well, I mean—”

“Yeah, I think you do,” He marvels softly, fingers tightening around your neck. “Practically choked yourself on my hand trying to kiss me a moment ago,” Haechan points out and your face burns as you’re rendered speechless. “Bet if I put my hand between your legs–” He starts, and you whine loudly in embarrassment, Haechan continuing on louder, “you’d be nice and wet for me,” He finishes with a proud little smile, murmuring, “I thought so,” when you don’t respond, your gaze averted in shame.

“Haechan–” You start, and he shushes you, tongue peeking out to lick at your upper lip.

“You like this? Hm? Like how it feels when your sleazy friend Haechan feels you up with one hand and chokes you with the other?”

“Yes,” You whimper, and he coos affectionately at your worked-up state.

“What if sleazy Haechannie slips his hand down here, hm?” He brings his hand out from under your shirt and toys with the waistband of your shorts. Thankfully, before you have to ask, he pushes into your pants, fingers deftly navigating down to your heated core and cupping it through your damp underwear, digging the heel of his palm into your clit and grinning as you writhe under his touch. “I think you like that, too.” The smugness in his voice is almost palpable but you don’t even have your wits about you enough to feel shame or indignance, lust clouding your mind and leaving you dizzy and desiring.

“Stop teasing,” You exhale, and he raises an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are almost touching. At the same time, he tightens his grip around your neck slightly and pushes you against the fridge harder so you can’t move towards him, and you whine in desperation. “Please?” You try, and he flicks his gaze up to you, intrigue twinkling in his eyes.

“Please…what?” He asks tauntingly, head cocked to the side curiously.

“Do something, fuck, please–” You don’t even get to finish your plea before he’s surging forward with a growl and connecting your lips. A drawn out whine escapes you as you all but melt into him, lips parting easily as his tongue nudges between them and sneaks into your mouth for a taste of you.

“Such a little tease,” Haechan grunts against your lips, releasing your core and massaging your clit with two nimble fingers. “Always knew you wanted this.”

You can’t even form words in response, your head lolling back in ecstasy as you let out a mix between a moan and a gasp, but Haechan doesn’t seem to mind, lips attaching to your neck as he kisses, sucks, and bites marks into your neck. You can only manage to moan, “No marking,” as he sucks, and he pulls back, mouth detaching from your skin with a wet noise, and stares at you with an unimpressed expression.

“You’re already marked,” He points out, tracing what must be the beginnings of a love bite forming on your neck with a proud grin. “I might as well get to finish.”

“…Fine,” You give in, and he beams, leaning forward and kissing you again, lips slotting between yours easily as he nips at your lip. Groaning when you rock into his hand desperately, Haechan trails wet kisses down your neck and sucks hard at the base of your throat, a mark surely blooming from his efforts.

“Want them to wonder who did this to you,” Haechan grunts, and you can only keen weakly in response, fingernails scratching at his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer to you. “Make them wish they’d gotten to you first.” His words sink in a moment later, a confused hum bubbling up and out from inside of you at the notion that Jeno and Jaemin have not-so-platonic feelings for you. Haechan doesn’t give you much time to process what he’s said, the male growing greedier for your reactions and pushing your underwear to the side, guiding two fingers into your clenching entrance. “Whole time, you and I know who did this to you; don’t we, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” You moan weakly, and Haechan chuckles, the sound’s darkened edge sending a chill of excitement down your spine.

“Who did this to you?” Haechan nips at the mark on the base of your neck, and you cry out with a jolt.

“You did,” You answer breathlessly, your mind going fuzzy as Haechan’s fingers stroke along your inner walls, finding your most sensitive spot with ease and proceeding to send his fingers thrusting directly into it.

“Mm-mm,” He hums, dissatisfied. “I wanna hear you say my name.”

“Haechan–” You give in immediately, your desperation building as his fingers bring you closer and closer to your climax.

“Again.”

“Haechan–” You can barely get the last syllable out before Haechan seals his mouth over yours with a barely restrained groan, his fingers diligently pumping in and out of you as he plays with your tongue. “Gonna cum,” You pant, voice higher-pitched and embarrassingly whiny, and he hums in acknowledgement.

“I should probably stop,” He pulls back to say, feigning a pout, and you glare at him in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare.”

“But look at us,” Haechan presses, and you whimper as your hips rock down onto his fingers. “Isn’t this sleazy of me?”

“Haechan, I’m sorry–”

“You’re sorry?” He asks slowly, smugness creeping into his voice. “So you don’t want me to stop?” He continues, and when you shake your head vehemently, he makes a noise of understanding. “You like that, don’t you? Sleazy Haechannie’s fingers feel so good stuffed deep in your tight little pussy, right?” He purrs, and you let out as quiet of a wail as you can manage.

“Yes, Haechan, please just let me cum–” You’re more than exasperated at this point and Haechan must notice, because he closes his mouth over yours in a passionate kiss, occasionally stopping to bite or suck at your bottom lip.

“Cum for me, pretty. That’s it, fuck, just like that.” With his lips on yours muffling the moans you let out, Haechan urges you to the edge of your climax, eyes bright with an almost wild desire as he watches you tip over the brink. Your orgasm comes in a rush of ecstasy and electricity, adrenaline flooding through your veins as you cry Haechan’s name loudly and breathlessly whisper a string of swears, your nails digging into his shoulder in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Oh, my God,” You exhale shakily as he slowly pulls his hand from your underwear, your flustered gaze immediately darting elsewhere when you get a glimpse of the clear strings of your arousal clinging to his fingers. You peek back at him only to catch his fingers moving towards his mouth, averting your gaze again with a scandalized yelp. No amount of looking away, however, stops Haechan from flattening his body against yours, pressing you between himself and the fridge.

“Watch me.” He orders quietly, and you begrudgingly drag your gaze back to his face, astonished eyes widening when he slips his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. “You taste good,” Haechan groans, releasing his grip on your throat and studying you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Stop staring at me like that.” You huff, and he raises an eyebrow, warning you to tread with caution.

“You know, I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter like the cute little fuckdoll I know you are,” He retorts, moving to grab your hips with both hands and massaging little circles into the flesh as he watches you in fascination. “Watch your tone and don’t push your luck.”

“I’m not a fuckdoll,” You protest, and Haechan just scoffs, gripping your hips tighter and turning you around with no regard for the startled yelp you let out, positioning you so your back is to his chest and your front is pressed up against the counter just beside the fridge. “Hae–Haechan, what are you doing?” You ask in a sort of post-climax daze still tinged with alarm, but Haechan yanks your shorts down to your knees, startling you into silence.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Haechan huffs under his breath, knocking your legs as far apart as they’ll go. “‘M fucking you,” He coos teasingly in your ear before pushing between your shoulder blades to flatten your torso to the counter.

“I thought you were holding back—”

“I changed my mind.”

You don’t have it in you to respond, instead resting your cheek on the cool countertop in complacency, and Haechan chuckles.

“That’s it,” He coaxes, simultaneously guiding the head of his cock to nestle between your folds. He pushes in slowly, a relieved breath whooshing from you as his length gradually fills you up. Your relief turns to alarm when you realize you feel full and he’s not done, and you whimper, reaching back to press a hand to his stomach reflexively. “Move your hand.” He grunts, and you shake your head worriedly, whining in panic. “Why are you stopping me, hm?” He strokes your back soothingly and you relax slightly, craning your head to look back at him.

“It’s too much,” You manage to get out, and he snickers.

“Too much? Am I too big, pretty?” He coos, feigning sympathy as he cruelly pushes in more, and you gasp loudly, pushing harder against his stomach. “Move your hand.”

“But–”

“Move it.” He says in a warning tone as if daring you to keep your hand there. After a moment of hesitation, you comply, moving your hand slowly. As soon as he sees an opportunity, he pushes into you fully, a low groan from him meeting your choked whimper. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Haechan hisses, and his fingers dig into your hips as he strains himself trying not to thrust into you.

“You can move, I think,” You murmur carefully, regretting it the second he does. Your hand flies back to stop him with a rushed, “Wait–”

He doesn’t give you a chance to make contact with his stomach, instead snatching your wrist and pressing it to your back.

“Relax,” Haechan purrs. “I’ll make it feel really good.” His promise does little to ease your worries, especially considering the way he’s digging his fingers into your hips as if restraining himself from moving inside of you.

“I–” You start, but he shushes you patronizingly as he pulls out slowly and pushes into you again. “Oh, fuck,” You whimper, your walls clenching around him as he moves inside of you.

“That’s it, take it like a good girl,” He mutters under his breath, and you cry out when he slides his hand up to grope your breast and tweak your nipple between his fingers. He pinches, twists, flicks, and tugs the erect bud with every thrust he makes until you’re a panting, teary-eyed mess under him, your jaw going slack from all the sensations.

You’re utterly trapped, stuck between Haechan’s body and the hard countertop, and the revelation comes with a wave of arousal when you realize you’re essentially at his mercy, your eyes glazing over as your body practically goes limp.

“Yeah, relax, pretty,” He coos, his hand abandoning your hip and finding itself between your legs to massage circles into your clit. “Take me nice and deep—feel so fucking good.” He grunts through gritted teeth. “So good at taking cock, aren’t you? Just a pretty little thing who needs her holes filled.”

“No—” You start to protest, but a well-placed thrust from Haechan has your mind scrambling, any and all words dying on your tongue.

“Mm, yes,” He hums, a grin audible in his voice. “Just a pretty little fuckdoll—my pretty fuckdoll—who loves getting fucked cock-dumb by her sleazy friend in her kitchen up against her fridge.” He stills his hips and you move to whip your head around to look at him, whining when he turns your head back to face forward.

“I said–fuck, Haechan–I said sorry,” You cry out, and he chuckles.

“Not forgiven yet.” He groans, and you can tell he wants to move just as badly as you want him to. You retaliate by clenching around him repeatedly, relishing the choked moan he lets out.

“What do I have to do?” You plead desperately, and he leans forward, lips by your ear.

“Cum all over my cock and I’ll consider forgiving you.” He purrs, resuming his thrusts to your relief. “So fucking tight, fuck—so good at taking cock—is that all you’re good for?”

“No,” You protest, but Haechan’s not having it.

“My cock feels so good with your pussy wrapped around it nice and tight.” He groans, biting down on your shoulder. “Gonna have to do a lot more convincing if you want me to think you’re good for anything else.”

“God, fuck you,” You huff through gritted teeth, not caring in the moment what might happen to you for snapping at him, but Haechan just chuckles.

“You already are.” His reply is smug and filled with challenge, daring you to reply, but you don’t take the bait, instead digging your nails into your palm to stop yourself from crying out again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so close–” You gasp, and Haechan massages circles into your clit, ushering in your climax as your mind goes blank and your eyes are forced shut from the pleasure. Your jaw going slack, you can only whimper Haechan’s name as pleasure courses through your body, and he moans, fucking you intently through your climax until you’ve ridden it for as far as it’ll go before speeding up.

“God, I never thought I’d hear you say my name like that,” He murmurs in awe. “That’s so fucking hot. And now? It’s my turn.” He grunts, a smile audible in his voice as his thrusts escalate to an almost brutal pace, each powerful stroke accompanied by a moan that fills your now blank mind with clouds of desire. “Gonna let me cum in you, pretty?”

“Yeah,” You exhale with a vigorous nod, and he hums appreciatively before bottoming out in you, hips stilling as he releases into you. You two remain like that for another moment before he pulls out of you, releasing his grip on you and rubbing your back gingerly.

“You good?” He asks breathlessly, and you nod again, looking over your shoulder and smiling at him. “Would help if you said something.” He jokes lightly, and you join in on his chuckle as you turn around, reaching down to pull your underwear and shorts back up.

“I’m great,” You assure him, and he visibly relaxes, a wide smile overtaking his features.

“Not so sleazy now, am I?” He teases, and you roll your eyes.

“Let it go!” You’re about to say more, but a random sniff of the air has you wrinkling up your nose in distaste. It smells like sweat and sex, and that’s gotta go if you plan to have more people over.

“Haechan, pass me that air freshener?” You ask, looking pointedly at the can on the counter nearest to him and he jerks his head back in confusion before obliging, tucking himself back into his pants. You promptly go berserk spraying everywhere and accidentally give Haechan a face full of air freshener, making him cough and splutter.

“What are you spraying, you crazy woman?” Haechan chokes out, and you turn to glower at him.

“The smell of sex away!”

“It does not smell like sex,” Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes, and you glare at him, lifting your hand and spraying him directly in the chest. “Hey, you little brat!”

“If Jeno and Jaemin come in and figure out what we did here, things are gonna get super awkward.” You explain worriedly.

Haechan snorts. “You’re telling me.”

“…What?”

“…Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Nothing.” He insists in a singsong voice, and you roll your eyes.

“Haechan, tell me!” You groan, and he shakes his head resolutely.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” He assures you cryptically, patting the top of your head patronizingly.

“What do you mean by that—oh, shit!” You cut yourself off with a yell of surprise when someone knocks loudly at your front door, and you shoot a panicked glance to a very unbothered Haechan. “Haechan, be a man and get the door.” You urge in a loud whisper, and Haechan stares blankly at you, unimpressed.

“It’s probably just Jeno and Jaemin,” He points out.

“Then you should have no problem getting it,” You counter with a furrowed brow, and he groans before turning on his heel and heading out of sight to your front door. The door opens and you can just make out Haechan’s voice greeting the mystery party, your grip on your air freshener loosening in relief. “Haechan, who is it?”

“Three large, burly criminals,” Haechan drawls in a bored tone. “They’ve got me at knifepoint.”

“Haechan, you’re not funny.” You call back, annoyed.

“Who’s being funny?” Haechan answers back defensively. “They told me they’re going to do…how did they put it? Oh, yeah—‘so much crime.’ They said they would do all of the crimes right now in your apartment.”

“You’re the worst.” You gripe as Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin round the corner of your hallway, your mouth cracking into a relieved grin as you recognize your friends. “Hey, guys.”

“Hi, scaredy-cat,” Haechan teases, flinching away at your sharp glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you, you were here already.” You wave Haechan off with a scoff. “And you just flinched away from the scaredy-cat, so what does that make you–”

“Will you two quit bickering, please?” Jaemin sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “You really are skittish, though,” He mumbles under his breath, mildly amused, and you gasp in betrayal as Haechan exclaims victoriously.

“Get out of my apartment.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“Be careful to close the door quietly though, so it doesn’t spook her.” Haechan snickers, and you whine loudly, slouching against the fridge.

“Oh, shut up,” Jeno pipes up, glowering at Haechan and Jaemin as he makes his way over to you and drapes his arm around your shoulders. “I think it’s cute,” He assures you, and you let out a soft, petulant hmph, not wanting to admit that Jeno calling you cute stirred up feelings in you that you didn’t know you had.

“Thanks,” You grouch. “Mark and Chaewon can’t make it, by the way.”

“Really? What happened at their away game?” Haechan asks, baffled.

You shrug. “Their bus broke down and the closest mechanic’s in the next town over and can’t come until the morning, so they’re staying at a hotel; that’s what they told me.”

“That sucks,” Jeno winces. “For them. Not us.”

“Yeah, now we get you all to ourselves. Chaewon always hogs you.” Jaemin winks in your direction, and you blink impassively at him. He sighs. “You’re still annoyed about the skittish thing—”

“I’m still annoyed about the skittish thing, yes.” You say, crossing your arms and leaning closer into Jeno’s warm side hug. Always a fan of physical affection, Jeno squeezes you and accepts readily when you curl into his side and wrap your arms around his waist in a full hug. “Jeno’s the only person here who actually treats me right.” You huff, turning your nose up disdainfully.

“Clearly someone else was treating you right recently,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, and you poke your head up to glare at him.

“What was that?”

“If the mark on your neck is anything to go by,” Jaemin says, jerking his chin in your direction, “I’d say someone else was treating you right recently.” His words are slow, playfully condescending and accompanied with a suggestive wiggle of his brows, and you frown, turning further into Jeno’s embrace.

“Everyone but Jeno…get out!” You cry dramatically, and Haechan and Jaemin protest immediately, their voices overlapping, but you drown them out easily as you look up at Jeno and smile widely, continuing with, “I bought chocolate milk, by the way.”

“No way!” Jeno’s whole face lights up, and you nod, releasing him to turn and open your fridge to him. “You’re the best.” He gushes excitedly, unwinding his arms from around you to reach in and grab the gallon.

“Yeah, to you,” Haechan grouches as he watches Jeno pour himself a cup of chocolate milk. Jeno pays him no mind.

“She’s a little menace to non-Jeno people.” Jaemin continues, and you blink at them impassively.

“I’m sweet to Chaewon, Mark, and Renjun.” You point out. “It’s just you two.”

“Well, aren’t we special.” Jaemin drawls sarcastically, and you fake a sweet smile.

“Sure are. Now don’t break anything; I’m gonna take a shower.” You warn them, and Haechan raises an eyebrow at you, a secretive smile on his face out of sight of both Jeno and Jaemin.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” He asks, staring you down, and you can’t help but squirm on the spot, his intense gaze reminding you of when he had his hands all over you just minutes before Jeno and Jaemin arrived.

“I feel like showering,” You say, guarded as you meet his gaze levelly.

“But why—”

“I can’t hear you! Gonna go shower!” You call out over your shoulder as you make your way to your room. Shutting the door behind you, you let out a loud breath of relief.

If Haechan insists on being difficult the whole weekend, you’re really going to have your work cut out for you.

“Jeno, you’re so clumsy,” You chuckle fondly, turning the male so his back’s against the sink counter and he’s facing you. You reach around him to wet the rag in your hand, moving to blot his shirt free of the stain. Somehow in his excited chocolate milk consumption, Jeno managed to spill a good portion of it onto his shirt, so you led him to your bathroom to help him get the stain out.

“Good thing I have you to help me,” He replies sweetly, his eyes crinkling as he smiles at you only to wince at the feeling of the cold, wet rag against his skin.

“Sorry!” You apologize, and he shakes his head with a smile before gently moving your hands away from him. “What are you d–oh,” You ask, trailing off when Jeno reaches behind him, grasps the back of his shirt at the base of his neck, and pulls it over his head, leaving you to gawk at his shirtless, very toned form.

“That way you can clean it without me squirming under the shirt,” He supplies helpfully, and you nod after a moment’s hesitation, hoping there’s no way for Jeno to detect just how dry your throat has become. You stare, frozen, at Jeno’s half-naked form before snapping out of it and quickly turning around to face the sink, blindly grabbing the shirt from his outstretched hand. You ignore the soft chuckle from Jeno with a furrow of your brows which only deepens when you see that Jeno’s watching your face intently in the mirror.

“Stop staring at me,” You mumble nervously, and Jeno cocks his head to the side in intrigue, studying your flustered expression.

“But I like watching you.” He answers simply, and you just about choke on air, a pathetic squeak of surprise forcing its way out of you. “Plus,” Jeno adds, stepping closer to you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, “I wanna learn how to clean that stain out.”

“Then watch my hands,” You mutter, nibbling your bottom lip anxiously as you attempt to focus on what you’re doing. Jeno snickers and moves closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the sink, and you stiffen, freezing in place.

“But your face is so pretty,” Jeno says, voice bordering dangerously on a purr, and you swallow thickly, a task proven difficult given the still dry state of your mouth.

“Wh—well, I—you just—” You stammer, barely regaining your composure in time to finish with, “I can’t focus like this, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeno leans down, bringing his face level with yours in the mirror. “Why’s that?” His lips quirked into a smirk and a dangerous twinkle in his eyes, Jeno is the picture of temptation, not to mention the way his arms flex and tense as they rest on either side of you. It’s more than a little difficult to breathe at the moment, and you’re having a hard time attending to your task of washing out the stain on his shirt.

You clear your throat. “Jeno?”

“Hm?” That same almost-purring cadence to his voice, he quirks an eyebrow at you and it takes everything in you not to let your knees buckle.

“Pass me the detergent?” Your attempt to sound nonchalant falls flat when your voice cracks on the last word, a sound that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeno, who exhales loudly from his nose in amusement. You point at the cabinet overhead to the left of you both, and he watches your reflection for a moment before complying, reaching over and grabbing the detergent with ease and setting it beside you on the sink. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” He hums.

“Do you want me to explain what to do?” You ask.

“Yeah, walk me through it.” Jeno requests, and you give him a small nod.

“So I’m soaking the stain in cold water,” You start, and Jeno hums in acknowledgement, lowering himself to your height again and watching you intently. His unwavering stare has you buzzing in anticipation for…what, exactly, you don’t know. “Then you put some detergent on it and gently rub out the stain.” You continue as you do just that, your voice trailing off when Jeno wraps his arms around your waist in a back hug that would normally be fine if, firstly, Jeno had a shirt on, and, secondly, you weren’t helplessly attracted to him.

“Thanks,” Jeno says warmly, and you smile, patting his clasped hands resting on your stomach. “You’re always so sweet to me,” He coos, and you chuckle.

“I’m not that sweet,” You reply, and he shakes his head, nosing past your hair until his nose is brushing your cheek, his warm breath fanning over your jaw.

“You are,” Jeno insists, nose grazing down your cheek and stopping when he presses his lips to your neck. “You’re so sweet,” He murmurs, lips pressed to your skin, and you suck in a sharp breath, your hands gripping the counter so hard your knuckles ache. “So…fucking…sweet.” He purrs, kissing your neck after every word, and your knees do buckle this time, Jeno’s grip tightening around you just in time to catch you as you all but go limp in his arms.

“Jeno—” You mumble, not trusting your voice enough to speak at a normal volume.

“You’re so tense,” Jeno muses with a smile against your skin before sucking at a spot at the base of your neck. “Want me to help you relax?”

“H-How?” You ask, and from the low growl that sounds from Jeno’s chest, you assume you’ve walked right into a situation you might not be prepared for. He slips a hand between your legs and busies himself with playing with your clit over the fabric of your underwear. Your plaintive whimpers don’t do much besides spur him on as he kisses your neck, dark eyes watching you in the reflection of the mirror. “Jeno,” You whine pointedly, and he chuckles, nipping at your earlobe roughly.

He turns you around, lifts you up with ease, and sets you on the sink counter, ignoring your gasp in favor of getting directly in your personal space and licking his lips, eying you with all the smug determination of a predator that’s captured its prey.

“I bet you can guess.” He doesn’t say anything else for a moment, just studies your features with increasing curiosity before he slips his hand up your shirt enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. Your gasp of surprise is cut off by the alarmed yelp you let out when he yanks—hard—so you’re sent lurching forward against him.

Your core pressed directly against his bare, toned abdomen and your legs reflexively closed around him and pressed up against his sides, you stare up at Jeno wide-eyed and breathless, bottom lip trapped between your teeth and your chest pressing against his with every heaving breath.

“Jeno—” You mumble, and he shushes you softly, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

“Just relax.” He coaxes and you can’t help but think back to earlier when Haechan said the same thing to you and wonder to yourself how you got into this predicament. Jeno successfully pushes out any thoughts not centered around him when his free hand balls up the fabric at the small of your back and pulls you impossibly closer before capturing your lips in his with a growl.

“Je–”

“Shut up.” He mumbles against your mouth, and you can’t help but obey, immediately falling silent with a final whimper as his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips, quickly becoming intimately familiar with the inside of your mouth. Where Haechan earlier was sensual, rhythmic movements and playful flicks of the tongue, Jeno is harsh, sucking, nipping and biting, such a contrast from the sweet, smiley male you’re used to—a bold version of Jeno who takes exactly what he wants stands before you, kissing you senseless and leaving you lightheaded.

Jeno takes your lips as if they were meant to be his all along and he’s sick of waiting, with groans and even growls as he detaches his lips from yours and starts traveling down your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin as his hands wander, one slipping up your shirt to grope freely at your breasts while the other massages your core with heavy-handed rubbing that has you clutching his firm, toned arm for something to ground yourself.

“God, fuck–” You pant, pushing feebly at his…everything because it’s all just a bit too overwhelming— “Jeno, wait a second–” You gasp out in ecstasy when he shoves your shirt up past your breasts, yanks your bra cup down and latches onto your nipple, sucking roughly. A ghost of the Jeno you know blinks up at you with a question in his eyes, still swirling his tongue around your stiffened bud in his mouth as he waits for you to speak. “Are you sure we should be doing this? Now? Here?”

With a wet pop, Jeno pulls off of your breast and stands back up so your faces are level. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I mean…yeah, but–”

“Then be good,” He brushes his lips against yours as his hand snakes into your underwear, “because I want a taste.” Your eyes widen as he drops to his knees and attaches his lips to your inner thigh, dark eyes staring up at you as he sucks and nips at the tender flesh.

“Not too low,” You exhale shakily, and he blinks up at you impassively before pushing your shorts up so they’re bunched around the flesh of your thighs and he proceeds to mouth at the unblemished skin of your inner thighs, gradually working his way towards where they meet as heat flares up throughout your body. His hands keep your legs spread with large palms pressing on your inner thighs as he brazenly rubs his face over your clothed core, eliciting a scandalized gasp from you.

“God, everything about you is so sweet.” He mumbles in a daze, hands dragging up your legs to grab your ass and force his face against your covered core even harder. Even through two layers of fabric, his nose presses against your clit enough to have you trying not to rock your hips against his face for more relief. Jeno notices quickly, his amused exhale warming the seat of your underwear even more, and flicks his gaze up to you as he hooks his fingers into the seat of your underwear and shorts and pulls both items aside, revealing your glistening wet core. The resounding silence has waves of nervous heat flooding through you and you look down only to see that Jeno’s staring at your pussy with unadulterated desire, eyes dark with lust as his thumbs gingerly part your folds, a sharp hiss escaping him when your entrance clenches in response.

“Jeno?” You hate how meek you sound but you feel so small under his scrutiny, the male before you inspecting the most intimate part of your body with a hunger you’ve never seen in anyone’s eyes before. He can barely tear his eyes away from your wetness before looking up at you, an eyebrow quirked expectantly.

“You have such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He rasps in awe, and heat washes over you like a tidal wave, your body blazing with embarrassment and the excitement from his praise. “God, it’s so pretty. Dripping, too; you want this that badly?” His eyes glinting with glee, his tone lilts teasingly as he addresses you.

“Please?” You whisper, and he stills in momentary surprise, looking back down between your spread legs with a poorly concealed hunger before groaning in frustration and leaning in to attach his mouth to your core. “Fuck—” You can’t help but gasp because when Jeno starts, he doesn’t hold back at all, devouring your pussy, lapping up every wave of arousal that gushes forth from your entrance with an eagerness you’ve never quite seen before.

Just like earlier, it’s overwhelming, the amount of everything you’re feeling, and your legs reflexively start to close around his head as he ravishes your most sensitive areas with rough sucking and licking, the whole ordeal complete with lewd moans from the male whose mouth seems permanently affixed to your core. Your legs barely apply pressure to his head before he’s shoving your legs back apart with a warning nip to your thigh and moving back in to resume his ministrations. The fabric of your underwear has slipped back over your core in the absence of his touch and Jeno huffs when he realizes the same thing, immediately yanking your shorts and underwear down your legs and letting the clothing drop to the floor carelessly.

He resumes his relentless tongue lashes against your sensitive bud, only stopping to dip lower and suck your folds into his mouth and run his tongue over them repeatedly. Your fingers are practically knotted in his hair, alternating between pulling him closer to you and trying to push him away when he’s just a bit too desiring of your core, and Jeno seems to love every bit of your reactions, responding to your every whimper and gasp with a moan of his own as he sucks and licks at your poor throbbing clit.

The whimpers and sobs you keep letting out only spur Jeno on further, the male going so far as to drape your legs over his shoulders and move in closer, his tongue teasing at your entrance before pushing into you, his hand flying up to cover your mouth and muffle the loud gasp that rings throughout the room. You can’t help but rock your hips against his face, your head tipping back to rest against the mirror in ecstasy. His nose rubs up against your clit with every inward push of his tongue and your quiet cries of pleasure are thankfully still silenced by Jeno’s large hand over your mouth as he fucks you with his tongue.

You jolt in alarm when you hear footsteps approaching the bathroom and flinch violently when a knock sounds out against the door.

“You guys okay in there?” Jaemin asks curiously, and you don’t even manage to come up with a coherent response; it’s Jeno who has the audacity to reply with his face still buried between your legs.

“Almost done!” He calls back, voice garbled because, well, it’s fairly hard to speak clearly with a mouth full of pussy.

There’s a moment of silence on the other side of the door, then your name is called.

“You good?” Jaemin sounds suspicious now, albeit a bit concerned, and you blanch, looking down at Jeno as your peak rapidly approaches.

“I–uh–I’m coming!” You yell back, trying to keep the whine out of your voice as your climax hits and sends you reeling, fingers tightening around Jeno’s hair and your entrance clenching around his tongue while your body trembles under his touch.

“…Okay…” Jaemin answers, sounding even more suspicious than before, and your face burns with embarrassment as Jeno hums contently against you and starts languidly lapping up as much of your arousal as he can. “Well, can you guys hurry? We wanna start the movie.”

“Sure!” You call back, a bit too eagerly and far too breathily, and wait until you hear Jaemin’s footsteps receding to relax, your body going slack with relief as you weakly push at Jeno’s head. He’s reluctant to pull away, his fingers digging into your thighs possessively, but when your pushing gets more insistent and your low whines pick up in urgency, he finally lets up, pulling back and sitting on his heels as he stares at your core, unbridled lust in his eyes.

“Good?” He asks, and you nod in a daze.

“Excellent,” You reply, and he grins, rocks off his heels and stands back up, helping you off the counter and passing your shorts and underwear to you. You make the mistake of looking down and are confronted with his jaw-droppingly large erection pressing against his shorts, your eyes widening in shock.

“I take it you like what you see,” Jeno chuckles and you blink several times to clear your mind before you meet his gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” You mumble, and he gives your arm a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“You’re good. Hurry back down there so they don’t get any more suspicious.” He suggests, a smile so sweet on his face that you almost forget why his mouth is glistening.

“What are you gonna do about your shirt?” You mutter, reaching out to poke his bare stomach, and he catches your hand with a playful gaze, his eyes narrowed.

“I brought others, obviously. I’ll just grab one and change.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, finish treating this one later.” You nod shyly and turn to leave but Jeno grips your hand tighter and whirls you back around into a deep, passionate, breath-stealing kiss, the taste of your arousal in your mouth as he swirls his tongue around with yours. When he releases you from his embrace, you gasp for air, fingers releasing his forearm quickly. “By the way,” Jeno hums, grinning, “…best pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

You let out a surprised sort of yelp, your face on fire as you nod quickly and try with all your might not to burst into nervous giggles. When you get back to the living room, Haechan and Jaemin stare at you suspiciously, no doubt confused by your slightly jittery state.

“You good?” Jaemin asks again, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly, and his brow arches skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” You insist, rolling your eyes and heading to the fridge to grab a can of Sprite. “I am.” You assure them, and Jaemin puts his hands up in a sort of surrendering gesture before jerking his chin towards the television.

“We’re still watching X-Men, right?” He looks at you and over your shoulder, prompting you to turn around and see Jeno coming up behind you with a new shirt on and an innocent smile that turns slightly more mischievous when Haechan and Jaemin look away from him. Your eyes widening, you turn back around to face your friends, putting on a casual appearance.

“Sounds good to me! Chaewon’s gonna be pissed we started without them.” You remind them, and Haechan shrugs.

“We can all pretend we didn’t watch it.” He suggests with a (very attractive) devilish grin before blatantly eying you up and down. His gaze, you note with a panicked jolt, lingers around your thighs before sliding back up to meet your eyes. “We can keep a little secret, right?”

You can’t help but feel like there’s more to the question he’s asked.

Pushing past the inkling, you narrow your eyes at Haechan and turn to Jaemin.

“I won’t tell if you guys won’t.” You say, and Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you flirtatiously.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He collapses back onto his chosen armchair and gets curled up as you and Jeno move to find your spaces.

“Come sit next to me,” Haechan calls to you from the couch, his eyes fixed on you intently. When you pause, just staring at him, he raises his eyebrows suggestively and pats the spot next to him invitingly.

After another moment of hesitation, you roll your eyes slightly and make your way towards Haechan, who grins widely. “Stop manspreading and maybe there’d be room for me to sit,” You point out with a huff, and he raises an eyebrow and shifts forward, leaning back more and becoming an extremely tempting seat option himself.

“Sit right here,” He offers in a low murmur, patting his thigh and looking at you suggestively.

“No.” You say simply, plopping down halfway on his leg and mostly on the couch beside him. When he lets out a sharp yelp of pain, you smile, satisfied, and move your leg off of him, forcing his legs closed by pushing him with the side of your leg. Already having gotten over it, Haechan drapes his arm behind you on the couch cushion, his arm hovering just above your shoulders. You shoot him a side-eyed glance, and Haechan wiggles his brows with a grin before dropping his arm down and pulling you into his side.

“You know I like to cuddle,” He murmurs in your ear, and you blink dazedly, humming weakly in acknowledgment. He’s warm and comfortable and smells amazing, and you can already feel your head clouding with desire.

“Are you two almost done?” Jaemin’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind and you meet his gaze to see that he’s more amused than annoyed, an expectant brow raised.

“Almost,” Haechan answers, and you look at him, confused, but he ignores you in favor of leaning forward (forcing you forward with a jolt, since he refuses to let go of your shoulder) and grabbing the folded blanket on your coffee table, unfolding it with one arm and clumsily situating it over your and his lap. “Now we’re done.”

Jaemin stares at Haechan with an unreadable expression for so long that it makes you uncomfortable before he turns back to the television and hits the play button. Jeno flicks the lights off, leaving you four in mostly darkness, and the opening credits of X-Men start to roll.

Less than thirty minutes into the movie, Haechan has moved his arm from around your shoulders and is letting his knuckles graze along the hem of your shorts, his eyes fixed on you.

“Pay attention,” You murmur as quietly as possible.

His gaze not wavering from the side of your face, he chuckles softly, slipping his fingers under your shorts and tracing along your thigh. “Oh, I am.”

“To the movie,” You hiss under your breath, and he leans in closer, his lips pressing to the spot just behind your ear.

“You’re more fun to watch.” He coos, and you roll your eyes and scoff in an attempt to conceal the nervous laugh you let out when his fingers sneak up higher. “Plus, you know you like it.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and he pinches the flesh of your inner thigh, making you jolt in your spot and just barely conceal a yelp of pain and surprise.

“Told you to watch that mouth of yours earlier, didn’t I?” He warns you as you glare at him, affronted.

“You didn’t have to pinch me,” You hiss, and he chuckles, fingers continuing their journey up your leg to brush his fingertips against the heated, damp seat of your underwear. You suck in a quiet breath that, unfortunately, does not slip past Haechan, and he grins, eyes still trained on your face. “Stop staring at me,” You whine.

“Why? Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks with a smug little grin, and you frown, staring ahead at the screen pointedly. “Pay attention,” He urges, leaning closer to you to take your earlobe between his teeth. He tugs at the flesh gently, eliciting a small gasp from you, as two of his fingers find your clit and pinch it through the fabric. You squirm in your seat, fighting back a whimper, and he chuckles, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. “Stop fighting it.” He murmurs when he’s done, and you swallow thickly, staring at the screen with glazed over eyes. Wolverine’s blurry form grunts and roars as he engages in a fight scene, the details on the screen going virtually unnoticed as Haechan’s lips latch onto your neck, kissing and sucking.

“Fuck,” You suck in a sharp breath and he flicks at your neck with his tongue as if to say, “I heard that.”

Pushing your underwear aside, Haechan’s fingers spread you open and circle around your entrance, digits collecting arousal with every go-around. When you groan quietly and buck your hips against his hand, he pulls back, much to your dismay.

“I want to hear you say you want it.” He breathes against your cheek, and you whimper in protest, nibbling at your bottom lip as you think. Do you throw away your pride in favor of getting the release you want? Knowing Haechan, he might cave anyway simply from sheer desire— “We don’t have all day.” His voice is low and stern and he lightly nudges at your ear with the tip of his nose to help bring you out of your reverie.

“Haechan–” You whisper desperately, and he chuckles, pressing his fingers into you shallowly and pumping them excruciatingly slowly. “God, I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit,” He murmurs. “Preferably on my lap.”

“Do you always have to have a comeback?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” He answers smugly. You suck your teeth and pinch his thigh in retaliation. He inhales sharply and hums appreciatively as you do, and you release him with a startled sound, looking over at him in surprise.

“Pain slut.”

“That’s me, baby.” With another gratuitous nip at your skin, he suddenly pulls back from you, fingers pushing into you finally to provoke a choked gasp from you. Before you can ask what happened, Jeno’s whispering both of your names from his space in the living room, and you look to see him facing both of you.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom!” Jeno announces in a low hush, and you nod, reaching for the remote.

“Want me to pause it?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Nah, I’ll be right back.” He assures you. “Maybe turn it down though, because Jaemin fell asleep.” He jerks his chin towards the chair Jaemin is sitting in, the male’s head tucked to his shoulder with his eyes closed. You coo affectionately at your sleeping friend’s figure and nod at Jeno, turning the volume on the movie down as Jeno gets up, stretches, and heads to your bathroom.

The second you hear the bathroom door close, Haechan pulls you onto his lap with a groan, guiding you into straddling his lap facing him.

“Haechan!” You whisper frantically, and he hums in acknowledgement as his fingers push back into you painfully slowly. “Jeno could come back!”

“Then hurry up.” He chuckles.

“Jaemin could hear–”

“Then shut up.” He claps his hand over your mouth and you whine against his palm, half disappointed he didn’t just put his fingers into your mouth. “Tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” His tone is teasing as he curls his fingers inside of you and you let out a low moan, your head tipping forward onto Haechan’s shoulder.

Your attempt to speak is muffled into his hand and he chuckles, his hand leaving your mouth to grope your chest, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric.

“What was that?” He asks, turning his face into your neck and kissing along the skin.

“Please stop teasing,” You plead, and he makes a thoughtful sound before pulling out of you almost to his fingertips, flattening his palm against your core and grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. “Please?” You choke out, and he thrusts his fingers back into you quickly, finger fucking you thoroughly as you melt against him.

“Like that?” He grunts, and you nod vigorously, clutching his arm.

“Yeah, like that,” You moan, and he tsks disapprovingly.

“Better shut up before I stuff my fingers in your mouth.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, and Haechan lets out a surprised laugh, hand leaving your breast and tapping two fingers against your bottom lip. You readily take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and sucking, and he groans, teeth nipping at your neck appreciatively.

“Good girl,” He remarks, surprised, and you try to hide how you preen from his praise.

“Feels so good,” You whimper around his fingers, and he coos at you patronizingly, pressing his palm against your clit harder and relishing the way you grind against his hand.

“You’re so desperate,” Haechan snickers, and you whine, heat rushing to your cheeks as saliva drips down from around his fingers in your mouth. “Look at you—you’re drooling around my fingers, fucking my hand…all in front of Jaemin.”

“He’s sleeping!” You mumble defensively, and Haechan laughs mockingly.

“He could wake up,” He points out. “Or Jeno could come back. But you don’t care about that—”

“I do!”

“You just wanna cum all over my fingers like a needy little slut,” Haechan sneers, and you cry out weakly, a fresh string of drool dripping down your chin, some getting on his fingers. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” You whimper, rocking back and forth against his hand desperately. Haechan studies the glistening saliva on your chin and his fingers with a wild fascination in his eyes before he pulls his fingers from your mouth, much to your dismay. Before you can protest, he swipes his tongue up from your chin, collecting the drool, to your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it and catching your lips in a proper kiss. “So close,” You gasp against his lips, and he nods almost in a daze as he keeps fingering you, brows slowly furrowing from his determination to pleasure you.

It only takes a moment more of his fingers driving in and out of you to send you spiraling into a powerful climax, your body trembling under his ministrations as you choke out gasps and whimpers into his shoulder. Only when he’s sure you’ve ridden out your high to the very end does Haechan remove his fingers, raising an eyebrow in a sort of cruel fascination when your hips involuntarily chase after his hand.

“Still needy, yeah?” He exhales in amusement, and you can only frown at him, bottom lip bordering dangerously on a pout. As if to answer his question, you rock against his hips, breath catching in your throat when you feel his concealed length pressing against you. “Oh, can you feel that?” He asks almost lazily, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you move on top of him. When you nod, he grins, leaning forward with a challenge glinting in his eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Unfortunately for both of you, the sound of movement from behind you has you springing off his lap and resituating yourself beside Haechan just in time for Jaemin to rouse from his sleep, blinking sleepily.

“What’d I miss?” He yawns, and you laugh, thankful the darkness of the room shrouds your flustered expression.

“Not much,” You lie. “We can rewind it if you want.” When he nods, you pick up the remote and hit the rewind button, leaning over to Haechan when Jaemin’s gaze is once again focused on the screen. “I’m going to the bathroom. Meet me there a little bit after Jeno comes back.”

He grins at you, shooting you a wink as confirmation, and you stand up, trying to conceal the slight wobble in your stance and thankfully succeeding before heading to the bathroom.

On your way there, you run directly into Jeno who’s on his way back and you start apologizing before realizing that he doesn’t seem all that sorry. Before you can even wonder why, his hands are on your hips and he presses you up against the nearest wall, staring down at you with eyes alight with mischief.

“Hi, pretty.” He chuckles.

“Hi, Jeno,” You coo, smiling up at him invitingly.

You may have initially been on your way to meet Haechan, but something about the look in Jeno’s eyes has your stomach fluttering with excitement, and you practically launch yourself at Jeno when he leans in, the male letting out a surprised but pleased grunt as he presses up against you.

You and Jeno kiss heatedly, your hands eagerly grabbing and pulling at Jeno’s clothes to get him closer to you as the latter wastes no time slipping his hand into your shorts where he’s confronted with the arousal from your last climax with Haechan.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” He groans, and you whine into his mouth when his fingers toy with your clit, your free hand running through his hair and tugging messily to draw out a pleased grunt from the male in front of you. You clumsily push your hand into his sweats and gasp when you feel the sheer size of his length sitting hot and heavy in your hand, and Jeno chuckles. “Yeah, you like that?”

You can’t even bring yourself to respond fully as you only pant, “Yeah,” your mind still coasting off of the lust Haechan stirred up while you were supposed to be watching the movie. You rock your hips against his hand as he pushes two fingers into you and cry out weakly when his lips latch onto your neck, sucking, kissing, and biting. In your almost drunken haze, you notice that his mark is suspiciously near the one Haechan left you earlier, your eyes fluttering shut when his fingers curl and remind you of where your mind is supposed to be.

You wrap your fingers around his girth properly and start to stroke, pulling off and away from him to spit into your hand for lubrication and returning to him.

“That was so hot,” Jeno groans, an appreciative growl rumbling in his chest as he fucks into your hand. “Your hand feels much better than mine, pretty.”

“Feels so good, Jeno,” You whimper, and he nips at your neck a bit rougher than you anticipated, drawing a sharp whine from you that he muffles with his lips, capturing yours in a sudden, passionate kiss.

“Careful,” He teases, “Haechan and Jaemin are in the next room.” You cry out weakly at the reminder that you’re not alone, the sudden realization that Jeno is all over you and has two fingers inside of you less than twenty feet away from your other friends sends another wave of arousal through you and your jaw goes slack as his fingers curl inside of you. His long, slender digits fuck you diligently, leaving you gasping for relief and clenching desperately around his fingers.

“Jeno,” You mumble, still pumping his length quickly, and he groans against your skin, the sound raw and almost tortured, even. “I wanna come–” Your words are cut off by the sound of Jaemin laughing from the living room, making you flinch in surprise and, apparently, almost climax on the spot, your knees buckling as Jeno uses his free hand to nudge your shorts down to your knees, the clothing dropping to the floor and pooling around your ankles. “Fuck, right there, please, please, please—”

“Right here?” Jeno taunts, sending his fingers thrusting into your sweet spot before sucking in a ragged breath through gritted teeth. “Pretty girl, I’m close.”

“Me too,” You whimper, powering through the ache in your wrist as you squeeze Jeno’s length with every upward tug, relishing the groans he muffles into your shoulder.

“Let me finish inside of you,” He pants, and you falter in your movements, shooting him a bewildered glance. “There’s—fuck—so much I wanna do to you,” He grunts, “but first I gotta cum somewhere.”

You realize he has a point; he can’t just finish into your hand and leave you with a messy cleanup, and you’re not fully in the mood to get on your knees and swallow it, so you might as well just let him—

“Baby,” He groans urgently, and you snap out of your thinking spiral to focus your hazy mind on his words. “Come on; just the tip, pretty? No more than that.” He promises, and you nibble your bottom lip thoughtfully before nodding and spreading your legs a bit wider. He sighs in relief and hikes one of your legs up so your knee is level with his hip and you guide him between your legs, the feeling of the blunt head of his length filling you with excitement as it presses against your entrance. He removes his fingers from inside of you, bringing them to your clit to rub quick, determined circles, and pushes into you slowly with a careful rock of his hips, keeping his promise of no further than the tip as he nestles it between your folds and hisses in ecstasy when your walls flex around him. “So good for me, baby. So, so good, feels so tight, fuck—” Jeno’s practically babbling at this point, losing himself in the feeling of your hand stroking him as his tip is buried inside of your slick walls, and his head falls forward to rest against the wall beside you, the male emitting a low groan before mumbling, “I can’t—‘m sorry, I can’t—”

“Jeno?” You gasp in a panic as you feel him pushing into you further. “Fuck, Jeno—”

“Just a little bit more,” He rasps, and you cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, whines of alarm increasing as your walls clench around him tightly and he pushes in more.

“Jeno, you’re too big,” You panic, pushing at his abdomen to halt his movements, but you both know that he’s stronger than you and you’re ultimately just resting your hand on his stomach in defeat before your nails dig into his skin as he pushes in even more, the overwhelmingly full sensation making you feel dizzy.

“You can take it, right, baby?” He grunts, and your breath comes in short little bursts as he bottoms out in you entirely, your head spinning as you lean back to rest against the wall. “That’s my good girl,” He purrs, his length twitching as he rocks his hips against yours in slight movements.

“Jeno—” You moan urgently, and he groans under his breath as his movements stutter and he releases inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut as he shoots his cum deep inside of you even as you’re still adjusting to his size.

“You did so good,” He praises, cupping your cheek and kissing you. “So fucking good.”

“You said just the tip,” You huff, and he hums sympathetically, kissing you a couple more times.

“I know, but you felt so good,” He admits. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay, my turn,” You plead impatiently. “You owe me after that.”

Jeno grins and nods in acknowledgement, carefully pulling out of you and, to your surprise, pushing his fingers back into you. Ignoring your gasp, Jeno diligently finger-fucks his cum back into you, the pads of his fingers finding your sweet spot again with ease as he bites down on your neck and sucks hard. “Oh, my God–Jeno, I’m–” You stammer, and he shushes you sweetly, lapping his tongue over the bite mark left where your shoulder and neck meet.

“I know, pretty,” He assures you. “Come for me, it’s okay.” With that, you fall apart, a desperate cry of relief just barely making it past your lips as your climax hits you, shudders coursing through your body as you curl in on yourself, Jeno wincing as your hand tightens around his arm almost painfully.

“Sorry,” You whisper, loosening your grip on his bicep, and he shushes you again, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth in a sweet almost-kiss.

“It’s okay,” He assures you, gingerly pulling his fingers out of you, and you release him fully with another murmured apology. “Good?”

“Wonderful,” You reply in a daze, blinking up at him slowly. “How about you?”

“Perfect,” He answers, eyes crinkling as he smiles down at you.

“You, uh, go ahead and watch the movie; I’m gonna take care of…” You mumble, gesturing between your legs. As if on cue, a small gush of your mixed releases drips down your leg and you cringe at the sensation, only catching Jeno’s wild-eyed expression at the last minute as he watches it descend down your thigh. “Jeno?”

“I’m gonna go before I decide to fuck you right up against this wall.” He says, eyes still trained on your bare legs and the space between them. You let out a small yelp of surprise and his gaze darkens, his tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip.

“Jeno?” You call tentatively, and he blinks once, twice, and a third time before looking up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Movie.”

“Right…right.” He mutters, tearing his gaze away from your bare core and turning on his heel to head back into the living room. You pull up your shorts and underwear most of the way, not wanting to come into contact with the now cold seat of your underwear, and wait until Jeno rounds the corner and is out of eyesight to make your way to the bathroom.

After tidying yourself up, you decide to forego the underwear, not wanting to wear cold, slick clothing for the rest of the night. Balling them up in your fist, you head out of the bathroom and towards your room to change into a new pair, barely stifling your shriek of alarm when you bump directly into Jaemin’s chest.

“Sorry, Jaem,” You laugh breathlessly, looking up at the male, and your mouth dries. Jaemin, to put it bluntly, looks like he’s onto you. His brows are raised and his face is the epitome of if you tossed skepticism, amusement, and being entirely unimpressed into a blender and pressed the start button.

“Wh…what’s that look for?” You ask nervously, and Jaemin’s lip quirks up into a smug smile, a devilish little grin that silently sings, “I know something you don’t know.”

“Don’t act innocent when we both know what you were doing less than ten minutes ago.” He scolds you in that patronizing tone that’s so uniquely Jaemin, and you blanch, your fist tightening around your soiled undergarment.

“What do you mean?” The words don’t even sound right coming out of your mouth, and you wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

His lips stretch into a Cheshire cat-like grin as he leans in, closing the gap between your faces as he studies you with an unnerving steadiness.

“‘Just the tip, pretty,’” He mocks Jeno’s voice, and if there was any hope of you making it out of this encounter unscathed, you just kissed it goodbye.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” You mumble, your face feeling simultaneously drained of all color and blazing with heat.

“But I did.” Jaemin lilts, reaching up to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger. Normally, the gesture would feel fond, affectionate even, but the look in Jaemin’s eyes has you feeling more like a mouse being batted around by a cat before it goes in for the kill. He tugs unexpectedly on your hair and your hand flies up to stop him a moment too soon, your eyes widening when Jaemin’s other hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, holding your balled up fist (and underwear) up in plain sight. “What do we have here?” He murmurs curiously, eyes alight with a cruel, mocking glee.

“Jaemin, please let it go—”

“No underwear?” Jaemin lets out a fake scandalized gasp, the picture of horror before he’s tugging your wrist, bringing you lurching forward and crashing, yet again, into his firm chest. “Oh, you’re such a tease.”

“Jaemin, I’m not—” You whine, but you can’t even deny that Jaemin’s undivided attention on you like this has heat flooding between your legs and you suddenly wish you’d worn the underwear as an extra layer of defense against the arousal you know is about to start leaking out of you.

“First, you snuck off to play with Haechan before we got here—as if no one would notice,” Jaemin looks up thoughtfully, holding up his free hand to count on his fingers. “Then you and Jeno snuck off and hooked up in the bathroom. Then you fooled around with Haechan again—yeah, I wasn’t asleep on the couch,” Jaemin reveals when you splutter in surprise. “Then you went off with Jeno another time, and now you’re standing in front of me, all pretty and nervous and tempting with no fucking underwear on…and nothing for Nana? Hm?”

When you don’t answer, simply at a loss for words, Jaemin sucks his teeth in disapproval and tugs you after him to lead you to your room next door, shutting the door behind you both and pushing you up against it, ignoring your gasp when your back hits the wall.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry,” You try to say, but Jaemin silences you with a stern look, leaving you feeling small under his gaze. After a moment of tense silence, he sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Stop looking at me all wide-eyed and helpless like that,” He huffs, watching you with dark eyes. “It’s making me hard.” His words go straight to your head, making you blink up at him in shock, and he rolls his eyes, moving closer to you, and pushes his leg between yours, brows shooting up in intrigue when a pathetic little moan escapes you. “What a pretty little sound,” Jaemin muses, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. “I think I’ll do that again.”

“Jaemin–” You try to reason with him again, but he shushes you, shifting his attention back to his fingers wrapped around your wrist, your underwear still balled up in your fist. He looks down at you with a sadistically intrigued expression and reaches to pull the fabric from your fist, raising an eyebrow when you yelp and clutch it tighter.

“Open your hand.” He says slowly, and you shake your head vehemently. “Fine.” He smiles sweetly down at you before pressing his thigh against your clothed core, smirking when you visibly struggle not to grind down on it. “Why are you fighting it, hm?” He murmurs curiously, cocking his head to the side. “Just give in,” Jaemin purrs, tensing his leg under you, and you mewl weakly as you roll your hips against his thigh, body slackening in relief.

“No!” You cry out when Jaemin takes advantage of your relaxed grip and pulls the underwear from your hand, immediately averting your eyes in shame. As if to rub in his victory more, he moves his leg between your thighs so you’re rocking back and forth against him, a wide smug grin overtaking his lips.

“I never imagined you were this sensitive, but I love it.” He murmurs, stopping his movements and studying your underwear, turning the garment this way and that. “God, these are soaked; you’re just a little mess, aren’t you?”

“Jaemin, please–” You mumble, and he blinks down at you impassively.

“Pretty girl, you don’t like this?” He taunts in a sickeningly sweet voice, and you whine, shaking your head insistently, your cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he continues, “If you don’t like my teasing…then why are you making all those cute little noises?” You, true to his word, cry out weakly and rock your hips against him desperately. “Mm, that’s what I thought.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s bringing your underwear to his face, clutching the fabric to his nose and breathing in deeply, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. Completely caught off-guard, you gasp, and his low groan evokes an overwhelmed whimper from you.

“…Jaemin?” You try again, your voice small and needy, and he slowly opens his eyes again, his gaze now considerably darker and more intense than it was moments ago.

“Your eyes are already telling me yes,” He muses, tilting your head up by your chin and staring you down. “I can see your body agrees,” Jaemin continues, trailing his hand down your front and tweaking your hardened nipple gently, grinning when you squeal and push your chest further into his hand. “Now I just want to hear that pretty mouth tell me how much you want it.”

“Want it so bad, Jaemin,” You say immediately, stumbling slightly over your words as you look up at him hopefully. “Please do something—more—anything.”

“Aw, you sound so sweet when you beg.” He coos, tugging at your other nipple playfully before pinching it, the sensation a bit too overwhelming and drawing forth a sharp hiss from your lips. “Did you suck either of them off?” Jaemin asks, and you shake your head, your mouth already starting to water at the prospect of his length in your mouth. “On your knees.” He pushes down on your shoulder gently, and you oblige, sinking to your knees readily and blinking up at him expectantly, awaiting further instructions. “God, I knew you could be good for me,” He praises you, and you smile, flattered. He wastes no time tugging his sweats down to reveal his length, your eyes widening slightly as you take the sight of him in. A quick glance up at Jaemin grants you the sight of his crooked grin as he studies you while you study him, and you look back down to his length, swallowing thickly as you watch his fist pump himself up and down, lazily tugging at his length. “This what you want?” He asks, and you nod. “Words.”

“Yes,” You answer in a hushed murmur.

“Mm, yeah? Want Nana’s cock in that pretty little mouth?” He’s most certainly teasing you, but you don’t even have it in you to be ashamed or indignant, your only thoughts centering around his length and the way precum seeps from his slit as he strokes himself.

“Yes, please,” You reply, squeezing your thighs together for some friction, and he hums in an impressed surprise.

“Please? How could I say no when you use your manners like that?” He murmurs fondly, stroking your hair as he guides himself to your lips. “Open,” He says softly, and you oblige. “Tongue out.” He orders, and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, blinking up at him with wide eyes. “Such a pretty fucking sight,” Jaemin groans, tapping the head of his cock against your tongue; his cock is hot and heavy and you can taste the stray drops of precum sliding down the underside of his length. “Go ahead, pretty.” He urges, and you don’t need to be told twice; you sit forward eagerly and replace Jaemin’s hand around his length with yours, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

When Jaemin hisses and lets his head tip back, you swirl your tongue around his length, lapping at his slit and flicking your tongue against where the underside of his tip meets his shaft, practically purring with satisfaction when he strokes your hair fondly. You start to bob your head up and down, your tongue dragging along the underside of his cock with every movement, and you work your hand over whatever isn’t in your mouth, eyes on Jaemin to drink up his every reaction. You two are engrossed in the feeling of each other, so much so that when Haechan opens the bedroom door, you jolt so suddenly and violently that it’s a miracle you don’t bite down on Jaemin.

“Well, well, well,” Haechan drawls, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. You pull off of Jaemin, the action resulting in a loud, wet pop that has heat blazing in your cheeks, and Jaemin stares at Haechan, entirely unbothered. “What do we have here?”

“She was just making up for playing with both of you and not me,” Jaemin hums, still stroking your hair; something about the action is different now, though, more possessive than it was before, and you can’t say the shift in the gesture doesn’t thrill you a bit, your thighs squeezing together of their own accord.

“Not our fault you were too slow to do something about it.” Haechan counters, and Jaemin narrows his eyes.

“Yeah, well, now if you want her to suck you off, you’re either gonna have to wait until I’m done or come join me.”

“Damn, who died and made you the orgy boss?” Haechan grouches, striding closer to you two nonetheless and pushing his sweats down to free his length. You take a break from warming Jaemin’s cock in your mouth to lick up Haechan’s cock and suck on the tip, wiggling your tongue in the slit to elicit a loud swear from Haechan, whose hand flies to the back of your head. “God, what a good little mouth you have,” Haechan praises you, albeit a bit condescendingly, and you hum, content, before Jaemin guides you away from Haechan and back to him. You let your tongue loll out and Jaemin rubs the underside of his cock against it before pushing himself into your mouth with a groan. You wrap your hand around the base of Haechan’s cock and pump slowly to keep him occupied while your mouth is busy, and Haechan exhales loudly through his nose, swearing under his breath.

When you pull off Jaemin and kiss down to his balls, licking and sucking them, Haechan growls enviously and pulls at your hair to get you away from Jaemin and back to him. After a moment of mouthing at Jaemin’s balls and stroking him with your hand, you pull away and look up at Haechan with expectant eyes.

“Come get your pretty face fucked.” He urges, and you drop your jaw and let Haechan guide his length past your lips before he’s thrusting into your mouth with poorly concealed grunts and groans, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

All you can do as he fucks your mouth is whimper and stroke Jaemin’s length more urgently, your now free hand moving between your legs to rub at your clit desperately. Haechan pulls out and taps his cock lazily against both of your cheeks before murmuring, “I think you like getting your mouth fucked.” When you nod, he tsks in disapproval. “Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” You rasp, your voice hoarse.

“Mm, tell me you love it.” He taunts, and you clear your throat in an attempt to regain some of your voice back.

“I love it,” You echo obediently, your voice still raspy, and Jaemin and Haechan coo at you fondly.

“What a good girl,” Haechan praises.

“Love how she sounds after getting her throat fucked.” Jaemin admires, stroking your cheek, and you preen under the praise before switching over to Jaemin to let him fuck your throat next.

This time, when it’s Jeno who comes in, it comes as less of a shock to you, possibly due to how incredibly occupied your mouth is with two demanding cocks before you.

“Jeno, if you want a blowjob, you’re gonna have to wait,” Haechan grunts, and Jeno waves him off dismissively, moving to kneel behind you and pull your hips back so you’re bent at a bit of an angle, your head closer to Jaemin and Haechan and your ass closer to Jeno. Two large hands pull your shorts down, and Jeno hisses when he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear.

“God, you’re so fucking tempting.” He mutters, and the rustling behind you sends a thrill of excitement down your spine which only doubles when Jeno presses himself against your entrance. He busies himself with coating his length in your arousal, ignoring your whines and the impatient pushing back of your hips into him.

It’s not until you pull off of Jaemin and turn your head back towards Jeno and hoarsely plead, “Jeno, please,” that he obliges, pushing himself into you slowly. He kneads your asscheeks with heavy hands as he slowly buries himself in you, and your head falls forward onto Haechan as you pant from the overwhelming sensation.

“Look at her,” Haechan coos, tilting your chin up to see you better and show you off to Jaemin. “So relieved to take cock that she’s drooling.”

“You’re making a mess.” Jaemin points out patronizingly, swiping at the saliva dripping down your chin and regarding it briefly before slowly smearing it over your lips, the subtle yet demeaning gesture sending a wave of arousal through you and making you clench around Jeno.

“Fuck, her pussy just got so tight,” Jeno grunts through gritted teeth, and you let out a weak sob, pressing your hips back onto Jeno while your mind attempts to steady itself once more.

“So big,” You cry out, and Jeno shushes you soothingly, caressing your sides as he starts to rock into you with slow, purposeful thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” He murmurs soothingly, “I know it’s a lot, but look how good you take it.” His praise shoots straight to your head and you find yourself clenching around him again, much to his delight. Bless his patience, because he keeps the same pace for an unbearingly long time to help you adjust to his size, but you desperately need him to go faster.

You’re about to beg for him to speed up, preparing to pull off of Haechan’s length, when Haechan pushes your head down so his cock is sheathed in your throat. Your only breaths come in the short inhales you can manage through your nose and your whining gets increasingly more desperate as Haechan holds you down until you’re clawing at his thighs, adorning the tan skin with angry red streaks and finally earning yourself release.

“Faster,” You gasp when you finally pull off of Haechan, pausing only to glare sharply at the male above you. “Jeno, go faster.”

“Thank fucking God,” He groans before pulling out of you almost to the tip and slamming his hips into you, quickly building up a pace that has involuntary breathless, whiny moans leaving you with every thrust.

“Hae—chan,” You manage to get out, and he looks down at you curiously. “Fuck—you,” You finish before taking Jaemin into your mouth after he taps on your cheek impatiently with the head of his cock.

“Sorry, pretty girl,” He says with a remorseless smile. “Your mouth is just too good.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Jaemin warns you through gritted teeth, and you nod as well as you can, your hands speeding up on both his and Haechan’s cocks, and Jaemin tips his head back with a groan as he releases into your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m next,” Haechan grunts, and you whimper before switching to take him into your mouth, Jaemin’s cum still on your tongue, and Haechan climaxes, his release mingling with Jaemin’s in your mouth.

“Swallow.” Jaemin urges. “All of it.” You readily oblige and he smiles proudly at you, stroking your chin with his thumb. “Open your mouth for me, baby.” He murmurs, and you do, sticking out your tongue as proof you’ve done as he asked.

“God, that’s so fucking hot.” Haechan groans, dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling you into a heated kiss as Jaemin catches his breath. With Jeno pounding away behind you, you’re more than a little distracted, and Haechan pulls away after sucking on your tongue to shake your head abruptly by the chin to get your attention. “Kiss me like you mean it.” You whine into his mouth when he recaptures your lips in his, now attempting to focus some of your attention on Haechan’s tongue exploring your mouth as he flicks and swirls, eagerly tasting himself and Jaemin on your tongue.

After a moment, Haechan has mercy on you, allowing you to go slack-jawed while he presses kisses to your lips as Jeno fucks you stupid from behind. The sounds of his grunts and your breathy moans fill the room, and Haechan chuckles.

“Jeno’s fucking you so good, isn’t he?” He murmurs sweetly, and you nod, your eyes stinging as tears threaten to spill forth.

“Uh-huh,” You moan, and Haechan coos fondly.

“You just love taking cock, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh–”

“Just our pretty little fucktoy, aren’t you?”

“Mm—uh-huh,” You cry, and Haechan snickers.

“Is that all you can say?”

“Uh-huh,” You gasp, and Haechan pouts at you mockingly.

“Our dumb little fucktoy doesn’t even know how to speak anymore,” He taunts, forcing you to make eye contact by pinching your chin and angling your face towards his. “Isn’t that right?”

“Uh—fuck—uh-huh,” You wail, and the tears finally do spill, streaming down your cheeks freely. Haechan kisses down the tear tracks before connecting your lips in another kiss, his lips wet and salty from the evidence of your crying.

“God, what is it about seeing tears stream down those pretty cheeks that makes me so hard?” He groans, his hand finding his cock and starting to tug at it slowly. You watch in a dazed sort of amazement as he strokes himself back into action before your eyes scrunch shut as your climax approaches.

“Jeno, please, I’m gonna–” You beg, and Jeno lets out a little grunt of “Yeah?” that has your mind swirling deliriously and you topple over the edge, your walls pulsating around his length as you whimper and sniffle Jeno’s name repeatedly. Jeno’s not far behind, soon slowing his thrusts down as he starts to release into you, only stopping and pulling out when you shudder and swipe behind you weakly. His cum’s just barely started dripping out of you when Haechan kisses your cheek to get your attention.

When your dazed, glassy eyes manage to focus on his face, Haechan smiles warmly. “On the bed.” He urges you. “I want you to ride me.”

Your muscles all but give out at the notion, but you push through it, clambering gracelessly onto your bed and into Haechan’s waiting lap. Haechan carefully moves all the hair away from your face and cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss as he licks at your bottom lip.

“So pretty,” Haechan purrs against your mouth, and you whimper as he lifts your hips and guides his cock to your entrance, both of you holding your breath as he pushes the thick head of his cock into you. “God, still so fucking tight.” He groans, slowly guiding you down onto his length until he’s bottomed out in you.

“Haechan,” You plead, and he just chuckles, smacking your ass playfully and leaning back against your headboard as he raises his brows expectantly. You lift yourself up slowly before starting to bounce on his cock, involuntary shudders escaping you at the sensation of his length filling you at a new angle.

“Yeah, that’s it,” He grunts, lifting your shirt and kissing down to your chest. He reaches up and presses between your shoulder blades to push your breasts in his face, and he promptly buries his face in your cleavage with a groan, kissing, sucking, and licking. His ministrations on your chest and the feeling of his length moving inside of you overwhelm your senses so much that you don’t notice Haechan sneakily moving your bra out of the way until his lips are wrapped around your nipple, and a sudden moan escapes you at the added sensation.

Despite the burning ache building in your thighs, you rock down on him with every downward motion, grinding on him as you ride him, and his eyes roll back into his head before he refocuses his gaze on you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust and desire.

“Could watch you ride me all day.” Haechan coos from around your nipple before moving to suck at the other one, tugging on the now neglected bud while his tongue swirls around the nipple in his mouth, shifting his gaze up to yours as he flicks your nipple with his tongue in up-and-down movements that have your jaw slackening, desire consuming you as you watch him.

“Does it feel good, pretty girl?” Jaemin asks from beside Haechan, and you blink twice in surprise as your gaze shifts to him, having momentarily forgotten where he went.

“Mhm,” You whine pathetically, and he grins, slowly pumping his cock with his fist.

“Haechan, hurry up, I want her next.” Jaemin hisses through clenched teeth, and you blanch, realizing that you’re far from done.

“Tongue out,” Haechan urges you, snapping you out of your daze, and you oblige, letting your tongue hang out of your mouth, and Haechan moves his hand to play with your clit, grinning mischievously when you attempt to move away from his touch. “Take it.” He grunts, thumb following your every movement and massaging your clit relentlessly even as you whine and sniffle. “Oh, baby,” Haechan coos sympathetically, gaining your attention again. “You’re drooling everywhere.”

When you move to wipe it, Haechan catches your wrist and brings it back to your joined laps, instead leaning forward and lapping up the saliva that’s dripping down your chin and neck. As he nears your lips, you bring your tongue back into your mouth, jolting when Haechan swats at your ass warningly.

“Keep that tongue out.” He murmurs, and you stick it out again, an open-mouthed whimper escaping you when Haechan flicks at your tongue with his before sucking on it.

“Haechan, I’m close,” You warn him in a shaky voice, and he nods, moving his hips under you to meet your movements.

“Me too, pretty girl.” He assures you, and your head drops forward to rest on his shoulder as your climax hits and a series of whiny, breathy moans spill from you. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He moans, his head falling back onto your headboard as he releases inside of you. “What a mess,” Haechan chuckles, and at first you think he’s talking about you, but when his hand slips between your legs to pull out and feel your almost impossibly slick folds, he groans and pulls his now glistening fingers back, regarding them curiously.

“Haechan?” You mumble, confused, and he flicks his gaze up to your face before he smiles devilishly and shuffles down the bed so he can lie down on his back.

“Come on,” Jaemin groans, his head thumping back onto the pillow, and Haechan just shoots him an unbothered look.

“Come here,” Haechan grunts, pulling your hips towards his face, and you shuffle up as slowly as possible, trying to buy yourself time to recover from your climax. Haechan, however, is having none of it, and shuffles down even more to meet you where you’re at, thumbs eagerly spreading your folds apart and inspecting your core as heat blazes in your cheeks.

“God, what a pretty little pussy you have.” Haechan admires you loudly.

“Tastes good, too.” Jeno adds on, shooting you a wink, and Haechan chuckles.

“Oh, yeah? Guess I get to see for myself.” He mutters under his breath before removing his thumbs from your core and leaning up to press a kiss to your pussy lips, groaning and repeating the action again and again for a longer time each kiss before his tongue parts your lips and swipes up your pussy from your entrance to the underside of your clit. An abrupt whine escapes you and your thighs give out slightly, dropping you further down onto his mouth. His hands reach up to grab your thighs, urging you all the way down on his face, while he laps at your overly sensitive clit with no regard for how sensitive you are, only chuckling when you can only choke out moans with teary eyes.

Alternating between sucking and lapping at your clit and folds, Haechan groans in ecstasy as he pulls you down harder onto his face, guiding your hips to rock back and forth on his tongue. “Fuck, Jeno, you weren’t kidding,” Haechan pants when he takes a moment to breathe before returning to his task. “Tastes so fuckin’ good,” He mumbles, eyes wild in their hungry gaze up at you, and his mouth seals around your clit without any further words. You rock your hips against his tongue as quickly as you can, your hips bucking as it’s all somehow too much and yet not enough. The salvation you were looking for comes when Haechan stiffens his tongue to a point and breaches your entrance, flicking inside of you.

“Oh, my God,” You cry, your body moving of its own accord as you start to bounce up and down slightly, helping Haechan tongue-fuck you. “Oh, fuck, Haechan—just like that—”

He pulls his tongue out for a moment, a disappointed whimper slipping from your lips, before urging you, “Beg for it.” He stares up at you with intense eyes alight with challenge, and you can practically feel the fight leaving your body.

“Please!” You give in immediately, and Haechan’s brows fly up, almost disappearing into his hairline, as you continue to beg. “Haechan, please make me cum, please, please, please–”

“Fuck, baby,” He groans, his arms tightening around your thighs almost painfully as he holds you to his mouth, mumbling in an almost delirious state, “Anything you want, fuck, I’ll give you everything.” His tongue slips into you again and his nose rubs against your clit, making tears of relief streak down your face as the pleasure consumes you and your climax gets deliciously close.

“Don’t stop–” You pant, your last word cutting off as you hit your peak and your eyes force themselves shut, bliss overtaking your body in warm waves while your abdomen tenses and you curl in on yourself.

When you reopen your eyes, Jeno’s situated himself beside Haechan, watching you intently as he strokes himself slowly, and you lean forward to take Jeno’s length into your mouth, the taste of yourself still faintly on him as you bob your head up and down his length at a pace slightly faster than the leisurely pace he’d set for himself just a moment ago.

As you lean forward, you lift your hips off of Haechan, only to be yanked back down by the male beneath you, who says, “Get back down here; I’m not done with you yet,” before he promptly buries his face in your core once more.

Pushing two fingers into you, Haechan hooks his fingers into your g-spot and starts to finger-fuck you diligently, his tongue rolling over and lapping at your clit even as you whine around Jeno’s length and attempt to squirm away.

When your eyes squeeze shut, tears forcing their way through the minuscule space, Jeno cups your cheek, making you open your eyes to look at him.

“Keep your eyes open, baby; look at me.” Jeno urges gently, smiling when you oblige and resume bobbing your head up and down his length. When you push through the discomfort and the ache in your jaw to take his length all the way in your mouth and swallow around his cock, Jeno hisses appreciatively, stroking your hair. “That’s good, baby, that’s so good; keep on doing that.” You hum happily, dizzy with all the praise and pleasure, and Jeno’s hips buck upwards into your mouth, making you choke briefly around him, and that’s all it takes for Jeno to lose it, the male shuddering as he releases down your throat. You swallow without dwelling on the taste and look up at Jeno who looks like he would have hearts in his eyes if you were all in a cartoon.

Haechan, not one to be ignored, presses the pad of his thumb into your clit roughly to regain your attention and you let out a sudden cry, returning your attention to him.

“Haechan, that’s sensitive!”

“Mm, too bad.” He mumbles, losing himself in the taste of you once more. “You said ‘Don’t stop,’ so I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

“That’s not what I meant—oh, shit, I’m gonna–” You gasp, and he sucks and licks determinedly at your clit, lapping his wide, thick tongue over the sensitive fleshy button over and over until you’re climaxing with a loud cry of Haechan’s name, your body trembling as you attempt to keep holding yourself up.

“That’s it,” Haechan mumbles, lost in his desires. When you attempt for a second time to get up, he practically snatches you down, nuzzling his nose between your folds to bump against your clit and make you jolt. “I could do this for hours.”

“Please don’t,” You beg, and Jaemin gestures for you to come to him where he lies beside Haechan, his cock hard against his stomach. You blanch at the realization that they expect you to come again, but there’s no time for dwelling on that, as Jaemin takes your hand and pulls you away from Haechan.

“Stop hogging her; you had your turn!” Jaemin grouches, gingerly lying you down on the bed and hovering on top of you. He kisses you slowly, gently nudging your legs apart to lie between them. He smiles against your lips when you moan softly, arching your back and pushing your chest into his. “Yeah? Is that where you want me?” He teases lightly, trailing wet kisses down your neck to your chest, pushing your shirt up over your chest again and leaning in so he can latch his lips onto your nipple, sucking and licking the bud as your eyelids flutter. “Mm, you’re so cute,” He mumbles fondly around your breast, sponging wet kisses from your left breast to your right, where he repeats his ministrations. In a daze from the sudden gentle treatment, you only manage to whimper quietly when he nudges your legs further apart.

“You’re being so nice to me,” You say tiredly through a smile, and Jaemin looks up at you with an amused grin from where he’s watching the head of his cock move along your folds, the tip glistening with a mix of your arousal, Haechan’s saliva, and Jeno’s and Haechan’s cum.

“Of course I am,” He replies simply, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips before you feel his cock pushing past your entrance. “Gotta treat the pretty girl like a princess before I fuck her like a doll, right?”

“Oh, shit,” You mutter, and he chuckles darkly before pushing himself all the way inside of you, groaning at the sensation of your walls wrapped tight around him.

“So fucking wet, fuck—I could slip right out,” He taunts, and all you can do is sniffle as he pulls out and snaps his hips back into yours. You ignore the screaming ache of your muscles as you wrap your legs around him, and he snickers derisively, looking down at you. “You don’t want that, do you, pretty baby?”

“No—” You start, but Jaemin covers your mouth with his hand, your lips pressed to his palm as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“No, you don’t,” Jaemin coos. “You want me nice and deep in this pretty pussy, huh?” When you let out a muffled cry and nod, he kisses your cheek sweetly as he drives his hips into you. “You really do have such a pretty pussy, baby; can’t believe you let those two dolts play with it before me.” You turn to look at the other two males, but Jaemin stops you by clamping his hand down harder on your mouth and using his grip to keep your head in place. “Ah, ah, ah—focus on me. They’re not here right now. It’s just you and me right now, and I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

“Jaemin–” You keen into his hand, canting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, and he coos patronizingly at you, moving his hand away from your mouth and returning his attention to thrusting inside of you.

“Gonna fuck this greedy pussy so full of cum,” He groans, gripping your hips with an almost bruising tightness, and you stutter out a gasp, making Jaemin look down at you with a grin. “That’s what you are, right? Greedy?”

“Y-Yes,” You pant, and he smirks.

“Say it.”

“I’m greedy,” You all but wail as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

“That’s right, pretty girl. You’re greedy, and this greedy little pussy just loves being full of cock, doesn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, it does!” You reply in a desperate attempt to make him have mercy on you. “Jaemin, I think I’m close–”

“Oh, yeah? What should you say when I let you cum?” He presses, and you sob, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you try to wrack your empty brain for the answer.

“Th-Thank you?” You try, and could just faint with relief when he shoots you a pleased grin.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaemin confirms proudly, and, as if rewarding you, reaches between you two to massage tight circles into your clit. “You gonna cream my cock? Two guys weren’t enough? You just needed three loads crammed in this tight fucking pussy, huh? It’s okay, princess; Nana’s got a nice, big load for you.” Jaemin grunts, his words punctuated with his thrusts, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, your cries of pleasure only getting louder and more desperate as your climax approaches.

“Fill me, Jaemin,” You beg breathlessly, nails clawing at his back as your peak hits and your eyes slide shut in ecstasy, practically sobbing, “Thank you,” as your vision gets spotty. He hisses in a mix of pain and pleasure and speeds up to an almost brutal pace before letting out a loud moan and burying himself in you entirely, pumping his release into you. He stays inside of you for a couple moments longer, his length twitching as your walls clench and flex around him, before slowly pulling out of you and sitting back to watch as his cum slowly drips from your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” He pants, and you can’t even bring yourself to respond yet, your chest still heaving from your own climax. He collapses on top of you unceremoniously, sending an “Oof!” whooshing out of your lungs before chuckling out an apology and wiggling himself between you and Haechan, much to the latter’s dismay.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” You say with a surprised laugh, and Haechan stops glaring at Jaemin to shrug, sporting a mischievous little grin.

“I figure it was just a matter of time.” He muses, and Jeno mutters something that sounds like an agreement, shuffling closer to you and pressing his face between your neck and shoulder. Jaemin mirrors Jeno’s actions on your other side, slinging his arm over you and pulling you closer to him. When Haechan starts to protest, Jaemin shushes him abruptly.

“You got to hook up with her three times; you can handle not lying next to her.”

“But-”

“You can cuddle Jeno.” Jaemin finishes, and, on cue, Jeno lifts his arm up to accept Haechan’s attempt to hold him. Haechan huffs and puffs and moans and groans but ultimately climbs over you, Jaemin, and Jeno (ignoring everyone’s protests) and settles in beside Jeno, snuggling up to the larger male with a small sigh.

“Not like I wanted to cuddle her or anything,” Haechan mutters bitterly from beside Jeno, and you tut sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Haechan,” You say sincerely, reaching over Jaemin somewhat awkwardly and finding Haechan’s hand to squeeze it gently. He squeezes back and laces his fingers with yours, giving you the impression that he’s not letting go anytime soon. “You guys do know we have to be dressed and not-suspicious by tomorrow morning, right? Mark and Chaewon are gonna be riding in probably by the afternoon, and they don’t need to know what happened here.” You sit up slightly to inform them, but Haechan groans in protest and pulls you back down, pressing his lips to your hand to dot lazy kisses along the skin.

“We know, just—let us relax for a bit?” Jeno muffles his response against your collarbone, his fingers tentatively lacing through the fingers on your free hand.

“Okay…” You mumble skeptically.

“Don’t worry, pretty,” Jaemin pipes up, accompanying his words with a reassuring squeeze of your hip. “What happened here will be our little secret.”

“Thanks,” You exhale in relief, and they all mumble variations of “you’re welcome” before your eyelids start to droop and you settle into your spot to drift off to sleep.

༄ i hope you enjoyed!! please leave feedback if you did!!

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#haechan smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #nct smut #lee haechan smut #lee jeno smut #na jaemin smut

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