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aleksatia · 3 months ago

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10 Ways You Ruin His Day (and 10 Ways You Ruin His Self-Control)

I originally made this list as character notes for future stories — I love digging deep into their dynamics and really breaking them down. But honestly? I couldn’t not share. Would love to hear your thoughts too: what do you think drives them absolutely mad, and what turns them into helpless fluff puddles? 🖤

🍎 Top 10 Things That Make Caleb Absolutely, Irrevocably Mad

1 He doesn’t know where you are Even when it makes sense. Even when you’re safe. Even when he’s on the far side of a tunnel with no signal and too much time to think. The silence eats at him, turns every breath into a countdown. By the time he’s back, no one on the base dares talk to him until you’re in his line of sight again.

2 You come home with a bouquet of flowers from another man It’s not jealousy, really. It’s… fury dressed in olive green. You’re standing there, smiling, saying some poor man gave you flowers because you saved his life. Great. Fantastic. Caleb’s thrilled that his girlfriend is both competent and accidentally irresistible. But now he has to pretend this isn’t bothering him while mentally comparing the man's face to strategic punching surfaces.

3 You climb on unstable furniture to reach something You know, nothing fancy—just a stack of books on top of a chair that’s on top of a bench. And you? Balancing like a gremlin in fuzzy socks. He walks in and suddenly the war flashbacks begin. You think it’s funny. He thinks it’s a workplace hazard, and you are the HR violation.

4 You rearrange his model planes He adores you. Worships the ground you walk on. Would throw himself in front of an oncoming dropship for you. But if you dust his shelf and dare to reorder his starfighters and aircrafts by vibes instead of model number? He's already rewriting his will. In blood.

5 You do something reckless and then smile about it You say “relax, I had a plan.” He hears: “I almost died, and I’d do it again, because I’m cute and unstoppable.” That smile? That grin you give when you know exactly what you did and you’re proud of it? That’s why he needs stress meds. And maybe a punching bag with your face on it. (Lovingly.)

6 You casually mention the girl he used to date You say it with a smirk, like it’s just some harmless teenage memory. But he doesn’t see her—he sees you. You, standing in the doorway that day. You, catching him with her, both of them half-undressed. And you looking at him like something cracked between you. Back then, you were off-limits. You were the girl he wasn’t allowed to want. So he wanted someone else. Easier. Safer. And now, years later, you bring it up like it’s nothing—while he’s still trying not to remember how badly he wished it had been you.

7 You weren’t his first kiss—but worse, he wasn’t yours It never comes up. Not out loud. But he remembers. Vividly. The hallway. The way your face lit up. The boy leaning in. You smiling. And Caleb—watching from across the room, fists clenched, jaw tight, playing the role of older brother when his whole body screamed mine. You never talk about it. But he never forgot. Never will. Because that moment should’ve been his—and someone else took it first.

8 You walk away during a fight, or shut down emotionally You call it “space.” He calls it “psychological warfare.” You shut down. He short-circuits. Nothing drives him more insane than trying to fix something while you’re actively ghosting him across the living room. He’d rather you screamed. Threw something. Anything. But this quiet? This distance? That’s the one thing he doesn’t know how to fight.

9 You cry—especially if it’s because of him And then he’s done. Game over. His spine straightens like he’s under military command and his entire soul just went through the paper shredder. You cry, and suddenly he’s the villain. You say “it’s not your fault,” but that doesn’t matter. He’s already rewriting the past and taking full responsibility. And yes, he’ll suffer in complete silence. Like a man.

10 You secretly try to uncover what he’s hiding from you You call it curiosity. He calls it a breach of protocol punishable by full emotional lockdown. You think you’re clever. He thinks you just walked into classified territory barefoot, blindfolded, and with a target on your back. You were never supposed to see that side of his world. And now that you have? He doesn’t know whether to yell, hold you, or lock you in a room with military-grade firewalls and a blanket.

🍎 Top 10 Things That Turn Caleb Into a Complete Fluff-Mess

You wearing his dog tags / uniform shirt / flight jacket Instant puddle. No chance. He sees you in his gear and his brain just... shuts off. All he can think is mine mine mine, and he gets this dumb, soft little smirk like he’s trying so hard not to combust.

You falling asleep on him—especially mid-conversation You’re curled into his side, mumbling something about dinner plans, and then: silence. He looks down, sees you asleep on his chest, and that’s it. Whole day ruined. Cancel all missions. He’s not moving.

You bringing him coffee exactly the way he likes it—without asking That quiet, thoughtful act? Hits him right in the soldier-shaped heart. He doesn’t even know how to process being taken care of, so he stares at the cup like it just proposed to him.

You absentmindedly touching him—fiddling with his fingers, tracing scars, playing with his hair He pretends he doesn’t care. He does. He cares so much he forgets how to breathe. Just turns into a warm, red-eared statue trying not to whimper.

You whispering “I trust you” or “I feel safe with you” in a soft moment Core memory unlocked. He stores that one like sacred intel. Will literally whisper it back to himself at 3 AM when he’s lying awake, missing you. It breaks him in the best way.

You clinging to him in your sleep / pulling him closer without waking up Caleb.exe has stopped functioning. He will lie perfectly still for HOURS if it means not disturbing that moment. Bonus points if you mumble his name while doing it.

You defending him when someone questions his methods or past He’s used to being the shield—not having someone stand in front of him. The second you raise your voice on his behalf? He falls in love with you all over again. Might even cry. Secretly.

You gently helping him out of his gear after a long day Soft hands on his buckles. A kiss to his shoulder. A low “You’re home now.” That’s how you make a Colonel melt. His fingers twitch like he wants to worship the ground you walk on.

You surprising him with something dumb and heartfelt, like a handmade gift or bad sketch of him He acts gruff—says “the hell is this, Pips?”—but then puts it in his locker or keeps it in his chest pocket for missions like it’s sacred treasure. Because it is.

You calling him “baby” / “handsome” / “sweetheart” when he least expects it He acts like it’s annoying. It is not annoying. It turns him into actual butter. If you do it with a teasing smile? He short-circuits. Might drop something. Might combust. Definitely blushes.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne’s Calm Snap Like a Microsurgical Thread

You ignore his instructions when you're sick You had a fever of 102°F. He left explicit care instructions—bed rest, fluids, minimal movement. You, sweating and glassy-eyed, decided this was the perfect time to rearrange the furniture. When he came home and found you dragging a bookshelf across the room “because the light felt wrong,” he genuinely considered sedating you. Not as punishment. As damage control. For both of you.

You order greasy fast food instead of going somewhere “nutritionally viable” He offered to cook. You said no. Twenty minutes later, you’re eating fries from a paper bag while half of it spills on his clean table. You grin. He stares. Not angry at the food. Angry because you rejected his precision, then settled for processed chaos.

You leave wet towels on the floor after every shower He’s not sure when it started. Day three? Day five? But every time he walks into the bathroom and steps into cold, soggy cotton, something in him fractures. You claim you “forget.” He suspects a psychological experiment.

You casually mention spending time with male friends You think it’s harmless. Lunch with Caleb. Training advice from Xavier. You light up when you talk about them—and that’s the problem. Zayne doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t raise a brow. But the sudden over-fixation on his email inbox says everything.

You receive a speeding ticket. Forty miles over the limit. You wave it off like it’s a funny little anecdote. He sits in absolute silence, calculating the stopping distance of your car vs. standard reaction time at that speed. You think he’s judging. He’s actually trying not to scream.

You poke his ass. Specifically, between the cheeks. You call it “affection.” He calls it “emotional terrorism.” He flinches like he’s been electrocuted, whips around with murder in his eyes—and you’re giggling like a gremlin. Later, you regret nothing, but your thighs may beg to differ.

When you diagnose him with internet psychology You’ve read one book on attachment styles and watched three reels about emotional unavailability. Now you’ve decided he has "clinical avoidant tendencies with a hint of fear-based control fixation." He stares at you, deadpan, like he's about to perform your autopsy.

You keep spoiled food in the fridge and expired meds in the cabinet You say “it doesn’t smell that bad” or “maybe it still works.” His eye twitches. His gloves are already on. He’s not even mad at you—he’s mad at entropy. You’ve become its agent.

You watch reality shows. About infidelity. Willingly. You claim it’s “just background noise.” But he walks in and hears someone scream “that’s not even your baby, Kyle!” and your eyes are glued to the screen. His soul briefly leaves his body.

You washed his white lab coat. With your pink unicorn pajamas. It’s not just the color. It’s the betrayal. The symbol of his clinical neutrality now smells like bubblegum and looks like cotton candy. You say it’s cute. He looks personally violated by the washing machine.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne Soft Against His Will

You bring him lunch at the hospital He never asks. You just appear—arms full of neatly packed containers, face lit up like this isn’t the third double shift he’s worked this week. He complains about the timing. The smell. The disruption. And then eats every bite with frightening focus. You leave. He stares at the empty container like it’s proof someone still believes he’s human.

You quote him back to himself like a philosopher You remember something he said weeks ago—some throwaway line about time or structure or entropy—and you drop it casually in conversation, like it’s wisdom from an ancient text. He doesn’t know how to react. You turned his logic into poetry, and he’ll never recover from that.

You wear the little seal keychain he made He didn’t think you’d keep it. Let alone turn it into your everyday keychain. But there it is—always with you, worn smooth from touch. You twirl it absentmindedly while talking to him, never noticing the way his gaze lingers. Never realizing how something so small can hit him so hard.

You put a photo of the two of you on his desk It appears one day. No fanfare. Just… there. A moment frozen in light, sitting quietly beside his surgical reports and diagnostic schematics. At first, he moves it to the edge. Then back to center. Now it lives next to his pen. He doesn’t talk about it. But it’s the only object on that desk he wipes clean with his bare hand.

His work shirt smells like you You borrowed it that morning, wore it while dancing around the apartment with wet hair and no real purpose. Hours later, when he pulls it on between rounds, the scent hits him like a loaded memory. He short-circuits mid-button. Everything feels warmer than it should.

You leave your phone with him while you shower No password. No hesitation. You toss it into his lap with a breezy “can you clear out whatever’s making it lag?” and vanish behind steam. He sits there, phone in hand, suddenly trusted with everything. He opens nothing. But the fact that you’d let him? That’s the part that shakes him.

You ask for his opinion on minor discomforts A papercut. A weird freckle. A suspicious sneeze. You hold out your hand, utterly serious, asking what he thinks. It’s laughable. Ridiculous. And it absolutely wrecks him. You could ask a dozen others—but you ask him. Like he’s the one who makes things better.

You’re on top He likes control. Precision. Strategy. But when you climb into his lap, all instinct and fire, hands braced on his chest and lips already parted—his brain stops cooperating. There’s something about you taking the lead that makes him unravel. Quietly. Violently. Completely.

You argue with him about complex theories—and mean it You don’t just nod. You push back. You challenge. You quote sources he hasn’t thought about in years. You spark. You flare. And he watches, fascinated, lips twitching with something dangerously close to pride. No one does this. No one dares. But you? You never flinch.

You whisper “I love you” in your sleep It’s not loud. It’s not even clear. Just a faint breath in the dark, like a dream half-remembered. But he hears it. Every time. And though he never says a word in return—not while you're sleeping—his fingers tighten around your waist like he's anchoring himself to the only thing that matters.

🎨 Top 10 Things That Make Rafayel Absolutely, Irrevocably Annoyed at You

You told him his painting was “nice” You stood in front of a piece that cost him three sleepless nights, a minor existential crisis, and two broken brushes—and said “Nice.” Just like that. No gasp, no poetry, no tears. He aged five years on the spot. Somewhere in the distance, a violin cried for him.

You dragged him to a cat exhibit You thought it would be cute. Enrichment. A bonding experience. Instead, he spent the entire time perched on edge, eyes darting like prey. You said “they’re just kittens.” He said nothing. He was too busy making sure none of them came closer than ten feet.

You cleaned his studio You thought you were being helpful. But you moved The Pile. The sacred, unholy, perfectly calibrated mess. Now he can’t find his favorite brush, and also he’s deeply offended by how cheerful you looked doing it.

You didn’t reply to his messages for over an hour He sent three texts, one meme, and a “thinking of you 💭” voice note. You replied 67 minutes later with “sry was showering.” By then, he’d already decided you were breaking up with him, joining a cult, or possibly dead. He had a whole monologue planned. And now you’ve ruined it.

You cut your hair He loved your long hair. Adored it. Worshipped it. You showed up with a sharp little bob and said “it’s just hair.” It is not just hair. It is the collapse of a visual era. He’s still adjusting. And by adjusting, he means mourning with wine.

You made fun of his driving You muttered “technically, you were meant to let the tram go first” He muttered “technically, silence is golden.” His driving is instinct. Vibe. Energy. If you didn’t want drama, you shouldn’t have sat in the passenger seat of a man who parallel parks like he’s in a ballet.

You woke him up too early He went to bed at 4 a.m. because inspiration struck. You woke him at 7:12 like it was nothing, and said “you have that interview, remember?” He does remember. He also remembers specifically telling you that if he ever falls asleep before sunrise, you are to let him die peacefully, cancel all earthly obligations, and throw his alarm clock into the ocean where it belongs.

You hid your phone screen when a message came in You were probably teasing. Just being playful. But now he’s spiraling. Who was it? Why the secrecy? What do you have to hide? Congratulations—you’ve just activated his inner opera villain.

You got jealous Which is absurd. He’s the one who invented possessive affection. But you being jealous? That makes him unreasonably indignant. What do you mean you “didn’t like the way that gallery girl looked at him”? Of course she looked. But he didn’t see her. He saw you.

You burned the bacon You say “it’s fine.” He says it’s charcoal. The entire kitchen smells like culinary war crimes. And now he’ll have to burn incense and replant three garden beds to recover emotionally. Who even let you near the stove? Who hurt you? Was it… the bacon?

🎨 Top 10 Ways You Accidentally Turned Rafayel Into a Purring, Love-Drunk Work of Art

You massage his head He’s mid-rant. Arms crossed. Absolutely furious about the lighting in that gallery. And then your fingers slip into his hair—and just like that, the war is over. His entire body melts like he’s been tranquilized. He’ll deny it later, of course. But the way he leans into your hand? Case closed.

You claim him in public It’s an art gala. He’s dressed to ruin people. And then you slip your arm through his, fingers just tight enough to say mine. You smile like a goddess. He pretends he’s unaffected. Inside, he’s writing vows in ten languages and considering printing matching business cards.

You actually listen to his advice He knows he can be dramatic. Unfiltered. Emotionally volatile. But when you sit there, really listening, nodding like his words matter—you destroy him. Suddenly he’s not the chaos. He’s the compass. And that? That’s love.

You share every detail of your day over dinner You talk about everything—the lady at the store, the funny email, the awful latte. You give him your day like a story, like he’s the only one you wanted to tell. He leans in, listens too closely, files away each emotion like a collector of rare art.

You’re always down for his wildest ideas It’s 3 a.m. He wants to hike 2.5 miles along the beach, take a boat to a tiny island, and watch the sunrise with wine. You say “give me five minutes.” And just like that, you become the only person worthy of his wildest, most beautiful chaos.

You let him photograph you Nothing compares. Not awards. Not praise. Nothing rivals the moment you look into his lens—bare, unfiltered, unashamed. Especially when you’re nude, glowing, and laughing like the world doesn’t exist. That’s when he falls in love with you all over again. And again. And again.

You let him choose your dress You come out in the one he picked. Elegant. Perfect. You spin for him. And the way he watches you? Like he made you. Like you’re the gallery and he’s the only one with the key. It’s not fashion. It’s trust. And he adores you for it.

You sing when you don’t know he’s home Wearing socks and earbuds, dancing with a broom, serenading your way through burnt pancakes. You’re off-key. Glorious. Real. And he stands in the doorway, silent, just watching. Because in that moment—you’re not posing. And he’s never loved you more.

You take care of him when he’s sick He has a fever of 99°F and insists he’s fading. You bring tea, stroke his hair, whisper that he’s “very brave.” You don’t mock him. You take his dramatics seriously. He will never forget it. He may also write you into his will.

You join him in the bathtub without asking He’s already halfway submerged, music playing, steam curling in the air—and then you slip in behind him, no warning. You nudge your legs around his hips, hand him your shampoo, and let him wash your hair while you giggle. He tries to act unimpressed. But when he starts kissing your toes? Yeah. You win.

✨ Top 10 Behavioral Anomalies That Triggered Xavier’s Internal Alert System

You break an agreement—even if it's “just a small one” It’s not about control. It’s about structure. You promised. And when you bend the rules—just slightly—he doesn’t react outwardly. No visible shift, no sharp breath. But something behind his eyes goes cold. Because for him, even small deviations mean recalculating everything. And that means risk. To you.

You create drama “just to get a reaction” You push. You poke. You escalate. And he gives you… nothing. No outburst, no flinch. Just that flat, unreadable stare while he mentally exits the room. He doesn’t get angry—he just shuts off the part of himself that wants to stay.

You refuse his protection—on principle You call it independence. He calls it a strategic vulnerability wrapped in pride. He won’t argue. He’ll just be one step farther back the next time, quietly cataloging how to stop caring just enough that it won’t kill him if something happens.

You call him cold—especially when he’s holding himself together for you You see stillness. He feels restraint. You accuse. He remembers what it takes to not become the darker version of himself. If only you knew how much energy it took to stay composed. If only you knew it was for you.

You’re late Five minutes. Ten. No message. No explanation. And his pulse ticks upward—not with impatience, but with pure, trained alertness. He starts looking for signs. Traffic reports. Emergency alerts. By the time you arrive, he’s smiling. But it’s the tight kind. The kind that says never again.

You skip training You’re tired. You had a long day. You say you’ll make it up later. He doesn’t argue. He just recalculates survival probabilities and mentally adds you to the list of people who might die because they were unprepared. And he will blame himself for letting you get soft.

You pull away from his touch when you're angry It’s not the rejection. It’s the meaning behind it. He reaches out—small, careful, calculated—and you shut the door in his face with a single backward step. He doesn’t try again. He doesn’t ask why. But the space you leave behind? It echoes.

You use a photo of Lumiere as a bookmark You think it’s cute. Maybe even sweet. He sees it—and freezes. He’s not jealous. Not exactly. But the idea that you might admire that version more—the legend, the mask, the sharpness—it unsettles something deep. Something he can’t name.

You secretly believe you’re not good enough for him You never say it out loud. But he sees it—in your deflections, your nervous jokes, the way you doubt his love like it’s a glitch. It doesn’t anger him in the usual sense. It just…hurts. Because you’re the only one who never had to earn it.

You throw yourself in front of him during a mission It’s instinct, you say. Split-second decision. You didn’t even think. And that’s the problem. He does. Always. Every variable, every movement, every risk is accounted for—except you breaking formation to protect him. You think it’s brave. He sees it as catastrophic miscalculation. Not because you acted without logic. But because you decided his life was worth more than yours. And that? That’s the one conclusion he refuses to accept.

✨Top 10 Things That Quietly Break Xavier’s Walls and Leave Him Unreasonably Soft About You

When you start reading the same book he’s readingYou don’t announce it. You just show up with the same title, a few chapters behind, and start casually asking questions. He plays it off. But inside? He’s spiraling. Because this—this—is how you speak his language. Silently. Precisely. Together.

When you knock on his door like you’re trying to break it downIt’s loud. Impatient. Inappropriate for the hour. But he knows that knock. That rhythm. That you. You need him. Not his solutions. Him. And somehow, that chaos pounding on his door feels more like home than anything else.

When you hug him from behindYou wrap your arms around his torso mid-task, face pressed between his shoulder blades, palms splayed across his chest like you’re anchoring yourself to something ancient and steady. He stills. Every time. Like someone just whispered a secret to his bones. He never asks why. Never moves away. He just tilts his head slightly—listening, as if your silence said everything he needed to hear.

When you touch his sword (the actual weapon, calm down)He never lets anyone handle it. Not even for cleaning. But your fingers skim the hilt, gentle, curious, reverent. And somehow… it’s okay. You’re not just touching steel. You’re touching him. And he lets you.

When you act like a little girlYou scrunch your nose. Say something ridiculous. Blush like you didn’t mean to. And he watches—utterly disarmed. Because he knows exactly what you want. You want him to carry you. Wrap you up. Keep you safe. And he will—without hesitation.

When you join him on a morning runYou complain. You lag. You swear this is “not your vibe.” But you still show up. Same hour. Same route. And when you match his pace for those few precious minutes? He doesn’t say it—but he’s proud. Painfully proud.

When you share your dreams—and say “we”You’re rambling. Light spilling from your words. Talking about the future, the maybes, the next steps. But you don’t say I. You say we. And that sound? That tiny shift in grammar? It settles deep. Irrevocable. Permanent.

When you make matching braceletsYou say it’s silly. Handmade. Slightly uneven. There’s a charm shaped like a rabbit. He never takes it off. Not in combat. Not in sleep. It rests against his wrist like a pressure point—and grounds him better than anything else.

When you remember his habitsYour shopping list always includes his cinnamon. His brand of shampoo. The exact instant noodles he pretends not to love. You don’t make a show of it. You just know. And that knowing? It destroys him in the softest possible way.

When you trust him completely in bed—even when his darker side surfacesThere’s a moment—quiet, charged—when the softness shifts. He waits. Watches. Braces for resistance. But you don’t pull back. You open your hands. Arch into him. Let him take control without fear. That? That’s what breaks him. Not the pleasure. The trust.

🖤Top 10 Things That Push Sylus Into Maximum Sarcasm and Mildly Homicidal Disapproval

Your outdated, unreliable weapon Yes, he gets it. It’s vintage. It’s “standard issue.” It’s approved by the Hunters Association. Congratulations. That won’t matter when it jams and gets you killed. Every time you return one of the sleek, upgraded firearms he hand-delivers like he’s your personal armory concierge, he has to resist asking if you've already made a draft of your death wish. Alphabetically sorted. With floral headers.

You chew gum—and pop it It’s not the gum. It’s the snap. The sudden, violent pop of sugary air bubbles that hits his trauma response like a trigger. He knows it’s just a noise. His shoulder still twitches. He’s this close to reaching into your mouth and extracting the gum like a gentleman. A very sarcastic, deeply annoyed, half-feral gentleman.

You try to shake your tail (him) You use stealth tech. You block your signal. You go dark. Adorable. You’re forgetting that the very system you’re relying on was developed by his own syndicate. The only person who ever really evades Sylus is Sylus. And maybe the cat that lives under his car. But not you. Never you.

You don’t introduce him as your boyfriend to your old classmates You panicked. He gets that. You called him “a friend.” And now he’s deeply committed to the bit. For the next seven days, every time you said anything, he replied with “Of course, as your friend…” in front of waiters, dealers, and one extremely confused ambassador. You only managed to shut it down by hastily posting a photo of you two with the caption “my boyfriend and the love of my life.” Acceptable recovery. Barely.

You refuse to use his resources His private jet? Untouched. His cars? Collecting dust. His black card? Sitting unused like some kind of insult in your purse. You say you’re “independent.” He says you’re actively offending his entire lifestyle philosophy. Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to ignore an entire walk-in wardrobe prepared for you in his estate? Honestly, it’s almost admirable. Almost.

You once smoked a cigarette, and he saw it He didn’t say anything. At the time. Just looked at you. Silently. Like someone had drop-kicked a kitten in front of him. He’s not judging. He’s just picturing your lungs in an ashtray. And adding another page to your death wish list.

You speak in riddles and expect him to “get it” You want something—time away, a trip, his attention—but instead of asking, you sigh dramatically and murmur, “It’s fine. I guess some people just don’t want to escape the city with their girlfriends…” He blinks. Slow. Dangerous. “Was that a request, a riddle, or an emotional booby trap?” If you want something from him, Kitten, try using nouns and verbs. Not cryptic guilt puzzles.

You suggest another woman would be “perfect for him” It’s a joke. Offhand. Barely a breath. But your voice wavers—just slightly—and that ruins it. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want options. He wants you. And now, thanks to your charming lapse in self-worth, he has to waste the rest of the evening reminding you that this face, this power, this entire empire already belongs to someone. Guess who.

You sneak up on him You never mean to. But somehow, you're always the one person who slips past every alarm, every trained instinct, and ends up whispering behind him when his brain is still in kill mode. It takes everything in him to not react on pure reflex. You think it’s cute. He thinks it’s potentially catastrophic.

You don’t believe him when he says he’s fine Yes, he’s bleeding. Yes, his shirt is soaked. But he said “it’s a scratch,” and when he says that—he means it. His body heals like a myth. Your worried face? It makes something in him ache. Because the real wound isn’t on him—it’s in you, for thinking he’s anything less than unbreakable.

🖤 Top 10 Things That Make Sylus Dangerously Soft for You (And Yes, He’s Keeping Score)

When you finally spend his money It started with coffee. Small. Harmless. But the alert hit his phone and, for a moment, he genuinely wondered if his card had been stolen—until he saw your name. And something in him shifted. Not because of the cost. Please. He could buy the city it was brewed in. No, it was the fact you used it. You. Willingly. Now? You’re bolder—little dresses, shoes, jewelry you don’t need. And every time you do, he rewards it like you just proved you understand the assignment: what's his, is already yours.

When you give orders to his men like you're the boss You don’t ask. You instruct. Calm, certain, completely in charge. One of his men hesitates—just once—while you’re directing them to rescue a terrified kitten stuck in a tree. Sylus doesn’t interfere. He just watches, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth as armed professionals scramble to obey you like you're the patron saint of lost animals. Somewhere in his mind, he’s already fitted you for a crown. With tiny cat ears.

When you secretly pet Mephisto The mechanical raven used to drive you insane. Now? You’re sneaking him treats and absentminded scratches under the jaw. Sylus sees it. Says nothing. But deep down, he knows: if you’ve accepted the bird—you’ve accepted all of him. And that’s lethal. To him.

When you make him a playlist You never explain them. Just send a link and say nothing. But he listens—every time. Alone. In his car. In the bath. Eyes closed, calculating your every choice like it’s encrypted intel. Each track? A hint. A mood. A coded message from you to him. He doesn’t ask for them. He just waits for the next one. And when it arrives, he treats it like gospel.

When you leave a trail of chaos in his car Your hair on the seat. Your gum wrappers in the cup holder. The seat so close to the wheel he practically has to fold in half. And the music? A full-volume love ballad ready to ambush his eardrums at ignition. It's obnoxious. It’s inconvenient. It’s perfect. His life, now featuring you.

When you eat from his plate You swore you weren’t hungry. You said “no carbs this week.” And now? You’re stealing fries from his hand and dipping into his steak sauce like it’s your birthright. He doesn’t stop you. He just watches you chew with that look that says: mine. forever.

When you talk and talk and talk Something happens. You spiral. Words spill. Thoughts tangle. You’re not even aware you’re rambling—but he is. He listens to everything. Stores it all. Because there’s something magical about your voice when it’s unfiltered. You don’t realize it, but he falls a little harder every time you forget to censor yourself.

When you crawl into his lap while he’s working He’s in the middle of paperwork. Calculating things. Dangerous things. And suddenly—you. Right there. Knees on either side, arms around his neck, like the world’s most beautiful interruption. He tells himself he needs to finish. But his hands are already on your hips.

When you call and ask for help A jar. A stuck zipper. A ride. It doesn’t matter. You’re a trained hunter—you’ve faced things with claws, fangs, and no name. But you still call him. Because you want him. And that? That wrecks him in ways he’ll never admit. He’s already on his way before you hang up.

When you scream his name right before you come There’s a lot he’s proud of. His empire. His power. His record. But nothing—nothing—satisfies him more than the moment your voice breaks open with his name. Like prayer. Like surrender. Like he’s the only thing in your world. Which, of course… he is.

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sheisoverhere · 3 months ago

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Peeta Mellark is an integral member of the four D12 victors. He is literally the sunset on the reaping! How is this not clear? I’ve never wanted to report people for bad literary analysis more and I’m only half joking. It has forced me to commit a cardinal sin: analyze in anger!

1. Him being chosen by absolute accident is the point. Not only does he represent every single other tribute who simply gets chosen because they live in a messed up country but he represents how even with some odds being in your favor (older siblings, merchant family, being white, being popular, etc.) you are still very likely to be victimized by the oppressive structure of Panem.

2. When Haymitch says, “But she was smarter than me, or luckier” - the luck is all the people around Katniss who created the circumstances for her to lead a successful revolution (her father teaching her to hunt, the arena having woods, Rue healing her with leaves, Thresh not killing her, Haymitch consistently giving her support, her mother teaching her aspects of medicine, on and on and on) and Peeta is the number one, most important part of her luck in the first book. She has someone in the games actively putting her life before his… are you kidding? There is legitimately no better luck than that.

3. Even if we take Katniss out of it, Peeta is so impactful as a victor because most of his scenes would not be cut/doctored. What’s there to edit out? Instead, the viewers get a full view of him loving a girl so selflessly, using trickery and strategy instead of violence, keeping himself alive through art, joking on literal death’s door, and sharing so much of himself with the audience it becomes harder for them not to see him as a real human boy. How rare do you think that is for the games? Haymitch and LGB are caricatures of themselves in the games, playing roles that flatten them down. Even Katniss becomes one dimensional on screen without Peeta (and Rue, of course). It is also heavily implied that he does not kill anyone during the games (in a straightforward way) and even if you count Cato or the girl from 8 or even foxface, it’s never him hunting them or seeking out a kill - again how rare do you think that is to see on screen for Games viewers?

4. I didn’t think this needed to be said but: Katniss dies without Peeta in the first games. a) she goes for the bow and dies in the bloodbath; b) she is hunted and killed by Careers; c) she is killed by game makers because there’s no love story angle to keep them from just burning her entirely; d) she dies from tracker jacker stings or Cato because Peeta doesn’t defend her or tell her to run… I could go on…

5. But even if she does win and wins alone - the victory means as much (I would argue less than) any other rebellious victor winning, certainly less than Haymitch’s win. The biggest rebellion for their games is that two of them win! This is legit the only thing that distinguishes them from any other sympathetic, kind child who would have won the games. Like if Haymitch or Finnick or Wiress winning isn’t jarring enough for the Games to end… why do you think Katniss killing Peeta and winning solo would be? It would not.

6. And finally, I cannot stress this enough: There is no peaceful end to the rebellion or the trilogy without Peeta. “Peeta’s a whiz with fires” (HG) for a reason! Collins, over and over, shows us how fire can get out of control and destroy even those who are innocent and who you love (Gale, Beete, Peeta’s family, Haymitch’s family). If everyone really burns, there’s no one to clean the ashes. The reason not everyone burns is because of people like Peeta who can coax the flames in a way that is nurturing and consistent. I mean…. “Peeta fashioned some kind of incubator” is such an obvious detail. Those goslings don’t hatch without Peeta, life does not go on in peace and joy without Peeta.

It is no coincidence that when Maysilee says Lenore Dove got the “jump on us all” (in being a rebel), she is referring to LD using orange paint to make protest art!

We must stop pushing Peeta Mellark out of the narrative! He is literally the sunset on the reaping!

#everlark #the hunger games #thg #art #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #thg sotr #sotr spoilers #sunrise on the reaping #sheisoverherereading #thg analysis #sotr

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divinedomainn · 3 months ago

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Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 1 ▷ || play next song?

summary : After another horny stream, you drop the bomb: fuck-a-fan fridays—seven weeks, seven fans, seven filthy videos. masks on, faces hidden, just you and one lucky subscriber tangled up on camera each week. All they have to do? strip down, get hard, and show you why it should be them. Auditions start now.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men

A/N : and so it starts!!! is everyone ready to see the submissions from your favorite horndogs? :) (also i hope you can tell whose who hehehe) i'm trying to keep the writing inclusive for every sort of female presenting person so let me know how i've done!

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lace, lube, and direct deposits that made your head spin. What had started as a desperate half-joke had morphed into a full-blown empire - your empire. The girl who once contemplated selling her underwear for gas money was now clearing rent, tuition, groceries, and still had enough left over to drop serious coin on clothes and silk bed sheets.

You’d gone to the next level. Your friends were of course benefitting from your suspiciously newfound wealth, you casually said you had found a better part-time job, never letting them know the truth when you decided to take them shopping. Not yet at least.

Private requests were your bread and butter. You weren’t just good anymore - you were a professional tease, a digital siren with a library of toys, outfits, and vocal tones that could bring grown men to their knees. They paid for everything; soft whispers, rough talk, slow stroking, filthy roleplays. Some just oddly wanted to hear your moans on loop. Others wanted personalized videos where you called them by username and told them exactly what you’d do if they ever had the balls to show up in person.

You were making big bank. Like “accidental tax bracket change” big. Like “should probably consult a financial advisor” big.

And the men?

Oh, the men were obsessed.

Especially the regulars. Their usernames lit up your screen night after night, tipping with reckless abandon, flooding the chat with unfiltered thirst. You didn’t know who they were in real life, yet, but their personalities bled through the screen in such vivid, chaotic little ways.

EmoWithaBoner was yearning. Desperate in a way that made your chest clench and your thighs twitch. His messages were usually soft, almost sweet - You deserve everything, You looked so beautiful tonight - until something cracked open inside him mid-message and he’d type something crazy like: I would lick your cunt until you beg me to stop. Now that had gotten a small “Oh.” out of you. He wanted to worship you and ruin you all at once.

SixEyesOnly was a fucking menace. Flirty, cocky, constantly sending emojis that were way too smug for someone probably watching with only one hand available. His tips were ridiculous, like, spend $300 just to watch you eat grapes in a bad wig slowly sort of ridiculous, and his messages read like he was trying to fluster you on purpose. You assumed it was some sort of control thing with him, throwing money at people and getting them to do it. No complaints from you.

TempleOfSin was smooth, a little poetic, a little filthy. He asked for long, descriptive videos where you described what you were wearing, how you’d touch him, how you'd taste. He liked to also order roleplay videos where you pretended to worship him like he was some sort of God. Sometimes he called you his loyal little follower. You didn’t ask questions.

daddyissuez was feral. No other word for it. His requests were blunt, primal, always toeing the line of what the platform allowed and your own, now lacking, self-control. He liked spit, degradation, and power games. His tipping was sporadic and a lot less compared to the others, though, it was enough to keep him in your attention.

OfficeAfterHours was different. Polite. Polished. His messages came like little business memos laced with innuendo. “You looked stunning tonight. That color suits you,” followed by a $200 tip telling you to buy more in the same color. Never crude, always composed. It made him stand out more, somehow. Like a man who didn’t need to beg. A man who expected what he wanted, and always got it.

And then there was KingOfRot.

Unpredictable. Crude. Arrogant. He dropped tips like they were nothing. $500 just because you looked at the camera in a way he said was like a ‘deer in the headlights’. Odd, but $500 was a good amount to keep your mouth shut. He called you “pet,” “whore,” “delicious little thing.” You should’ve blocked him. Instead, you kept reading his messages twice over with your jaw unhinged and in wonderment whether or not he actually said that. His energy was intense and you hated how hot that was.

Which brings us to tonight.

You were perched in your new silk sheets, ring light warm against your skin, wearing your most transparent slip where your nipples were clearly on display and a smug little smirk behind that now iconic mask of yours. You’d hyped this stream for days - teased it on your feed, hinted at it in DMs. The chat was already on fire and you hadn’t even said a word yet. Tonight was a big one.

EmoWithaBoner: god ur so fucking hot tonight SixEyesOnly: i logged in 15 minutes early and i still feel late :(( OfficeAfterHours: You’ve outdone yourself this evening. KingOfRot: Come on, get to the fucking point, girl.

You grinned, slow and lethal, dragging your fingers along your inner thigh and ignoring KingOfRot.

“Well,” you purred, “I figured since you’ve all been very generous lately… it’s time I give something back.”

SixEyesOnly: oh fuck You licked your lips, loving the short little power trip it gave you. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, voice sweet and dangerous. “Maybe it’s time to start a little… tradition.”

You paused for dramatic effect.

“Fuck-a-Fan Fridays.” You bit your lip. Boom. Chat detonation. SixEyesOnly had sent you $200 just for the phrase.

EmoWithaBoner: you’re joking SixEyesOnly: oh shit baby TempleOfSin: Perfect. KingOfRot: You say when and where, pet. daddyissuez: i’ll be first. fuck the line OfficeAfterHours: I trust you've thought this through..

You leaned in close. OfficeAfterHours was cute in the way he was concerned for you. “I mean, why stop at one, right?” You giggled, cheeks burning behind your mask as you kicked your feet a little bit out of the view of your webcam. “I was gonna keep it casual, but um… yeah. What if I made it a thing? Like, a series?”

Another pause. You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried heat.

“One fan. Every Friday. For seven weeks.”

You crossed your bare legs over one another, your slip rising on your thighs as you did so. “Seven Fridays. Seven people. Seven chances to fuck the brains out of a very nervous, very willing woman who cannot believe she’s actually saying this live right now.”

You sat up again, brushing the slip back into place like your nipples weren’t clearly on display.

“I mean..obviously, we’ll keep it anonymous. Like, we’re not stupid here. Masks. No faces. Just hands. Bodies. And my camera.” The chat was still in full meltdown, comments stacking so fast the shitty platform could barely keep up. Your heart was pounding, your skin warm and tingling from the high of it all—of watching them fall apart just from your voice, your words, the soft shift of silk and skin. You hadn’t even done anything explicit yet, and they were on their knees.

God, it was addictive.

You stretched your arms overhead with a soft sigh, the movement pulling your slip just high enough to tease your hips. A final little gift before the curtain dropped.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said with a giggle, feigning innocence even as your gaze sparkled with something much dirtier. “You guys are gonna give me a heart attack.” SixEyesOnly: no no no don’t leave yettt!! :(( KingOfRot: You owe me for the buildup, woman. You tilted your head, lips curving into a sweet little smile as you leaned forward, giving them just one more generous view of your tits before the curtains closed.

“But before I go…” you said, voice slipping into something quieter, softer, like a secret you didn’t mean to share. “If you’re serious about Fuck-a-Fan Fridays… I want you to show me.”

The pause that followed had its own kind of weight. You watched the chat stall for half a second. The anticipation was thick enough to choke on.

“Send me a message,” you murmured, “with a picture. No face. Just your body, and cock, obviously.”

You let your fingers trail down your own torso, to your hips, your thighs, hinting at what you wanted to see. “Let me see what I’d be touching.. What I’ll be fucked braindead by.” EmoWithaBoner: fuck i’ll take a hundred SixEyesOnly: don’t lose your mind too much baby KingOfRot: It’ll be mine you dream about when you touch yourself. OfficeAfterHours: Submission will follow shortly. No face. Clean framing. High quality.

You had to laugh—giddy and a little breathless. You honestly didn’t think they’d go this feral.

“Think of it as an audition,” you said, tucking your knees to your chest, playing sweet again. “Show me what you’re offering. How you’d fit against me. In me.”

You smoothed your hand up your own thigh, lazily now, teasing.

“And just so you know,” you added with a little grin, “I’m only really looking at the ones who’ve tipped enough to keep my attention. You know who you are.”

Oh, they most definitely did.

The seven of them were already scrambling—photos incoming, tips rolling, blood leaving their brains. You didn’t need names. Their usernames were burned into your memory. Their obsessions with you were paying your bills.

“Goodnight, boys,” you whispered. “Impress me.” The second you ended the stream, you collapsed backward into your pillows with a dazed little laugh, limbs spread like you’d just run a marathon and won a gold medal in filth. The glow from your laptop cast a soft haze across your legs, the screen already lighting up with the chaos you’d left behind—tips still pouring in, messages stacking, your inbox begging for attention.

And the photos?

Oh, they were already flooding in, from people you didn’t want, but it was there regardless - upping your activity.

You rolled onto your stomach, chin resting in your palm as you clicked open the first one with a half-curious, half-unhinged smile.

No face, just like you asked. Neck down. The guy was standing in front of a mirror, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other lifting his hoodie to show off his chest. His abs were flexed. His cock hard enough to cast a shadow.

You blinked. Let out a slow breath.

“…Damn.”

Another one came in. Different guy, different vibe—tattoos on his hips, hand slick and stroking himself in a dimly lit bathroom, captioned: Fridays look good on me. Want to see how I look underneath you?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laughing as you pulled your legs up behind you. “This is real. I’m really doing this.”

And you were. One fan. Every Friday. Seven weeks. Seven videos. Each one getting posted to your feed, available for your hundreds of subscribers to watch, rewatch, tip on, comment under, and probably break their dicks to.

It wasn’t just a hookup. It was content. Premium content.

Still riding the rush, you opened your messaging panel and started typing.

New Mass Message Sent to All Subscribers:

Hey babes— If you missed the stream tonight (rip to you), here’s your official invite.

Fuck-a-Fan Fridays is happening. Starting next week, I’ll be choosing seven of you to spend one very intimate night with me. Every Friday for the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting a new video. One fan. One full-length scene. Just me… and whoever impresses me the most.

How to audition:- Send me a photo. - Neck down only. No faces. Masks will be worn on camera, so full anonymity will be protected. But I need to see everything. Cock out. Hard. Your body. Your vibe. The way you'd look on camera—underneath me, on top of me, behind me, inside me.

Show off a little. Or a lot.

Make me want it. Let the auditions begin.

xoxo,

—Your girl

taglist : @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @syubseokie

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nhmkhnh · 13 days ago

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FRAT RULES, FUCK HARDER.

PAIRINGS: dom!frat girl!vi x sub!fem!reader

PREFACE: you’re the pretty girl she swore she wouldn’t fall for… and now she’s showing up to your 8am class in yesterday’s hoodie and a hickey the size of zaun.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: uhmmm i don’t even know what’s up with me lately, guess i’ve officially entered my smut era hahaaa 😭 like... who would've thought?? there was a time i literally didn’t know how to write smut at all—if past me saw what i’m writing now, she’d be absolutely shooketh 😭💀

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: strap-on sex ;; hoodie kink (?) ;; possessive!vi ;; cocky!vi ;; party sex ;; mirror sex ;; jealousy sex ;; overstimulation ;; public teasing ;; pet names (r: baby/princess) ;; vi has a strap collection don't ask me why. navigation.

1. vi meets you at a mutual party and makes it her life mission to get your number by the end of the night. she’s obnoxious about it too—grabbing the aux, playing some sexy slow jam, leaning on the doorframe with a red solo cup like,

“this one’s dedicated to the girl in the corner with the skirt i’m tryna take off later.” you swear you’re not into her. and yet.

2. she’s the type to crash your sorority movie night just to sit beside you, smelling like weed, cheap perfume, and danger. she’ll whisper things like:

“this plot’s shit… bet i could give you a better night in twenty minutes.” and you hate how your legs press together every time she smirks.

3. she wears crop tops with her frat letters, loose sweats slung low, calvin’s peeking out, and a backwards cap. tongue piercing glinting. she chews gum like sin. she knows exactly what she looks like when she sprawls across the couch and says,

“c’mere, i’ll make you forget your gpa.”

4. she rizz texts at 2am like:

“u up?” “u want sum chaos or sum comfort?” “im outside. bring ass.” and when you open the door? she's shirtless under her zipped-down hoodie, biting her lip, eyes red-rimmed and so so needy.

5. frat girl!vi always smells like beer, cologne, and sweat—but like… in a way that makes you insanely feral. her room's a disaster, but her bed is soft and warm and always has a hoodie of yours she "accidentally" stole.

6. she calls you “princess” and “baby girl” in public, throws her arm around your shoulder at parties and growls in your ear,

“bet none of these fuckers know what you sound like when you’re begging.” you shove her but your face is burning.

7. vi fights anyone who flirts with you at a party. straight up pushes a guy back by the chest like,

“back off, bro. she’s not single—she’s mine.” you haven’t even officially dated yet. that doesn’t stop her from marking you up every damn weekend.

8. she drives you to 8am class in her beat-up bike, still in her boxers, still buzzed from last night. one hand on the throttle, the other on your bare thigh, saying,

“why don’t you skip today and let me fuck that pretty brain right outta your head?” ma’am. please.

9. her tattoos peek out of her tank top when she’s lifting weights in the frat basement gym, smirking when she catches you watching. she drops the barbell and says,

“wanna ride something heavier, sweetheart?” the girls' bathroom has never recovered.

10. she makes you sit in her lap at every frat bonfire. she’ll wrap her arms around you and kiss your neck in front of everyone like it’s a damn claiming ritual, while whispering,

“tell me who you belong to, baby. c’mon. say it.”

11. frat girl!vi has zero impulse control when she’s drunk. she’ll pull you into a closet during a party, lock the door, and say,

“seven minutes in heaven? nah, we’re staying until your knees give out.” you emerge half an hour later. hair a mess. nobody questions it.

12. vi loves taking you to parties just to show you off—hand on your waist, other hand low on your back. she tells everyone,

“y’all can look, but if anyone touches her? you’ll be drinkin’ outta a straw ‘til graduation.” and then she turns to you and grins like the devil.

13. when you're studying in the library, she slides in beside you, unzips your hoodie just to leave hickeys on your collarbone. says,

“you’re doing great, baby. just needed to leave my signature, y’know?” you’re late to lecture. again.

14. she gets banned from your dorm after sneaking in one too many nights, but she still climbs up your window with the dumbest grin.

“romeo who? let me in, babe. i brought snacks and strap.” and you always let her in.

15. she gets absolutely feral when you wear her frat hoodie and nothing else. throws you on the bed and growls,

“you’re reppin’ my name now, huh? let me show you what it means to wear those letters.” and babe… you don’t walk straight for two days.

ཐི❤︎ཋྀ smut bonus:

1. vi has a whole-ass drawer labeled “emergency strap kit.” no, seriously. it has lube, multiple harnesses, cute pastel-colored toys and an engraved one she calls “the finisher.” if you're ever alone in her room too long, she’ll lean in with that low rasp and go,

“pick your poison, sweetheart. we’re not stopping ‘til the sun’s up.” she means it too. you’ve cried on that mattress more times than you can count—always in the best way.

2. she’s obsessed with eating you out while you’re still wearing her clothes—especially those loose-ass sweatpants that hang off your hips. she’ll tug them down slow with her teeth, spread your thighs and groan,

“fuck, baby… always so wet for me. look at this mess. i haven’t even touched you yet.” and when she does? you’re shaking. she pins your hips down. makes you say her name over and over like a prayer.

3. she moans when you moan. vi’s a vocal dom—gritty growls, filthy praise, shamelessly unhinged. she’ll be balls-deep in you with her strap, sweat dripping down her chest, hair sticking to her forehead, and she’ll pant:

“you feel that? that’s all mine. you were fuckin’ made for me, princess.” then she’ll grab your jaw and say, “say it. tell me who you belong to.” and if you hesitate? she slaps the inside of your thigh and starts going harder.

4. frat girl!vi loves mirror sex. like, she’ll drag you to her full-length mirror and bend you over in front of it, whispering,

“look at you, baby… fucked-out on my strap, droolin’ on yourself. that’s my good girl.” she holds you by the throat sometimes. not to choke—just to keep you watching. and when you come? she grins, proud as hell, and doesn’t stop.

5. she has this thing where she fucks you on her frat letters jacket like it’s a ceremony. drapes it under you on the bed and says,

“you’re mine now. no one else gets to touch you like this. say it.” and when you do, breathless and ruined, she just goes, “good girl. now scream my name.”

6. vi adores overstimulation. she’ll edge you at first—multiple times, licking you and pulling back, teasing your clit with her fingers and saying,

“you want my strap, babe? then beg. crawl into my lap and beg like a pretty little slut.” and when you finally get it? she makes sure you take all of it. hands on your hips, body flush to yours, murmuring, “you wanted this, didn’t you? be a big girl. take it all for me, baby.”

#vi x reader #violet x reader #vi arcane #arcane #smut

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keeryhours · 12 days ago

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teen pregnancy series - eddie munson part 2

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Summary:

A broken condom leads to the end of your life as you knew it.

Part 1

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, pregnancy complications, drug use, comments about weight, shitty parents, financial stress

Word Count: 20k

A/N:

This was a longer wait than I anticipated, I’m sooo sorry! I really hope you guys love this part though! There will be a part 3. Thank you a million times @glassbxttless for my banner, helping me with accurate information, and reading, and thank you @feral4youu for being amazing, a total genius, and always willing to bounce ideas!

It was Saturday, and Eddie was at work - as he was most days. You were bored out of your mind - Robin had a band thing, so you were left alone. You were going through your closet, making yourself sad as you found that half of your wardrobe didn’t fit anymore.

You settled on a sweatshirt with jeans using the hair tie on the button trick to give you more room for your growing belly. You smoothed a hand over it, looking in the mirror - it could still be camouflaged by the sweatshirt, looking like it was just oversized and maybe you had gained a little weight. No big deal. Nothing suspicious.

You called Steve.

“Hello?” he answered, and you were grateful he was at home for once.

“Hey,” you said. “Can you give me a ride?”

Steve sighed. “Where to?”

“I want to go to Benny’s and surprise Eddie at work,” you said. “I haven’t gotten to spend time with him for a couple days.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have anything else to do besides drive you guys around,” Steve grumbled. “Wait- I mean, I do, it’s just-“

“See you in a few, Stevie!”

You didn’t live far from Steve. You knew he’d be there soon, so you grabbed your bag and walked down the stairs. Unfortunately, your parents were in the living room, and they weren’t in the mood to let you leave without explanation.

“Where are you going?” your dad asked, looking up from the television. He lifted the remote control and muted it. “Not to hang out with that loser boyfriend, I hope?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your mom looked up from her book at that moment. She eyed your outfit up and down. “Did you gain weight?”

You froze. Goosebumps covered your skin, and you felt your breakfast rising in your throat. “I- I don’t think so?”

Your mother’s brows drew together. “Are you sure? You’re looking a little...”

Your cheeks heated, and suddenly it was a lot hotter in the house. “No, mom.”

You were saved by the car horn honking twice outside. Jolting, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder and looked from the front door back to your parents. “Steve is here. I’ve got to go.”

“Now, there’s a nice young man,” your father said. “A Harrington. That’s who you should be with. Someone put together, who’s name commands respect.”

You ignored him. You turned and walked down the hall, slipping your shoes on and opening the front door. Steve’s BMW idled in your driveway behind your parents’ cars. You could see him in the front seat, fiddling with the radio, his left arm resting on the open window.

He gave you a kind smile when he saw you approaching, his eyes dropping down to your stomach. That was something you’d started to get used to. Everyone looked at your belly first - usually judgmentally.

You slid into the passenger seat just as Steve decided on a radio station playing Blondie. “Hey,” he said. He poked at your belly playfully. “They’re growing.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. They are.”

He put the car in reverse and backed out of your driveway, putting his hand on the back of your seat to look out the back window. He began the drive to Benny’s, the music playing low over the car speakers.

Neither of you said anything. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed your stomach, your head in the clouds. You watched the scenery pass by through the car window.

“So,” Steve said after about 5 minutes of silence. “Uh…is Eddie excited?”

“About the babies?” you asked. “I mean, I think so. We haven’t had the chance to talk about it much recently.”

Steve nodded. “Is he doing okay?”

You were unsure how to answer that question. It seemed like he was, but at the same time it was obvious that things were weighing on him. Dropping out, the job, the money. “I think so.”

Steve could tell you didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t push it. You rode quietly until he pulled into the parking lot of Benny’s.

The first thing you noticed was that Eddie’s van wasn’t there. But you knew his schedule, you were sure he was working today. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach as you climbed out of Steve’s car and walked into the front.

You approached the counter, where Benny himself was sitting.

“Hey,” you said, catching his attention. “Uh, is Eddie here?”

Benny sighed. “No. He called out. Again.”

You froze. He what? Had he not been going to work? “Okay, thanks,” you said, turning and walking out of the restaurant on autopilot.

“If you see him, tell him he’s getting fired if he does this one more time!” Benny called after you, which made you immediately feel like you were going to be sick.

You got back into Steve’s car, slamming the door unintentionally.

“Woah,” Steve said, dropping his hand from where he had been fixing his hair in the mirror. “What happened?”

“He wasn’t there,” you said shortly. You were fuming - you couldn’t even look at Steve.

“He- what do you mean?”

“He wasn’t there,” you repeated. “So who knows what the fuck he’s doing.”

Steve looked ahead. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking of a logical and reasonable reason Eddie would have skipped out on work. “Do you want to go to his place?”

You thought for a second. Did you want to go to Eddie’s? Did you want to see him right now? Did you want to know what he was hiding from you?

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s go.”

The ride to Forest Hills was tense. Steve didn’t know what to say - but he hoped for Eddie’s sake that he wasn’t up to anything nefarious.

The van was parked out front. You were seething, furious yet also terrified. What if he was in there with another girl? You weren’t sure if you could survive that.

You climbed out the second Steve stopped the car, walking up to the front door. Steve followed behind you, a hand on your back in case you were to lose your balance. You didn’t even notice him. You banged on the door three times.

You waited. When no one came, you banged on the door another three times. You were about to do it a third time when the door opened and you saw Eddie, dressed in his sweatpants and no shirt. He smiled at you like there wasn’t a single thing wrong in the world, and the smell of weed wafted out of the trailer behind him.

“Hey, baby,” he said. His eyes moved to Steve standing behind you, but he didn’t seem confused whatsoever. “Steve.”

“Eddie,” you said calmly, despite you feeling anything but. “What are you doing at home?”

He shrugged. “Just hangin’ out.”

You blinked. “And what about work?”

“Oh, I didn’t really feel good this morning,” Eddie said. He still didn’t look phased at all. He looked happy, like he didn’t even realize he was in trouble.

You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Eddie…what are you on?”

Steve looked at you. “What do you mean? He’s stoned off his ass.”

“Yeah, and something else,” you said. Eddie had the decency to look ashamed by this point, avoiding your eyes. “Did you take the Special K?”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, still avoiding your gaze. “Just a little.”

“Eddie…” you scoffed. “Are you fucking serious? And Benny said if you did this one more time you’re fired. How many times have you called out to get high?”

Eddie was looking anywhere but at you, as if he was pretending you couldn’t see him. He shrugged. “A few times.”

“Eds…” you were hurting now, the anger being replaced by betrayal. “How could you do this? How much money do you have saved up? Or did you blow it all on drugs?”

His lack of an answer was an answer itself. He had nothing. Dropping out and all his hard work had been for nothing. Your face fell, your stomach dropping. “You really have nothing for us? You’ve just been getting high and leaving me to just be…fucked once the babies are here and we have nothing?”

Eddie looked properly scolded, but he was still too high to take in the severity of what you were saying. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “Sure you are, Eddie.”

You turned and stomped away from the house and back to Steve’s car. You were wiping tears away, too angry to let Eddie see how hurt you were. Steve chased after you, trying to stay near you as you stomped through the yard. You huffed but allowed him to open the car door for you and hold your hand as you got in.

“Shit,” Steve said as he drove away and back towards your house. “I’m sorry. That did not go well.”

“Not your fault,” you shrugged, looking out the window. You didn’t want anyone to see how badly you were hurting. This was embarrassing.

Steve stopped trying to talk to you, sensing you weren’t in the mood. That’s the thing about Steve, he was always good company - even when you didn’t want company.

He pulled up outside of your house. “Do you want me to come in, or…”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said. “Thank you, though.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You were relieved your parents weren’t home. You were really starting to show, it’s no wonder your mom made the comment about your weight. 12 weeks with twins was serious, apparently. It had started to make you a little happy, but now you were miserable.

You rubbed your hand over your growing belly, now firm beneath your palm. Your little babies. Safe in there, for now. You loved them already.

You went upstairs and drew yourself a bath. You undressed, climbing into the tub and then easing yourself beneath the water. The warmth relaxed your aching body instantly. You cradled your belly, smiling to yourself despite how fucking sad you felt.

When you got out, you wrapped yourself in your favorite fuzzy towel. You dried yourself and your hair, then changed into a silk pajama shirt and shorts set. It wasn’t long after you climbed into bed that you drifted off into a deep sleep.

You were woken up hours later by a noise. You were confused at first- what the fuck? Then you heard it again. Clink. Clink. Clink.

You walked over to your window, your feet shuffling over the soft carpet. You crossed your arms in front of yourself, wishing you had your robe. You peeked out the window - and saw Eddie standing there on the ground below, smiling sheepishly.

You opened the window. “Eddie, what are you doing?”

“Can I come up?” he asked.

Your eyes widened. “How?”

Eddie held his arms out to the trellis and ivy on the side of the house. “I can climb it.”

“Eddie, I think that’s a bad idea-“

But he was already climbing, faster than you’d expected, too. Eddie was skilled in a lot of things, but it still always impressed you. He climbed up the side of the house without incident, and you stepped back to let him climb in the window.

When he climbed in and stood to his full height with that grin on his face, it occurred to you how handsome your boyfriend was. You never knew that being pregnant could make you so horny all the time - you were mad at him, but you wanted him in your bed even more. His expression turned serious as he approached you.

“Baby,” he started. “I’m so sorry. I was a fucking idiot.” He looked so genuinely apologetic, so distraught, you had to believe him. “I swear, I…I’m done. With all of it. That was so fuckin’ stupid of me. I’m not gonna miss another day of my shitty job, I’m not gonna buy or sell or partake, I’m so fucking sorry about the Special K oh my god-“

“Eddie,” you said, putting a stop to his rambling. “I get it.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “I just want you to know I’m serious. That I really know I fucked up. That I love you and the babies and I want what’s best for you. They need me. You need me. I should have been saving that money like I promised.”

It was hard to stay mad at him when he was being so genuine. He held out a hand, tentatively, like he was worried he’d scare you away. You took his hand and he pulled you into him.

“I love you,” he said. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you said, and you meant it completely.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. The back of his hand brushed over your stomach, feeling how the babies had grown since he’d last properly seen you.

“They’re so healthy,” he smiled. “Strong little beans.”

You smiled back up at him. “They’ve grown a lot. I feel like I was half this size yesterday.”

“Well, you look beautiful,” Eddie said. “You look so good carrying my babies.”

You giggled but then Eddie was kissing you again, walking you back towards your bed. “Eds, my parents are home…” you said quietly, and Eddie groaned.

“We’ll be quiet. They’re asleep, they’ll never know.”

It was hard to protest when he was kissing down your neck now, making you go weak in his arms. He held you up (with a little more effort than before), then gently laid you down on your bed.

“I love these,” he said, rubbing his hand over the pink silk of your pajamas. He felt the lace of your shorts, moving up until his hand was resting over your belly. He left his hand there, and when you looked up at his face, he was looking down at you with so much affection in his expression it nearly took your breath away.

He caught you looking and met your eyes before looking away shyly. “Sorry. Sometimes it just hits me, y’know?”

You placed your hand over his. “I get what you mean.”

He slowly stretched out over your body, his hand staying where it was. Then he kissed you, all of his love and emotion in that single kiss. “I love you,” he said when he pulled away to hover over your lips. “I love all three of you so fucking much.”

“We love you too,” you giggled, then he was kissing you again.

You helped push his jacket off his shoulders and then pull his shirt over his head. Your hands danced over his bare chest - you loved seeing him like this, his tattoos, his dark hair splayed out over his pale skin. He slid his hand beneath your top, still resting on your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “I can’t fucking believe it. I didn’t think you could get any hotter.��

You laughed. “I didn’t think you’d find me attractive like this at all. And I’m only gonna get bigger.”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie looked at you like you were crazy. “I’ve never seen anybody so hot in my life. Kinda wanna keep you like this,” he teased.

You laughed, but it turned into a gasp of a moan when Eddie bit down on your neck. He unbuttoned the front of your shirt, letting the material sit open on your front. He pulled back and took in the whole view, eyes going from your face, to your tits, to your belly, to your panties, back up and down again with a wolfish grin.

“Fuckin’ incredible,” he said.

He undid his own jeans, pushing them off and onto the floor. He got between your legs and kissed all over your thighs, worshipping your body as he lowered your silk shorts down your legs. Once they were off, he spread your thighs and dove in.

“Oh!” You covered your mouth with one hand, the other going down to pull at Eddie’s hair. “Ohmygod, Eds-“

He groaned as he ate you, wasting no time taking you right to your peak. There was no teasing, only Eddie worshipping his favorite part of your body. He rutted his hips against the bed, hard cock rubbing against your comforter and giving him some sort of friction. He wanted to be inside of you - but needed to taste you first.

He slipped two fingers into your pussy and you arched your back, gasping. “Eddie!”

“That’s it baby,” he mumbled against you. “Let me make you feel good. Need you to cum on my face.”

He was getting you there fast. It was almost overwhelming, your head spinning from the intensity of the building orgasm. He sucked hard on your clit and pressed against your g-spot with his fingers and then you were nearly screaming his name, covering your face with your pillow to keep yourself quiet.

Eddie moaned as he lapped up everything you were giving him. He loved working you through your orgasms, making them last as long as possible. Eddie was not a selfish lover. He loved to give.

When you were pushing him away, he finally lifted from between your legs, looking up at you with a devious expression, his lips and chin covered with your slick. “I need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” you squeaked, your voice still shaking from how hard he’d made you cum.

Eddie laughed, climbing back up your body. He placed a kiss on your stomach before reaching your lips again. “Yeah, baby.” He pushed his boxers down, then he was lining himself up with your entrance.

“Please,” you begged him, wanting his cock, still delirious from cumming on his tongue. “I want you.”

Eddie groaned as he pushed inside, sinking deeper, deeper, deeper. You whined, fingernails digging into his biceps, as a choked moan clawed its way from Eddie’s throat. He bottomed out inside of you and immediately started rocking his hips into you.

“Yeah,” he moaned. “Fuck, feels so good, doesn’t it baby?”

“So good, Eds,” you whined. “So so good. Love your cock.”

“I know you do, baby,” he said. “You’re being so good for me. Saying the right things, taking my cock so well.”

“Wanna be good for you,” you nodded, already drunk on him. “I’ll be so good.”

Eddie groaned at that, his hips speeding up. “I know you will, baby. You’ll be so good. You’re gonna let me cum inside you, yeah?”

You nodded again. “Mmhmm.”

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie hissed. “I love that. Love filling you up.” His lips were right against your ear now, brushing the shell of it. “You already let me knock you up, right baby? Already let me fill you up so good you’re carrying my babies now. Always were such a little slut.”

You whimpered, the dirty talk doing something to you. Eddie grunted with every deep thrust, you knew he’d be going harder if it wasn’t for the babies. He was still careful.

“God, I fuckin’ love you,” he grunted, fucking you so hard your legs were shaking around his waist. “Can’t believe you’re mine. Too fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

You would have disagreed, but you couldn’t even get a coherent thought out. Eddie fucked into you a good couple more times and then you were crying out his name, Eddie quickly covering your mouth with his hand as he laughed breathily in your ear.

“Can’t let your parents hear you screamin’ my name, baby.”

Your eyes rolled back as Eddie lost himself in the pleasure of your body, only a few more thrusts before he was gasping and stilling, groaning your name quietly over and over as he came inside of you like he’d promised.

When he’d come down, he pulled out and climbed off of you. He grabbed a towel from your attached bathroom and carried it over to you, content smile on his face.

It always stood out to you how out of place Eddie looked in your bedroom. It was still decorated from when you were younger, mostly pink and cute. Then Eddie would come in, big, dangerous-looking metalhead with his long hair and tattoos and scary facade. The big scary guy who was now cleaning you up and then climbing into bed to cuddle with you, his hand resting over your unborn babies.

He held you all night.

—

You woke the next morning in high spirits.

Eddie was still in bed with you, holding you close. You’d had amazing sex the night before. And your parents weren’t home this morning. You felt content.

Eddie woke up as you were attempting to slide out of his arms. “Where y’going?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Bathroom,” you giggled at his pouting. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m hungry,” he grumbled.

You frowned. “Did you even eat yesterday, or did you just get high then come straight over here?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute. “The second one.”

“Eds.” You sighed. “Well let me go to the bathroom then we’ll go downstairs and cook some breakfast.”

Eddie mumbled something happily as you stood from the bed and headed into your attached bathroom. When you were done, you came back to find Eddie sitting up on your bed, still naked, rubbing his eyes.

“You okay?” you asked. Eddie looked up at you, eyes lingering on your naked body before he could come up with a response.

“Yeah, just tired,” he said. “I’d sleep some more, but I think I might be even more hungry.”

“We can come back to bed after we eat some breakfast,” you offered. You pulled on a pair of shorts and a random t-shirt. You caught sight of yourself in the mirror - you looked very pregnant in this. The thin t-shirt hid nothing. “What do you want?”

Eddie’s eyes were locked on your form. “Uh…I guess some…pancakes, bacon, uh…damn, you really are pregnant, aren’t you?”

You blushed as you looked down at your body. It was constantly changing, and you were starting to get somewhat used to it. “Yeah. Do I look…bad?”

Eddie shook his head. “No! No. I’m sorry. That was kinda rude. I just…that thing you said, about how things can change overnight? I didn’t believe you, but damn.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror again. You did look a little bigger, maybe. Or maybe Eddie just hadn’t gotten a good look at you last night. Either was possible. You placed your hands on the bump, wondering if you should cover up more, if you looked gross-

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said, standing and walking over to you. He put his hands there, too. “I see you thinking too hard. Don’t. You look beautiful. It just…surprised me, is all.”

You wanted to believe that Eddie didn’t find you unattractive now, but your self doubt kept creeping back in. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”

Eddie pulled on his boxers and shirt then followed you out of the bedroom. He kept pulling you into him and kissing you, which would make you giggle and slap at his chest playfully. “Eddie, we’re never gonna get down the stairs at this rate.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he teased as you grabbed his hand and walked down the stairs. “What if I wanna get back in bed and make out with you all day?”

“Tempting,” you hummed. Eddie pulled you into him one more time as you got to the kitchen, kissing you hard against the wall. You tangled your hands in his hair, both of you smiling into the kiss. You couldn’t get enough of each other.

When you finally broke apart for air, you turned the corner, still giggling with Eddie’s hand in yours.

Eddie nearly walked right into you as you stopped.

Your parents were sitting in the kitchen, as if they’d been waiting for you. They did not look happy.

“You two weren’t as quiet as you thought you were last night,” your dad said, sitting his coffee down on the table.

You wanted to die on the spot.

Your mom said your name, and you knew you were in for it now. You clung to Eddie’s hand, who stood protectively next you with his other arm around your back.

They were about to start talking when your mom looked down over the counter. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “Oh, Jesus,” she said, bringing her hand up to her chest. “You didn’t.”

“What?” your dad asked. He followed your mom’s line of vision, and then he saw it, too. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“How…how far?” she asked you, tears welling in her eyes. You felt like the worst person on the planet.

“I…” You looked up at Eddie, who squeezed your hand for support. “I’m 12 weeks,” you answered, turning back to face your parents.

“12 weeks?” your mom repeated. Her eyes dropped down to your bump. “…Are you sure?”

“It’s…it’s twins.”

Your mom’s eyes widened, her hand coming to cover her mouth in shock. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of this conversation.

“Jesus,” your dad said. “Could you two have fucked up any worse?”

The silence settled over you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your chest too tight and not enough air being pulled into your lungs. You felt dizzy, your head spinning. You held onto Eddie tighter.

“How the hell did you get yourself into this, with him?” your dad continued, only getting more angry by the second.

You looked at Eddie, terrified. “We were careful, I swear. But the condom broke-“

“You expect us to believe that?” your dad barked. “You expect me to believe this guy has ever done anything responsible in his life?”

Eddie didn’t bother defending himself. He knew how your parents felt about him, and he knew there was no changing it. He’d tried enough.

“I’m telling you the truth,” you said. “It was a broken condom. Just one time.”

“Of course you get pregnant after just one time,” your mom said. “I seriously cannot believe you. After all we’ve done for you, all we’ve taught you, the amount of times we warned you away from him for this exact reason-“

“This is not Eddie’s fault!” you yelled, but that just earned you an incredulous look from your mother and father.

“Baby,” Eddie muttered, but it was too late.

“Do not yell at your mother,” your dad yelled. His face was turning red, you had never seen him look so angry in your life.

“How is this not his fault?” your mom asked. “He’s older than you. He’s a druggie loser who is never going to finish school, and now you’ve let him knock you up. With two kids.” She scoffed. “I’m sure it wasn’t at all because he wants to chain you to him.”

“What the fuck?” Eddie spoke up then, his brows furrowed in true amazement at what your mother had just said. “You’re saying I got her pregnant on purpose to trap her?”

Your mom didn’t even acknowledge Eddie. “Don’t you see what he’s doing?” she pleaded with you, and her teary eyes would have really gotten to you if what she was saying wasn’t so batshit crazy. “He knows he doesn’t deserve you, so he’s tied you down with kids before you can even finish high school.”

“Hold on a fucking second-“

“No, you don’t speak,” your dad said. “I ought to kick your ass. My daughter was a good girl. This is your fault. You’ve ruined her life.”

“I just can’t believe you’d do this,” your mom said, wiping tears from her face. “You had a bright future. We tried so hard to get you away from him before this happened.”

“He’s going to end up just like ol’ Al Munson,” your dad said cruelly, narrowing his eyes at Eddie. “Unemployed, on drugs, deadbeat. Then the rest of his life in prison.”

Eddie could feel the anger coursing through his body like a tangible energy. His body went cold with it, his hands shaking, the urge to pull back and punch your dad in his smug fucking face almost overwhelming.

“You don’t know shit about me or my family,” Eddie hissed, his teeth clenched. He had let go of you, one hand pointing a finger at your parents while the other was balled into a fist. “You have no fucking right to talk about me like that.”

“Oh, I know all about Al Munson,” your dad said, completely unbothered. “You think the whole town isn’t familiar with the Munson name? You have a reputation, son, your whole white trash family does.”

Silence.

You grabbed Eddie’s arm, feeling him tense, shaking with anger. Before he could go off, your mom spoke again.

“You’re no longer welcome in this house,” she said, sniffling as if she was a victim here. “You can pack your things and be gone by this weekend.”

You stared at her like you couldn’t believe what she was saying - although it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you. “I…where am I supposed to go, mom?” you asked, your voice breaking. Your hand rested over your stomach, tears filling your eyes now. All of a sudden, you were actually terrified.

It hit you, at that moment, that you had two babies on the way and now you would be homeless.

“I don’t care where you go,” she said. She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Just not here.”

You looked at your dad, although you knew you’d get nothing better from him.

He shrugged at you, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I guess it’s time to see if this loser can really own up to his mistakes and take care of you. You’re about to learn a big lesson the hard way. He’s already a person of interest to the Hawkins police.”

You were crying hard now, tears falling down your face as you struggled to take in air. You felt like you didn’t even recognize your parents - these people who must have loved you, at some point. Now acting like they didn’t care if you and your babies lived or died.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie muttered, a hand on your lower back leading you out of the kitchen. He led you upstairs and back to your bedroom, breakfast forgotten.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie said, once you were alone in your room again. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you answered honestly as your cries turned to sobs. Your heart felt like it had been stomped on, trampled over. “I don’t know what to do.”

Eddie wiped your tears away with his thumb. “Please calm down, baby. You know I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you or my babies, right?”

You managed a sad smile at Eddie. “I know you’d do everything you could-“

“No, I will make anything happen for my family. Do you hear me?”

You nodded, sniffling. “What do you think, then?”

“I think we need to go catch Wayne before he goes to work.”

—

You didn’t have to dress to hide the bump anymore. Everyone knew.

It was a relief to not have to cover up so much, but having the belly be so obvious was new. It definitely attracted a lot of attention, even from strangers. Eddie kept his hand on it most of the time, like he was determined to protect it from any possible threat.

He pulled up outside the trailer, Wayne’s car still parked out front. When he killed the engine, the both of you just sat there. Silent.

“…What if he doesn’t let me move in?” you asked quietly. “What will we do?”

“Wayne is not gonna let you and his grandchildren live on the street, I promise you that,” Eddie said.

“I just feel bad,” you mumbled. “This is…a lot of burden on him. It’s a one bedroom trailer, Eddie.”

“And I’ll save up enough for us to get our own trailer by the time the babies are here,” he said. “It’s going to work out.”

You weren’t so sure how well you believed in his plan, but you stepped out of the van with his help anyway. He helped you walk up the porch to the front door, opening it for you and helping you inside.

Wayne sat in his recliner with a beer in hand, the usual scene. He looked up as you walked in, eyes darting down to your stomach and widening slightly before moving back to your face. You’d have to get used to it.

“Hey, kiddos,” he greeted you both. He took a sip and looked back at the old western playing on TV.

“Wayne,” Eddie said awkwardly. “We need to talk to to you.”

Wayne turned the volume down on the TV and looked over at his nephew, who was currently helping his pregnant girlfriend take a seat on the ratty couch. Eddie took a seat next to you once you were comfortable. When he looked at Wayne, the older man could tell Eddie had been going through it. He looked like stress personified.

Eddie held his hands out like he was going to speak seconds before he actually did. “So, how do you feel about a new roommate? Or three?”

Wayne looked between the two of you. You just watched him, feeling as awkward as you looked. “What happened?” he asked.

“My…my parents kicked me out,” you admitted. “They just found out today. And they said I can’t live there anymore.”

Eddie looked at his uncle like, can you believe this shit?

“They kicked you out pregnant?” Wayne asked, like he was still wrapping his mind around it.

“Yeah,” you said, looking down at your hands clasped together.

“Honey,” Wayne said, pity evident in his voice. You steeled yourself. “I’m so sorry. You always have a place here.”

You looked up. “You don’t mind me staying here?”

“‘Course not.” Wayne took another sip of his beer. “You’re no trouble. The only thing is…”

“The space,” Eddie finished for him.

Wayne nodded. “Yeah. I’m not sure how you’re gonna fit two babies in here.”

“I’ll have enough saved up for us to move out by the time the babies get here,” Eddie said. “I swear.”

Wayne wasn’t sure he believed him either. “Like I said, you’re welcome to stay here. I won’t make you leave. I jus’ think you’ll need to figure somethin’ out by the time those babies are here. For everyone’s sake.”

“We will,” Eddie said. “Thank you.”

“Thank you so much,” you said, and you meant it. Your eyes brimmed with tears that Eddie quickly wiped away.

“Y’know I’d do anything for the two of you,” Wayne said. “Well, four of ya now.” His eyes widened when he said it, like he still hadn’t wrapped his mind around the fact the two of you were about to double.

Eddie helped you up and you went straight over to Wayne, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug. He was surprised, but a smile spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Thank you,” you said through tears, quiet enough for just Wayne.

“You’re part of the family, darlin’,” he said, rubbing your back. “Always have been, and you definitely are now.”

Eddie was giving you a warm smile when you stood and turned back around. The scene had touched him - he loved that you could have a good relationship with Wayne. He meant a lot to him, he was the only real family he had.

You followed Eddie to his bedroom. You always felt more at home here, anyway.

“I’ll help you pack tomorrow,” Eddie said softly, brushing his fingers through your hair. “I’ll get some of the guys to come help us. Henderson and Wheeler could use some physical labor.”

You laughed. “I don’t want to pull the guys into my mess-“

“Well your mess is my mess, and I do want to pull them into it.” He smirked down at you, the sweet smile on your face making his heart soar. “I enjoy inconveniencing them any chance I get.” He paused. “And we’re gonna need all the help. You’ve got a lotta shit.”

“I do not have that much stuff!”

Eddie scoffed. “Yeah, okay. I don’t even know how we’re gonna fit all your stuff in here.”

He was honestly right about that one. As you looked around the room, stuffed full with all of Eddie’s stuff, you wondered yourself where you would put your belongings.

Eddie could sense the worry on you. “We can get a storage building, or something.”

You nodded. You knew with Eddie you’d figure anything out - he wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to you. He wasn’t about to see you sad for a single day if he could help it.

The next day, you and Eddie went back to your house when you knew your parents wouldn’t be there.

They had ransacked your bedroom.

You nearly cried when you saw it. All of your stuff, your photos, your books, dumped out messily on the floor and rifled through. Eddie clenched his jaw in anger but put a comforting arm around you. “Come on. Let’s just pack your stuff.”

Eddie helped you put everything into boxes. You were crying the entire time you packed, feeling like you were leaving a piece of you behind. You loved this room. You’d spent 18 years in it.

Gareth, Jeff, Grant, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas were showing up right on time just as you finished packing. They all greeted you, with the now typical wide eyed look at your middle. You let your hand rest on the bump now - no reason to hide it anymore. The tank top you were in did little to cover it, anyway. But it’s like the guys hadn’t fully wrapped their minds around you being actually pregnant until this moment.

No one let you lift a finger after that. You were instructed to sit on the couch downstairs while Eddie and the boys carried box after box down to his van. You rubbed your stomach, your back and ankles aching already.

When they were done, Eddie helped you up. “Ready to go home, princess?” he asked you quietly.

Home. With Eddie.

You smiled softly at him, squeezing his hand. “I’m ready.”

You took a final look at the large house as you left - your childhood home, a place that was special to you. It wasn’t yours anymore.

Back at Eddie’s - your house - he carried the boxes inside. You sat on the bed, unpacking your clothes and folding them.

“I like seeing you be all domestic,” Eddie said, raising an eyebrow at you. “It’s pretty hot.”

You laughed. “Well I guess you better get used to seeing me do housework.”

Eddie groaned as he kneeled on the bed in front of you. “Is that a promise?”

You laughed again but then he was kissing you, pushing you back down onto the bed and messing up the piles of clothes you’d already folded. You didn’t care.

You were in love.

—

“I got you something,” Eddie said as he walked in the house after work. You were in the kitchen, cooking spaghetti for dinner. Wayne had already left for work.

“You got me something?” you asked, scrunching up your face. “What?”

“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” Eddie laughed.

“Sorry.” You turned around, wiping your hands on the apron you’d tied on as well as you could. “What is it?”

Eddie lifted a bag from his side. It was from the local bookstore.

“Books?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just - here.” He handed the bag over to you and you took it, smiling curiously at him. You watched him as you opened the bag, then peeked inside, pulling out three thick books.

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” you read out loud. “Guide to Twin Pregnancy. And…” you flipped over the last book. “A journal?”

“Yeah,” he said excitedly. “The journal goes with this book,” he pointed to the first one. “It tells you all about the pregnancy, like by week, and then you can journal about how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking and stuff.”

You smiled up at your boyfriend. “Eddie…”

“I thought you deserved it,” he smiled playfully. “I just thought…maybe you’d wanna write some thoughts down, look back on it in the future, or whatever.”

“Eddie,” you said again. “I love it.”

“Yeah?” he smiled bigger.

“It was sweet of you to think of me.” You were tearing up again - god, were you always crying? “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you as close to his body as the bump would allow, leaning down to kiss you.

Eddie backed you into the counter, kissing you deeply. You blindly sat the books down on the table and tangled your hands in his hair instead. He was kissing you hard, taking your breath away.

“Eds-“ you said, pushing back on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the immediate picture of concern.

“The spaghetti,” you blushed. “Almost forgot all about it.”

—

Your next doctor’s appointment, Eddie was there.

He took a few hours off work to come pick you up from school and drive you there. At 15 weeks, you had a cute (and noticeable) bump. Still pretty small, but definitely growing and evident no matter what you wore.

You hadn’t heard from your parents since you moved out a couple weeks before. Not once. You tried not to think of them, but the unfortunate truth was that you still loved them. And multiple times during your pregnancy so far, you’d had that little girl feeling, that I want my mom longing.

You brushed your hand over your bump as Eddie drove. You would never make your babies question how much you loved them.

Eddie caught the movement from the corner of his eye, shooting you a smile. He drove one handed, his other leather jacket clad arm hanging out the open window. “You excited?”

“Yeah,” you said, and you were. You didn’t need to get into the other thoughts swirling in your head. “I hope we get to see them again.”

“Me too.” Eddie’s long curls blew in the breeze through the window. He looked so handsome, sometimes it just struck you. How lucky you were. You didn’t know he thought the same exact things about you on a daily basis.

He pulled into the parking lot of your doctor’s office. He was shutting the van off and hopping out before you could even get your seatbelt off, opening your door and helping you down with a hand on your lower back.

“I’m okay,” you said with a giggle. “I’m not that huge yet.”

“Carrying precious cargo,” he smiled.

Inside, you signed in while Eddie took a seat. You sat next to him, filling out your questionnaire. It was a lot less in depth than the first one, just updates for the past couple of weeks. You were considered high risk because of the twin pregnancy, so you were seen more than most young pregnant women.

“Maybe they can tell me why my ankles and feet have been double their normal size,” you grumbled, rubbing at your aching ankle.

Eddie frowned. “Do you want me to rub them?”

“Here?” you laughed. “That’s okay, baby. Might take you up on it at home, though.”

“You got it,” he winked.

The nurse called your name and you handed off your form. She took the two of you back and had you stand on the scale then check your blood pressure.

“A bit high,” she frowned. “Is your blood pressure normally high?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking at Eddie then back at the nurse. “No? I mean, no one’s ever said that.”

“Is that bad?” Eddie asked.

“The doctor will talk to you about it,” she smiled politely, but there was concern behind it neither of you missed. Eddie held your hand as you walked to the exam room.

Both of you were too nervous to chat as you waited for the doctor. When she walked in, holding your clipboard and tucking her hair behind her ear, you let out a sigh of relief.

She greeted you, asked how you were feeling. Then, straight into business - “Your blood pressure is concerning. And I’m noticing some swelling in your hands and feet.”

You held out your hands, examining them. Your ring Eddie gifted you for your anniversary was tighter than usual. “Yeah. I’ve noticed that too.”

“I’m going to send you home with a blood pressure monitor. I want you to keep an eye on it.”

She had both your and Eddie’s full attention now. “Is- is it bad?”

“It could be a sign of some things,” she said. “I don’t want to worry you yet, it’s still early. But I want you to monitor your blood pressure at home, and we’d like to see you here every week. If things remain concerning, it’s possible we may admit you until delivery.”

Your eyes went wide, looking between the doctor and Eddie. “Until delivery? But- I’m only 15 weeks.”

“And we need to keep those babies safe and inside for as long as possible,” she smiled at you sadly. “But I’m going to suggest bed rest every second you aren’t at school, and make sure you record your blood pressure readings.”

You felt deflated. You had been excited for this appointment, only to get more bad news. Frankly, you were tired of bad news.

You didn’t get an ultrasound that appointment either, so you left the office feeling low. Eddie was even more attentive, walking alongside you with his hand on your back and basically lifting you into the van.

“That’s fuckin’ scary,” he said as he sat in his seat.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie watched you, then reached over and took your hand in his. “Are you okay?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m scared.”

Eddie realized he shouldn’t have said anything. He was supposed to be the strong one, for you. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “We’re going to listen to the doctor, you’re going to go on bed rest and get your checkups, and the babies are going to stay cookin’ until they’re good and ready. Okay?”

You smiled softly at him - Eddie was always so good at making you feel better. “Okay.”

He drove back to the trailer, music playing low over the speakers. “You’re not taking me back to school?”

Eddie smirked. “Nah, figured I’d let you skip.”

You giggled. “Exciting.”

Exciting indeed - you got back to the house and after practically being carried inside, Eddie picked out some of your comfiest clothes and got you set up in bed with your feet up.

“I wanted to make tacos for dinner,” you pouted.

“I can make them,” Eddie said, kissing the back of your knuckles. “Doesn’t seem too hard.”

“Don’t burn the house down,” you teased.

“No promises.” Eddie kissed your lips one more time before he was leaving the room and heading down the hall towards the kitchen. He pulled out the ingredients you’d bought for dinner and read whatever had instructions. Seemed easy enough.

With the meat simmering and taco shells in the oven, Eddie felt like he had done a pretty damn good job. It wasn’t often that he got to feel good about himself anymore. When the timer was up he made you both a plate and brought them into the bedroom.

“We shouldn’t be eating in here,” you scolded him as he came in, but you sat yourself up against the headboard in preparation for your plate anyway.

“We’ll live.” He smirked as he handed you your plate and sat at the foot of the bed with his own.

“I can make it to the living room, Eds, I’m not made of glass.”

“I know,” he said. “Just thought we’d eat in here today while you’re all comfy.”

You didn’t really mind it. You did your best not to make a mess on the blankets, but Eddie kept making you laugh, and he’d wipe the sauce off your face whenever you made a mess. It was impossible to stop smiling.

“I just want my girl to be happy and healthy,” Eddie murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I just want what’s best for you. You’re my world.”

And he was yours.

—

It was week after week of checkups after that. Your blood pressure remained high and proved to be a much bigger concern than you’d originally realized. You were diagnosed with gestational hypertension and now officially on bed rest, and Robin was tasked with carrying your books around to your classes. All it did was bring more attention to you.

The bigger you got, the worse things got at school.

You probably could have predicted that. Of course everyone would want to fuck with you now, no one gave a shit what you were going through or how hard it was. They just thought it was hilarious that you’d gotten knocked up by the freak. Eddie didn’t mind the label much but god, it made you so mad every time you heard it.

Eddie wasn’t even here anymore, he was at work, busting his ass for you and the babies. Yet he was still talked about like garbage, like he was worthless. How dare they? He was everything.

You had had a particularly shitty day. You were 17 weeks now, so close to the end of the school year. So close to graduation. You had worked hard and you were going to walk that stage with your classmates, belly or not.

Robin was carrying your books for you, chattering on about this girl from band she was into - Vickie. You were pretty sure Vickie liked girls, but Robin was still too nervous to shoot her shot.

“Anyway, she said-“ Robin stopped short as you reached your locker. You had been looking down at your chipping fingernail polish, but when you went to look at what stopped Robin, she spun you around and started pulling you in the other direction. “Uh, actually I think I forgot something in Ms. Click’s.”

“Robs, what-“ you pulled away from her and turned back around - immediately realizing what Robin hadn’t wanted you to see.

Someone had completely vandalized your locker. There were demon faces taped all over, pentagrams drawn in red paint, and in that same red spray paint, FREAK SPAWN and SPAWN OF SATAN scrawled across the front of your locker.

Everyone was looking on, giggling as they watched your reaction. Unfortunately, you were giving them exactly what they were hoping for. Your jaw dropped, your bottom lip wobbling as the tears brimmed in your eyes. They fell while you were still too numb to even notice they were there.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Robin muttered, pulling on your arm. “They’ll come clean it up.”

“Hey, whore,” a random guy called from the crowd. You weren’t even sure who. “When’s the virgin sacrifice?” He was laughing so hard at his own joke, he could barely finish. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore, huh?”

Robin rolled her eyes, pulling you away from the spectacle. She was angry as she stomped down the hall with you in tow. “Fucking school security. What do they even do? Evidently nothing.”

You felt like you were in a trance. You kept seeing the words on your locker as well as if they’d been spray painted right on your brain. You were suddenly filled with dread - what if these babies were ridiculed just like you and Eddie were, simply for being yours?

You loved these babies too much. This hurt so much more than anyone realized, probably more than those dumbasses had thought it would when they did it. These were your children. Eddie was your family.

“Hey,” Robin said, stopping abruptly. “I don’t want you to let any of that bother you, you hear me? Those people are idiots. You are kind and beautiful and smart. They don’t matter. You matter.”

You nodded along, but you still felt lost in your own brain. You stood silently by as Robin spoke to the principal, telling him what had happened. You didn’t pay any attention to the conversation at all, just nodding along whenever Robin would look at you.

After school, Robin escorted you to Eddie’s van. “Seriously,” she said for the millionth time. “I don’t want those assholes bothering you. Go home with Eddie, watch one of those nasty gory movies, and be happy.”

You nodded - you still felt terrible, admittedly. Eddie clocked it on your face the second you got in the van. “What happened?”

You sighed, lip wobbling again.

“Are you about to cry?” he asked, his eyes widening. “Shit. Baby, what happened?”

Through teary eyes, you recounted the day to Eddie. His fists clenched on the steering wheel, a white knuckled grip. “Fucking assholes,” he spat, like just the thought of them made him sick. Eddie reached for the door handle. “I’m going to talk to these motherfuckers.”

You grabbed his arm. “Eddie, stop. I don’t even know who did it,” you sniffled. “I don’t know. Probably Jason or one of his friends.”

“Not Jason himself,” Eddie said. “Doesn’t have the balls.”

You laughed, for the first time since the incident. Eddie could always make you feel better. “Yeah.”

Eddie turned to you, a little calmer. “Seriously, don’t let those assholes bother you. They terrorized me for years, you just…you have to realize that they don’t mean anything. What they think has nothing to do with you. They’re just too stupid to understand anything different from them.”

You nodded. You knew Eddie was right, but it still hurt. You couldn’t shake it - you felt like you were powerless to protect your babies from the cruelty of the world. You had never really been bullied, but Eddie? He got shit for years. He swore he never cared, always let it roll right off him, but it had to hit him somewhere underneath all that.

You knew that beneath his humor and don’t give a fuck attitude, he heard what people said.

You grabbed his hand, and he held yours back happily. It was so hard to get Eddie down. He was your rock, truly.

“Wanna watch The Exorcist tonight?” he asked with a smile. Eddie had made it his personal mission to keep you entertained while you’re on bed rest, and he knew a horror movie was just the thing to cheer you up after a shitty day. “I know how much you love it.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. “Can we make popcorn?”

“Of course.” He kissed your knuckles. “Anything for my girl.”

—

It was your last school day, and you were relieved to be done. You never wanted to see most of those people again, and you wouldn’t miss it. You knew the few people you cared about would be in your life after school.

You and Robin emptied your lockers after school, throwing away all your notes and test papers, dumping them ceremoniously into the trash can. It was all giggles as you realized - we’re really done. It’s over. We did it.

You were 5 months pregnant, but you were going to walk that stage.

The only thing bringing you down was the reminder of college. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan were all going. Robin wasn’t going far, thankfully, so you’d still get to see her, but you felt like you were being left behind.

You were going to be at home in Forest Hills raising two babies while your friends lived their dreams. While they lived your dreams.

You pushed thoughts of college and the future from your head, refusing to let them ruin yet another day.

Eddie picked you up after school with balloons and a little cake. You had been craving sweets like crazy, and when you walked up to the van with Robin to see him smiling and holding the gifts, you burst into tears.

Eddie scrambled to put the cake and balloons back in the van, before running over to you. “Baby,” he said, looking you over like he would find you hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“I love cake,” you sobbed.

Eddie laughed, relieved. He pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back. “I know, baby. You don’t have to cry. We’re gonna go home and eat some together and watch movies all night.”

“That sounds really good,” you sniffled.

“It’s not every day you finish high school,” he smiled. He was all smiles and support, but you could see the hurt behind his eyes. This was supposed to be his celebration, too. He was supposed to be walking that stage with you tomorrow.

You said goodbye to Robin and Eddie led you over to the van, opening the door and helping you climb in. Things were starting to get harder. The belly added a lot of extra weight, and it threw off your balance. Not to mention the pain in your back and feet.

You held the cake as Eddie drove you home, admiring the design. It was a white cake with a Hawkins High green border, ‘Congratulations, you did it!’ written in script with your name. Yellow cake with buttercream icing. Classic, and exactly what you’d been craving.

Wayne was gone for the night when you got to the trailer. Eddie got you set up on the couch with your feet propped up and hurried to the kitchen to cut you each a slice of cake. He brought it back, putting on the copy of The Exorcist you’d rented from Family Video.

You watched the movie together as you ate your slices of cake, Eddie pulling your legs into his lap when he finished his so he could rub your feet and ankles. You laid your head against the couch, nearly falling asleep.

Eddie was getting pretty good at cooking since it had mostly fallen on his shoulders. Before you moved in, Eddie would usually heat up something in the microwave for dinner and call it a night. But he wanted to make sure you and the babies got everything you needed, so each night he would cook a little something for the two of you.

You ate chicken fried rice together on the couch, giggling at the sitcom rerun playing on the TV. When you were done, you headed back to the bedroom.

Eddie fluffed your pillows while you searched through the drawers for some pajamas. You settled on a pair of shorts and one of Eddie’s shirts, which was tight on you now. You really needed to shop for some more maternity clothes, because your options were becoming limited.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you told Eddie, gathering your clothes.

“Can I come with you?” he asked, grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling just as hard. “Yeah. Come on.”

Eddie liked being near you all the time. He had become so protective - overprotective, maybe - he never liked you alone. He wanted to help you with everything to make sure you didn’t need help or, god forbid, get hurt. You allowed him to, because it made him feel better and your pregnancy was high risk.

You let Eddie undress you. He took his time, hands roaming your skin as he removed your clothes. It wasn’t necessarily sexual - but definitely affectionate. He removed his own clothes and started the shower, adjusting the temperature to just where you liked it.

He held your hand as you stepped into the tub then climbed in behind you. You stood under the stream of water together, Eddie wrapping his arms around you from behind. His hands rested on your belly while he laid his head on your shoulder. Just holding you.

“I love you,” he muttered into your ear. “So goddamn much.”

You smiled - his words warming your heart while the hot water cascading down your bodies relaxed you physically. “I love you too, Eds.”

Eddie washed your hair for you, massaging your scalp while you closed your eyes and relaxed into it. He scrubbed your body for you, treating you like a queen. You were, to him.

You helped Eddie wash himself after you, your hands massaging the soap into his back. His muscles were so tense. He worked hard, standing all day while washing dishes at Benny’s. He moaned as you rubbed his aching shoulders, letting his head fall forward as he enjoyed the feeling of your hands on him.

When you were done in the shower, Eddie got out first, carefully helping you climb out. He dried you with a towel, then gently brushed through your hair. You put the curl conditioner in your hands, running it through Eddie’s wet hair. He closed his eyes, humming contentedly.

You pulled on your panties and the shorts, then pulled Eddie’s old Dio shirt over your head. It stretched tightly across your stomach now. Eddie smiled, rubbing his hand over the bump. “Cute.”

Back in the bedroom, Eddie got you comfortable in bed before climbing in next to you, dressed in nothing but his dark blue boxers. You cuddled up next to him, head laying on his chest.

Eddie slipped his hand beneath your shirt, resting on your bump. He rubbed circles over your belly, nearly soothing you to sleep - when you felt a flutter of movement. Your eyes snapped open, looking up at Eddie. “Did you feel that??”

“What?” he asked, brows furrowing in confusion as his hand stilled.

You grabbed his hand, moving it to where you felt the strange flutter. You both waited a minute, Eddie with baited breath, and then - there it was. The feeling of something moving beneath your skin, basically body horror, but it made your face break out in a huge grin, your heart speeding up in your chest.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaimed, laughing. “Was that-?”

“That was them,” you laughed. “Oh my god. So weird.”

Eddie propped a pillow in his place for you to lay on then quickly slid down the bed until he was level with your belly. He put his hand on it next to his face, waiting.

“Come on, babies,” he said quietly, rubbing circles on the skin as his head lay against you. “I know you’re awake in there. This is your father speaking. You have to listen to me.”

You giggled, looking down at Eddie. The sight of him cuddled up with your belly, talking to the babies like this made your heart swell. You knew these babies were so, so loved already.

You started to fall asleep, Eddie’s gentle caresses soothing you into a totally relaxed state. As you slept, Eddie stayed awake.

“I love you so much,” he muttered to your belly, placing a kiss on it. “You have no idea how excited I am to meet you both. We’re going to have so much fun. Just wait until you learn what Metallica is.”

Eddie felt another little thud beneath his hand. He broke out in a huge grin. “You guys like the sound of that?” He rubbed your belly, laying his head on it. “You’re going to be the coolest babies. My little metalheads.”

He fell asleep there, cuddled up to your middle. In your sleep, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close just as he had his wrapped around you.

—

You thought it would never truly be here, but here it was - graduation day.

At 18 weeks pregnant, your belly was now perfectly round, and, to you, huge. You knew you would be bigger with twins, but you were almost the size of the end of a normal pregnancy by this point, and you weren’t even halfway there. It was hard for you to imagine getting bigger. It scared you, to be honest.

Eddie helped you zip up the back of your white dress as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It looked beautiful on you, falling just to your knees. You had done your hair and makeup already, and taking in your full appearance - you didn’t feel so bad.

“You look stunning,” Eddie said quietly, his hands on your shoulders. He looked over your shoulder into the mirror, looking so proud of you it almost made you cry. He was dressed in his nicest jeans and a button up shirt - with his leather jacket on top. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you, baby. You did it.”

You could tell it was a difficult day for Eddie. He was supposed to be walking that stage with you. He should have been. You smoothed your dress down over your stomach, holding the underside of your belly. These babies were a total blessing, but you still felt guilty.

Eddie drove you to the school. Wayne was going to come later, closer to the ceremony. You felt sure you wouldn’t see your parents there today.

At school, after you left Eddie to go join the other graduates, you caught up with Robin and Nancy. They both pulled you into a big hug.

“I can’t believe it’s finally here!” Nancy exclaimed, tears in her eyes. Her hair had been done in a perm, and it looked cute on her. “All our hard work has paid off. It’s really happening.”

“Finally,” Robin smirked at you. “I didn’t think this year was ever gonna end.”

“I feel like they took it easy on us,” Nancy said. “You know, being seniors and all. My classes were harder last year.”

Robin looked at you like Nancy was crazy.

You got your green caps and robes and put them on. It finally felt real - this was happening. You felt conflicted. On one hand, you’d been working for this moment for your entire life. You were immeasurably proud of yourself - you had done it, and you had finished it pregnant.

But - Eddie should’ve been here. You couldn’t shake the thought of him sitting alone in the gym, surrounded by families celebrating the graduating class he was supposed to be a part of. Waiting to see you walk the stage while pretending he’s not hurting about it. Being strong for you, as usual.

You felt powerless. You wanted to fix things, but the babies had taken over your lives. You loved them and didn’t regret them, but…if only it could have happened a few years later.

Principal Higgins called for all the students to take their place, lined up in alphabetical order. You took your spot, the nerves building in your stomach. Finally you were given the direction and you all filed into the gym, taking your seats.

You looked around at the crowd, seeing all the families of your classmates. You spotted Eddie immediately, waving at you. You beamed at him, waving back. Wayne sat next to him, dressed in a nice shirt and jeans. Eddie nudged him and pointed at you, and Wayne smiled.

You didn’t see your mom and dad in the crowd - but that, right there, was your family. It didn’t matter if your parents were there or not. Eddie and Wayne were.

The ceremony was long and boring. Nancy took the stage and gave her valedictorian speech, and by the time she was done you were teary eyed, proudly clapping for your friend. Then it was time to sit and watch every single student walk the stage and get their diploma.

You waited, and waited…then, finally, the student in front of you was called. You were brought to the side of the stage to wait, and a moment later - your name was called over the microphone.

One of the teachers helped you up the stairs and then you were walking across the stage under the bright lights. You tried your best to look straight ahead and not think about all the people watching you, seeing you accept your diploma while heavily pregnant.

The cheers were loud as you were handed your diploma and took a photo with Principal Higgins. You could distinctly hear Eddie yelling above everyone else, which made you laugh as you exited the stage. It wasn’t your real diploma in your hand - that would come in the mail later - but what the rolled up piece of paper represented meant everything to you.

After the ceremony, every student threw their hat into the air. It was magical, the hats falling down all around you as everyone smiled and laughed. Finally done.

Eddie met you back out front, holding a bouquet of tulips, your favorite. Tears brimmed your eyes when you saw him, smiling so big your face hurt. You went right into his embrace, letting him wrap his arms around you and bury his face in the top of your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo.

“I am so proud of you,” he said for probably the fiftieth time of the day - but you weren’t complaining. The emotion was clear in his choked words, like he was fighting back the tears himself.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, so quietly only he could hear you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, laughing, although you could see more behind his big brown eyes.

“Eds…”

“This is your day,” he said, hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes so you’d know he was serious. “Your day. You did this, you worked for this. I don’t want you spending any more time today thinking about how you think I feel.”

“I care about how you feel-“

“I know you do.” He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering. “I know you do.”

Wayne came up, pulling you into a tight hug, yet careful of the bump. “‘m so proud of you, sweetheart,” he said, more emotion in his voice than you’d expected. It made you tear up all over again.

“Thank you, Wayne,” you said, hugging him back.

Your family.

All of your friends were having graduation parties. It wasn’t something you could afford without your parents’ help, so you decided to celebrate quietly at home with just you and Eddie. You had been invited to the parties, but your doctor had you on strict bed rest - you’d already had to beg for permission to walk at graduation.

At the house, Eddie helped you inside, carrying your flowers for you. You had stopped to pick up pizzas on the way home, which were in Eddie’s other hand. He sat them on the kitchen counter before hurrying back to your side and walking you into the bedroom.

“I’m not made of glass, you know,” you reminded him again with a smile. Eddie could drive you a little crazy with how protective he’d become, but you knew it was all out of love.

“You are to me,” he said, his hands sitting on your hips where he stood behind you. He rubbed your sides, then reached for the zipper, slowly lowering it and helping you out of your dress.

The material fell from your body, leaving you in your bra and panties. You could see yourself in his mirror - you barely recognized yourself. So much had changed.

Eddie smoothed his hands over your body, as if in reverence, like he had never seen anything more beautiful. It made your whole body heat, the way he touched you. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, then your neck, you tilting your head to give him the access he wanted.

“Want me to do the lotion?” he asked, reaching for the bottle of cocoa butter on the dresser that was supposed to prevent stretch marks. You already had a few lining your belly, but you kept using it just in case.

“Sure,” you said. You unhooked your bra, letting it drop to the ground - Eddie’s eyes lingering shamelessly - then pulled one of your new maternity sleep shirts over your head. The shirt was huge, hanging on your frame like a dress. Nice and comfy.

“Come lay down, baby,” Eddie said gently, ushering you towards the bed.

You laid down on your side of the bed. Eddie now took the side closer to the wall so you could get up easier during the night. He propped your pillows up so you could lean against the wall.

This bed would be your home for the next 4 months. The thought depressed you - you wanted to be out living life, not cooped up in the trailer all day without even Eddie to keep you company.

Eddie climbed on the bed next to you. He pumped some of the lotion into his hand as you pulled your shirt up, then he reached forward and spread it across your belly. His hands rubbed your stomach all over, coating it in the lotion and rubbing it into your skin. You closed your eyes, relaxing into the feeling.

“Feel okay?” Eddie asked you gently.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Feels nice.”

“Good.” Once he’d rubbed the lotion in, he placed a kiss on your belly and pulled your shirt down. “You look so cute,” he grinned. “I love seeing you like this.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, although you were smiling. “I feel like a beached whale.”

“First of all,” he said, sitting the lotion back on the dresser then turning the light off. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” He crawled into bed, pulling the blankets over you both before wrapping an arm around your waist and spooning against your back. His hand rested on your belly. “And second, you look beautiful. I’m not just saying that.”

You settled back into Eddie’s embrace, the feeling of him rubbing your bump soothing both you and the babies. You drifted off, peaceful in his arms. As you were right on the precipice of sleep, you heard him murmur behind you.

“I love you.”

—

You pulled the shirt down over your body, fitting it over your growing belly. You examined yourself in the mirror, picking yourself apart. You didn’t feel good about yourself. It didn’t help that you needed a whole new wardrobe you couldn’t afford, but you were growing out of the limits of all your formerly oversized clothes. You already had a hair tie on the button of your early maternity jeans. The bump was round and cute, but it was starting to take over.

You were excited today, though. You were 20 weeks pregnant, officially halfway through the pregnancy (more than halfway, since the twins likely wouldn’t make it to 40 weeks), and today was the anatomy scan. You’d be finding out what you were having.

With a hand on the bottom of your belly, you waddled out to the living room and out the front door. On the porch, you could see Eddie working on the van. He was wearing a white tank top and jeans, black grease smeared on his skin as he hunched over the engine.

“Eddie?” you called.

Eddie jumped, nicking his finger on something. He hissed a quiet “Shit,” wiping the blood off his finger with his rag before turning to look at you. “Yeah, babe?”

“Are you about ready to go? We have to get a move on soon.”

Eddie checked his watch. “Shit. Yeah. Let me get a shower real quick.”

He closed the hood, wiping his hands on the rag and then tossing it off to the side with his tools. He walked to the porch with his long legs, climbing halfway up and placing a kiss on your lips.

You went back inside, sitting on the couch while Eddie headed back to the bathroom. Typically you would have joined him, but you’d already done your hair and makeup and gotten dressed for the appointment.

“You excited?” Wayne asked from where he sat in his chair, beer in hand. “You’re findin’ out today, right?”

“Yeah, we are,” you beamed, cradling the bump in your arms. The babies were active today, you could feel the small kicks every now and then. You had to admit you were beyond excited to find out the genders. You had waited until this appointment to start shopping - this made it real.

You weren’t going to find out at the appointment itself. You were going to have the office put the results in an envelope and give it to Jeff - who was going to surprise you with a new dice set in the colors of the results at the next Hellfire meeting. You had both wanted the reveal to be personal and special, so when Jeff offered to help, you went for it.

After Eddie’s shower, he came out to the living room dressed in another pair of jeans and one of his many Metallica tees. His hair was still damp, hanging down his shoulders in tight curls. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

You were bouncing your leg with nerves in the waiting room. Eddie put his hand on your knee, laughter in his voice. “Relax, sweetheart.”

“I can’t,” you whined. “This is too big. I’m nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” He rubbed your leg. “No matter the results, we’re gonna be happy with two healthy babies.”

Eddie was right. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but your stomach was in knots. It didn’t help that the babies were sitting in a very uncomfortable position, making your back ache.

When the nurse called your name, Eddie helped you stand. She gave you a polite smile as you stepped up on the scale. You didn’t want to look at your weight - that was none of your business, you felt.

“How have you been feeling?” she asked as you sat down and she began taking your blood pressure. “Have you been resting?”

“All day,” you sighed. She looked at you sympathetically.

“I know it’s boring,” she said. “But not too much longer. Soon you’ll have two little ones to keep you plenty busy.”

Your blood pressure was still concerningly high. The nurse wrote it down in your chart before giving you a cup to collect a sample. When you were done, she lead you and Eddie to an exam room.

You sat on the table, feet swinging as you waited. Eddie was slouched in the chair, looking sorely out of place among the light yellow wallpaper and photographs of sleeping babies. It was hard to imagine soon the metalhead would be a father with his own sleeping babies in his arms.

“Hi!” your OBGYN greeted cheerfully as she wheeled the ultrasound machine into the room. “Are we excited?”

“So excited,” you smiled. You were going to see your babies again.

As she got you and the machine set up, she talked to you about your blood pressure and test results. You were diagnosed with pre-eclampsia. She instructed you to stay on strict bed rest, which made you groan internally, and you were instructed to come weekly for non-stress tests to monitor the babies. You had been hoping they might lessen the sentence, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen.

You lifted your shirt and she put the gel on your stomach. She placed the wand on your belly, pressing down hard as the image appeared on the screen. Two tiny little babies, cuddled together.

You couldn’t help it. Your eyes welled with tears, your lower lip wobbling as you looked at them - your babies. It made your heart pound quickly in your chest. Seeing them on the screen, wiggling around and moving their little arms and legs - it made it seem real. You looked over at Eddie, who was leaning forward with his arms on his knees to get a better look at the screen.

“Do you want to know the genders?” the doctor asked as she took various measurements of the babies.

“We were hoping you could put it in an envelope for us?” you said like a question. “We wanted to do a reveal.”

“We can absolutely do that,” she said with a smile.

You left the appointment with more photos, a few of which Eddie stuffed into his wallet, and an envelope with the information you were dying to know.

“How am I supposed to not open it?” you asked as you walked out of the office. “The answers are right there.”

Eddie chuckled. “I know, baby. But think about how fun it’ll be to find out with the guys.”

Eddie was right. It was worth the wait - even though you might lose your mind in the meantime.

—

That Friday night, it was Hellfire time. It was Eddie’s big campaign, you were just going for the reveal and to spend the rest of the campaign having a girl’s night with Nancy. Eddie’s van rumbled up to the Wheeler’s, parking in their driveway behind Nancy’s car.

Eddie helped you out and walked you inside, where the guys were all gathered around the kitchen, eating the snacks Mrs. Wheeler had sat out. Karen gave you a kind smile, her eyes dropping down to the bump before meeting your eyes again. You were used to it.

“Go ahead, take us for all we’re worth,” Ted was grumbling, reading the newspaper as the kids surrounding him helped themselves to the food.

In the Wheeler’s basement, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas had set up the game. Eddie took his seat at the head of the table, everyone else sitting in their usual spots. You stood next to Eddie, Nancy downstairs too for the reveal.

“Are we ready?” Jeff asked. He was holding a small wooden box.

You and Eddie exchanged a look. Were you ready? You felt like you had been waiting for this moment forever, and it was finally here. This was going to make it all the more real to you - you were going to learn something about your babies, something about who they are.

“We’re ready,” you said finally. Eddie squeezed your hand, smiling up at you.

Everyone watched closely as Jeff handed Eddie the wooden box. Eddie pushed his chair back, patting his lap. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You sure?” you asked.

“Oh, just sit down,” he said. He grabbed your hand and guided you down onto his lap. You sat down carefully, worried you were too heavy, but Eddie didn’t care one bit. He wrapped his arm around you. “Let’s open it together.”

You put your hand on the box next to Eddie’s. The guys counted down, then you opened the lid of the box together - revealing two D20s sitting on a bed of velvet.

One pink and one blue.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth as tears brimmed in your eyes. Eddie laughed, pulling you even closer and kissing all over your face.

“What is it???” Gareth asked, the rest of the table unable to see inside the box.

Eddie turned it around and everyone leaned in to get a good look. The basement erupted into cheers and congratulations, Eddie blushing as his friends patted him on the back and ruffled his hair.

“Congrats, man,” Jeff said.

“Yeah, man. We’re happy for you,” Grant said.

“Good luck,” Mike contributed.

Nancy pulled you into a hug while the guys surrounded Eddie, who couldn’t stop smiling. “One of each,” she said. “How exciting!”

You spent the rest of the evening in Nancy’s room. She had bought you some baby and parenting magazines, and you flipped through them together, reading the articles and looking at all the highest recommended baby gear.

“There’s so much to buy…” you noticed, flipping through an article on choosing the best stroller. There were so many things to consider, especially needing a double stroller, and the price tags next to the products made you feel sick.

“Babies need a lot,” Nancy said gently. “Has Eddie been saving up?”

“Yeah.” You bit your lip nervously. “But he doesn’t get paid a lot. He picks up as many hours as he can, but Benny’s pays minimum wage and it’s…not the greatest.”

Nancy looked at you sympathetically. She knew Eddie was working his ass off, and you couldn’t work on bed rest, but babies were expensive.

“I know you guys will be okay,” she said. Her hand rested on your knee. “Maybe the baby shower will be helpful?”

Maybe. But you didn’t want to rely on your friends for things. You knew your family would be no help - you hadn’t heard from them once since you’d moved out 2 months ago. Wayne did everything he could but he struggled, too, and didn’t ask you and Eddie for any rent or help with bills. You knew you were on your own.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said, more confidently than you felt. You just hoped you were right.

—

The next week, you and Eddie started shopping.

After he got off work he came home to pick you up. “We’ll take it easy today,” he said. “Stick to the small stores.” He grinned - “Or I can push you in a wheelchair.” You knew it may come to that in the big stores.

You went to the department store first - specializing in baby stuff, the place was huge and had cribs and strollers and car seats and high chairs as far as the eye could see. Eddie helped you to the door, then he really did grab one of the store’s wheelchairs and brought it over to you.

“Eddie,” you said. “I don’t need that-“

“You’re on bed rest,” he reminded you. “You’re not even supposed to be out. The least I can do is push you around to keep you and the babies safe.”

Reluctantly, you took the seat. You felt embarrassed, like people were going to look at you and think ‘she doesn’t need that, she’s just being lazy’. You knew you did need it, but that didn’t help your nerves.

Eddie didn’t care. He pushed you into the store, both of your eyes going wide at the selection that greeted you when you walked in. The place was huge. You didn’t even realize there was so much stuff for babies.

“What do you wanna look at first?” he asked you, brushing his hand through your hair from behind you. You nearly closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, but you caught yourself.

“Cribs, maybe?” you suggested. “That’s probably the most important.”

You didn’t even know where you were going to fit two cribs in the trailer, but you’d deal with that later. Maybe the twins could share for a little while.

Eddie pushed you to the large section of the store dedicated to cribs. There were so many different styles and colors, you weren’t sure where to begin.

“That one’s pretty,” you said, pointing towards a chestnut colored Jenny Lind crib. It had ornate designs carved into the sides, and a side that dropped open.

“Yeah, that one’s cool,” Eddie said, wheeling you over. He didn’t exactly know what he was looking for, so he was letting you take the lead.

You reached out and touched the side of it, feeling the strong wood. You could see your babies sleeping in a crib like this so vividly. You reached for the price tag, flipping it over in your hand - and it took your breath away.

“Jesus,” you whispered, dropping the tag.

“What?” Eddie asked. He picked up the tag himself, looking at the price. “300 bucks??”

You felt close to tears. Shame coursed through your body, you felt embarrassed - especially when a pregnant woman across the aisle turned to look at the two of you, giving you a judgmental look. “Let’s just look at a different one,” you mumbled.

Eddie pushed you around and you looked at every crib in the store - seeing much of the same. They all cost hundreds of dollars - and how were you supposed to afford that? How were you supposed to afford two? And that was just the cribs.

You were on the verge of a panic attack by the time you had looked at every crib. You couldn’t believe how expensive baby stuff was - you’d had no idea, and neither had Eddie, based on the sick look on his face.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” he asked quietly, sitting on a bench outside the store with his head in his hands. “I…I had no idea it was this expensive-“

“I don’t know what we can do,” you said weakly. What would happen if you couldn’t afford the things your babies needed? You imagined yourself back at your parents’ house, groveling and begging for help.

“I…” Eddie began, looking like he was trying to come up with the words that would make things better but might just burst into tears instead. “I’m working so hard. I pick up every shift I can. I’m working 12 hour days most of the time. I’m busting my ass.” He runs a hand through his curls. “But it’s not enough. I’ve been saving, but- $200 just for one crib? Then we need to get our own place, too? How are we supposed to do this?”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. “I-I don’t know,” you said again.

Eddie looked up at you, quickly grabbing your hands in his. “Don’t cry. Please, baby. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that in front of you.”

He looked so stressed. You hadn’t noticed the bags under his eyes. “You just worry about all this by yourself?”

The look on Eddie’s face told you yeah, he did. He’d been stressing about the financial aspect of taking care of a baby - two babies - since the day he found out. Beating himself up about it, hating himself, feeling like a loser and a failure. Wondering how he would provide for the three of you. “It’s my job to worry about this shit.”

“Not without me, though,” you said weakly. “We’re supposed to be partners in this.”

“We are,” Eddie said, squeezing your hands for emphasis. “We are. I’m sorry. But with you being high risk, I didn’t…I can’t put extra stress on you. I would hate myself if something happened to you or the babies because I couldn’t take care of my shit and you stressed yourself sick over it.”

You understood his point, but it still bothered you. You didn’t like the idea of Eddie holding all this by himself. You hated how useless you felt, stuck in bed all day. “I’m scared, Eddie.”

His heart broke. He pulled you into him, holding you tight. “We’re gonna be okay. Me and Wayne always figure shit out. There’ve been plenty of tough times we pulled through. Us Munsons are resilient. We’re gonna be the same.”

You just nodded against his chest. You hoped he was right.

Eddie pulled away from you, looking you in the eyes. “Hey. How about we go check out the thrift store? We’ve always found good stuff there. You never know.”

You nodded, sniffling. “Okay. We can try.”

Eddie helped you back into the van before he took off to the other side of town, closer to Forest Hills. He pulled up to the thrift store - you had never been here, but Eddie had many times. He got most of his clothes here, customized them himself. Household supplies, dishes, linens - a good portion of the Munson household had come from this thrift store, or one like it. You were used to fancy things - your mom was a bit of a snob.

There was no wheelchair to use here, but the place was pretty small. Eddie stayed close, hand on your back as you walked around. You were relieved to find there was a whole baby section - but no cribs.

“Oh, look how cute,” you cooed, picking up a little frilly dress from the rack.

Eddie scrunched his nose up. “Really? That monstrosity?”

“It’s cute!” You tucked the dress into the cart. You knew your baby girl would look adorable in it.

Eddie was flipping through the racks, silver rings glinting in the harsh overhead lighting. He pulled two plain white onesies off, examining them for holes or stains. He smiled as he tossed them into the cart. “For Hellfire shirts.”

“You’re making them their own Hellfire Club shirts?” you asked with a giggle.

“Uh, hell yeah?” he said, like it was obvious. “They’re our newest members. Every member gets a shirt.”

The atmosphere in the thrift store was much more relaxed. You could tell Eddie felt comfortable here - he knew what to do, where to look, and he knew the prices wouldn’t make him pass out on the spot.

You ended up with a cart full of baby clothes, the beginnings of the twins’ wardrobe. You picked out a lot of clothes that had the red dot on the tag, indicating they were on sale today. The cart was full and neither of you were stressed about how you were going to afford it.

After looking through every single piece of clothing on the rack, you looked at the baby supplies. You were able to find a baby swing for a good price, as well as a bassinet. You wanted to use bassinets in the bedroom when the babies were first born so you could be near them and save on space until you got your own place.

You were nervous as Eddie was checking out. After seeing the prices at the department store, you were terrified of having to put everything back. But with everything on sale and the prices cheaper as they were - you and Eddie left with a good start and not much damage done to his wallet. He even left the phone number with the cashier, asking for them to give you a call if they got another bassinet or any cribs or strollers.

He loaded the swing and bassinet into the back of the van while you climbed into your seat with the huge bag of baby clothes. You were excited to go through them, wash and fold them and put them away until they’re needed.

“Do you feel better?” Eddie asked as he got into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you said honestly. “A little less hopeless,” you smiled.

“Good.” Eddie patted your thigh, then grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. He turned the key and the van rumbled to life, sounding better than it had last week. Whatever Eddie had done to it helped. “I told you. We make do.”

—

You were sitting on the couch the next week, yet another boring day of bed rest passing you by. You were going stir crazy, desperate to do something. Robin and Nancy came by to visit as often as they could when Eddie was at work, but they were both getting ready to start college, things in their lives getting busier. You felt like you were being left behind.

You were starting to doze off, the sitcom on the TV losing your attention, when the front door opened so abruptly it startled you. You jumped, turning to look with your hand over your heart. “Jesus, Eddie!”

“Baby,” he said, a huge grin on his face, his hair mussed like he’d ran here.

“What?” you asked, looking at him curiously. Whatever it was, it seemed to be good news - something you could really use.

“Y’know the auto shop I take the van to? The one run by Brian?”

You weren’t exactly on a first name basis with Brian - in fact, you’d seen the guy plenty of times and were just learning that was his name. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, y’know, they know me pretty well. And they heard, uh, rumors around town about the babies.” You weren’t sure where he was going with this, but he was practically bouncing off the walls. “I told them yeah it was true, and they offered me a job!”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah!” He practically vaulted over the couch to sit next to you. “Offered me a job on the spot. As a mechanic. I have to do training and shit, of course, but I already know a ton, so pretty soon I’ll be working on my own and making a decent bit of cash.”

You were borderline speechless, gaping at Eddie like an idiot. “Eds, that’s- that’s incredible!”

“I know!” He took your hands in his, kissing them. “This is amazing for us, baby. We’re gonna be okay. I can take care of us. I mean, y’know, we won’t be the Harringtons, but we can get our own trailer and afford to feed ourselves-“

Tears were running down your cheeks, and Eddie stopped abruptly, wiping them away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said with a laugh. “I just- I didn’t expect this. This is amazing.”

Eddie smiled warmly at you. “I told you we’d be okay. You know you should always trust me - I promised I’d take care of you, that I’d figure this out for us. And I did, right?”

You kissed him, hands on either side of his face as you pressed your lips together. When you pulled back, he was looking at you with stars in his eyes. “Yeah, you did.”

Quitting his dishwashing job was life changing for Eddie. You could see the change in his demeanor immediately. He didn’t drag himself out of bed in the morning, slow and miserable. He didn’t come home so worn out all he could do was make it to the couch and fall asleep. He didn’t have to work his ass off for 3 bucks an hour.

Eddie always liked working on cars, so next to being a musician, this was perfect for him. He was excited to go to work, and he looked hot coming home in his coveralls, arms smudged black. Some evenings you followed him into the shower, helping him relax.

Your savings were growing. You still thrifted, still clipped coupons, but things weren’t quite so dire. You felt like you could breathe. And you were so proud of the man Eddie was becoming - he was going to be the best dad, you could feel it.

“You okay, honey?” Wayne asked as he picked up his metal lunchbox, car keys in his hand. He was on the way out the door, but every day he checked on you before he left.

“I’m good, Uncle Wayne, thank you.” You smiled at him from the couch where you were sitting sideways, feet propped up on some pillows. “Just gonna watch The Golden Girls until Eddie gets home.”

“Alright,” he said. “You give the plant a call if somethin’ happens or you need me.”

“Will do,” you said, knowing it would have to be a true emergency for you to bother Wayne at work. “Have a good night at work.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said, then he was out, closing and locking the trailer door behind him.

It usually wasn’t long after Wayne left that Eddie got home from work, but that short time that you were alone always left you nervous. You could be a worrier, especially now that you were pregnant and high risk, and you were terrified of the possibility of something happening while you were home alone. You felt much safer with Eddie around.

At 22 weeks now, you were exhausted, sore, and hungry. Always hungry - you were eating for three, after all. You lifted yourself off the couch and waddled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and searching it for something that looked good.

A touch on your back just about made you jump out of your skin.

You spun around, one hand over your heart and the other protectively over your belly. “Jesus Christ, Ed!”

He laughed, pulling the hair tie from his bun and letting his curls fall down around his shoulders. He had the top half of his coveralls unzipped, wearing a white tank top beneath, dirty with grease and oil. He looked sexy.

“Sorry,” he laughed. “I thought you would have heard me come in.”

“I was too focused on finding a snack,” you admitted. Eddie’s grin only grew wider.

He reached out and placed a hand on the belly. “How are my little gremlins?”

“Hungry,” you said, turning back to the fridge. “I just don’t know what I want.”

“Did you have dinner?” he asked, reaching around you and grabbing a beer, popping the can open and taking a big sip.

“Yeah. Me and Wayne had macaroni casserole. There’s a plate for you in the microwave.” Dissatisfied with the options in the fridge, you closed it and turned around to face him again.

“Perfect.” Eddie kissed you on the cheek before downing the rest of his beer in nearly one go. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” His eyes roamed your body, shamelessly up and down. “Care to join me, my lady?”

“But…hungry,” you whined.

“I’ll make you something after?” He sat his hands on your hips, pulling you as close as he could. “I missed you all day.”

It was hard to say no to him like this, especially when he looked so good. “Just a quick one?”

“No promises.” He smirked, pulling you down the hall by your hand. He unzipped his coveralls, dropping them to the ground and pulling his tank top over his head. He turned the water on, adjusting it until it was the temperature you preferred.

Eddie wrapped his arms around you, kissing you deeply. He smelled like a day at work, sweat and oil. It didn’t bother you - it kind of turned you on, your hard working man.

His hands slowly rose up the back of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. He was careful not to touch your skin too much with his dirty hands, even though he wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of your body beneath his palms.

Your hands worked his buckle open while he pushed your shorts and panties down your legs, leaving you bare. He moaned against your lips as you pushed his jeans and boxers to the floor.

He was half hard when he stepped away from you, looking at you with a devilish grin. He took your hand and helped you into the shower, then climbed in after you, closing the curtain.

Eddie immediately began scrubbing his skin, washing away the sweat and dirt of the day. He tilted his head back under the stream of water, letting it wash everything away, including his stress. He was here with you right now, and he didn’t want anything to ruin it.

Once he was clean, he spun the two of you so you were under the water. He wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing and nipping at your neck while you tilted your head to the side and let your eyelids flutter closed.

“Eddie…” you moaned, fingernails digging into the backs of his shoulders, little half moon divots carved into his pale skin.

He grunted in response, sucking on the most sensitive spot on your neck. He knew your body as if it were a map he’d drawn himself, every little spot that drove you crazy, the places that made your knees weak every time. He held you up now, your legs wobbly and your head going fuzzy.

“My pretty girl…” he mumbled against your neck. “I think about you all day.”

You whimpered as his hand slid between your thighs, calloused fingertips pressing against your throbbing clit. He rubbed slow circles against it, teasing you, just barely tightening that coil deep inside.

“You want me to make you cum, sweetheart?” he whispered. “It’s been a while. Too long since I felt that sweet pussy clench around me, soaking me, making a mess for me.”

You couldn’t form words with the way he was working you - he knew you too well, and everything was so sensitive. Eddie knew what he was doing, his ego deservedly raised.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb as his fingers moved back to your hole, two fingers slipping inside you. You whimpered, holding onto Eddie for dear life.

“That’s my girl,” he purred right in your ear, his voice low and smooth. “Squeezin’ me so good. D’you like that, sweetheart? Feel good?”

“Uh huh,” you whined. He pushed you back against the wall, leaning you against it for support while his fingers pumped in and out of your warm, wet cunt. His cock was rock hard just at the feeling of you, the thought of burying himself inside of you. He rutted his hips against your thigh, desperate for some friction on his aching cock.

“So pretty like this, baby.” The praises dripped from his lips like honey, and you ate up every word. “Love when you fall apart for me. Fuck, baby, you’ve got me so hard.”

All you could do was whimper, your head lolled back against the shower wall as he pulled you apart piece by piece. He pumped his fingers faster, curling them deep inside, pressing right against the spongy bundle of nerves.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you cried, face twisted in pleasure as your orgasm crept up your spine. “Eddie, please don’t stop, don’t stop-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Come on and cum for me. I know you’re close, I can feel you. Go on and make a mess for me.”

His encouraging words combined with the pressure he was applying against your g-spot, fucking your pussy with his long fingers while his thumb rubbed your clit faster and faster, shoved you over the edge, pushing you into the abyss. Your grip tightened on his shoulders and you let out a loud cry of his name, chanting it like a prayer while he worked you through it.

“Good, good fuckin’ girl,” he growled. He was thrusting his hips against you faster now, so desperate although he’d never admit it. When you were nothing but shaking limbs leaning against the shower wall, he removed his fingers, bringing them to his lips for a taste. “So sweet, baby. Later I’m gonna make you cum on my tongue, too.”

Eddie washed your body, his sweet gentleness a stark contrast from the filth he was whispering in your ear minutes ago. Your legs were still wobbly as he washed your body.

He climbed out of the tub first, helping you out so you wouldn’t slip. You dried yourselves off, wrapping a towel around your body as you and a naked Eddie made the trek to the bedroom.

You were reaching for the dresser to get some pajamas when Eddie’s arms wrapped around you from behind, hands resting on your belly while he kissed your shoulder, then your neck. “I was thinking…we could maybe continue what we started.”

He was hardening again, you could feel him pressing up behind you. You turned around in his arms and he kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against your own. He kept kissing you as he guided you back to the bed.

He broke from the kiss, laying down on the bed on his back. He held your hand as you climbed on top of him. His hands rubbed across your belly then back to grab your ass, lifting you up on your knees. He gripped his cock in his fist, lining it up with your entrance above him.

“This okay?” he asked breathlessly, looking at you like he needed you to say yes.

You nodded, a sweet “Yeah, Eddie,” coming from your kiss-bitten lips. He could have bust on the spot - it had been a while - but he gripped your hip with his free hand, slowly guiding you down onto him.

You whined at the pressure of him, the stretch as his fat tip breached your entrance. Eddie groaned, long and low as he sunk into you inch by thick inch. His hands were gripping onto your thighs, digging into the plush skin.

When you were fully seated on him, brow furrowed and lips parted as you drew in shaky breaths, Eddie slowly, carefully rocked his hips up into you.

“Oh!” you whimpered, hands resting on Eddie’s chest for balance - and leverage. He guided your hips against him, rocking and grinding down against him.

“Ohhhh yeah,” Eddie groaned. “That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that. Takin’ me so deep.”

You were a whining mess on top of him, bouncing on his cock as much as you could, but mostly just grinding down against him. Your clit was rubbing against the course curls at his base, building that wave inside you once again.

“So pretty,” he said, his breaths getting more shallow, his cheeks flushing red. “That’s it, that’s it. So good for me. So good, so fuckin’ beautiful. Keep riding my cock just like that.”

His hands slid up your sides, over your belly again and then to your tits, grabbing them in his large hands, massaging them, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs. You whimpered again, moving your hips faster.

“Gonna cum again,” you said, barely able to get the words out. “Eddie, I- gonna cum, oh fuck-“

You pitched forward, hands pressing into his chest as you cried out, your orgasm wracking through your body like a lightning strike - only it lasted forever, hitting you again and again. Eddie guided your hips on him, faster and faster, his moans turning high and desperate.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he said through gritted teeth. “Keep going, baby, gonna fill you up. Gonna cum in you so deep.”

“Please, please,” you begged, still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, need it Eddie.”

“Yeah? You need it?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you, big brown eyes wide and hips snapping up into your tight cunt. “Gonna give it to you. Fuck, gonna give it to you- shit! Here it is baby, take it, fuck!”

You gasped as you felt Eddie’s hot spend filling you, wave after wave hitting him as his hips bucked up into you. Cockiness out the window, he was moaning like he’d never felt anything quite as incredible in his life.

You sat there, hands slowly rubbing his chest as he came down beneath you. His hands were still gripping you so tightly, trembling, until finally he loosened his grip and let go.

“I need some help,” you said with an awkward giggle, feeling Eddie slowly softening inside of you.

“Shit, sorry,” he said. You intertwined your hands with his for balance as he helped you lift yourself off, laying down on the bed next to him. He immediately turned to his side, his palm rubbing across your belly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” you smiled sleepily. “You need to eat though.”

“Oh, fuck,” he said, as if he’d just remembered how hungry he was. “Do you want to come with me, or are you gonna sleep?”

“I’ll come with you,” you said.

Eddie pulled on a pair of boxers and plaid pajama pants. He grabbed a pair of panties, shorts, and a huge shirt for you, helping you stand and basically dressing you himself. It was getting harder to bend over, so you held onto his shoulders while he helped you step into your clothes.

You put a hand on your lower back as you stood in the kitchen, watching Eddie heat up his leftovers and pull another can of beer out of the fridge. You twisted your upper body to each side, trying to take some of the pressure off your spine.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, scooping a forkful of macaroni casserole into his mouth.

“Just hurting,” you admitted. “They’re getting really heavy.”

Eddie hated when there were things he couldn’t help you with. He wanted to take all your pain away, take it himself if he could. Things were getting harder for you every day as the babies grew, and you were now going to the doctor twice weekly for non-stress tests to measure the babies’ heart rates and movements. It was getting very real, and very scary as more and more complications kept arising.

With the official pre-eclampsia diagnosis, Eddie was nervous all the time. He was terrified of something happening to you and the babies. You were very high risk and he knew it was a real possibility something could go wrong - the thought of something horrible happening made him sick to his stomach.

“You want me to rub your back after I eat?” he asked. He was leaning back against the counter, plate in his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten for days.

“Would you?” You sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. “That would be amazing.”

“‘Course I will,” he said. “You know I’m gonna take care of you.”

When Eddie was done with his dinner, he washed his dishes and put them away. He helped lift your exhausted form out of the chair and led you back to the bedroom. You laid down on your side while he laid behind you, his large hand sliding up your shirt and rubbing your back.

You closed your eyes, content.

—

A Nightmare on Elm Street played on the old TV. You had seen it so many times that you weren’t paying the most attention. You were sitting sideways on the couch, your feet in Eddie’s lap as he massaged them.

“Baby,” you called, poking Eddie’s side with your sock feet.

“What?” he asked you, looking like he knew he was about to be given a task but was completely willing to do anything on earth for you.

“You know what sounds soooo good right now?”

A raised eyebrow. “What?”

“A grilled cheese.” Your mouth practically watered at the thought, imagining the toasted bread, the perfectly melted cheese, how it would feel and taste on your tongue.

“You want me to make you a grilled cheese, baby?” Eddie asked, amused.

“Two grilled cheese?”

“Two grilled cheese.” He gently removed your feet from his lap, standing and stretching. He shuffled off to the kitchen as you kept watching the movie. The babies were being active today, it felt like they were having a party in there. One of them kept kicking you in the bladder while the other was pressed uncomfortably against your spine.

You heard the sizzling of the frying pan. Then, a quiet hissed “Shit!”

“What?” you called, turning to look into the kitchen.

“Fuckin’ burned myself.” He put his fingertip in his mouth, trying to soothe the burn. “I’m okay.”

A few minutes later and you were beaming as Eddie walked into the living room with a plate of two steaming grilled cheese sandwiches. Your mouth really was watering now, reaching for the plate like you’d never seen such a delicacy in your life.

Eddie laughed as you took the first bite, closing your eyes and letting out a moan. “Oh my god. So good.”

“I make a mean grilled cheese,” he said. Especially now since they were your main craving, he made you one just about every day.

“You do,” you agreed. “You’re too good to me, baby.”

Eddie rubbed his hand over your belly, happy that you and the little ones were happy. “Nah,” he said. “I just love you.”

—

Eddie liked his job.

You were 24 weeks now, adorably huge (at least that’s how he saw it - you would probably disagree), waddled everywhere you walked and needed help getting up. Eddie hated being away from you, feeling like he belonged by your side, making sure you were okay.

But really, he loved his job. It was the best job he’d ever had - not that he’d had many - but it was something he loved doing, something he was good at. Something that made him proud, that made you proud. A career.

He was bent over the hood of an old truck, up to his elbows in oil and grease, when he heard an old familiar voice behind him.

“Munson.”

Eddie froze. It was never good news when he heard that voice. Slowly he stood, turning around to face Chief Jim Hopper. All of a sudden, the memory of your father’s words ran through his head, the promise of Eddie getting jail time for his dealing. He hadn’t touched drugs in months, but - did that matter? His heart raced in his chest.

“Hey, Hop,” Eddie greeted awkwardly, wiping his hands on his dirty rag. “Uh, what’s up?”

“Can I talk t’you?” he asked, his hands on his belt.

Eddie’s stomach sunk to his toes. “Yeah, uh, just give me a minute.”

He felt like he was going to throw up as he threw his tools back in the box, wiping his hands and arms as much as he could. He tucked the rag into his coverall pocket and turned back to Hopper, nodding towards the deserted office. “We can talk in there.”

Hopper followed Eddie into the office. Eddie was panicking, pacing as Hopper leaned against the desk.

“Eddie-“

“I swear to god I’ve been straight, man,” Eddie said quickly. “I haven’t- I haven’t sold, I haven’t partaken, I haven’t touched a drug-“

“Eddie.”

“My girlfriend’s pregnant, she’s high risk, I have to take care of her. She needs me. I have two babies on the way, man, please-“

“Eddie.”

Eddie stopped his nervous rambling and pacing, finally meeting Hopper’s eyes. The older man looked amused. Eddie didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“I’m not here to arrest you,” Hopper said. “I just wanted to talk.”

Eddie let out a long breath, practically collapsing into the cheap metal chair against the wall. He buried his face in his hands, stressed. “It’s just- her dad said he talked to Officer Callahan, about- well, you know what about- and I thought-“

“Word gets around Hawkins fast,” Hopper said. “I heard about the twins. Congratulations.”

Eddie looked up at him. “Thanks.”

“I just thought we should have a talk, y’know, before you become a father.” Hopper sat on the edge of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. “You haven’t been messing around with drugs anymore? Not even pot?”

“No,” Eddie said quickly, honestly. “Not at all.”

Hopper nodded. “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.”

Eddie laughed lightly at that. “Yeah, well. News like that’ll do it.”

“Sure will.”

An awkward silence descended over the room. Neither man really knew what to say. Finally, Hopper took a deep breath.

“How long have we known each other, Munson?”

Eddie laughed. “Forever. You were chasing me off for trespassing at the old factory when I was 10.”

Hopper laughed lightly. “You’ve kept me plenty busy over the years.”

He knew it. Eddie had been a troublemaker since day 1, wanted to live his life and didn’t give a fuck about authority. Hopper had caught him doing shit he shouldn’t many times.

“Look, Ed…” Hopper said. “I’m real proud of you for cleaning up your act. I just wanted to say that. You…you’ve grown a lot. You’re going to be a great father.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Hopper said gruffly, hiding his smile. “You heard me.”

“That…that means a lot, Hop. Thank you.”

Hopper nodded. “Well. That’s all I really wanted to do - just come check up on you. Make sure you’re on the right path.”

He was heading for the office door, a shocked Eddie still sitting in the chair. He snapped out of it just as Hopper reached the door.

“Wait. What about the warrant?”

“There is no warrant,” Hopper said. “Look, don’t…don’t pay that guy any mind. You’re a better man than he is. He abandoned his daughter, and you’re here making sure your kids don’t have to want for a damn thing before they’re even born.” Hopper clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Just…keep it up.”

With that, the man left, leaving Eddie reeling. He couldn’t believe what had just happened - Hopper wasn’t a sentimental guy. The millions of interactions Eddie’d had with the man were all various forms of causing and getting into trouble. Now he was here, at Eddie’s work, telling him he’s proud of him?

Things really were changing.

as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!

tag list

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minkieater · 19 days ago

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yknow what ,,, who in atz makes love vs fucks ,, i am tinking abt it

FUCK THIS IS HARD. controversial take on atz tbh i cant believe mingi is where he is i want him to be a freak so bad but i must separate mental mingi and real mingi

FUCKS: freak bitches

1. hongjoong

hj is a possessive demon freak you can see it in his eyes fr. there isn’t a day that will pass without you getting split in two, he’s not just a freak but he has stamina and he’d rather do literally anything else but sleep, so what better way to pass the time when his brain is fried from making music than to fuck your brains out???? you love his libido and his ability to never turn it off, i don’t think his dick ever softens tbh not really. especially not when you’re talking to another man, that possessiveness really comes into play, it doesn’t matter who it is from your coworker to your friend he’s taking you to the next secluded spot and reminding you who the fuck you belong to. maybe toxic, but that’s hj, and when he’s done blowing your back out you’re reminded every single time that you don’t need anyone else but him (and you like it that way) (he’s my soulmate in the astral realm btw)

2. jongho

he’s a dominant freak and its so fucking sexy. his dominance slips into every aspect of your life, what you wear, what you do, who you talk to, what you eat, never in a toxic way, but in a way that he’s taking care of you, looking out for you, keeping you safe. he loves a good game of cat and mouse, loves when there’s a lil brattiness he has to tame, to assert his dominance all over again— there’s been several nights where you haven’t finished once because you disobeyed him, tears streaming down your cheeks with your legs shaking because you were so fucking close and he ripped it away last second, he knows every inch of your body like the back of his hand, he knows what you’re thinking half the time just by the look on your face. he’s got boxes of toys set aside, ropes and handcuffs and spreader bars, either for torture or your pleasure depends on your behavior (jongho ill be so good for you pls) and he is NOT afraid to use em. god hes so in tune with you and your body and his OWN his control is so fucking crazy i think i could keep going and actually talk about this for hours

3. wooyoung

he’s a fun freak!!!! giggly and experimental he wants you in every position he can think up, he’s creating his OWN positions when he runs out of ideas. he’s fucking you in public, in a dressing room, fingers slipping inside you under the table, a cocky little smirk on his face when you accidentally let a moan slip UGH he’s the type to not be weirded out by anything like if you find some weird shit on the internet and wanna try it out he’s 100% down. he’ll try anything once. you want to tap into omegaverse shit??? he’s barking for you and still fucking into you like its the first time. you wanna get into pee??? cum eating??? bondage??? cuckolding?? it literally doesn’t matter. he’s down and he’s researching and he’s educating YOU. he needs an experimental partner too tho cus his ideas are just as fucking crazy and he is NOT shy about sharing them with you. sex is fun with him, never boring, never stale, he keeps you on your toes just as much as you keep him on his, you’ve spent legit weekends in the bedroom because you tried something new and neither of you can get enough. toys, vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, cockrings, Strap Ons, you have them all, wooyoung is a yes man and no one can tell me differently. with a shrug and a smile on his face EVERY TIME he’s like yeah sure why not Omg and if there’s something that doesn’t work he’s like ok whatever and then just goes back to normal. sex is so chill and so fun and so experimental and there’s never any pressure FUCK wooyoung i fucking love you i got carried away

MAKES LOVE: sweet angels

1. yeosang

guys im sorry he’s here. i do think yeosang is versatile but not often enough to classify him in the middle, if you catch him on a day where is patience is thin he might be using his biceps to cut off your air flow while he’s fucking into you from behind, but on the day to day, he’s kissing every inch of your body, hands in your hair, petting your skin, cupping your cheeks, whispering sweet words, praises, everything is so fucking sweet it usually ends up with you in tears from the emotion passing back and forth between you. yeosang takes care of you in every way, there’s never a time where you finish unsatisfied, he makes sure of it. if you aren’t whining with tears streaming down your cheeks he isn’t done yet, he has stamina and he could fuck you for hours, even besides fucking he’s eating it for hours if thats the vibe. yeosang i want you so fucking bad

2. mingi

man :/

he’s a whiner. he’s sloppy and messy and so fucking virgin even after you’ve been fucking for years, every time is like the first time with mingi. while his hands grow more confident and his body has more stamina, he’s still fucking into you like it’s new, eyes screwed shut and staggered breaths leaving his chest because it’s inconceivable that you feel so fucking good— that’s something he’ll never get used to i fear, how you wrap around him so perfectly, how you’re so warm and wet it’s fucking war to not bust in you within three strokes. he doesn’t tho, he has pretty good control, up until you’re the one whining with tears slipping down your cheeks and he’s losing his fucking shit. elbows pressed into the mattress beside your head, tongue slipping into your mouth with no real rhythm, his cock rutting into you while barely pulling out, he’s addicted to your warmth, the feeling of being inside, the closeness, and god when he fills you up it just spurs him on farther. he’s not stopping until there’s three loads inside you with barely any reprieve between sessions, he’s spilling into you and fucking himself through the overstimulating, crying and whining and praising you because he loves you. im so fuckinf insane im an animal i fucking love this man i would die for him

3. san

this one should not be a surprise tbh san is a caregiver, the way he fucks is spiritual, its all consuming, its heavy and emotional and passionate and everything. you guys probably aren’t into anything hella freaky, farthest is probably a quickie in a dressing room every now and then, but most of the time he’s taking his time with you, stripping you of each scrap of fabric on your body with dainty hands and warm kisses, licking up your skin as if it was candy, telling you how you taste. he’s fucking into you with skilled precision, the movements of a man who’s taken the time to learn every inch of you, what makes you feel good. he’s big into breeding and he’s filling you up every time he def has a vasectomy. would never want u on any birth control because god forbid u change something about yourself for him!!! i feel like san is mad traditional in every way his fav position is probably missionary so he could see your face while he fucks you, holding your hands, kissing your lips that had long gone unresponsive against his own.

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE: both ways

1. yunho

hahahahahahahahahahahahahha this fucking freak bitch you know exactly what im gonna say. similar to jongho in the sense that he’s controlling many aspects of your life just because he can, he thinks its hot, and so do you. if you disobey him/make him feel disrespected he’s fucking you into next week, and he’s cruel about it, he’s not letting you cum, he’s holding your hands behind your back with one of his own just so you can’t touch him. he’s degrading you, vile words flying off his lips that make you clench tighter around him, he’s pinching your nipples until you’re crying. yunho dom agenda is so real. but he’s not like that all the time, you have your nights where you’re lost in kisses and sweet words and slow strokes, he fucks three loads into you because he wants to get you pregnant, would probably start trying to make you a mother a year into your relationship. if even that long tbh. yunho is mad versatile and he checks off every single box jeong yunho can i please have your phone number

2. seonghwa

😛 I WANT HIM SO BAD this freak bitch i still think he loves voyeurism and cuckolding and shares u. that blurb lives within me. i also think he is mad freaky like wooyoung, nothing puts him off, everything is hot and he wants to explore your sex life as much as he can, if something doesn’t work he’s like whatever we just wont do it again. prolly an ass eater on the regular. super flexible too he’s probably fucking into you from crazy angles like you’re both pretzels LMFAO fuck hes so hot i think seonghwa can do anything at any time. he’s another that loves to fuck you slow, but in a torturous way, like only fucking you with the tip until youre a crying mess begging for more. he definitely gets off on your whines, laughing in your face above you, but when he finally gives you what you want it’s shattering you. deep, heavy strokes, each one has his pelvis hitting yours, all while he’s kissing you sweetly and telling you how good you are for him. seonghwa freakbitch truther!

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wendichester · 19 days ago

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hii just wanted to say i love your work so much and you’re literally my fav spn writer 💓💓 and your compatibility readings are so so so so cool and unique!!!!

i had an idea for a drabble involving younger dean around season 1 (maybe stanford era??) where he meets reader and they end up hooking up in the back of the impala somewhere but they get caught by one of reader’s parents 🤭

i got this idea from the song animals by nickelback and saw an edit of dean to this song and it just fits him soooo perfectly. of course you could write it however you want like how they meet or if they’re already dating, anything is fine!!!

thank you so much, keep being awesome!!

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ animals,

summary. it wasn't supposed to happen. but you and dean literally stumble into the impala with clothes already flying off. and then... the worst that could've happened happens.

pairing. s1!dean winchester x reader genre. fluffy smut ( mdni )

wordcount. 1249

notes / warnings. semi-public sex (impala), dirty talk, caught-in-the-act by reader's parent lmao, rough, messy, wild hookup, hand-over-mouth.

now playing. ♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. animals by nickelback

The second your back hits the Impala’s backseat, you're already laughing—half from thrill, half from the way Dean’s mouth is everywhere. He’s tearing off your jacket like he can’t believe his luck, his big hands skating down your sides, tongue chasing the taste of your lip gloss. He’s not slick. Not calm. He’s starving.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he mutters, kissing you so deep your head spins. “Showing up in that tiny little skirt like that? You’re lucky I didn’t bend you over the hood.”

You grin up at him, tugging his shirt over his head with a playful bite to your bottom lip. “You could’ve tried.”

His eyes flash dark. Real dark. “Oh, sweetheart,” he growls, already shoving your thighs apart, “don’t say shit like that unless you mean it.”

The Impala’s windows start fogging instantly—like the whole car is reacting to the heat crackling between your bodies. The street is dead quiet, tucked just off your neighborhood in that no man’s land between two stop signs and a stretch of trees. You’d both checked—no headlights, no footsteps, no one around.

So yeah. You let him pull you into his lap like the world’s ending.

You’re soaked, and he hasn’t even gotten your panties off yet. They’re just pushed aside, knotted somewhere between your knee and your sanity, and he’s already got two fingers inside you, working you open with a crooked smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” Dean mutters, voice low and dirty against your throat. “Told myself I’d drop you off and drive away…”

You roll your hips into his palm. “Then go.”

He pauses.

You smirk. “Didn’t think so.”

Dean swears, hot and harsh under his breath, and yanks his belt open like it’s offending him. One smooth motion later, his cock’s out—thick, flushed, heavy—and holy hell, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted someone this much in your life.

“Condom—” he starts, reaching into his back pocket.

“Already took it,” you whisper, breath hitching. “Found it in your glovebox. You're predictable, Winchester.”

He barks a laugh—amused, wild, lit up with you—and kisses you again like he’s never gonna stop.

Then he slides inside you in one brutal, perfect thrust. You gasp, your head tipping back against the cool window, legs trembling around his waist.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel—God—tight.”

He starts moving fast—no teasing, no slow grind, just hips snapping into yours like he’s trying to mark the inside of you with every thrust. The Impala rocks. The leather seat creaks. One of your boots slips off, falling somewhere into the footwell, but you barely notice because his hand is around your throat—gentle, not squeezing, just holding you there, controlling the angle—and the other is gripping your thigh like a vice.

You’re already close. It’s so much. Too much. The cramped heat of the car, the rhythm of his hips, the way his cock hits that spot over and over and—

“Say my name,” he growls. “Say it—loud.”

“Dean,” you whimper, fingers tangling in his hair, “fuck, Dean, please—”

Knock knock knock.

You freeze.

Dean freezes.

There’s another knock. Louder.

You dare to glance to your left—through the foggy haze of the window—and there, framed in the porch light and wearing the disappointed Dad stance to end all disappointed Dad stances, is your father.

Dean goes completely still inside you. Still buried to the hilt. Still breathing like he’s run a marathon. Your nails dig into his shoulder and you mouth, don’t. move.

He whispers: “Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

“Wish I could.”

Your dad raises a hand, knocks again—more insistent. You both flinch.

“I am going to die,” Dean mutters. “He’s gonna kill me. Shoot me. I’m gonna get murdered with my dick out.”

��You’re fine,” you hiss. “Just—just wait—”

“Baby, I’m in you.”

“Yeah, I noticed!”

You’re both whisper-screaming, tangled in sweaty limbs and regret, and your dad is still outside. Still waiting. Still definitely in I’m-going-to-end-him mode.

Dean slowly—so slowly—pulls out with a hiss, like it physically hurts to leave your body. And you know it probably does, because he’s still hard. Still flushed. Still got that wide-eyed, holy shit what just happened look on his face.

He reaches for his jeans like they’re the last lifeline he’ll ever touch.

You’re scrambling to fix your shirt, trying not to cry or laugh or combust, but your hands are shaking and your breath’s coming in bursts, and God, everything’s so hot and sticky and fogged up.

Outside, your dad’s voice booms. “Y/N? Dean?”

Dean’s eyes go huge. “He knows my name.”

You freeze. “He knows everything, Dean.”

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “He’s gonna string me up with a tire iron. He’s gonna gut me.”

“Not if we act fast.”

Dean looks at you like you’re both in the middle of a heist. “What’s the plan?”

You peek through the fogged window, grab his shirt from the floor, and toss it at him. “You go out first. Be charming. Make him forget he saw your bare ass in his rearview.”

Dean frowns. “That doesn’t sound like a plan.”

“Dean, just smile. You have a really nice smile.”

He mutters something about dying with dignity, zips himself up, and swings the door open before you can stop him.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” he says, stepping out like he didn’t just commit sins in the backseat of his car, “I can explain.”

There’s a long, tense beat. You can practically feel the disapproval radiating from your dad like heat from asphalt.

Then: “You’ve got ten seconds.”

Dean’s voice jumps an octave. “That’s… fair.”

You watch through the crack of the door, heart in your throat, as Dean shifts into full good-boy mode. Which, for the record, is hilarious, because he’s got sex hair, no shame, and absolutely no idea how to talk his way out of this.

But somehow—somehow—he pulls it off.

You hear snippets: “—respect her, sir.” “—wasn’t planning on—well, okay, maybe I was.” “—deep connection. Real feelings. Not just—y’know. That.”

You resist the urge to snort.

Eventually, the voices go quiet. You hear footsteps.

Dean climbs back in a minute later, face pale, breath short, sweat glistening on his temple. He looks like a man who’s just seen his life flash before his eyes.

You blink. “Did he… punch you?”

“No,” Dean mutters, yanking his shirt over his head. “He gave me the talk.”

You stare. “The talk? Like, ‘treat my daughter right’ or ‘don’t knock her up’?”

Dean looks haunted. “Both. And he did it while holding a wrench.”

You bite your lip, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God.”

Dean glares at you. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

You grin, reach over, and lace your fingers with his.

“I already told him I liked you,” you say, softer this time. “Before any of this.”

Dean looks over, surprised. “You did?”

You nod. “Said you’re reckless, ridiculous, full of yourself... and kind of worth the trouble.”

His face does this little thing. That rare thing where he doesn’t look cocky or smug—just genuinely moved. It’s brief. Gone in a blink. But it’s there.

Then he smirks again, nudges your thigh with his knee. “God help me, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Guess you better enjoy the ride, Winchester.”

And just like that—you drive off into the night.

Windows still fogged. Hearts still racing. Caught in the act—but not sorry. Not one damn bit.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #spn #.docx #.req

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 3 months ago

Text

Toto’s Guard Dog – Part 5

Part 1 Parte 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 636

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: Y/n finally kisses Toto, but when Christian Horner catches them and starts running his mouth, she unleashes hell.

________________________________________________________

Y/n had Toto Wolff right where she wanted him.

For weeks, he’d been smirking, teasing, playing his little power games. But now? Now she was in control.

And Toto hated it.

Well, hated might be the wrong word.

Because every time she leaned in just a little too close—every time she touched his tie, ran her fingers down his arm, or murmured something suggestive just for him—his restraint cracked just a little more.

She was winning.

Until, of course, he decided to ruin her life.

It happened in the Mercedes motorhome.

The paddock had been hot, sticky, exhausting. Y/n had been up since sunrise, running around, dealing with logistics, making fun of Horner three times before breakfast—the usual.

By the time she made it back to the hospitality lounge, she was done.

Toto, of course, looked perfectly fine. No sweat, no exhaustion—just standing there in his crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed, watching her like he knew things.

She scowled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His smirk deepened. “Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking.”

Toto chuckled, stepping closer—too close, really. “I was just wondering…” He tilted his head. “How far are you willing to push this, schatzi?”

Her breath caught. “Push what?”

Toto leaned in, so close she could feel his breath. “This game of yours.”

For the first time in her life, Y/n was speechless.

And Toto?

Toto knew it.

He chuckled, so smug, and started to pull away.

Absolutely not.

Before he could move, Y/n grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision—weeks of tension snapping like a rubber band, lips crashing, hands tangling in fabric and hair.

Toto made a sound deep in his throat—half surprise, half something much darker—and then his arms were around her, one hand gripping her waist, the other cupping her face as he devoured her.

God, he kissed like he did everything else—completely, overwhelmingly, like he owned her.

Y/n felt dizzy. Drunk. Gone.

And then—

“Ohhhhhh, well isn’t this adorable?”

Y/n and Toto ripped apart.

And there, standing in the doorway, looking way too smug—

Was Christian Horner.

Y/n was going to jail.

She could already see the headlines: Mercedes Strategist Murders Red Bull Team Principal in Broad Daylight.

Horner was grinning. “I knew there was something going on with you two.” He wagged a finger between them. “You know, Toto, for all your talk about professionalism, this seems very—”

“Get out.” Y/n’s voice was deadly.

Horner ignored her. “Honestly, this explains so much. The guard dog routine? The constant defending?” He smirked. “Tell me, Y/n, is it loyalty or are you just whipped?”

Toto tensed.

Y/n saw red.

“Oh, that’s rich,” she snapped. “You want to talk about being whipped? You’re the one whose wife has to publicly defend you every other week because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Horner’s smirk faltered.

Y/n wasn’t done.

“You have the audacity to call me Toto’s guard dog when you’re literally running around begging for scraps of validation from a team that doesn’t even like you? How embarrassing.” She took a step closer. “You think I’m obsessed with him? Sweetheart, you’re obsessed with beating him. And you never will.”

Horner opened his mouth—then shut it.

And for the first time ever, Christian Horner had nothing to say.

Y/n smiled sweetly. “Now. Get out.”

Horner turned on his heel and left.

The second the door shut, Toto let out a long whistle. “Mein Gott.”

Y/n turned to him, still fuming. “I hate him.”

Toto grinned. “I know.”

She crossed her arms. “I—”

Before she could finish, Toto grabbed her face and kissed her again.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he owned her.

Like he was saying, Mine.

And Y/n?

She kissed him back.

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ooffmlsorry · 6 days ago

Note

hiii rocky ! may I ask some smutty Law head canons? Fem!Reader, preferably 🙂‍↕️

Hoo boy okay! Never done one of these but I have thoughts! (Or I guess I should say thots😉) hopefully I don't disappoint!!

Smutty Law Headcanons

A/N: I had to try very hard not to get too psychological on this lol like sexy! Sexy! Think sexy! It's just I think Law's mentality would greatly affect how he approaches sex...

I believe in inexperienced!Law supremacy. Not full virgin just...he's had sex like three (3) times (maximum) in his life.

Not super sexy but really cute. The first time you hold his hand and look into his eyes, he's so grateful he's sitting and you can't see the half boner he's got. (he's not used to loving touches okay!?)

Inside Law there are two wolves:

Wolf 1: vanilla asf. Congratulations! He's very happy he figured out how to make his girlfriend cum! Yay!...Now he's just going to keep doing that exact thing. Because it's producing the "desired results." (fear of failure????)

Arguably, he would start off like this but as the relationship progresses, and he gains some confidence...

Wolf 2: Absolute mad scientist. Your body is his favorite little test subject.

The first time it happens Law stops in the middle of making out with you, stares intently at you as if running some intense calculation, and when you finally get him to spill he says: "I want to know how many times I can make you cum." And he's so direct about it you nearly mistake him for Luffy??? 'Cause it's pure curiosity driving him. It's a genuine question that he wants answered. Somehow you're now tied up (when tf did he learn that!?) and on your third orgasm and Law hasn't even fucked you yet. It's just been fingers and tongue, and he doesn't stop until he thinks you can't cum anymore. And he's doing all of it like it's some kind of experiment too. He's more or less fully clothed before he starts fucking you with his cock, occasionally palming himself through his jeans but that's it. If he wasn't so focused on making you cum, you know he'd have a pad and paper to write things down.

Law has the absolute nerve to look at you, fucked out, twitching, overstimulated as hell, and ask "What does it feel like when I fuck you like this?" As if you could give a coherent answer. (psychopath)

Then he wants to know how many different ways he can make you cum. Tongue, fingers, cock, toys. Temperature play. Impact play. He's a certified freak seven days a week. If he asks and you give (enthusiastic) consent, he's trying it on you eventually.

He absolutely gets off on making you cum and being in control of it...

He also does it because he's in love with you and I think one of the ways Law shows love in his brain is knowing as much about you as possible. He's a knowledge guy. And that includes knowing what makes you whimper, gasp, moan, cry out, clench around him, etc.

Prides himself on how well he knows your body and he's very smug about it. "Don't act like you don't love it when I fuck you like this."

He loves fingering you, even when the sex part of the relationship was really new. He's always liked feeling the inside of you. Loves seeing, hearing, and feeling what his hands can do to you.

Tits guy. They don't even gotta be milk canons specifically. Just some cleavage. Law's laser focus slips as soon as you bend down in a v-neck in front of him.

A man of contradictions. Hates the idea of his crew knowing you two are intimate in any capacity (in a perfect world the crew would think you two sleep in separate beds like it's the 1950s lol) But he's the one that suddenly pulls you into a closet or a dark corner on the Polar Tang to make out and rut against each other like horny gremlins. And then he just sends you on your merry way, soaking wet and completely hot and bothered, like it didn't happen...He'll do that for days in a row until you're desperate enough to jump his bones. (what a tactician)

Any touch to his lower abdomen or ears goes straight to his dick. Nip and suck hickeys into that v-muscle area and his back will fucking arch, he has to bite his lip to keep from making any sounds. Same with biting and sucking on his ears, do that while you're fucking and it'll probably push him over the edge. Whisper in his ear at your own risk...it doesn't even have to be sexual, just your breath on it is enough to make his jaw clench.

Speaking of embarrassment...he likes being teased. Call him out on his inappropriate boners and his staring.

"What happened to professionalism, captain?" "You didn't have to wear that shirt..." "What's wrong with my shirt? You very obviously like it."

Also secretly loves it when you "take care of him" when he's stressed.

You skate your fingers across Law's tense shoulders and walk around him to stand beside him at his desk. It's late at night. You know he's been running on nothing but coffee and sheer will, but he won't let himself stop. "Law, baby." You gently lift his head to look at you. His tired eyes focus on your soft ones. "It's three in the morning," you say. Your hand cups the side of his face as you gently stroke his cheek. Wordlessly you convince him to turn towards you. You settle into his lap, place his hands on your ass, and press sweet kisses to his shut eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks. You kiss over to his pulse and nibble at his ear, pulling a deep groan from him. Law's hand flex on your ass, pulling you onto his half-hard cock. "Come to bed, baby let me take care of you." FUCKING FOLDED LIKE A LAWN CHAIR.

Also, loves you riding him in his office, under the desk blow jobs, and bending you over his desk.

Wear a costume! He's gonna be into it! (the disturbing horror of Law fucking you in a Reiju costume before he learns about Sanji...) Just make sure it's not a character he cares too much about because he will get distracted by the inaccuracies lol

Hot take: He doesn't like being called captain in the bedroom. Law strikes me as the kind of guy who would want some separation between being a pirate captain (especially if he's your captain) and being your lover. It reminds him too much of work. He's much more likely to accept or use pet names during sex.

#trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece smut #so apparently I had a lot of thoughts...

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fixated-cookies · 3 months ago

Note

brwo,,, u gotta write more of that yandere heat thingy w/ shadownilla,,, pls brwo,,, I'll give u my life savings,,, 5 dollars,,,,

:DDDD

That dream had me in a chokehold, it was so short unfortunately but it was crazy. pt.1 of the reader heat thingy

THIS WORK CONTAINS CONTENT SUCH AS NONCON, MIND BREAK, AND MANIPULATION !! VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!

IF ANY OTHER TAGS NEEDS TO BE ADDESSED PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!

I kinda went crazy on this, I spent all day making it actually, Grammarly is carrying my writing. I know my computer is sick of me.

I think although pure vanilla is gentlemanly, he even has a side that can end up rivaling Shadow Milk Cookie in intensity. Like, he just loves you sooooo much. He’s held himself back for so long, always playing the role of the ever-patient, ever-loving guardian. But tonight? Tonight, patience be damned.At first, he tries to keep up the act, whispering soothing reassurances, brushing his fingers over your heated dough with delicate care. “It’s alright, my love… Just let us take care of you,” he murmurs, but the more you whimper, the more you writhe between them, and the more his control starts to crack. Along with the ache in his dick.

Shadow milk, his other half oh, his dear other self can obviously tell, he snickers at the sight “Oho? You’re shaking, Vanilly,” he trails a finger down your bare body “Losing yourself, are we?~”

And Pure Vanilla does nothing to deny it.

Because he is losing himself...so damn badly.

His usual kindness is laced with something deeper, something dangerous. His voice becomes ragged, “You need me,” he growls, his voice dropping into something husky, needy. “Let me prove it to you. Let me show you that no one—no one—can take care of you the way I can.” Gone is the gentle healer, the composed ruler of the Vanilla Kingdom. In his place is a man stripped of restraint, a man who has spent far too long suppressing his own desires.

"Wa-wait..." you try to stall, to push upwards on the mattress. “Ahh, so you do have a spine under all that sickly-sweet kindness,” he sneers, dragging a clawed hand through Vanilla’s golden hair, yanking just enough to make him hiss. “Go on, then. Show them. Convince them.” He doesn't need to be told twice.

He leans in, his sweet lips hovering over yours, taking in your delicious scent. His pupils are blown wide, "You don’t need to worry."His voice borders on a plea, "Just let me love you...”

you kicked your legs in a panic with a cry. Your entire body is burning, but the humiliation? Oh, that burns even hotter. You’ve never done this with anyone before. Never let anyone see you like this, so vulnerable, so desperate, so utterly needy. in the back of your mind, you're sure that they know...

"Sweetheart, shhh, it's alright,” He tries to coax you into a soft submissive state, a quiver to voice filled with temptation. “Poor little thing’s acting like a cornered bunny~” Shadow milk drawls from beside you. He uses his cool hands to trail up your body causing you to jolt in pure vanilla's chest. Perhaps it was for the best they took you when they could, just imagining you crying and rutting into a pillow with no proper help or cock took years off their life.

Pure vanilla lifts up your thighs...his breath hitches, his golden lashes fluttering as he stares—utterly captivated—by the sheer amount of slick dripping from your trembling thighs, pooling beneath you, staining the sheets in unmistakable need. He gulps dryly. “Oh… Oh, sweetheart…” His voice is breathy, almost reverent, as if he’s witnessing something divine.

You whimper at the exposure, your hands flying to cover your face, your entire body burning with mortification. But Pure Vanilla? He only exhales, long and shaky, his mismatched eyes darkening as he swallows thickly. his usual composure fraying at the edges as his fingers trace delicate patterns along the inside of your thigh. “Do you even realize… how much you need us right now?”

A sharp chuckle interrupts the moment.

“Dripping like a little broken thing… You really thought you could just suffer through this alone?" You instinctively try to close your legs shut. "Ah, ah, ah~” he mocks, gripping the other leg, tilting so he can take a nice peek for himself. He doesn't say anything, but you can tell his posture falters for just a slight second.

A trembling, helpless little thing, caught between two predators—one who soothes, the other who taunts, yet both equally relentless. "Please," you whimper, voice weak, laced with desperate excuses. "I-I can handle it, I always— I don’t need—"

"Don’t need?" Shadow Milk interrupts you harshly "Ohhh, little liar, you reek of need~" A soft sob leaves out as you feel a thumb press onto your clit. "let us help you… Don't fight this… Don't fight us…" You twist, writhe, trying to squirm away—but there’s nowhere to go only able to whine again once the thumb starts to rub tight circles, you don't know whose thumb it is, and you don't want to know...

"Ohhh, don’t you see?" You hear a soft chuckle. "She likes this little game~" Your body's heating up, burning with ache and need. you can feel the sweat starting to make your dough sticky. "So scared, so shy, yet her body says otherwise~" You shake your head rapidly, breath coming out in panicked little gasps. "N-no, I just—” "Shhh~" He shushes you, voice almost mockingly gentle. "No more little lies, sweetheart. We know better… don’t we, dear Pure Vanilla?"

Pure Vanilla inhales sharply. But you see it—the way his chest heaves and then he does something that makes your heart stop.

He nods.

"She needs this," he breathes, almost like he’s trying to convince himself. "She’s suffering… She needs us…"

Before you can react, Shadow Milk’s hands tighten on your thighs, spreading you further. And Pure Vanilla? The man who was once so patient, so restrained?

His hands follow upward.

As shadow milk hunches over your most vulnerable spot, you can feel pure vanilla experienced hands knead and grope at your tits, squeezing and massaging. coaxing wanton moans out of you

Oh, the moment Shadow Milk gets that first taste, the teasing, the taunts—everything just stops. His entire body tenses, fingers digging into your thighs with a sharp inhale as if he’s just discovered the most intoxicating thing in existence. All of that sharp tongue, usually so wicked with words, now has a far better use. The way he groans against you, as if drinking you in, sends vibrations shooting up your spine.

"So… so sweet," he pants, his voice strained. His thumbs roll over your sensitive peaks, his own body shuddering from the scent surrounding him, clouding his mind. Shadow Milk hums against you, "Mmm, hear that?" he murmurs, pulling back just enough for his breath to fan over your oversensitive skin. "She’s singing for us, dear Pure Vanilla. Let’s see how much sweeter we can make her sound~ "his smug grin smeared in your slick. His lips glisten, his tongue darting out to lazily lap up what he can before letting out a chuckle.

Pure Vanilla, who had been barely holding himself back, shudders at the sight, his restraint snapping at the sight of you, so dazed, so flushed, so utterly vulnerable. He hears your intense sobs of pleasure and wants nothing more than to drown you in it. "Care to trade, my dear Pure Vanilla?" The second the offer is given the blonde man immediately lunges, switching places. His touch far gentler than Shadow Milk’s but just as overwhelming.

"Sweet divinity..." he gasps, his lips brushing your dough in a reverent whisper. "How could you ever think of enduring this alone?" Shadow Milk just laughs darkly beside him, licking his lips as he watches the once pristine and gentle Pure Vanilla descend into unhinged devotion.

You whimper once more trying to clamp your legs shut out of pure instinct only to be met with a sudden, sharp suck to your already overstimulated and soaked clit. The sensation jolts through your body like lightning, your back arching off the bed as a strangled moan rips from your throat. "Nngh!" His once-gentle hands firmly hold your thighs apart, his grip unyielding despite the shaky restraint in his own breath. You can feel your undoing quickly approaching

"Now, now, you wouldn’t want to offend him, would you?" He taps a teasing finger against your trembling lips. "He’s just trying so very hard to take care of you, after all."

With one last harsh suck and a grit of your teeth, you feel yourself cumming over his face, with a sweet cry. Your vision dims as your squeeze your eyes closed, feeling hands within your hair combing through. You may have thought you passed out for a couple of minutes because the next time you open your eyes both of them are completely undressed.

You feel still the heat in your dough, though lessened a little..."Please..." you mumbled out. Pure vanilla looks at you with seeming hearts in his eyes, listening for your every beck and call. "My sweet darling...?"

"More."

And nooow you have two cookies simultaneously grinding into your cunt with such a rough fever you can barely think. It’s overstimulation in its most intoxicating form "All you had to say was the magic word!" He whines into your ear from behind. Pure vanilla was under you, gosh, he looked like was seeing the gates of heaven, Is he alive?!

Shadow milk will be whispering the filthiest things into your ear, mocking how your trembling between them, while Pure Vanilla, for all his usual tenderness, would be groaning and gasping, overwhelmed by the heat of it all eyes rolling into the back of his head. your breath hitching into the sweetest, most helpless cries as they both stretch and fill you impossibly, leaving no space untouched, no part of your body left unstimulated.

"I—ahh, I knew you’d feel perfect like thi- he'd gasp out. Shadow milk gazes at him from over your shoulder, grinning down. “Ah, Pure Vanilla… you’re awfully quiet now,” he taunts, of course, those two are basically frotting their cocks inside of your cunt!

His breath was heavy, ragged, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as though grounding himself. “You—” He swallowed thickly, biting back a sound of frustration. “Stop talking…”. "Aww, but we're so… close." His voice was dark, teasing, reveling in the way Pure Vanilla tensed. The tension between them was thick, charged with something dangerous.

A choked sob slipped from your lips, and you didn’t even realize you were crying until the tears began to spill freely, slipping down flushed cheeks. The overwhelming heat, the sensations wracking your body, the sheer impossibility of holding onto any semblance of rational thought—it was all too much. Pure Vanilla’s eyes snapped open at the sight, drool slightly spilling from his lips. “Oh, love…” he breathed, his touch on your hips tightening, as though he could anchor you to reality. “You’re finally letting go, hmm? Finally accepting it?” He mocks into your ear.

“You don’t have to think anymore,” he murmured shakily, "Just feel… just let us take care of you.” Shadow Milk chuckled darkly at that, the amusement in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Let us?” he echoed, nipping at your ear before murmuring his next words, dripping with honeyed malice. “Oh, sweet thing… at this point, you don’t have a choice.”

And with that, whatever shred of control you had left shattered completely.

You weren’t sure when you stopped resisting. Maybe it was sometime between the fevered kisses, the whispered reassurances, or the merciless taunts. Maybe it was when your body finally gave out, too drained to do anything but receive. Your head rested against Pure Vanilla’s chest, rising and falling with his breath, his warmth enveloping you completely. Your tears slipped down his chest, dampening his dough.

He sighed softly, one hand cradling the back of your head, “I have you. We have you. There’s no need to cry anymore.” he whispers softly. But you had to cry, because even in the throes of pleasure, your mind still struggled to comprehend the weight of it all. The weight of them. Their obsession, their need, their utter refusal to let you go.

“Ah, finally,” Shadow milk mused, almost to himself, but the sheer satisfaction in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew you’d come around eventually. You just needed a little… convincing.” You felt the smirk against your skin as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. Pure Vanilla kissed the top of your head, his hold tightening as if he’d never let you go.

And for the next several days, you would have no choice but to accept it.

Guys please...guys please... I don't know what happened, I just kept writing and thoughts kept flowing. I know its long please!!! have mercy!!! I need them so bad, that dreamed fucked me up. It fucked me up so bad!! I'm crying!! I hope you guys can notice how I made shadow milk and Pure vanilla relationship represent a push and pull toxicity. I may have ended up butchering their characters in the progress though D:

#tw noncon #shadow milk cookie x reader #yandere shadow milk #yandere shadow milk cookie #yandere shadow milk cookie x reader #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #yandere pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk smut #shadow milk cookie smut #yandere shadow milk cookie x smut #yandere crk #yandere cookie run kingdom #yandere pure vanilla #yandere pure vanilla cookie smut

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bytemee · 4 months ago

Text

crying on stream (not clickbait) — yu jimin.

synopsis. you really need to stop playing random horrors at 2 am.

pairing. karina x gn!streamer!reader

warning(s). reader cries at a horror game, emotional support gf karina, this is so silly and sweet, let me know if there's more

words. 639

authors note. 1/2 drafts im posting tn before all the freaky stuff and angst floods my page. this is also based off this tiktok i saw

masterlist. navigation.

you had no idea why you thought playing a horror game at 2 a.m. was a good idea—especially with karina asleep in the next room. but here you were, curled up in your chair, gripping your keyboard like your life depended on it. your chat was loving every second, spamming laughing emojis and "you're so cooked" messages.

then, it happened.

the door behind your character slammed shut. the screen flickered. a deep, guttural noise rumbled through your headphones.

you froze. your breath caught in your throat, hands hovering over the controls, but you could not bring yourself to move.

"no, no, no, no, no..." you whispered, barely making a sound.

username LMAOOO YOU'RE SO DONE username WHY AREN'T YOU MOVING HELLO?? username NAH THIS IS BAD 😂

your fingers twitched over the keys, but before you could even think about getting out—

the screen went completely black.

your headphones crackled. a distorted whisper slithered through the speakers, low and scratchy, like something breathing right into your ear. then, for half a second, the lights in the game flickered back on—

the killer was right behind you.

you slammed the pause button.

your whole body locked up, muscles so tight it felt like you might pass out. chat was going insane, but their messages barely registered.

you couldn't scream. not with karina asleep. you couldn't even let out a proper gasp.

instead, a quiet sob slipped out before you could stop it.

you pressed a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as you tried to breathe. tears welled up, but you blinked fast, trying to keep yourself together.

username ARE YOU CRYING BRO?? username NAH THIS GAME REALLY BROKE THEM username this is so sad but funny at the same time 😭😭😭

after a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to unpause.

you needed to get out.

with shaky hands, you turned the lights back on, unlocked the door, and ran. the second you stepped out of that room, you ripped your hands off the keyboard, dropping them into your lap as a deep exhale left you. a few stray tears slipped down your face, and you wiped them away, sniffling.

"oh my god," you muttered, still feeling the adrenaline in your veins.

then—

a tap on your shoulder.

you screamed.

the fear you'd been barely holding in came crashing down all at once. you flinched so hard your chair almost tipped over, another choked sob slipping out as you panicked.

your chat lost their minds.

username HELPPPP username THAT WAS NOT THE GAME?? username DID Y'ALL SEE THEIR SOUL LEAVE THEIR BODY username I THINK THEY JUST DIED IRL

then came the worst part—a soft, familiar laugh.

your head snapped to the side, eyes wide as you saw karina standing there, looking impossibly amused despite being fresh out of sleep. dress in your an oversized hoodie, her hair a little messy, she smiled at you before shaking her head.

"you're so dramatic," she whispered, barely containing her giggles.

you didn't even have the energy to argue. Without thinking, you reached for her, pulling her into a hug off-camera. she easily melted into you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin on your head.

username WHO IS THAT???? 😳

username WE CAN SEE THE SHADOW WTF username THE WAY THEY JUST WENT SILENT TO HUG THE AIR LIKE BFFR

karina ran her hand up and down your back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before whispering, "you okay?"

you nodded against her shoulder. "i hate this game."

she snorted. "then stop playing horror games at night, hm?"

you sniffled. "never."

she sighed, but she didn't let go. for a while, you just stayed there—holding onto her, ignoring chat's growing curiosity, letting your heartbeat finally slow down. eventually, she whispered, "wanna sleep now?"

you exhaled. "yeah."

with a final squeeze, she pulled back and grabbed your hand, and you turned back to your stream, rubbing your eyes before clearing your throat.

"alright, chat," you muttered, voice still wobbly. "i'm ending stream. i need therapy."

the last thing chat saw before you disconnected was your teary eyes, ruffled hair, and hand out of frame, fingers curled like you were holding onto something—someone.

then, you were gone.

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megvmins · 11 months ago

Text

the best kisser awards (wind breaker edition)

warnings: spicy, mention of boobs but it's not specified, making out, hickeys

a/n: i'm probably going to write kissing/intimacy headcanons for all wind breaker characters but this is a little something that's been bouncing around in my head for days now. enjoy and lemme know what you think about it!

notable mentions:

KAJI: aggressive kisser. kisses like he won't see you for months as if you aren't joined at the hip. usually he crowds you against a wall and the few times your teeth knock together but kaji doesn't even register it as he licks into your mouth and bites your lover lip. somewhere in the middle of this intense make-out session the realization hits him and to hide his embarrassment his lips move down to your jaw and then neck where he sucks love bites with his ears burning bright red but he can't stop because the satisfaction of stepping away to see your absolutely dazed expression and purple-red marks down your neck to your collarbone is so worth it.

UMEMIYA: he gives the most over-the-top big smack smooches ever and you can't change my mind. like hiragi can be minding his own business on top of the rooftop and you and ume are on the other side and he can hear when ume gives into his inner demons to just smother you with kisses. he's a big silly goof and he attempted few times to pull a cool move on you like holding your head up with two fingers because he read it in a book and he couldn't hold in his giggles at all. on the other side of the spectrum – eskimo kisses when he hugs you and hoists you higher so you're forced to look down at him and he ends up nuzzling his nose into yours.

the big three under the cut!

#3 KIRYU: look me in the eyes and tell me this guys isn't the wolf in sheep's clothing. pulls you in for some cute and sweet kisses and suddenly his hand is on your chest just squeezing a boob. his only response to your surprise is a shrug of his shoulders and teasing smirk playing on his lips before he reconnects them with yours. just a big tease disguised as a cute little angel. just like kaji he ends up giving you hickeys – in the most conspicuous places and he has the audacity to smile at you innocently when you glare at him through a mirror while you attempt to cover them up.

#2 SUO: gentleman in the streets but a beast in the sheets. i believe he can be really intense once he gets more comfortable so he doesn't have to be so in control of his feelings but can let loose a bit. i can see a scenario of him being worn out from solving a lot of issues around the town and just coming to you with “can i kiss you?” like the gentleman he is but when you would naively think sure lemme give you a peck, instead he just puts his hands either side of your face and pulls you in for a deep and messy kiss that has you holding on to his shoulders for a dear life. afterwards he leaves you with a smile and kiss on the cheek like he didn't just make your legs feel like jello from a simple kiss.

#1 TOGAME: i am biased but hear me out. togame is such a teddy bear on the inside, truly a softie and when he's whipped he gets even more so. he'll just be staring at your face and constantly be thinking about giving you a smooch on your cheeks, nose, lips and forehead honestly anywhere. a lot of the times he doesn't mean for the innocent kisses to go into a heavy breathing make-out session but your lips are tempting him to keep coming for more and his mind goes blank and you have to literally pull on his hair for him to break away so you can breath as if your lips aren't sore from the onslaught. he only looks at you with half-lidded eyes and pulls you closer with a hand on the back of your neck.

#yes i am biased with number one but it's the truth!!#now I need to make some awards for the most touchstarved boys to give someone else a chance too #wind breaker #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x reader #kaji ren x reader #kaji ren x you #hajime umemiya x reader #hayato suo x reader #mitsuki kiryu x reader #mitsuki kiryu x you #hayato suo x you #togame jo x redaer #togame jo x you #wbk x reader #moon writes

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kwilquib · 5 months ago

Text

Unscripted Desire

Part 2

<---- Part 1

Bae Suzy X Reader

Switching POV

Word Count: 7k+

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the warmth pressed against your side. Soft, delicate, her breath tickling your chest with every slow exhale. Suzy.

Your arm is draped over her bare back, her cheek nestled into the curve of your shoulder, her fingers loosely curled against your ribs. The nation’s first love, tangled up in your sheets, clinging to you like she belongs there.

You exhale, rubbing a hand over your face, still half-dazed from sleep. The room is dim, bathed in the quiet glow of the morning light filtering through the curtains. It should feel peaceful. Instead, it’s… irritating. Not as much as before, but still enough to bother you.

You weren’t supposed to wake up like this—with her.

Not because you regret it. No, that would be too easy. But because she’s always been a thorn in your side, a constant source of disruption in your otherwise structured life. And now, seeing her curled against you, her body so naturally fitted to yours, that disruption is worse.

The worst part? You don’t want her gone anymore.

That realization settles uncomfortably in your chest. You should move. Get up. Create distance. But before you do, she stirs.

Her body shifts, pressing even closer, her thigh brushing dangerously against yours. Then she makes that sound—a soft, barely audible whimper—shifting her hips just slightly, enough that you feel the warmth of her bare skin dragging against you.

Your body reacts before your mind can intervene. Heat coils in your gut, tension pulling tight in your abdomen. You grit your teeth. Not now. Not like this. You won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much she affects you.

Carefully, you pull away, inch by inch, shifting to put space between you. It’s agonizing, her warmth leaving your skin like an unbearable tease, but you refuse to let yourself indulge. Not this morning. Not when she’s asleep and unaware of the chaos she’s causing inside you.

You sit up, running a hand through your hair, willing the sensation away. A few deep breaths. Control.

Behind you, she stirs again, this time with a sleepy sigh.

“Mmm… you’re awake?” Her voice is thick with sleep, soft and expectant.

You glance over your shoulder. She’s stretching, eyes still half-lidded, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. She looks… satisfied. Smug, even. As if she’s expecting you to be captivated, to hover over her, to worship her after last night.

You don’t give her the reaction she wants.

Instead, you stand, reaching for your discarded shirt. “You should go back to sleep,” you say flatly.

That throws her off. Her brows furrow, lips parting slightly as she props herself on her elbows, the sheets slipping down just enough to tease.

“You’re not even going to say anything?” she asks, voice tinged with disbelief. “After last night?”

You button your shirt, not sparing her a glance. “What do you want me to say?”

Suzy scoffs, clearly unimpressed with your lack of enthusiasm. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something about how amazing it was? How you couldn’t get enough of me? How waking up next to me makes your entire morning?”

You roll your sleeves up, unbothered. “That’s what you expected?”

She pouts, but there’s a flicker of something sharper in her gaze. “That’s what most men would do.”

You finally meet her eyes, your expression unreadable. “I’m not most men.”

That earns you a glare, but before she can bite back, you check your watch. Time to leave. You’re already running behind schedule.

You grab your jacket, ignoring the way her gaze follows your every movement, clearly dissatisfied with how this morning is playing out.

“Where are you going?” she finally asks, her voice shifting slightly—less playful, more uncertain.

“Work,” you answer simply.

She blinks, as if the concept of you moving on so easily is unfathomable. “You’re seriously just… leaving?”

You pause at the door, glancing at her over your shoulder. Her hair is tousled, her skin flushed, her lips still slightly swollen from last night. She’s undeniably beautiful. And yet, you refuse to let her think she has you wrapped around her finger.

“There's still leftovers from last night, don't bother going to my work again” you say before stepping out, leaving her in your bed, dissatisfied and confused.

The last thing you hear before the door closes is her frustrated sigh.

Good. Let her stew.

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

Suzy sat in his bed, the sheets tangled around her, staring at the spot he had just vacated.

He left. Just like that.

She scoffed, throwing herself back against the pillows, her arms crossing tightly.

"There's still leftovers from last night. Don’t bother going to my work again."

His voice echoed in her mind, dripping with indifference, dismissing her like she was some clingy inconvenience. And yet, the warmth on the other side of the bed, the faint scent of him lingering in the fabric, all of it told a different story.

A very different story.

Suzy rolled onto her side, pulling the pillow closer, nuzzling into it—before abruptly realizing what she was doing. She shoved it away and sat up, raking her fingers through her messy hair.

"Good. Let her stew."

That was probably what he was thinking when he walked out.

“Ugh, you arrogant—” She grabbed the nearest thing—his pillow—and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a pathetic thud.

And now, she was left alone in his apartment.

She sighed, rubbing her face, before finally forcing herself out of bed. The cool air hit her bare skin, making her shiver as she reached for her clothes.

Something about the act of getting dressed here felt… too familiar.

Her fingers brushed against the closet door, hesitating before she pulled it open. Inside, amongst his dark jackets and button-ups, was her hoodie. A pair of her slippers tucked neatly in the corner. A small hairbrush on his dresser, a bottle of her favorite lotion beside it.

Since when did I start leaving things here?

She walked toward the kitchen, her movements muscle memory at this point. The fridge hummed softly when she opened it. Just like he said, last night’s leftovers were still there—neatly packed away.

Suzy closed the fridge without taking anything.

Eating alone? Absolutely not.

She had never eaten alone before. Not once.

She either ate on set, with staff, with other celebrities, or with people who catered to her schedule. Even if she wanted to eat privately, there was always a manager, an assistant, a stylist hovering nearby. The very thought of sitting down to a silent meal, alone in his apartment, made her stomach twist.

She could try, but she knew what would happen.

It had happened before. The one time she thought she could handle it, the loneliness had settled in so thickly that she felt suffocated. Halfway through her meal, she had rushed to the bathroom and thrown up everything she had eaten.

Pathetic.

Her grip tightened on the fridge handle before she let it go.

Forget it. She’d rather starve.

Just as she turned away, her phone buzzed.

A familiar name flashed on the screen—her manager.

She let it ring once. Twice. Then—

With a sigh, she answered.

“Finally! Suzy, where the hell have you been?” Her manager’s voice came through, exasperated.

Suzy smirked, leaning against the counter. “Nice to hear from you, too.”

“This isn’t funny. The director called me—again. He’s been waiting for you to get back to reality, and I don’t have an excuse for you anymore. You need to stop playing around.”

Her smirk faltered.

There it was.

The other side of this.

The part of her life she had been ignoring—the part she was losing by staying here.

Suzy closed her eyes for a brief second before responding, her voice light and careless, even as something heavy settled in her chest.

“Playing around, huh?” She exhaled. “Yeah. Maybe I have been.”

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

The end of your shift came faster than expected.

Normally, you’d be relieved. Work was exhausting, but it was a predictable kind of exhaustion—one that you could drown out with a drink, a shower, and a few hours of sleep.

But today… your mind wasn’t as clear.

It started as you packed up your things, a simple thought slipping in.

Home.

Then, right after—

Suzy.

Your grip tightened around your coat.

It was frustrating. Earlier, you had left her in bed, tossing her nothing but cold words. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do—to keep the upper hand, to remind her that you wouldn’t dance in the palm of her hand like everyone else.

But now, you weren’t so sure.

Maybe you had been too harsh.

Your mind replayed the mornings you had spent with her—not just the bickering or the annoyance, but the small moments in between. The way she always complained about waking up early, only to end up stealing sips of your coffee. The way she would demand you eat with her, acting dramatic about dining alone. The way she somehow turned your dull apartment into something lived in, something warmer.

She was an inconvenience, sure.

But she had also become… something more.

Someone who made your mornings less quiet. Your nights are less empty.

And you? You had taken that for granted.

Your feet moved on their own, leading you away from work and toward a small, secluded café. Her favorite.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside. The owner recognized you immediately and, without a word, started preparing the dish you had ordered for Suzy before.

A small, satisfied feeling settled in your chest.

She would like this.

She would probably smirk and say, “Oh? So you do care about me, after all.”

You could already hear her teasing voice.

The thought was annoyingly pleasant.

You adjusted your sleeves, waiting at the counter—until something inside the store caught your eye.

Or rather, someone.

Suzy.

Dressed up.

Not in your oversized hoodie, not in the comfortable clothes she wore around your place, but in something sleek and polished—something meant to be seen.

She looked stunning. And she wasn’t alone.

Across from her sat a man, equally refined, equally stunning. His suit was different from yours—not the tired, practical kind you wore, but something sharp, effortless, expensive.

And she was smiling.

Laughing.

The sight hit you harder than it should have.

For the first time in a while, you remembered—who she was. Who you were.

Suzy wasn’t some ordinary woman who just happened to stumble into your life. She was a star, the nation’s first love, someone meant for cameras and flashing lights.

And you?

You were just a man coming off a long shift, in a suit that felt dull in comparison, holding a takeout bag like an idiot.

You clenched your jaw, exhaling sharply.

What were you even thinking?

Without another glance, you turned on your heel and walked out.

But before you could get far—

“Hey.”

Your steps halted.

Her voice cut through the air, sharp and unmistakable.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

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

Suzy rested her chin on her palm, barely listening as the CEO droned on.

“—so you don’t need to worry. The scandal has been completely taken care of. You can return without any issues.”

She smiled, just enough to appear interested. “That’s good to hear.”

But in truth, she didn’t care.

Normally, this kind of news would’ve been a relief. The industry had nearly eaten her alive before, twisting the smallest rumors into career-ending disasters. But now?

Now, it felt distant. Like something that belonged to another life.

The CEO kept talking—schedules, brand deals, comeback strategies—but her mind had already drifted.

She glanced out the café window absently.

And then she saw him.

The moment she recognized his figure, her posture straightened.

There he was, walking away. Why?

Her eyes darted down, and that’s when she noticed it—the takeout bag in his hand.

From this café.

Her breath caught.

Without hesitation, she stood up. “Excuse me.”

The CEO raised an eyebrow. “Suzy?”

“Something came up.” She didn’t wait for his response before slipping away, moving quickly out the door.

Her heels clicked against the pavement as she caught up to him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He didn’t stop.

She huffed, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. “What’s with that attitude? Didn’t I tell you before? If you see me, you should at least say hi.”

Still, he didn’t meet her eyes.

Suzy’s lips curled into a smirk, masking the unease bubbling inside her. “What, are you mad about something?” She tilted her head, voice laced with teasing. “Did you miss me?”

That did it.

He stopped, finally looking at her—but there was no usual irritation, no amusement hidden beneath his glare.

Only coldness.

“I don’t have time for this, Suzy.” His voice was firm. Detached.

The smirk on her lips faltered.

That was new.

He had always been exasperated with her, annoyed even. But never like this. Never this distant.

Her fingers curled slightly, nails pressing into her palm. “What’s wrong with you?”

He exhaled sharply, gripping the takeout bag tighter. “Nothing. I just realized something today.”

She crossed her arms, trying to keep her tone light. “And what’s that?”

His gaze flickered past her, as if looking at her was a waste of time.

“That I don’t belong in your world.”

Her heart skipped. “What?”

His next words were quieter. Resigned.

“You’re right. You’re Bae Suzy. Admired by everybody.”

She scoffed, but it came out weaker than she intended. “You—you only realize that now?” She tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered.

His jaw clenched, and for a second, something flickered in his expression—something unreadable. Then, it was gone.

“So whatever game you’re playing, you can stop now.” His grip tightened around the bag. “I admit it. So please… leave now. Let me go back to my life, where Bae Suzy isn’t in it.”

He exhaled, as if releasing something heavy.

“It’s time to end this.” A pause. “I mean it this time.”

The words weren’t loud.

But they hit like a wrecking ball.

Suzy’s breath caught.

She had seen him frustrated before, annoyed, even furious. But never like this. Never this certain.

Her fingers curled slightly, nails pressing into her palm. “Don’t be stupid.” Her voice came out softer than she wanted. “You don’t mean that.”

His jaw tensed.

He didn’t answer.

He just stepped past her.

Instinctively, she reached out, fingers grazing his sleeve. “Wait—”

He flinched.

Not dramatically. Not cruelly. Just enough to make it clear.

There was no room for negotiation.

Her hand dropped back to her side, feeling suddenly foreign.

This wasn’t a game.

He wasn’t just pulling away. He wasn’t waiting for her to chase him.

He was leaving.

For real.

The sound of the busy street faded into the background as she stood there, frozen.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what to do.

His tone reminds her of how they started distant, cold if not more

His tone reminded her of how they started—distant, cold. If not more.

They had come so far—hadn’t they?

They went from strangers, both an annoyance to the other.

To—

The way he looked at her last night, the way she had started feeling at home in his space, the way his presence had become something she looked forward to—

And now, it was slowly reverting back to the beginning.

Had all of that meant nothing?

She forced herself to breathe, scrambling for answers. Was it last night?

The thought made her stomach twist.

Had it been a mistake? Had she miscalculated, played too recklessly?

Her fingers twitched, aching to grab onto something, to stop everything from slipping away.

And yet, no matter how much she replayed their conversation, she couldn’t find an opening.

Because this time, he wasn’t just angry.

He was done.

…

She didn’t know how long she stood there.

By the time she forced herself to move, she didn’t even remember where she had been going.

Her feet carried her aimlessly, her mind replaying the argument in an endless loop.

Then—the bag.

The takeout bag he had been holding.

Her breath caught in her throat.

From this café.

Her heart thumped.

He had bought food. For her.

Even after this morning. Even after pushing her away.

That meant something. It had to.

The realization burned away some of the panic creeping up her spine.

There was still a chance.

She just had to stop playing games.

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

You arrived at your apartment, your footsteps heavy, your thoughts heavier.

The door clicked shut behind you, locking out the world. But the moment you stepped inside, you realized it hadn’t locked out everything.

Traces of her were everywhere.

Her clothes, once carelessly scattered across the floor, had been gathered into a small pile in the corner. It was barely an effort, but it was an effort nonetheless.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair.

She had actually tried.

The air still carried the faintest hint of her perfume, something light, something warm. A used coffee mug sat on the counter, untouched since morning. The blanket she had stolen from your bed was folded—messily, but folded—on the couch.

Everywhere you looked, she was there.

Even when she wasn’t.

You slumped onto the couch, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

It had to end.

It was always going to end.

You and Suzy were from different worlds—worlds that were never meant to cross. You had made that clear tonight. There was no reason to dwell on it.

But still…

Your eyes drifted toward the pile of clothes. The blanket. The mug.

She had made this place her own.

And now, it was emptier than ever.

You sighed, sinking further into the cushions, closing your eyes. The exhaustion from work, from her, from everything, threatened to pull you under.

Then—

The doorbell?

Your eyes snapped open.

It rang?

You sat up, mind scrambling for possibilities. It was late. No one ever came here.

Another chime.

Then, before you could even move—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Not gentle. Not patient.

Desperate.

You exhaled sharply, standing up.

And just as you reached for the handle—

The door burst open.

And there she was.

Suzy.

Still dressed in that sleek outfit, still looking every bit like the star she was. But there was something different now—her chest rising and falling like she had run here, her lips slightly parted, her eyes burning with something raw, something desperate.

She stepped inside without hesitation, shutting the door behind her.

“Suzy—”

“Don’t.” Her voice wavered, but only slightly. She exhaled, steadying herself. “Just listen.”

You clenched your jaw but said nothing.

She took another step forward.

“You want to know why I kept coming back?” Her lips pressed together, almost like she was searching for the right words. “At first… it was because you didn’t recognize me.”

Your brows furrowed.

She let out a breathy, almost bitter chuckle. “Do you know how rare that is? To walk into a place and have someone not immediately know who I am?” Her gaze met yours, something distant flashing through them. “You weren’t interested. You didn’t care. That annoyed me. It intrigued me.”

Your chest tightened, but you stayed silent.

“And yeah, maybe at first, it was a game,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “A challenge.” She looked down, almost like she was ashamed. “But at some point, it stopped being that.”

The air between you shifted.

She swallowed hard before meeting your gaze again.

“I liked being here,” she murmured. “I liked waking up in this apartment, stealing your coffee, arguing about stupid things. I liked being around you. I liked…” Her breath hitched. “I liked you.”

Your fingers curled into fists.

She took another step, closing the distance. Her eyes flickered with something raw, something aching. “You think I don’t know what this is? What we are?” Her voice trembled, but it was steady. Determined. “I know what I feel. And I know you feel it too.”

Your throat tightened. You wanted to deny it, to push her away. But you couldn’t. Not when she was standing this close, not when every word she spoke chipped away at the walls you had built.

She searched your face, her brows knitting together. “I don’t want to play anymore,” she whispered. “I’m done with the games.”

A pause.

Then, softer—

“I want something real.”

Your throat felt dry.

You wanted to believe her.

But reality loomed over you like a shadow.

You shook your head. “Suzy…”

Her eyes caught the hesitation in your voice.

The part of you that wanted to reach out, to pull her in, to admit everything.

You almost did.

Almost.

But you stopped yourself.

Because if you said it out loud, there would be no going back.

And you weren’t sure if you could survive that.

Suzy saw it.

She saw the reluctance, the fear, the way you wanted to hold on but were too scared to.

Her jaw clenched.

Then—

She grabbed you by the collar.

Before you could react, her lips crashed onto yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.

It was desperate.

Like she was trying to force the truth out of you, trying to shatter whatever wall you had built between you.

But even as your lips connected—

You didn’t.

She felt it.

The way you stiffened, the way you refused to pull her closer, the way you were still holding back.

She pulled away just slightly, breathless, forehead almost resting against yours.

Her fingers curled against your shirt.

“You feel it too,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

Your eyes shut.

Because you did.

And that was the problem.

“Suzy—” you started, a weak attempt at denial.

“No.” Her voice was firm, unwavering. She refused to let you finish.

Then, before you could push her away, she pulled you in—her lips crashing onto yours, desperate, insistent. There was no hesitation, no room for resistance. Her tongue slipped past your lips, stealing the breath from your lungs, forcing you to meet her halfway.

You should have stopped her.

But you didn’t.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, your body caught between fight and surrender. She was relentless, pressing closer, molding against you like she belonged there. And maybe, for a fleeting second, you let yourself believe it.

The taste of her, the warmth, the way she moved—it was intoxicating. And as much as you wanted to pull away, to regain control, you found yourself drowning instead.

She pulled away just enough to breathe, but she stayed close—so close her forehead nearly rested against yours.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice trembling, almost teary.

The raw emotion in her eyes should’ve been enough to make you push her away. Instead, it rooted you in place.

Then—she moved.

Before you could react, before you could say something, she pressed against you, forcing you back until you hit the couch. A sharp exhale left your lips as you sank into the cushions, your body tense, your mind screaming at you to stop this before it went too far.

But Suzy wasn’t waiting.

She tossed her purse to the ground in one swift motion, not caring as its contents spilled across the carpet.

Then, with practiced ease, she reached for the zipper of her dress.

Your breath hitched.

The fabric slid from her shoulders, inch by inch, baring more of the smooth, unmarked skin beneath. She wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playing games. There was no hesitation in the way she stripped herself bare, her dress pooling at her feet before she stepped forward—completely, utterly exposed.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

This was dangerous.

And yet, when she climbed onto the couch, settling onto your lap, pressing against you—warm, soft, relentless—you didn’t push her away.

You should have.

But instead, you just sat there, trapped between the weight of her body and the weight of your own unraveling resolve.

She kissed you again—deep, desperate—before slowly trailing down your body.

Her fingers worked with impatient precision, loosening your belt, unzipping your pants. The fabric slid down, pooling at your ankles, and your breath hitched as you felt the cool air against your exposed tip.

Then, she touched you.

Her hand wrapped around you, firm yet deliberate, stroking with slow, measured movements. Her other hand worked at the buttons of your shirt, hurried and eager, as if she couldn't stand any barriers between you.

Once the last button was undone, she positioned herself between your legs. She leaned in, her breath warm against your cock—teasing, lingering.

Then, she looked up.

Her gaze locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, as if she were searching for something—waiting.

And then, finally, she took you in.

A sharp exhale left your lips as heat enveloped you, her tongue teasing, exploring. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she moved, slow at first, then deeper, her rhythm unrelenting.

She never looked away.

Her eyes held yours, intense, unwavering, reading every flicker of restraint, every inch of surrender.

Your fingers wove into her hair, not guiding, just following—helpless against the way she pulled you under.

A groan escaped your throat.

“Fuck…”

As if it wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for, she paused, bracing herself. Then, with quiet determination, she took you in fully—almost choking, her cheeks hollowing as air desperately escaped her throat.

“Suzy…”

You knew she couldn't hold it for long. This wasn’t just desire—it was a plea. A desperate attempt, a refusal to back down, to be denied.

Before she could hurt herself, you gently pulled her away.

Her eyes flickered with confusion, with worry. Searching yours, as if trying to understand.

“Wh–why–” Her voice wavered. “Did you not like it?”

“You didn’t have to,” you said softly, trying to assure her.

“I have to!” she argued, her voice tight with something raw—something desperate.

She leaned on top of you, her hands gripping your shirt like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go. Her chest rose and fell against yours, her breath warm, uneven.

The words sat heavy between you.

Then—

Her phone rang again.

The sound cut through the charged air, shrill and demanding, but Suzy didn’t move. She stayed there, staring at you, as if waiting for you to challenge her, to push her away again.

You didn’t.

But you didn’t pull her closer, either.

“You should answer that,” you said quietly.

“No.” She shook her head, her grip on you tightening. “This is more important.”

Still straddling you, she reached down, fingers fumbling against the carpet until she found her phone. Without even glancing at the screen, she powered it off and tossed it aside. The dull thud echoed in the silence.

Then, she turned back to you.

Her eyes—wide, searching—held yours.

“I want you,” she whispered. “I need you to want me too.”

Your hands rested on her hips, trembling. She felt it—the war inside you, the way your body betrayed you even as you fought to keep yourself guarded.

“Suzy…”

“Don’t think,” she pleaded, leaning in, her lips hovering just above yours. “Just feel.”

Her hand disappeared beneath, reappearing as a sensation—a slow, deliberate touch, stroking your dick.

She straightened her back, lifting her hips as she positioned herself above you. A quiet breath escaped her lips as she guided you to her entrance, her warmth pressing against your tip, her juices flowing from her to yours. Slowly, she sank down, inch by inch.

She jolted, hesitating for a brief moment. Her eyes met yours, searching. Then, with a sharp breath, she dropped fully onto you, her body colliding with yours as she took you in completely. You feel her muscles contracting responding to the intrusion.

“Haaah—!”

Her hands flew to your chest, fingers curling, gripping. Her hair cascaded around her face, veiling her expression, but you could hear it—her breathing, uneven and audible, each inhale sharp, each exhale trembling.

You stayed still, waiting as she adjusted, feeling the way her body clenched around you, how every breath she took made her tremble slightly against you.

Then, she rises.

Slowly, she straightened, arching her back, shifting her hands to brace herself against your thighs. Her head tilted back, hair flowing freely, a few stray strands catching on her parted lips.

She was breathtaking.

And then, she began to move.

She started slowly, letting you feel every inch of her warmth, her curves, the way she gripped around you. Her movements were unhurried at first, teasing, making you savor every second as she ground against you.

Gradually, she found her rhythm, growing bolder, more confident. Each motion became smoother, more fluid, her body pressing closer until her breath mingled with yours.

Before she could collapse from the strain, you reached up, cupping her chest, massaging, teasing—easing her tension as she lost herself in the moment.

As she gathered her strength, she straightened again, your hands following her movements, trailing over her skin, fingertips brushing against her sensitive peaks. You admired the way she arched into your touch, the way she responded so effortlessly to you.

“Suzy… you feel so good,” you murmured.

Her fingers tangled in her hair, twisting strands around her face as pleasure overtook her. She bit her lip, her breath coming in uneven gasps, her body trembling.

“Fuuuuck…” she cried out.

A sudden shudder coursed through her, her muscles tightening around you as she reached her peak. Her body convulsed, waves of pleasure washing over her, leaving her breathless.

Slowly, she collapsed onto you, her head resting beside yours, her fingers tracing soft, absentminded patterns across your cheek. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her breath as she tried to steady herself.

She pressed a soft kiss against your jaw, her breath warm as she whispered, "You feel that? That’s real."

Her fingers trailed down your chest, lingering, teasing.

"Stop holding back… Show me you want this too."

Her words sent a sharp current through you, unraveling the restraint you'd been clinging to.

You stared down at her—chest rising and falling, lips parted, eyes dark with something you weren’t sure you could resist any longer.

Your fingers twitched at your sides.

She noticed.

A slow, knowing smile curved on her lips, daring you. She reached up, her fingertips grazing your jaw, featherlight but insistent. “You always hesitate,” she murmured, tilting her head, watching your expression shift. “Why?”

You didn't answer.

But you didn’t stop yourself this time either.

With a sharp breath, you moved—grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head as you pressed her into the couch. A small gasp left her lips, her body reacting to the sudden shift.

She barely had a second to process before you claimed her mouth, hard and consuming, swallowing the teasing words before she could say them.

Her breath hitched, then melted into you, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer.

This was different.

No more games. No more lines blurred with uncertainty. This time, you needed her to understand.

She did.

Her body moved against yours, desperate and yielding, her hands trembling where you held them down. Her breaths turned uneven, her chest pressing against you as she arched.

She wanted more.

So you gave it to her.

You let go of her wrists, and the moment you did, her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you back into her. Her fingers scraped down your back, nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself.

Your hands explored her body in return, tracing the curves you’d memorized yet never allowed yourself to claim like this. Every touch, every press of your fingers, left her gasping, her body shifting to meet your every movement.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the way she trembled when you kissed down her neck, when your lips ghosted over her collarbone, when your hands traced lower, pulling her hips flush against you.

The anticipation built with every second, every lingering touch, every breathless whisper.

Then, finally, you positioned yourself against her, her warmth enveloping you inch by inch.

She tensed, breath catching, before forcing herself to relax around you, her hands gripping your shoulders, nails pressing into your skin. Her body adjusted, stretched, taking you in completely.

Her forehead fell against yours, eyes shut tight, lips parted as she took slow, measured breaths.

You waited.

And when she exhaled, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, something unspoken passed between you.

She moved first.

A slow, tentative roll of her hips, testing, feeling.

Your breath hitched.

She did it again, this time with more confidence, dragging a groan from deep in your chest.

And then, she found her rhythm.

She moved, and you let her, let her set the pace, let her lose herself in the pleasure, watching as she melted against you.

Her hands roamed, desperate and aimless, one moment clutching at your arms, the next twisting into her own hair. Her head tilted back, exposing the long curve of her neck as she gasped your name between each breath.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Gripping her hips, you took control, moving with her, deeper, harder, until neither of you could form words—only sounds, only the raw, unfiltered expression of need.

Her body trembled beneath you, her legs tightening around you as she edged closer, her walls fluttering around you.

You were close.

“Suzy…” your voice was strained, warning.

Her fingers curled against your back, dragging you impossibly closer.

“Me too…” she whispered.

The moment broke.

She clenched around you, her release hitting her first, her body shuddering as she cried out. The sensation dragged you over the edge with her, your own pleasure crashing down in waves, leaving you breathless.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

She was spent, her body completely relaxed beneath you, her chest rising and falling against yours as she caught her breath. You stayed like that, pressed against each other, feeling the aftershocks of what had just happened.

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

Suzy felt warmth, the kind that settled deep in her bones. Her body molded against his, her breathing steadying as the silence stretched between them.

She had done it.

She had broken past his restraint, made him feel, made him stop holding back—if only for a moment.

A slow smile tugged at her lips.

Soft. Satisfied. Content.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t pushing her away. He wasn’t building walls between them. He was here, with her.

But then… he shifted.

It was subtle—the way his muscles tensed, how his fingers curled ever so slightly against her skin. But she felt it.

The hesitation.

The doubt creeping back in.

Her heart skipped, a sudden unease slipping into the warmth she had been basking in.

She lifted her head slightly, searching his face. His eyes were open now, staring past her, distant. The way they had been earlier. The way they used to be before everything changed.

Her stomach twisted.

No.

Not now.

Not after this.

Before she could say anything, a vibration broke the silence.

It wasn’t her phone.

It was his.

She stiffened as he reached for it, the shift in his body—away from her—far more deafening than the sound itself.

Then, she saw the name flashing on the screen.

Her manager.

The unease coiled tighter around her chest.

Something was wrong.

And this time, she couldn’t ignore it.

Suzy’s breath hitched as she read the name flashing on the screen.

Her manager.

Her stomach tightened.

She looked at him, waiting—praying—he wouldn’t answer. That he would ignore it, just like she had ignored hers. That he would choose this moment, her, just a little longer.

But then he exhaled, and the weight of it told her everything.

He swiped to accept the call.

“Hello.” His voice was calm, even.

Too even.

She felt cold.

She slowly sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest, her pulse suddenly too loud in her ears.

Then she heard it. The frantic voice on the other end.

Words spilling too fast. Urgent. Panicked.

Her name. His name.

The apartment.

Photos.

Exposure.

Scandal.

She didn’t need to hear the rest.

Her throat tightened as she reached for her own phone, fumbling to turn it back on. The screen lit up in an instant—dozens of missed calls, unread messages stacking one after the other.

And then the headlines.

Her heart plummeted.

BAE SUZY SPOTTED LEAVING UNKNOWN APARTMENT

ACTRESS INVOLVED WITH MYSTERY MAN?

SCANDAL OR SECRET ROMANCE?

She felt lightheaded.

This wasn’t just some rumor. This wasn’t speculation.

They had proof.

Paparazzi shots. Her outside his building. Her coming and going. The timestamps… they had been watching her. Watching him.

She gripped the edge of the couch as reality crashed in.

She didn’t even realize she had stopped breathing.

“…Suzy.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice.

And that was when she saw it.

The way his face had shifted.

The way his expression had gone blank.

Carefully guarded.

Like a door had slammed shut between them.

Like the last few hours had meant nothing.

Her throat tightened.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Loud. Urgent.

She flinched.

“Suzy! Open up!”

Her manager’s voice, sharp with barely restrained panic.

She curled her fingers into the blanket.

“Suzy, we have to go. Before the press shows up.”

This was happening too fast.

She wasn’t ready.

She turned to him, searching his face, searching for anything—a sign, a flicker of something real.

Something to hold on to.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t reach for her.

She felt something inside her crack.

Slowly, mechanically, she forced herself to sit up.

Her limbs were heavy as she pulled on her clothes, every movement deliberate, slow, as if drawing it out would somehow change the inevitable.

She fastened the last button on her blouse with trembling fingers.

She could still feel his touch on her skin.

Could still taste him on her lips.

And yet, it already felt like he was gone.

Her bag lay nearby, its contents scattered from when she had tossed it aside earlier.

She crouched down, picking up her phone, her keys, her lipstick—every little piece of herself she had left behind in his space.

Another knock.

Louder this time.

“Suzy, now!”

She straightened, exhaling slowly.

Then, finally, she turned to him.

One last time.

Her lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say.

Because what was there left to say?

He had already made his choice.

She gave him a chance.

A moment to stop her.

To say her name, to ask her to stay, to fight for something.

But he didn’t.

He just sat there.

Silent.

And that silence broke her more than anything else ever could.

A soft, bitter smile flickered across her lips.

Then, with quiet finality, she turned away.

She reached for the door handle.

Paused.

Hoped.

But nothing changed.

So she pulled it open—

And stepped out of his life.

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

You wake up before the alarm.

Not because you’re well-rested—far from it. You wake up because your body still expects something that isn’t there.

The quiet. That’s what hits you first.

For weeks, your mornings had been filled with sounds that weren’t yours—the rustle of blankets from the next room, the faint clatter of her rummaging through the fridge for something she never finished, the soft hum of a song playing from her phone as she brushed her hair.

Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly intrusive, she would wander into your room uninvited, crawling onto your bed, complaining about the cold or just because she wanted to bother you.

You used to sigh in annoyance, push her away, tell her to go back to her own damn bed.

Now, you wake up to silence. And you hate it.

The bathroom feels colder without the usual mess she left behind. The overstocked bottles of shampoo stare back at you, a mistake born out of habit—because she always used too much, and you got used to compensating for it.

The kitchen is worse. You open the fridge and see the takeout you bought last night, untouched. Two portions.

You pick it up, stare at it for a moment, then set it back down.

She used to steal bites from your plate, even when she had her own. Always with that smug little smirk, like she was testing how much she could get away with.

You would give anything for that annoyance now.

The walk to work is unremarkable. The world moves on, oblivious to the fact that something vital has been ripped from yours.

At lunch, your phone sits face-up on the table, her contact just a tap away. Your fingers hover, but you don’t press it. What would you even say?

By the time the afternoon rolls in, exhaustion weighs on you in a way that has nothing to do with work. You’re distracted. You catch glimpses of her everywhere—in the reflection of a passing train window, in the way someone tosses their hair, in a distant laugh that sounds too much like hers.

And then—

Your phone buzzes.

An unknown number.

You stare at the screen for a moment before answering.

"Hello?"

"Finally! Man, you do not make it easy to get a hold of you."

You recognize the voice instantly—Suzy’s manager.

Your grip tightens around the phone. "What do you want?"

"Relax, I’m not here to cause you a headache. Got enough of my own." There's a tired chuckle on the other end. "I just wanted to check—have you seen Suzy?"

Your brows furrow. "What? No."

"Talked to her? Met up with her?"

"Why would I?" You say it slower this time, unease creeping in.

There’s a pause. Then, a sigh. "So you really haven’t seen the interview yet, huh?"

Something in your stomach twists. "What interview?"

Another sigh, this one heavier. "Okay, look… just turn on the TV, alright?"

Before you can ask anything else, the line clicks dead.

You stare at your phone, a strange weight settling in your chest.

Curiosity—or maybe something closer to dread—pushes you to unlock it.

A trending video immediately catches your eye.

"Bae Suzy, Unscripted!? – Full Interview (Archived Livestream)"

Your breath slows.

You hesitate for only a second before tapping on it.

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

The lights were blinding, the hum of production buzzing around her—stylists making last-minute adjustments, the mic being clipped to her dress, the host running through her lines with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Suzy sat still, hands folded on her lap, posture perfect. Outside, she was composed. Inside, her mind was a storm.

It’s just another interview.

A familiar dance. A routine she had perfected over the years.

"Going live in ten… nine… eight…"

She tuned out the countdown, exhaling softly.

The screen flashed.

The host smiled. The music faded. And the world was watching.

"Welcome back, everyone. Today, we have the one and only Bae Suzy with us—an icon, a survivor, and, dare I say, someone who knows how to make a comeback."

Suzy returned the smile, unfazed by the underlying bite in the words.

"I try," she said smoothly.

They eased into it, the same questions she had answered a hundred times before. The trials, the triumphs. The resilience of a woman who refused to disappear. She answered each with effortless grace, her voice steady, her expressions controlled.

But every now and then, the interviewer would say something—something meant to sound supportive but laced with skepticism. And each time, her mind would twist it, redirect it, until she wasn’t thinking about the industry or the scandals.

She was thinking about him.

How he looked at her that night. How he didn’t stop her—but didn’t hold on either.

"So, Suzy, after everything, what made you come back? Was it passion? The love of the craft? Or maybe… unfinished business?"

Unfinished business.

Her grip on her lap tightened.

She thought about waking up in his apartment, wrapped in a stolen blanket that still smelled like him. She thought about the way he used to watch her when he thought she wouldn’t notice—always guarded, always holding something back.

She thought about how easy it had been to walk into his life.

And how stupid she had been to walk out.

She almost laughed.

The interview went on, the questions getting bolder. She met each one head-on, undeterred. But then—

"Speaking of unfinished business…" The interviewer leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Your most recent… situation. That’s quite the scandal, isn’t it? A secret relationship? A hidden romance? Care to clarify the truth for your fans?"

The air shifted.

An unscripted question.

The storm inside her stilled—then changed direction entirely.

Her lips parted, the words already forming. The scripted denial, the casual dismissal.

But instead—

A bitter smile curled on her lips.

"You want the truth?" she mused.

The interviewer hesitated, as if realizing too late that the game had changed.

Suzy tilted her head, gaze sharp. "The truth is, it’s exhausting."

Silence.

"Having cameras in your face the second you step outside. Having every move dissected, every breath turned into a headline." Her voice was steady, but something dangerous lurked beneath it. "But you know what’s worse? The way you all act surprised when we get tired of it."

A murmur rippled through the studio. The host shifted, suddenly less comfortable.

"You paint a picture," she continued. "You create a story. You decide what we are, who we’re with, what we feel. And then, when the truth doesn’t fit your fantasy, you get upset."

She exhaled, a humorless laugh escaping.

"And the best part? No matter what I say, you’ll twist it anyway. So why bother?"

The interviewer blinked, caught between intrigue and damage control. "Are you saying the rumors are true, then?"

Suzy smiled.

Not the polished, camera-ready kind.

Something softer. Smaller.

"You all want to know who he is." Her voice dropped just slightly, the weight of her words pressing against the silence. "You want to know if I chose him."

A heartbeat.

Her fingers curled against her lap.

"I think the real question is…" Her gaze drifted, somewhere beyond the cameras. "Why didn't he choose me?"

The air in the room froze.

The interviewer scrambled to recover, but Suzy had already leaned back, mic still on, eyes burning with something fierce, something alive.

I intruded into his life before.

Why not do it again?

If he wasn’t going to hold onto her—

Then she’d just have to make sure she never let go.

~~~

You watch the screen, heart pounding louder than it should.

Suzy sits there, poised, confident, unshaken by the interviewer’s leading words. But then the question comes—the one meant to corner her, to trap her into a scandal she can’t escape.

But she doesn’t dodge.

She doesn’t deny.

She leans in. Smiles. And then she says it.

"You all want to know who he is… if I chose him."

A slow inhale. Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"I think the real question is… why didn’t he choose me?"

The world might not understand what she meant. But you do.

Because that wasn’t a farewell.

That was a challenge.

A laugh bubbles up, breathless and disbelieving, and suddenly, you can’t sit still. Your chest feels too tight, your hands restless.

You run.

Out the door, through the streets, past people you barely register. Your heart pounds, your mind races, but there’s only one thought screaming through it all—

She’s coming back.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re breathless, but exhilaration drowns out the exhaustion. You shove the key in, fling the door open—

Empty.

Your chest still heaves as you scan the living room. Nothing.

The excitement flickers, but you don’t stop. You check the bedroom. The bathroom. The kitchen. Each empty space chipping away at the joy, replacing it with something hollow.

She’s not here.

You stand in the middle of the apartment, heartbeat slowing, an ache settling deep in your ribs.

Maybe you misunderstood.

Maybe she wasn’t talking about you.

Maybe it’s too late.

Maybe that was the final moment, and you were too much of a coward to grasp it when it mattered.

You sink onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Then—

The door clicks open.

Your head snaps up.

And there she is.

Suzy steps inside, gaze sharp, movements purposeful. Her lips are parted, ready to argue, to fight, to demand.

She came here prepared to battle.

But she doesn’t have to.

Because the second she crosses the threshold, you’re in front of her, arms pulling her in.

She stiffens—startled—but you don’t let go.

"You can do whatever you want," you murmur into her hair, voice shaking. "Stay, intrude, turn my life upside down—I don’t care."

Her hands clutch at your shirt, but she doesn’t push you away.

"I missed you," you admit, breath hitching. "I—God, Suzy, I took you for granted, I was an idiot, I let you walk away when I should have held on."

Suzy swallows hard. You feel it against your chest.

"You regret it?" she whispers.

"Every damn second."

A shaky exhale. Then softer—"You’re nothing without me, huh?"

You let out a breathless laugh. "Not even close."

She lingers in your arms, tension melting away, her fingers curling into your shirt as if anchoring herself. And then, as if she’s just now realizing what this means—what this moment is—a small, knowing smile tugs at her lips.

"So what now?" she murmurs. "Another scandal?"

Your heart is still racing, but this time, it’s not from fear.

You smirk. "Why stop now?"

Her laughter is warm, bright, everything you didn’t know you’d been missing.

And then, just because you can, you tighten your grip, lift her off the ground for the briefest second, making her yelp in surprise before you crash onto the couch together. She’s breathless, half laughing, half complaining about how reckless you are, but she doesn’t pull away.

Instead, she cups your face, brushing her thumb over your cheek, eyes glinting with mischief. "You better be ready for what’s coming."

You grin. "I’ve never been more ready.”

~The end

A/N: this was such a pain trying to upload this T_T

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #suzy #bae suzy #qwilorg #qwib-short-story

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