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luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie ends up being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general loneliness, mentions of a shitty/traumatic pregnancy, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, you wash eddie's hair!!!! this was low-key requested by anon

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie opens the door and finds a little girl on the steps of his house. Little girl feels generous – she's barely more than a baby. In a set of tiny matching pajamas and white socks stained green from the morning grass, she looks up at him with wide, sad eyes.

"Hey," he says carefully. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Good morning," she says, though it comes out blurry.

"Good morning," he repeats with a breathless laugh, instantly endeared.

He curls his hand around the railing and squats down. She really is very cute and obviously well looked after, although he realises upon closer inspection that she's been crying.

"Where's your mommy?" Eddie feels silly as he asks, but what else do you say when you find kids by themselves?

He's not really expecting her to know the answer. She pouts her small mouth and Eddie freezes up.

"Mommy.” Her breath quivers.

"Don't cry," he says very gently.

It doesn't work, obviously, and she starts whimpering in a way that turns Eddie's heart entirely.

"Let's find mommy, okay? Do you wanna do that? Wanna come and find mommy with me?"

"Yes," she says, though it quickly draws up into a sharp cry.

Eddie treks down the stairs and turns back, waiting. The little girl looks down at the steps and her eyebrows furrow as she places one foot after the other, looking like her socks are stuck to a fly trap.

He holds his hand out. "You got it," he says encouragingly, wiggling his fingers.

Her relief is palpable. Her brows smooth as she takes his hand, so small he can cover her entire palm with the meat of his thumb. She wobbles down the steps and then hesitates at the damp ground awaiting.

Eddie drops his gaze to her wet feet.

She looks up at him. Eddie doesn't think she means to but her eyes are pleading,and he's already moving to pick her up when she lifts her arms into the air.

She's heavier than he anticipates. He quickly gets used to the weight, shifting her against his side with his arm under her butt, her damp foot digging into his abdomen. She rests one hand on his shoulder and the other reaches for his hair. He can't help smiling at her as she pets the dark mess, hand clumsy but well-intentioned.

He walks down past the van and onto dark asphalt, looking up and down the road to see if anyone's around. He figures she has to be a trailer park kid – she can't have walked very far, and she'd been waiting outside. She must've gotten mixed up and thought his trailer was her own, which hopefully means her mom lives close.

The steps up into his trailer are on the right side. Eddie guesses she's come from the right. It's not a great assumption — he's grasping at straws.

"What's your name?" he asks.

She's taken a lock of his hair into her hands. Eddie worries for a second that she's going to try eating it but she only waves it around, looking pleased.

"I'm Eddie."

"Dee," she says.

"Almost. Eh-dee," he spells out, again not actually expecting her to understand what he's saying. He's unsure about kids her age – he's unsure what age she even is.

She babbles something unintelligible and Eddie hikes her higher up his chest. He strides out of the cool shadow and blinks, shielding his eyes against the yellow-white glare of sunshine. The little girl hides her face in his hair.

He hasn't walked very far when he sees you behind the trailer three doors down, pinning clothes that look the same size as the girl's pajamas to a clothesline with unhurried hands. The front door is wide open.

"Your poor mommy," he murmurs as he approaches, "out here doing the laundry by herself and you're halfway to Indianapolis. Musta got turned around, huh?"

You drop a small light blue dress on the floor and cuss just loud enough for Eddie to hear it. You pick it up fast and brush it down, looking over the fabric worriedly.

Eddie cuts over soft grass, giving the baby's waist a pat and holding her ears away from his mouth as he raises his voice. "Hey, is this your kid?" he asks.

You flinch toward him and your eyes go wide – wide, your lips parting and your brows jumping down like you might start yelling.

You're really fucking pretty.

Eddie’s quick to placate you. "She was sitting on my front steps."

You still don't look very happy though your suspicion melds to confusion and then a stab of too-late worry. You rush towards them and Eddie turns his body to encourage the girl's gaze to you. His chest warms when she perks up.

She wriggles in his arms impatiently and Eddie's surprised by how quickly she starts to cry, reaching out for you with insistent grabbing hands as he passes her over.

"It's okay," you say softly, tucking her into your chest.

The difference in body language is unmissable. Where she'd been restless (though more than pleasant) in Eddie's arms, she completely melts into yours. Her little face presses into your neck and her legs curl up. You pat her butt soothingly. "It's okay, baby. Where have you been?" You look up at him for an answer with concern lining your pretty features.

"I'm only three down," he says.

"Oh… Thank you," you say roughly.

Your gratitude is unnecessary. "That's okay. She's real sweet. I opened the door and the first thing she said was, 'good morning,'" he recalls with an easy smile.

Joy lightens your entire face. He feels his breath catch in his throat.

"She did? She said that?"

"Yeah, she did.” He tries not to sound as confused as he feels.

Your eyes close with the force of your smile. You encourages your toddler’s face back and drop your chin to plant kisses all over her tiny cheeks. Eddie feels something foreign yawning in his chest as she starts to laugh, a tinkling sound that's sugar sweet.

He scratches his neck and pretends to look over his shoulder, tamping his smile back into a neutral expression.

"She's having trouble talking," you say, lifting your head as the baby's giggles taper off. "She can talk, she says 'mommy' all the time, but she's s'posed to be saying more 'cos she's almost two and I know she can do it, she's so smart, but-" You cut yourself off and laugh all breathless and sheepish. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I mean- Sorry. Thank you," it almost bursts from you, "for bringing her back. I don't know…"

"You just moved in, right?" You nod. "The lock on the front door- they're all exactly the same, you just gotta shake it and it unlocks. Even someone small as her can could get it open with enough determination."

"She can be very determined," you say ruefully, voice hushed. You're still patting her butt, swaying her from side to side. Eddie's in awe at how quickly she's settled, her button features crumpled by a big yawn. "Always gets what she wants."

"I bet she does, she's a total heartbreaker."

You take a step towards him, your beat up sneakers half a foot from his converse. "She can't help it, she was born this pretty," you say. He loves how braggy you sound.

"I can see where she gets it."

As soon as he says it he wishes he could take it back. Not because he doesn't think it's true – you're really something else – but because he doesn't want to creep you out.

Luckily, he's rewarded for his bravery by another beaming smile, your words warm as you tell him, "They said she was the prettiest baby they'd seen in twenty years up in Eskenazi general."

The name pricks his ears. "You're from Indianapolis?"

"Kind of." You tilt your head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Eddie." He could applaud himself on how normal he sounds and how not normal he feels.

"Eddie, I'm Y/N. D'you wanna come in for coffee? Or I can make you some breakfast? To say thank you for taking care of my Junie."

"Junie," he repeats, surprised.

You shift from foot to foot. "She's a June baby. And she's getting kind of heavy these days, so. Breakfast?"

He follows you up the steps and through the back door.

"You can leave it open," you say over your shoulder.

He catches an eyeful of your bathroom, an organised chaos that smells intoxicating, the rich scent of jasmine heavy in the humidity chased by something softer. Talcum powder, he thinks.

You murmur something to Junie too quiet to hear and she rouses from her dozing, grizzling weakly.

"It's breakfast time! Is that what you tried to come and find me for, some breakfast? So impatient," you scold her lightly, smiling all the while as you set her into a bright blue high chair with a big yellow duck with orange flippers printed on the cushioning.

You squeeze one of her feet and frown. "Your socks are wet. Did you go swimming in the grass?"

Eddie leans against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He doesn't have any experience with kids. You make it look easy, pulling off her stained socks while she wiggles her protest and tickling the soles of her feet with the tip of your finger until she's happy again.

You turn back to him, socks clutched in your hand. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. Is that something you…"

"I'm an oatmeal fiend."

You grin and do a lap to close the front door. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee? I got milk and brown sugar."

He throws himself into the seat next to the high chair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Brown sugar? Sweetness, you're spoiling me."

Junie laughs. Eddie pulls himself up into a proper sitting position and gawps at her exaggeratedly. "What's funny, little lady?"

She giggles some more. Eddie leans his elbow on the tray of the high chair and pretends to glare at her. "I can already tell you're trouble."

"She likes you."

"Yeah?" he asks, looking at you over his shoulder.

You're half obscured by cabinets as you poke your head out, an open sack of rolled oats in one hand and a small pan in the other. You nod happily and move to the sink. He can hear the sound of the faucet and the burner clicking on, the saucepan sliding over the stovetop.

"I like you," he says to Junie quietly, rapping his knuckles on the tray. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation."

"So, uh, how long have you lived here?" you call, almost smothered by the rushing sound of oats tipping into hot water.

Junie makes a funny face like she might sneeze. Eddie watches. "Since I was a kid." He's smiling as he talks, amazed when Junie starts to smile back. He nods his head gently up and down to encourage her. "Too long. Not that it's not nice here."

Junie looks like she agrees.

"For sure, but.. not always where you picture yourself," you say tentatively.

He hums his agreement. "Whatever though, right? A roof is a roof. Even when the roof is made of cardboard and corrugated metal. I mean, all things considered, this is a well kept vessel."

He's not just trying to make you feel better – you really are making a go of it. There's not nearly as much clutter or decoration as his own home but it's twice as clean and every surface brags a clear affection – you fucking love your daughter. There's a framed photo of her as she looks now at the mantle without a single fingerprint on the glass, baby photos in smaller frames hang on the wall.

Smallest of all, a photo of the two of you together. Your hands on her shoulders, your lips and nose pressed to her forehead. You're not looking at the camera, but Junie is, and she's exuberant.

Toys, though few, are arranged neatly under the TV. It's really the type of clean that takes hours. He wonders how you'd ever make time for it.

"You got a job?"

"Yeah, I'm waitressing at Benny's?" You say it like a question. "The burger place?"

"Yeah, I know the one. Randolph Lane, near the laundromat. Does Junie go with you?" he asks. He cooes Junie's name and feels very happy when the girl in question smiles some more, reaching out with her hands. Eddie offers up the same palm she'd taken before and lets her squeeze his fingers in a surprisingly tight grip. "She looks like a working girl."

"Benny said I could bring her with me until she starts daycare next week, so she really is a working girl." You giggle madly and Junie loves the sound, her chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles.

"I knew it," Eddie whispers conspiringly. "You have the face for it."

Junie laughs like something is truly hysterical and Eddie can't believe it, squeezing the small girl's smaller fingers in his and waving their joined hands together.

"She really likes you," you say, closer now.

You set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He pulls his hand from Junie's and moves the hot mug away from the high chair though she'd never be able to reach it as you set your own mug and a pint of milk half-full across from him, the brown sugar you'd promised in a pink and orange ceramic dish with a lid that clinks as he pulls it off.

You double back into the kitchen. This time you bring a baby bottle full of what he guesses is diluted juice and two teaspoons, handing him one with a quiet, "For you."

"Why thank you," he drawls.

He spoons a generous hill of crumbly brown sugar into his cup and swirls.

"The oatmeal needs to soften. Is there anything you want with it? I've got lots of options," you tell him, pouring milk into your own mug. When you're done you and Eddie swap.

He thinks maybe you sound a little nervous and wonders if he's the first neighbour you've met. Or maybe you're still freaked out about Junie.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at you as he splashes milk into the dark recesses of his coffee, watching as it bursts back up to the surface and turns the drink a more acceptable brown. "What do you usually have?"

"Junie gets peanut butter and blueberries."

He tilts his head toward his shoulder just slightly and plants his elbows on the table, the rim of his mug held in tenuous fingertips.

"What do you get?" he asks, thinking that if the baby gets such a sweet treat you must get something equally impressive. He thinks of raspberries and chia seeds, flakey sea salt and bitter dark chocolate.

You blink. "What?"

"What do you have, on your oatmeal?" He punctuates his question with a sip.

"Salt. Sometimes raisins."

You make a nice cup of coffee. Eddie holds it in both hands and leans into the table. "That's it?"

You shrug. Junie starts to whimper about something Eddie doesn't understand. You reach out to hold her hand. "She loves blueberries. Don't you, Junie?"

"Blue," Junie says.

You're smiling as you take another small spoonful of brown sugar. You lick the tip of your finger and dip it into the well of the spoon until a few grains are sticking to you and hold it up to Junie's lips. "She loves sugar, too, but toddlers aren't s'posed to have it. Or so they say." You smile as she sucks the sugar off before wiping your spit wet finger in your pants.

Daughter appeased for a moment, you hold your chin in your palm and turn your attention to him. "Where do you work?"

He imagines this is how a plant feels when the sun comes out. "The Hideout, for now. I'm a very essential and irreplaceable bus boy." He nods very seriously.

"What's after?"

"Music."

Your lips curl into an interested smile. "Music? You a singer?"

"I have a great set of windpipes," he says agreeably, grinning. "But I'm a guitarist."

"And you're in a band?"

"I- I was. Yeah, we were good, too, but everybody graduated and our drummer skipped town. I just sub rhythm guitar for whoever wants me to."

"At the Hideout?"

"At the Hideout." He decides on his next words carefully. You could come see me play. Weak. You're welcome to come see it for yourself. Too strong? You're welcome to come by one night. Bring Junie.

He's not asking you on a date; he's a new acquaintance extending an invitation for you to get out and see a new place. That's all it is.

He opens his mouth to try and suddenly there's a loud clattering. Eddie flinches, blinks, finds that Junie has thrown her bottle of juice across the room.

Eddie waits for you to maybe tell her off like some of the mom's he's seen at Bradley's. A glare, a hissing remark to be good.

You reach over and your shirt rides up your back. Eddie averts his gaze guiltily.

You put the bottle back on the tray, giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Junie has recently discovered that every time she drops something I'll pick it up for her."

"Smart Junie."

The bottle falls to the floor again. "She's a genius." You don’t sound entirely pleased, picking the bottle up again and holding it just out of Junie's reach. You shake it up and down. "S'juice. You like juice," you try to reason with her.

Junie reaches for it. You purse your lips. "Be good," you say softly.

Junie takes the bottle and shakes it.

It's a small victory and still softens every feature. Your eyes squint, your bottom lip juts out a touch, your nostrils flare with a pleased inhale.

"Thanks, junebug."

"Tanks," Junie says.

"Thanks," you repeat, bubbly baby talk. "Thanks. Say thanks, Junie."

Eddie watches you encourage her over his coffee. It's quiet, peaceful here in a way nowhere else in his life has ever been besides quiet Sunday mornings with his Uncle. There's only the sound of the gas stovetop burning and your happy, patient voice.

Junie says "Tanks," a couple more times. You don't give up. When she finally says something that sounds almost like a "Thanks," you whip your gaze to his.

"Did you hear that?" you ask. Your pride is evident.

He puts down his half empty mug. "She said it."

"She said it," you repeat, your shoulders moving in the tiniest happy dance he's ever seen. You stand up and take her face into delicate hands. "She's my smarty pants. Aren't you, baby?"

You dot a kiss over her head and head back into the kitchenette.

"Tanks," Junie says animatedly, running on an affection high. She accidentally knocks her bottle over.

"Thanks, Junie," Eddie corrects, righting it.

He finds it easier to baby talk than he imagined. Being nice to little kids – that's easy. Especially as he gets older. When they hit the pre-teen mark is when he starts to steer clear, but even then he can't help doting on them sometimes. Like his club – idiots, annoying idiots, but his annoying idiots. He doesn't hold back with them. He doesn't feel like he's holding back now, either, it's just different.

Baby's want love. Care and affection.

And to pull Eddie's hair, apparently.

Junie's reaching over the gap with a fierce look on her face. Eddie pulls his chair closer and decides to let her try it out. She hadn't given him any reason to worry before, and she doesn't now as she takes a chunk of his hair into her hand. She pulls very gently, likely more that her fingers have gotten caught in his messy curls than any maliciousness.

"What's your fascination with my hair?" he asks her.

In her own home Junie's very noisy. When he'd found her outside she hadn't done much besides whimper weakly. Now, she's a riot of gurgling and humming.

"Are you a singer, Junie?" he asks.

"She sings all the time! She loves the Muppet Babies on TV, but I- uh, I haven't been able to actually get cable, yet. But when I get paid next week…" You come back into view with two bowls in hand. "She'll be in her oils."

Eddie says thanks as you put a bowl down in front of him. There's a smiley face there made up of berries with banana slices for eyes. He feels something crawling up his throat and has no idea what it is, and then something completely different when he sees your own bowl, a stretch of plain oatmeal with no delicious adornment.

You leave and quickly return with a smaller bowl, a baby spoon and a jar of peanut butter.

"Do you want some?" you ask, opening the jar to push the baby spoon inside. "I would've just put it in anyway but then I worried you were allergic."

You hand it off to Junie and she licks at it happily.

"Sure, I'll have some. Where's your smiley face?" he asks.

Your eyes widen slightly. Eddie's not academically inclined but he's never been stupid, and he sees it for what it is, something he's seen in himself and in every other poor kid who didn't bring lunch to school.

"I don't really like bananas," you say.

Whether you're lying or not isn't something he needs to know.

"Well, you're gonna have to share the blueberries with me, I can't eat this much fruit. I got a hearty diet of chips and microwave oven dinners to uphold."

Eddie shovels half of the smile into your bowl. You clutch your spoon in your hand like you want to protest, but no way is he gonna watch you miss out on nice things in your own home.

You smile and don't say anything for a while, rubbing the edge of the bowl with your spoon, your thoughts somewhere else.

Junie's food sits billowing steam in the middle of the table, which annoys the poor girl endlessly. She wiggles and murmurs and sucks at her empty spoon with a growing line between her brows.

Eddie eats and feels much better when you finally start to eat your own meal, leaning back in his chair heavily to loll his head towards Junie. "Your mom makes amazing oatmeal. You're really missing out."

You choke on a laugh and grab her spoon to load up with another small heap of peanut butter. "That is so cruel to lord over her,” you say. “I can't give it to her yet! It's scorching. She has a fragile mouth."

"I'm sure."

He picks one of his blueberries out of the bowl and offers it to Junie, who takes it slowly despite her previously rabid hunger

More oatmeal eating. Eddie ends up giving the rest of his fruit to Junie, your generous dollops of peanut butter more than enough to enjoy the oatmeal. He might argue it doesn't need any adornment at all.

You stir peanut butter into Junie's bowl and wrestle the baby spoon out of her tight grip.

It's a process to watch. You scoop up oatmeal, blow on it until you're sure it's cool, and push it into Junie's mouth efficiently. There's a method to it, the way you lift the handle of the spoon so oatmeal doesn't drip straight back out of her mouth. When it does you scrape the lip gently against her chin to catch it before it ruins her shirt.

It starts to rain. Hard not to notice, a light drizzle opens and sprays down against the windows and for a moment there's no reaction. Then, gasping, you drop Junie's bowl back onto the table in stress.

"Shit, the laundry. Are you okay to watch her please? Sorry. I'll be five seconds," you say, already heading for the back door.

"Sure.” He sounds about as startled as he feels.

The back door shushes open and your feet dip down the steps. Junie is not very pleased with her breakfast getting put on pause, her face growing as unpleasant as the weather outside.

"Mommy," she says, unhappy and loud.

Eddie doesn't think about it as he picks up her bowl. It's more a pulse of feeling than a thought. Feed her and she won't cry.

He blows on a spoonful of oatmeal with likely too much vigour.

Junie's still complaining as he holds it in front of her face. If she's surprised to be fed by somebody who isn't her mom she doesn't show it, her sticky face growing suddenly slack as she realises her oatmeal is back in play. Her lips part.

He feeds her oatmeal, does a very bad job, and tries to gather what's escaped with the spoon as Junie waves her hands around and pokes at spilled food on the white tray in front of her. By the time you come back damp and breathless with the cold chasing your heels he's successfully managed to feed her what was left of her breakfast. He's embarrassed to be caught but tries not to show it.

"You okay?" he asks, looking you up and down amicably.

"S'only a little rain." You push the laundry basket onto the sofa and smile sheepishly. "You didn't have to do that."

"And have the precious little lady starve?"

"Starve!" you repeat, a feigned incredulousness to your tone.

"She was giving me the puppy dog's," he says, shrugging as he takes the spoon out of Junie's wet fingers.

She whines for a second at his robbery but seems to realise she's full, picking her juice back up to shake some more.

You exhale through an open-mouthed smile.

"Thank you. She's gonna love you now, she loves anyone who gives her food. She's a real cadge at the diner. Never seen so much free cherry pie in my life," you remark, turning to what looks like your diaper station. You wade through a mess of things he doesn't recognise and pull out a packet of baby wipes.

"And her mom? Is her affection so easily garnered?"

"Takes more than a cherry pie to win me over," you joke, sitting down in your chair in front of the high chair with a soft sigh. You pull out one of the wipes and take Junie's wrists into your hand, wiping her fingers clean methodically. "I need at least a squirt of whipped cream on top before I consider any fondness."

He chuckles and you laugh too. It's short-lived, your lips pursed as you wipe Junie's face clean. She hates every second of it, writhing in her chair like she's being tortured as you clean a mess of brown and blue from her round chin.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. Done, done," you say, holding your hands up in surrender.

She pouts.

"Don't be like that," you scold her mildly. "Look how lovely and clean you are now! Eddie can see how pretty you look again."

You slide your hands under her armpits and pull her out of the highchair, groaning.

"Oh, there you go. Where's Mr. Bear gone, baby? You can play sticky bricks with him so I can get ready for work."

Work. Work. Where Eddie was going. Where Eddie is very likely supposed to be. He checks the time and his eyes flare, standing up abruptly. You turn toward him with Junie anchored on your hip, both wearing matching expressions of curiosity.

"Sh-“ Don’t swear around babies. “I'm sorry, I got somewhere to be that I totally spaced on."

You blink. "That's okay."

"It was sick to meet you," he says.

You blink some more and walk to the front door, pulling it open as an understanding smile curls your lips. "Super 'sick,'" you say, bemused. "Thank you so much for bringing Junie back. Really, I mean, if anything ever happened to her." You don't finish because it's obvious, your bright tone underlain with a burning fear.

He walks sideways out of the door and down one step, knowing he's super fucking late but not caring too much as he says, "Listen, I can bring you a deadbolt."

"You could?"

"Sure thing. Make sure this little lady," and he says it chidingly, directing his gaze at Junie who goes all shy and smiley from the attention, "doesn't go on anymore morning adventures. Especially without her shoes."

"That would be… that would be awesome, Eddie. Thank you."

He waves his hand and descends the last of the steps. "I'll come around tomorrow?"

It's a Saturday today. He's not surprised that you're both working the weekend, but he is surprised that you're working Sunday too when you say, "Would after five be okay?"

"That's more than okay. Bye, trouble," he says to Junie, bringing a hand up to shield his hair from the drizzling rain.

You look lovely on the stoop, fresh-faced and in your lounge clothes. You tug Junie up your chest and take her hand into yours. "Say 'bye', Junie," you tell her, waving her hand. "Bye! Bye-bye, Eddie."

"Bye Junie!" he calls, waving at the little girl with great fervour.

"Bye!" Junie calls back.

You both grin.

You're super tired from work and exhausted from an upset daughter. Even now Junie fusses. She hasn't been getting her naps because you can't set her down anywhere that isn't the wooden high chair in Benny's restaurant, which is months of a routine disrupted.

You're not mad at her – the opposite, you feel awful to mess her up like this, awful that she's so upset. Trying your very best to calm her down, you're swaying her from side to side in the middle of your messy living room with your hand patting a steady rhythm into the narrow breadth of her back.

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry. You'll get your nap tomorrow, I promise," you say, trying for softness and missing, desperation eating at your tone.

You try not to have a heart attack at the thought of her first day at the new daycare. I can't think about it, you tell yourself, moving your thoughts onto the Sunday checklist.

Junie's been fed. Unfortunately, she's the kind of wound up where the only solution you can think of is to get her in bed. If you can get her down soon she'll sleep until maybe 4AM. Not ideal; you'd prefer she slept later tonight and woke up at a healthier 6AM with you. When she does wake, no matter the time, you'll have her eat something substantial for breakfast and take a much needed bath.

Laundry, bills, cleaning, it all runs through your head. Junie's hair, her snacks for daycare, her clothes. Does she have clean socks for the week? Does she have a vest top for tomorrow?

Her crying grows loud and you can't think of anything except how overwhelmed you feel.

"It's okay, baby, just go to sleep." You shush her softly.

Somebody knocks the door.

You and Junie are similarly nonplussed. Her crying ceases for a second and her head turns in tandem with yours.

"Oh. Oh, you know who that is, huh?" you ask her, making for the door while her cries are still on pause. "That's our new friend Eddie. You remember Eddie?"

You pull open the door. There he is on the porch with a bag and a plastic case, wearing a shirt with short sleeves. You realise for the first time that he has tattoos.

"Hi," you say.

"Hi. Hi, Junie," he adds, looking at her tear-stained face. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"No, you're good. You're great, thank you for doing this." You lean back against the door and Eddie skirts past you. That close, you can smell the heavy sage and sandalwood of his cologne and see the beauty mark under his ear, dark hair tucked behind the shell.

He stops in the middle of the room and puts down the plastic case. "I'm gonna try to do it. Try being the essential word, and I make absolutely no promises." He makes a small cross with his hands leading out and the bag falls from the crook of his elbow to his wrist.

It sounds like more than a deadbolt. Eddie sees your gaze and jumps into theatrics that hook Junie's attention straight away, ruffling through the bag. He pulls out a VHS tape and then a second, one old and one newer.

"For your consideration." He presents them grandly against his check, his eyes flitting from your daughter to the tapes in wait of her reaction.

Junie has no clue what a VHS is. She thinks the TV is magic.

You swoop in and gasp loudly for Junie's sake, having identified his proffered tapes immediately.

"You know what that is?" you ask her, pointing at the slipcover. "Muppet Babies! There's Kermit and Fozzy and Rowlf and Gonzo." You touch your finger to each puppet in turn as you reel off their names.

Junie looks up at you like maybe she remembers, so you start to sing the theme tune for her. "Muppet Babies, they make their dreams come true. Muppet Babies, they'll do the same for you!"

The song jogs her memory. She starts her nonsense singing in a valiant but juvenile effort to recreate the music, dancing in your arms.

You sing it again for her as you lower her to the floor. She doesn't whine to be picked back up, a great sign that her mood has turned, instead walking to the TV, a small silver combi with a bubble screen. She raises her arms up high and starts hitting the TV stand with her palms flat.

Eddie looks to you as if he's checking that it's alright before crossing the small space and turning on the TV, your relieved smile more than enough encouragement. He's careful not to step on Junie's feet, surprised when she walks into his leg. She grabs onto his jeans and looks up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie visibly softens.

It's kind of crazy to see him, this metalhead dude covered in dark tattoos and wearing safety pinned jeans looking down at a toddler with nothing but patience in his eyes.

He drops his hand very lightly to her tiny back and pushes in the tape. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi," Junie says.

She doesn't let him touch her for very long, falling to her knees to pull out the bin of stickle bricks hiding underneath as Eddie fast forwards through the adverts and then turns up the volume until the Muppet Babies theme is echoing against the wood panelled walls..

Junie's eyes dart up the screen, two bricks held in her hands and a great smile on her face.

"Where did you find that?" you ask, in awe.

He steps over her and comes back to your side, crossing his arms over his stomach with a smug smile. "Not telling. Ruins the magic. Got The Bugs Bunny Show for when she gets bored of Miss Piggy."

You smooth down your rumpled black work skirt and smile shyly. "I can pay you back… Next week."

He looks lost for words for a split-second. It clears fast, and he says, "Tell you a secret. I have a friend down at good old Family Video that let me have 'em for nothing."

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. You worry he's lying to make you feel better.

"Uh-huh. Friends in high places," he brags sarcastically.

You turn to watch Junie smile for the first time in hours and have to scrub your face to hide how shattered you feel. It's been a really long week. Your relief is a physical thing, a hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself deflate.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks. "Thank you. Really. You saved me."

"Yeah?" he asks, dialling up the drama. He lifts his chin high. "Would you say, oh, I don't know, that I'm your hero?"

It's his clear joking tone that saves him. If you'd detected even a smidge of genuine expectancy from him you likely would've shoved him out the door.

"Mm-hm. My hero," you croon, both of you grinning.

He turns back to the grocery bag and pulls out a bottle of juice. "I was gonna bring coke but I didn't want Junie to feel left out."

You move to the cabinets and can't believe how nice he is. You get a little warning stab, that feeling of if it's too good to be true… and shake it off. Maybe it'll turn out that way and you're not gonna do anything stupid to chance it, but he seems like a normal guy. A good neighbour who wants to be your friend.

You're in dire need of one of those.

"What was wrong with the little lady?"

You pour juice into a glass for him, less into a glass for you, and a half-inch into a clean baby bottle. "I can't get her down for a nap when she's with me at work and it really caught up to her today. She-" You yawn so wide it hurts your cheeks, covering your face with your arm.

Eddie looks up from where he's kneeling in front of the open plastic case he'd brought with him. "Caught up to you too, I think."

"A little." You smile ruefully.

He holds something red and black in the air. "This'll wake you up," he says.

It's a small hand drill. He presses down on the trigger twice in quick succession and Junie lies down on the floor to look backwards at him.

“Woah,” you say.

Junie rolls onto her knees and then stands. She's in that stage of walking where she can mostly do it but has a great tendency to trip over anything that might be in her way, and she stumbles as she approaches. Eddie moves the drill away from her and opens the case wide to show her his array of drill bits.

"How'd you like them, Junie?" he asks. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"What do they all do?" you ask.

"I don't have the foggiest," he says, grinning up at you. "And I really wanted to be cool and pretend that I did. I was going to, but you asked me that and now we're sunk."

Junie pokes at all the silver metal and turns away, bored, to return to her cartoons.

"I'm sorry," you say, not sorry at all.

"You should be." He shakes his hair out. "Can't say woodshop was something I ever paid much attention to in school."

You squat down beside him where he's counting the screws out for the deadbolt he'd acquired for you, your small cup of juice in hand. The deadbolt isn't new but it's clean of rust and that's all you care about. It doesn't need to do anything besides work.

"It can't be too hard though, right?" you ask quietly. There isn't any need to talk loudly this close to him and your head is starting to hurt from a long day.

"I hope not." He passes you the drill. "Hold onto that?"

He stands and you follow, the deadbolt frame in hand. He turns to your front door and holds it up to the frame, far from the door knob. "Where'd you want this thing?"

"Wherever you think is best," you say quickly.

"Got a pencil?"

You don't. You're ashamed to offer him a cyan blue crayon from Junie's arts and crafts. He takes it with a gleeful smile and uses it to draw a line under the deadbolt's two parts to make sure they fit together once they've been drilled in.

Junie starts fussing and you squint at her, trying to guess what's wrong. You leave the drill on the small table by the door.

"Junie, you want some dinner?" you ask, walking up behind her where she's stood watching TV. You rub her shoulder and lean over her, your face upside down in front of the TV. "I don't think you're hungry. Let's change that diaper."

She certainly doesn't want you to. You turn to Eddie where he's making clumsy crosses on the door in place of the screws, his brows furrowed.

"I'm gonna go get her some jammies," you say, and then wince. "Pajamas."

"Jammies," he repeats. You hate how happy he looks.

A hot flush washes over you. "She's the only one I talk to."

Again, that awful softening of his features. He's got the biggest, brownest eyes you've ever seen. "Why don't you get changed, too? I'm gonna start drilling." He waves the drill and you don't like how loosely he holds it.

"Please don't ruin the door."

A wolfish smile. "No promises."

You leave all the doors open. Eddie's nice but you're not stupid – if he plans on kidnapping her or something evil this is the perfect time. Though, you suppose, he could’ve abducted her when he found her outside.

You shed your uniform and pull on a pair of loose fitting pants. You can't find a clean t-shirt, probably because you own a grand total of three, and you get distracted when the drill starts whirring and Junie screams.

You know in your heart that it's just a baby scream rather than a sign that she's in pain and you still can't let it lie, rushing down the hall. You can see her, see that she's uninjured, only looking at the drill.

She's excited.

"You like that?" Eddie asks her. "Is that funny?"

Junie claps her hands together and reaches for the drill.

Eddie frowns. "Sorry, you can't have it. I gotta finish the door for your mommy. Why don't you build me something with your bricks, yeah? Something big."

Junie reaches up for the drill again.

"I can't, Junie, it's too dangerous. Don't want you to get all mutilated." You wrinkle your nose at what he's saying. He turns the drill towards his chest and touches the drill bit to his collar. "Look, see this? It's not for little hands."

Junie steps over the case of things on the ground and leans against Eddie's legs, insistent.

Your mouth drops open as he starts the drill and puts on some fake anguished screams. "Ah! Oh my god, it's eating me!"

Junie starts laughing at his fake screaming. Her eyes widen, her hands clinging to a rip in his jeans.

"Think that's funny, do you? Heartless girl. Where's your juice gone, hmm?" He holds the drill behind his back and points to her bottle on the side of the couch where you'd left it. "You want that?"

He goes over her head to grab it and encourage it into her hands. "Yummy," he says, his eyes moving to where you stand in the door past the kitchen, eyebrows jumping up. "Everything okay?"

"Screaming," you say, awkward in your breathlessness.

Eddie's eyes stay resolutely on your face. "She's okay. The drill is exciting. You're shirtless, you know."

You spin on your heel and back into your room. Your heart a jack hammer, you sieve through clothes until a rumpled t-shirt that smells of deodorant but not sweat appears and shrug into it.

Junie has a much better selection of clothes. You pick out some matching pajamas for her and a thick pair of socks and tuck them under your arm with her changing matt.

When you return this time, Eddie's drilling a third and fourth hole into the wall next to the door and Junie's watching with the teat of her bottle in her mouth, chewing but not drinking. You lay her mat down on the floor and grab her with a big sigh.

"Alright, Junie, let's get you all fresh for bed."

You change her diaper and she doesn't misbehave too much, Eddie's general presence a distraction. Soon she's sitting in your lap, dressed in new pajamas and smelling of talcum powder and baby creams, her wool socks soft as you rub your thumbs into the instep of her feet.

You sit on the floor watching Eddie drill the screws into the deadbolt frame. Junie slouches against you, her head digging into your chest and her tired arms struggling to hold up her bottle. You hold it up for her, watching Eddie's hands and his arms, how they move. Muscle and ligament tense under the skin, tattoos warping, his bats propelled into flight.

"I like your tattoos," you say.

Eddie stops drilling to look over his shoulder. "What?"

"I- I like your tattoos."

He lights up. His back straightens out and he turns back to the lock, giving the last screw a final good twist. The door makes a groaning protest and then it's quiet. Just Muppet Babies, Junie's soft suckling and the compliment you'd given adrift in the room.

"They're pretty sweet," he allows. You can hear how pleased he is though he won't look at you.

"They're cool. Have you had them long?"

Eddie starts to tell you all about them, fiddling with something you can't see on the door.

Junie decides that she doesn't want to be sitting anymore and turns in your arms, hands coveting your neck. You lift her into your chest and rub circles in her back, the weight of her emptying bottle on your shoulder. Soon, her small arms go lax. There's a rush of air as her lips open from the teat and the bottle tumbles to the rug with a dull thud.

He pulls open the door. Cool air rushes in. He closes it, slides the deadlock into place, and then pulls hard to make sure it won’t come free.

It’s solid.

He laughs triumphantly and Junie stirs. You pat her back and make some quiet shushing sounds and Eddie turns around, a slip of his teeth on show as he grimaces.

"Sorry," he whispers.

You shake your head. "You're amazing. Thank you."

If his cheeks weren't pink they are now. He leans into it, hiding one cheek behind his hair. "Stop," he says, exaggerated.

"I'll make it good, I swear," you whisper, covering Junie's ear with your hand. "I'll make you the best dinner ever. I'm the best at Kraft's mac and cheese, or-" You flush hot, realising that mac and cheese might not be the treat you think it is to him. "Or we can order in," you say, doing the maths in your head. You can't afford it, but maybe Benny-

"Kraft's mac and cheese? You're spoiling me."

You beam.

Eddie cleans up the small mess he's made. You're afraid to move quite yet in case Junie's not really sleeping, though she's a dead weight in your arms, and you watch Eddie walk through the room with both caution and ease.

"Oh, you don't have to do that,” you say.

He folds the baby blanket in his hands and puts it back on the armrest of the couch before moving on to the stickle bricks, not looking at you as he says, "Just earning my wage, doll."

You can't watch him clean your home. You wrap a tight arm around Junie and rise to your feet. Eddie sees your approach and his movements grow faster, rushing to clean up the mess before you can stop him. You don't know who starts first but you're both laughing as you grab his wrist.

"Stop!" you whisper, mock-furious. "Stop cleaning."

"Sh, you'll wake the baby."

You shake your head in bemusement. "I'm gonna go set her down. Then mac and cheese."

"Take your time. Lots of things for me to clean up out here," he says with a mock sincerity.

You drift down the hall and turn back to sneak a glance at him. He's pulled Muppet Babies out of the TV and is rewinding it around his thumb, a small smile on his lips as he hums the theme tune to himself.

With Junie finally in bed for the night you take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror on your nightstand and cringe. You look tired. You give yourself a big smile and feel better; a smile makes even your most exhausted features look pretty.

You slap on some chapstick. You know, to counter your dry lips. It shines.

Slipping out of the bedroom, you close the door as quietly as you can manage.

Eddie's standing at the end of the hallway. You expect to feel scared. Instead, you’re perplexed.

"Hi?" you whisper.

"Can I use the bathroom?"

You laugh. "Yeah. Course you can."

You have to pass each other in the hallway. His hip bumps your hip, a short rub of fabric.

You're still thinking about it when he finds you behind the stove, half asleep with your face in your hand. It's the kind of tired where your eyes keep slipping shut, not aching so much as blurry with a heavy head.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, sitting down at your cramped table.

You hum. "Hm. Just tired." You give him a guilty smile as you tip the bigger portion into his bowl. "Sorry. Mac and cheese with bacon bits for you, my hero."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

The fatigue ebbs a little.

Eddie’s easy to talk to. He makes you laugh. When you say goodnight, he looks back over his shoulder twice.

It's a funny coincidence that Eddie sees you Friday night. He never grocery shops on a Friday but he knowd when his uncle gets home in the morning there won’t be anything for him to eat after his shift. He takes a sharp turn towards the TV dinners and there you are at the bottom of the aisle with Junie in the seat of the cart. You're talking to her like you'd talk to anyone, though you didn't sound so saccharine sweet over mac and cheese. Close, but not quite.

"What do you want?" you're asking. "Ham and pineapple or mini pepperoni?"

Junie holds her hands out for both boxes. You let her take them and the two of you puzzle over the pizzas, heads bent together.

"Pepperoni, right?" you ask her, quietly enough that he almost misses it.

"Peroni," Junie agrees. You let her keep the box and put the other one back in the freezer.

"Pepperoni," you correct, absentminded.

"Peroni."

"Pepper-roni." You sound it out slow, looking at a scrap of paper in your hand.

"Pepper."

"You'll get there. Do you think we need shampoo this week?" You start jovial, but quickly lose your sprightliness. "Maybe I can put some water in the bottle and just… shake it up. No, we definitely need it."

Eddie watches you look over the cart. He knows exactly what you're thinking, What can I put back?

"Hey!" he calls, walking a little faster to try and hide how he'd been listening.

You turn on the spot and smile as soon as you see him. Junie, to his delight, is even more excited.

"Hi," she says, hands thudding along the cart's handlebar.

"Hi, Junie. How's my favourite neighbour?"

She babbles.

"I'm psyched to hear it. How about you, sweetheart?" he asks, parking his cart next to yours.

You're looking very tired. Still in your work uniform with a hoodie thrown over the top and your smart flats swapped for a pair of converse with the laces undone. You pinch your cheeks up into a big smile. He guesses that with a baby you've gotten very used to hiding how you feel.

You don't hesitate to lay it down thickly. "I'm really good."

"Yeah? How's Junie liking daycare?"

You cover your hands with your sleeves. "She loves it. Loves napping again. She-" You frown. "She doesn't like the mornings. Dropping her off. But after." You nod with a tentative smile "Yeah, it's nice to pick her up."

"Uh-huh. How's work?"

"What?"

"How's work for you? How's Benny's?" he prods.

"You're asking me about work?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nobody ever asks about work," you say.

You can't look at him as soon as you've said it, your eyes moving back to the grocery list in hand. It's an old envelope, and it crinkles under your squeezing fingers.

"Sorry," you mutter.

Eddie bites back a frown. "Well, I'm asking."

He holds out his hand for the list and you give it without thinking. He adores your handwriting the second he sees it, scanning the list for anything in this aisle.

"Hey, tell me about it," he prompts at your silence, pushing his cart. It takes you a millisecond to catch up, but when you do you're near frenetic.

"Well, I messed up like, five different orders today. And when I had Junie it was like they didn't care 'cos she's cute, but now she's not there they get pretty angry pretty quickly."

"She's like a magic item."

"Right," you say, sounding like you have no idea what he's talking about. "She was my lucky charm. 'N now when I mess up I gotta practically beg some of those guys to leave Benny alone. He's too nice to me already."

"Are they all terrible?"

"No, the regulars, guys in there everyday, they're all great. They're too generous. Benny's too generous. I know he's fluffing up my tip jar. I hate that. I don't want him-" You flinch. It's strange. Eddie takes a small step closer to you and waits for you to continue, but you've lost all steam. "Sorry, I don't mean to weigh you down with all of this."

"I asked. And I get it."

"I don't want him to feel sorry for me."

"Hey," he says, reaching out for a box of cereal on your list. He presents it to Junie and shakes it around, "who said anything about all that?"

"No, I know, I just-"

Junie smiles her approval and he chucks the cereal in your cart with a rattle of metal. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I swear. I get it. I- You said he's a nice guy, right? So maybe he doesn't feel sorry for you at all. Maybe he just likes you. He owns that place. I don't think it hurts him to put an extra twenty in your tips."

Junie reaches up. You turn to her and lean down until your face is a few inches from hers. "I wish I didn't need it," you say quietly.

"I know."

Junie puts her hand on your cheek.

You sniff, not crying or anything like that, only breathing. "Thanks, Junie," you murmur.

"Mommy," she says. She sounds a little concerned.

"Let's go get something yummy, baby." You stroke her face lightly. "I'm thinking canned peaches. Or pears, um. Fruit cocktail. And condensed milk," you add, sounding unsure.

"I got a can or two of that laying around," Eddie says, because he knows that shit is expensive. "Wayne hates sweet stuff."

"I couldn't-"

"You let me come over for one of those mini pizzas and I'll bring the dessert," he says, like he knows you'll say yes. He doesn't know. Eddie Munson’s an expert in pushing his luck.

Junie starts clapping her hands together.

"I think she's decided," you say.

You're terrible with a can opener. You whine to yourself as you struggle to get open the second can. Eddie had insisted on peaches and pears and fruit cocktail, because he wanted to try them all apparently. And then some dramatic speech about little kids getting spoiled.

You can hear him now in the living room with Junie. They're laughing in a way that you're worried about, that guilty, hushed giggling that raises your hackles.

"Shush," Eddie says, faux-angry, "your mom's gonna hear."

"Shush," she repeats with much more enthusiasm.

"You shush! Look, don't do that, Junie, you're gonna get it tangled in your hair," he says.

You carry the can and can opener with you into the living room. Something about tangled hair gets your heart racing.

"Eddie, please don't let her get stickies in her hair," you say quickly.

"They're called stickles," he says, dropping back onto his hands, head over his shoulder to give you a bright-eyed smile.

"I know what they're called. Junie can't say stickles."

"Stickles," she says.

"She couldn't when I got them," you amend.

He's up quicker than you can really take in, hands extended. "Let me do it," he says.

He works the can out of your fingers. It's more contact than you've had with somebody who wasn't your daughter in a very long time and it leaves you shell-shocked. Eyes on his nice hands, bigger than yours with thicker fingers and his riot of rings. He presses the can to his chest and hooks the opener, peeking between it and you intermittently.

"Go see what we made for you," he encourages. "I'll do it."

His arm brushes yours as he moves to the kitchen and that's worse than his fingers. You rub where he'd touched and drop down on your knees next to Junie, looking over the stickle bricks with a smile. It's a heart, poorly construed and of tens of colours. It falls apart when she tries to pick it up so you help her remake it, cooing.

"Thanks, baby. This is for me, huh? You're so sweet." Your voice drops to a murmur. "My sweet girl. Wanna cuddle?"

You open your arms out and she doesn't seem very interested. "Please?" you ask, vying for her waist.

She lets you pull her into your lap. When you actually start to hug her she does her lovely melting thing that she always does, a floppy fish in your arms but with tiny squeezing hands. You giggle at her antics and lift her up so her face falls into your neck.

"Thanks for my heart, Junebug." She snuggles her head into your neck, hair squished to your skin. "I love you," you whisper, rubbing her back.

"The works," Eddie announces grandly as he appears, two bowls in hand.

"Eddie, that's too much for her."

"She's a growing girl."

"A growing girl with a tiny tummy," you say turning her around in your arms. "Tell you what, you have that one," you point to the biggest one, "and we'll share that one."

"How about you share the big one?" he asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. He sits down and places the bowl in her lap.

You grab the spoon before she can and stir up some of the fruits. "Wow, look at this! You gonna say thanks? Thanks Eddie.”

She doesn’t say thanks — her mouth is too far open to form words. You make quick work of shovelling fruit and condensed milk inside, chilled enough that she shivers in your arms.

“Yeah, that’s good,” you say agreeably.

She gets enthusiastic enough to take the spoon and you let her, even when she totally mauls the food, eating so loudly that Muppet Babies becomes inaudible.

Eddie eats slowly. You can feel his gaze. “You’re not gonna have any?” he asks.

You’d felt it coming. Your answer is clumsy anyways. “No, I will. I just… I always have her leftovers,” you say, sheepish.

He stands up.

You’re gonna ask why when Junie tips fruit down your legs, cold on the naked skin of your ankle. You dab at your pajamas with a small sigh. There’s no point in getting upset. She’s a messy eater but they all are at this age. Honestly, it’s nice to see her attempting to use a spoon rather than her hands.

“You’re doing a good job,” you say. You’re not totally sure who you’re talking to.

“Tada!” Eddie cheers, wielding a third bowl of fruit. “Swap with me?”

“What?”

“You think Junie’ll come sit in my lap?” he asks. He doesn’t wait, really. He holds out the bowl and you take it on impulse as he sits down heavily.

He takes her into his lap with a cheerful groan. “Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. There’s enough milk on your chin to bake a cake.” He wipes it with his hand. He doesn’t so much as wince at the mess.

You stare. He eases the spoon out of her grip and scrapes up a half-spoonful of what looks like pear and feeds it to her with the same kind of deftness of hand that’d taken you months to learn.

He can feel your gaze, evidently, because he looks up. There, you catch it, that slither of insecurity he hides well.

You pick up your bowl and start eating. It’s the nicest thing you’ve eaten in almost two years. You’d die for Junie. You’d do worse. But to eat, to know she’s fed — gorged — to know you can sit here and eat this whole bowl of fruit all to yourself and you won’t have to put it down, that’s heaven. It’s better, because you never let yourself have anything nice if you can help it.

The fruit turns to a lump in your throat and you swallow it, sniffling. Your lashes grow heavy with unshed tears and you keep your gaze resolutely on your dessert. When was the last time you had something this nice all to yourself? When was the last time somebody ever went out of their way to be this nice?

It’s a small gesture and a huge one. A tear dribbles down your cheek. You lick it away and keep on eating.

Eddie starts to come around every Friday. It’s a good deal; you make dinner and he makes dessert. After that first time he makes it his mission to give you heaping bowls too much to eat most of the time. Soon, he’s coming a few days a week, not always long, sometimes until the late hours, though you tell him desserts are a Friday only occasion. He complies grudgingly.

You make your first friend in years, and it’s so sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Or what possesses you to offer to cut his hair.

Eddie's sitting on the couch with Junie, his big thigh to her little one and a picture book spread between them whilst you clean the kitchen. He's not reading to her – she's trying to read to him. She can't read, of course, but she can remember some of the words in relation to the pictures. She pokes at the blue cat and says blue. She pokes at the blue dog and says blue. She also points at the red cat and says blue. It's a learning curve.

Eddie gives corrections and encouragements just as you would. You smile at him from behind your cup of water.

"He's red, sweetheart," he murmurs, arm around her shoulder to hold the book's edges. "Red cat."

"Red cat," she repeats with enough accuracy to make you choke on your water.

Eddie gasps almost as loud as you do. "Right! Red cat! You're so smart, junebug, I can't believe it," he praises, squeezing her shoulder. His gaze meets yours and he smiles.

You send him back your sweetest smile. If he wasn't always so nice to you you'd like him anyway because of how he treats Junie, like she's the fucking sun.

She gets so excited when other people are happy that she starts laughing, standing up and trampling all over his legs to give him a hug. She's given him half hugs, she's fallen asleep by his side and loves to pet his hair, but this is a proper, tactile hug. Her arms wind around his neck with purpose and as soon as his surprise has faded he brings his arms up to hug her in turn, laughing delightedly.

"You're such a smarty-pants," he praises, rubbing her back with a boyish brashness.

She squeals as he squeezes her, his fingers digging into her ribs. Never cruel, only tickling her. She eats up every second of it and buries her face in his neck, laughing her wound up baby laugh that always brings a smile to your face.

"Ooh, she's so smart. First blue, then red. Next you'll be saying indigo, and vermillion, and-"

He cuts off when Junie gets one of her nails caught in his hair. She jolts and whines like it hurts and he goes rigid. You move forward to play mediator but he's already pulling her away gently and making small shushing sounds. "Chill out," he chides lightly, "I got it. Here." He pulls the hair from under her fingernail and rubs the pad of his thumb over her hand. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, pouting at her scowl. He envelops her hand in his and waves it around. "Forgive me?"

She doesn't learn her lesson, pushing her hands back into his hair, probably less kind than what’s ideal. Eddie doesn't flinch.

You sit on the armrest gingerly. "Can I ask you something?"

Eddie looks over Junie’s head. "What's that?"

"Have you always had long hair?"

He doesn't balk. "No, of course not. I fu-" He clears his throat. "My mom was the best, and I fit in just like everybody else growing up. When I ended up with Wayne I was-" He smiles. It's the kind of rueful grimace that says, You didn't ask for this.

You smile encouragingly.

He drops his gaze to Junie, worming his arms around her in a loose hug as she continues to play with his hair. "I was mad about everything, and I remember him asking when I wanted to get my hair trimmed and I said ‘never’. Took a few years for it to grow past the awkward stage," he bares his teeth and nods toward his shoulder, as if allowing his past misdemeanour. "But now I'd say it looks pretty sweet."

"I love your hair," you say.

Eddie beams. "You don't think it's too long?"

Emboldened by his reaction, you slip off of the armrest to sit next to him, turning in until your knees touch. Junie, loyal as she is, climbs straight into your lap with a babble.

You pat her back with one hand and raise the other cautiously for permission. Eddie flares his eyes wide, as if to say, You want to? Go on.

You take a lock of his hair between your fingers like Junie had moments before. "I like it like this."

"But?"

You look at the ends, an inch of limpness where the rest curls. "You haven't had it cut since you were a kid?"

"Maybe not that long, but it's been a while. I do it myself sometimes." He gestures to his bangs. He speaks quietly. A rarity though not unknown for him to be so hushed.

You tuck the curl you'd been examining behind his ear carefully.

"Do you think my hair looks good?" you ask.

"Sh- Sorry, of course I do. I swear I was gonna-"

You shake your head, laughing. "Not like that. What I mean is, I cut my own hair. I cut Junie's, too, and I could do yours if you wanted me to."

He goes quiet.

"Only if you wanted. I know it's a lot of trust, so-"

"Would you do it now?"

You hold Junie's head away from yours to prevent a loving headbut. "Right now?"

"I'm in dire need."

He throws his big brown puppy dog eyes your way and you couldn't say no if you wanted to.

You explain how he needs to get it wet first and how the shower head in the bathroom doesn't detach. "It's, like, built into the wall."

"I could go home, come back?" he suggests.

"I can do it over the sink?"

Eddie can't remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. He knows there must've been a time, some place in his life where his mom or dad had done it for him. He thinks that, if he'd asked, Wayne would've tried it once or twice growing up, but now Eddie's most definitely at the age where having his hair washed is a foreign luxury.

And it does feel luxurious.

It shouldn't; the sink basin is very small as they tend to be in the trailer kitchenettes – small sink, small stove, small small small – and Eddie has to crane his neck. Already the space between his shoulder blades aches from being bent over, and he can't breathe well, smothered by steam.

But your hands. One shields his eyes from run off, a gesture unnecessary and far from lost on him, while the other massages shampoo into his scalp. He'd been surprised when you started because you hadn't mentioned washing his hair, and he'd said, "You don't have to do that."

You'd hummed. "Well, it's kind of a waste not to."

That was that.

Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and if his eyes weren't already closed they would've fluttered shut. He nibbles his lip and tries very hard not to show outwardly how nice it feels. Your left upper arm rubs against his back as you scrub at his roots, your right soaking wet beside his face, covering his eyes uselessly. He doesn't mention it. All this touching, he doesn't want it to end.

Your proximity honest-to-God sets him on fire. Your body pressed to his is a flame over his ribs.

"Maybe we shouldn't cut it at all," you say, stroking wet bangs away from his forehead. "It's soooo long."

"Can’t do it?" he teases.

"Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm gonna rinse."

It's a comforting process. You dip your cup into the water. It fills with a wet glug, the rim shushing against the basin's bottom. You hold it over his head and pour carefully, heat caressing his scalp as the soap is washed away.

It's over too soon. You grab the towel you'd procured and tuck it around his shoulders, wringing all the excess water from his curls back into the sink. You encourage his head up wordlessly and he stands there, arms useless against the countertops edge, water sloughing down his face as you press the ends flat between your hands.

You lift his head and push his hair back with your hands, raking your fingers through it and laughing as soon as his face appears. "Eddie! I'm sorry, you're totally drowning."

He chuckles. They fade away as you pinch the corner of the towel and start to dab his face dry, dragging the rough material over his cheeks with an expression he can't read on your pretty features. Almost pensive, not quite.

"There," you say under your breath. "Saved you."

"My hero."

You smile at him softly before spinning on your heel. "I gotta find the hairbrush. And the good scissors." You look into the living room quickly and then turn to the hall leading to your bedroom.

Eddie looks into the living room too. Junie's not upto much, only watching TV, unusually subdued. He doesn't disturb her despite the itch to go over and play.

One of the muppets starts laughing about something and she laughs too.

"What are you smiling about?" you whisper from behind him.

"Nothing," he says quickly.

You raise your eyebrows. "She has a nice laugh, right? Doesn't matter how bad I feel, she laughs and everything's okay for a little while."

He feels a fond stab in his chest. "Her laugh's like yours."

"I guess we do sound the same."

You do, but it's not really what he'd meant.

The metal sound of scissors snapping. You wield them at him faux-threateningly and shepherd him into a chair you've dragged to the middle of the kitchen.

Eddie fights goosebumps as you pull a brush through his hair, loses when you take a lock at the front between two fingers and stop about an inch and a half from the end.

"I'm gonna do that much, okay?"

You're a quiet hairdresser. Eddie doesn't care, he can talk for Indiana, but there's something so sweetly simple about the quietude, just your hands in his hair, the snipping of your scissors and Junie's occasional excited chattering. You start to hum a song Eddie doesn't recognise about halfway through. It's melancholy. He doubts you realise what you're doing.

You draw silent as you round to the front. Eddie watches your hands work for what feels like hours. You have really pretty hands, not perfect, burnt fingertips and neat little nails. They smell like honey hand soap.

You pull two locks from the front together to make sure they're the same length. His curls will hide any discrepancy, he knows from experience, but he doesn't want to tell you that. Selfishly, he wants that extra time with you this close.

You work your way between his legs to comb his half-dried bangs. Eddie looks up at you with wide eyes.

"You want me to trim these, too?" you ask quietly.

"If you please."

You huff a laugh through your nose and start to trim his bangs carefully. He closes his eyes, and maybe it's the fact that he can't see you that gives him the confidence to reach out for your hip, a touch that can't be defined as amicable. He curls his fingers into the soft material of your shirt and feels the heat of your skin underneath.

You draw closer, as close as you can be.

"What made you decide on bangs?" you ask.

"Zits, mostly."

He can feel your laugh under his hand.

"I used to… I used to powder my face," you confide, a murmur, "like, an inch thick to try and hide everything. Being pregnant makes you so-" You pause to snip some hair, comb it away. It tickles his face. "Well, it makes you spotty. Or it made me spotty. It actually made me really sick."

"That's must've sucked," he says earnestly.

"It- Yeah. I guess it did. I don't know."

He hadn't meant to bring up something unhappy, but he's hungry to know. "Were you on your own?"

"Mostly."

"What was the worst part?"

"Being scared all the time."

He'd been expecting morning sickness or aching feet. "You were scared?"

"I honestly thought I was gonna die, Eddie."

He opens his eyes and leans back in his chair, hand flexing over your hip, as he tries to tamp down his surprise.

"It was," you mess with his bangs with the tip of your ring finger, "hard. I felt sick all the time, and when I didn't I would make myself sick worrying about her. What if I eat something or I catch something and it hurts her? What if- what if it all works out perfectly and then I can't look after her?"

"Did it work out perfect?"

You rub your lips together. "Uh, I guess so. It took a long time, and it hurt," you sound especially unhappy with that part.

He strokes up your waist, wanting to soothe the small crease between your eyebrows. "By yourself?"

"Yeah, by myself."

"I'm sorry."

You tuck his hair behind his ear and grin at him. "Now what are you sorry for?" Your hand lingers near his cheek. Slowly, you turn it, pressing the knuckle of your index finger into the skin under his eye and rubbing a small line. He worries he’s in love with you right then and there. "Not like you're the one who knocked me up."

You drop your hand and Eddie really doesn't want you to go anywhere, his grip kind but steadfast, bringing the other arm behind your back in a loose hug. "Who was it?"

"Just some guy. Nobody. Nobody worth thinking about."

"How old were you?" he asks.

"Why are you asking me all this stuff?"

"I wanna know about you."

You bring your hands to the towel around his neck and pull on it mildly. "I was sixteen. Seventeen when I had her."

He drags his fingertips up and down the small of your back lightly, almost like he's playing guitar. "I'm sorry you were all by yourself. That young. When I was sixteen I was still watching The Bugs Bunny Show."

You giggle and your hands move up to the side of his neck. He can hardly breathe, afraid to dispel whatever enchantment it is that he's under.

"Could be worse, huh? I'm nineteen and I still watch Muppet Babies," you joke.

"Why wouldn't you? It's the pinnacle of modern television."

"Yeah?"

Your beaming smile hits him straight in the chest. He thinks about how beautiful you look and can't stop, hiding his face in your stomach to stop from saying something stupid, laughing loud. You laugh in tandem, hugging the back of his head until your giggles peter out.

A small hand on his arm. You both turn at the same time and find a very unhappy Junie.

"What?" you ask her. Then, teasing, "Are you jealous?"

You lean down to pick her up. Eddie's gutted to lose your touch and then quickly exuberant when Junie ducks out of your arms to grab at his legs.

"Oh my god, yes," he says, holding out his hands.

Junie tries to take them and he slips them under his arm, pulling her onto his thigh with a big sigh. The sigh is half the fun, a theatrical reluctance when really he's always happy to have her climbing on him.

As soon as she's in his lap she's pleased, turning her head so she can watch the TV across the room.

You roll your eyes at his smug smile. "Shut up. She just wants what other people have."

"And you had me?"

"Shut up, Munson, seriously," you say. You don't sound half as mad as you're trying to.

Eddie takes a drying curl between his fingers and pokes at the side of Junie's face. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, grinning when your daughter starts to squirm on his thigh.

He grins at her and tickles her until she's curling in with her chin dropped to her chest, smiling despite herself.

His fondness colours every word as he croons, "I got you."

Junie sounds about as outraged as a toddler can be when he tickles her nose and then drags the tip of the freshly trimmed curl under her eye. He draws a big circle around one of her cheeks until it's kissing her chin. She dissolves into giggles while squirming to get away from him and so he stops, only for her to blink and tug at his wrist.

He tickles her until she's screaming.

You pause on your knees where you'd been sweeping up his trimmed hair to look up at her and he's struck with guilt. "Y/N, you don't have to do that. I'll do it."

"No, you're okay."

Eddie finds his gaze drawn to your thighs, spread out as they are in your kneeling position, and then stolen by Junie as she almost topples off of his lap.

"I think…" he begins quietly, speaking to Junie though it's just as much for you, "that your mom deserves something nice for my haircut. What do you think?"

"I don't think that," you say.

"Wasn't asking you," he says seriously. Back in baby mode he continues, "What's mommy like, huh? What's her favourite thing in the whole world, besides you?"

"Sleep," you say.

"Well, I can't help you there."

"You help me there all the time. Junie sleeps like a log every Friday."

"Food coma," he says knowledgeably.

"You really don't have to get me anything, Eddie. My services were administered charitably."

He pushes his hands behind Junie's back and pulls her to his chest before standing. When he has her secure in one arm he pulls the chair back to your small table and tucks it in.

"Get up," he says to you. "I'll do it, alright? Swap with me."

You ignore him until he starts kicking you in the leg. "You're ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous. Seriously, get up. You're not a serf." He returns your glare. "I'm a big boy, I can clean up after myself."

"It's my house."

"If you don't let me-"

"Christ! Okay." You drop the dustpan and brush sullenly, wiping your hands together as you stand before taking Junie out of his arms. "I'll make dinner."

"No you won't! I'm gonna order takeout," he says factually, already on his knees and sweeping.

"No you're not."

"I am. Me and June already talked about it. She's craving Marino's pizza."

"I'm not gonna let you use the phone."

"I'll walk to my place and order the pizza to here."

"Eddie-"

"Why are you being a hardass?" he asks.

"Fine! God, clean up your gross hair and order your stupid pizza. You're making me crazy," you say, collapsing onto the sofa with a little oomf, Junie's weight hitting you hard in the chest. She moves into a sitting position and pulls your shirt up, hands moving across the space under your chest.

Eddie throws himself into cleaning all the mess you'd made for him, the hair and the towel and the sopping wet draining board. He washes the dirty baby bowl on the side and fills up one of Junie's bottles with water, then a glass for you. He hasn't seen either of you drinking a thing since he's been here, likely his fault for distracting you.

He's about to call for pizza when he peers past the cabinets and sees you dozing on the couch. He decides pizza can wait until tomorrow; it's later than he realised.

Junie's halfway across the room with Mr. Bear playing make believe. She talks and talks and talks, gibberish to him but what's likely an unending, complicated storyline, no doubt.

Eddie approaches with the bottle already outstretched. "Junie," he says, and when she doesn't answer, "Junebug. Junie. Junie." Each iteration of her name softer and sweeter than the first, hoping to entice her in.

He holds the bottle in front of her face.

She finally looks up with a pout.

"For you," he says, offering the water.

She seems mildly interested as she takes it, turning back to her teddy and talking around the teat like it's not there.

You're struggling to keep your eyes open. Eddie gives the room a quick once over before kneeling down in front of you, tugging your shirt down to cover your exposed tummy as he says, "I should head home."

You blink at him and turn onto your side, cheek squishing into the couch cushion.

"Okay? Why don't you and Junebug head to bed?" he asks, using a tone not far from what he'd use with your daughter.

"You know, her full name's Juniper," you whisper.

He didn't know. "Really? I love that."

You wrinkle your nose, sounding very tired as you continue, "But someone told me it sounded like a name for a cat. So I've called her Junie ever since."

"It doesn't sound like a cat's name," he placates. "It's beautiful. You chose well."

"Yeah?"

Eddie smiles at you fondly, eyes tracing down your nose to your lips, shiny with balm. He tilts his head to the side to mimic yours. He could kiss you.

"Sounds like the name of an elf. Juniper Lightfoot, or… Goldwind. She could even be a mage. Juniper the Brave."

"Juniper the Loveliest," you say, and then grin. "Juniper the Hungriest."

"Juniper the All Great and Hungriest," Eddie says decidedly.

"Would you make her a hero, in your game?" you ask.

"Of course I would. She wouldn't even need to divide, she'd just conquer."

"What about me?"

"What, would you be a hero?"

You nod. He doesn't know why, but he thinks his answer is going to hold a lot of weight with you.

"You would be," he starts quietly, words painted slowly as he raises a hand to rest on your wrist, pinky finger spread over the hill of your thumb, "a fighter. With insight and survival."

"I don't know what that means," you say.

He leans in. "It means yes, you'd be a hero. You'd save kingdoms. Slay dragons." He squeezes your wrist.

"I think I better leave all that stuff for Junie. I'll just cheer you guys on from the sidelines."

"You're her mom, she can't do it without you. And even if she could I bet she wouldn't want to. Where's all the fun in guts and glory if you can't share it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

Your eyes shut. Eddie doesn't know if it's from fatigue or a want to end this conversation. He feels marginally embarrassed for descending into nerd metaphor with you, but he thinks it's the kind of thing you needed to hear. He thinks if Junie could understand how often her mom prioritises her and misses out for her she'd want to fix that. Eddie doesn't know you half as well as she does and it breaks his heart sometimes to watch you insist on a smaller portion, to watch you put things back at the grocery store because she wants a box of milk duds, even to watch you wear yourself out ironing baby clothes in the only pair of pajamas you own.

"Make sure you lock the deadbolt behind me," he says carefully. You hum. He gives your wrist one last squeeze.

Junie looks tired in that she's getting agitated, whimpering under her breath. Eddie ducks down to give her upper arm a good rub. "Why don't you go cuddle with your mom?" he asks her, turning her by the shoulder so that you're in her eye-line. "Go have a lie down."

He doesn't know whether what he says makes any difference but you extend your arms out and Junie walks towards you, big staggered steps that make him laugh to himself as he pushes into his unlaced converse.

"Don't forget to lock up," he says in place of a farewell.

"Goodnight, Eddie," you say.

He waves. You're both too tired to wave back.

He's surprised to find his Uncle Wayne still home when he gets in, shoving into his work boots with a grunted hello.

"Hey."

"Did you cut your hair?" Wayne asks, perplexed, a little gruff.

"Junie's mom did it for me."

"'Junie's mom,'" Wayne quotes dryly, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He's heard all about Junie's mom.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and splutters when a big hand claps his back, a demonstration of Wayne's pity as he passes through the open door.

Eddie spins to watch him jog down the steps. "We're friends," Eddie calls.

"Don't be dumb," his uncle says without turning back.

"I'm not exactly known for being smart," Eddie says to himself, cheeks heated by a furious blush.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader oneshot #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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wrongplacerighttime · 2 months

Text

fratboy!harry x you

hi hi! its been awhile. finally finished this after 3834273 weeks it feels like. its also my first reader fic so....hope you like it HAHAHA.... :)

the one where your friends introduce you to Harry, you go on a trip and things get interesting. featuring a lake house, hiking, and a cherry sucker.

wc: 5.8k

tw: smut 18+, spanking, choking, light dom!harry dynamic, brief clit slapping, brief face slapping, lil bit of cum play, size kink, breeding kink if you squint. idk if i missed anything but as always let me know if i did :)

cherry sucker

Finding solace in the chirping birds and chattering on the street that could be heard from your open window, you stood in front of your closet, clad in a little white tank and baby blue undies, preparing your bag for a camping trip you and your friends had planned. Spring semester has concluded and this trip will commemorate the start of summer vacation. You daydream about the sun glistening off the ripples of the lake water, the smell of the grass wafting in the wind as the sun warms the earth while you pack your bag.

While you were excited for summer, you wanted to get a head start on your reading for fall semester. You had a textbook or two in the bottom of your bag—poli sci books, because you had heard the professor was relentless with his lesson plan and you wanted to go in with no surprises. You hear the faintest footsteps down stairs, growing louder the closer they drew up the stairs. Your door swings open and Faye strides through, red hair flowing behind her at the pace she was walking. She comes up behind you, smacking your ass making you yelp.

“Faye!” You squeal, clutching the cheek that was now turning red with your best friend's hand print.

“I’m so envious of your ass, I just had to.” She falls backwards on your bed, arms sprawling beside her. “It’s just so tempting.” She giggles and you turn back to your closet.

“I’m so glad we actually have time to see each other now that classes are over. School’s been so busy I feel like all I’ve done is sleep and go to class.”

“Is that why you have a fucking textbook in your bag?” Faye raises her eyebrow at your duffle and picks one up. “Russian socioeconomic structure? What even is this?”

“It’s for Professor Sykes. I’ve heard he's brutal and I want to be prepared.”

“You are not bringing this. You have a whole summer ahead of you to study.” Faye scoffs, pausing for a moment. “If you bring this book on this trip I’ll throw it in the lake myself.”

“Then you’ll owe me $200. Besides, what if I get bored?” You cross your arms over your chest and Faye looks at you like you’ve grown another head.

“There’s a lake! A lake!” She throws her hands up in the air, laughing at your determination. You bend down, opening your drawer and pulling out a skimpy yellow bikini to throw in your bag. “By the way, Josh is bringing a friend. His name’s Harry…Styles I think. Do you know him?” You shake your head.

“Know of him, don’t know him though.”

“Oh. Well he’s single…and kind of hot.” Faye giggles and you shake her head again.

“No thanks. I’m not really into the dating scene right now.”

“No one said anything about dating. Just maybe for a little…fun.” This time, it’s your turn to look at Faye like she’s the one who’s grown another head. “Fine. If you don’t want to…maybe he’ll be our third.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you widen your eyes in horror at her suggestion of asking Harry to join her and her boyfriend in their sexual endeavors.

Before you can get another thought in, heavy footsteps clamber up the stairs and it’s Josh, Harry in tow with a backpack slung over his shoulder and suddenly your room feels very small. Josh flicks his eyes to you, smiling and sitting next to Faye on your bed.

“Pauly and Alex are on their way. We’re putting all the shit in their car and you guys are gonna ride with us.” He says, gesturing his finger between the two of you and you nod. The window open brings a warm breeze into the room, blowing your sketchbook pages until it lands on one with a drawing of a man.

Not just any man…it was your ex. Your eyes flick to everyone and you rush over to shut it before anyone can catch it. It was an old drawing, and a hobby you hadn’t picked back up since things ended and you really didn’t feel like rehashing the breakup with Faye. Faye wasn’t the biggest fan of him, and for good reason after he cheated on you with the TA in one of his classes last semester.

Harry stands in the doorway, chewing gum between his molars, his jaw flexing and glances around your room—the bedroom of a girl whom he’d never met, and it felt very personal…like he was getting a peak into who you were as a person. An overflowing bookshelf, handmade drawings stuck to a corkboard on the wall over the desk. Faye and Josh were talking in hushed whispers and he tilted his head to the side as he had the perfect view of your ass as you were turned around and facing your desk. He smirks at the red hand mark left there, and he could feel his cock twitching in his pants at the thoughts running through his head. He drops his gaze as you turn back around to walk towards your closet again. His eyes meet yours and you smile, a greeting showing you were just being nice, and he wonders if you always walk around half dressed in front of strangers. He clears his throat.

“Sykes next semester?” He asks, voice with a hint of an accent you weren’t expecting and you nod.

“How’d you know?” He gestures his elbow towards your bag, the textbook on top of your clothes and your mouth forms and “O” and you nod.

“He teaches that entire fucking book every year. It’s such a snooze fest.” He pauses. “Do you like Russian literature?” You nod again, gesturing to your bookshelf filled with classics and fantasy and romance. You had a few authors on the shelf, but not as many as you would like. He brings his backpack around to his side, unzipping and reaching in. He pulls out a tattered book, crinkles in the cover and the corners turning up, all characteristics of a well loved piece and hands it to you. “Read this instead. A lot more interesting.” He smirks and your gaze drops to the words on the cover. A collection of poems by Anna Akhmatova. In the short conversation you were having you didn’t realize that you had been left alone with him. He smiles, a sly grin spreading on his lips almost like he knew he was about to be a menace.

“By the way, blue looks good on you.” He flicks his gaze down before meeting your eyes again. You feel your cheeks burning instantly as he walks out the door laughing to himself as he stumbles his way down the stairs, leaving you to finish packing alone.

The car ride to the cabin had everyone buzzing with anticipation. Faye had called shotgun, and you and Harry shared a look when she did. He smirked and you looked away and quickly climbed into the backseat. The entire ride you were consumed with a nervous energy that you couldn’t quite place. Harry had his hand splayed out on the seat beside you and when he leaned forward to talk to Josh, the tip of his pinky barely brushed your skin and you tried not to think about it too hard for the rest of the ride over.

It took no time for you to clamber out of the car and claim your room inside for the weekend. Tossing your bag onto the floor by the door, you flopped down on the fluffy mattress holding the book Harry lent you to your chest. You were fiddling with the cover when Faye waltzed in and leaned against the foot of the bed.

“Get up. We’re going on a hike.” She said giddy with excitement and you cocked your eyebrow at her.

“Think I’ll pass.”

“Not an option. Everyone else is going.” She crosses her arms and leans on the doorframe.

“I didn’t bring shoes for a hike.” You half laugh at her with a shake of your head and she narrows her eyes.

“You can wear a pair of mine. Let’s go.” Faye gestures and you groan, tossing the book back onto the bed with a soft thud against the duvet. You pad down the hallway after her, slumped over feigning protest like a toddler and she hands you a pair of her sneakers once you reach her room. Slipping them on, you plait your hair behind your head quickly and messily as you find your way to the foyer where everyone is gathered and waiting to leave. None of them look thrilled either as they follow Faye out the door to the path behind the house.

The June sun was high in the sky and the only reprieve you were able to get from the heat was the occasional shade of the trees along the path. You and Harry had fallen behind, the rest of the group up ahead and through heavy breaths you would sneak glances from the corner of your eye as the sun glistened off the light sheen of sweat coating his shoulders and his chest. He had popped a cherry sucker in his mouth not long ago and you watched as he moved it from one cheek to the other with his tongue and caught your mind wandering to what his tongue might feel like running along the expanse of your skin. You walk in silence, hands brushing slightly from the uneven terrain and you want to apologize for repeatedly bumping him but you don’t.

“Does she always make you do shit like this?” He huffs from behind you, stepping over a fallen limb.

“Unfortunately.” You grumble back, trying not to roll your ankle stepping over rocks bigger than the palm of your hand.

Even though this hike was the last thing Harry wanted to be doing, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed your company, though little conversation had been exchanged since the moment in your room. His eyes trailed over your body, noticing the bead of sweat rolling down your chest and his tongue darts out over his lips, wanting nothing more than to trail his tongue down the same path. He watched the way your thighs flexed as you stepped over limbs and branches and he thought about them wrapped around his waist, driving into you over and over while your fingers leave marks over his torso. He pulls his shirt over his head, unable to take the heat of the afternoon any longer and he tucks it into the waistband of his shorts. He’s noticed you watching him too, stealing glances out of the corner of your eye and biting your teeth into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip. He’s convinced that he could do anything and you’d melt into the palm of his hand, so desperate to please him and be good for him. He smirks to himself as you divert your eyes ahead, away from his now bare torso and towards the ground.

He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick ahead, and you don’t know that he’s judging how long it would take for your friends to notice if he pulled you out of sight for a moment. He decides it’s worth the risk, lightly grabbing your arm and pulling you behind a nearby tree. You feel the bark against your back as he cages your head between his arms and you look up at him with wide eyes. All you can hear is the pounding of your heart against your ribcage at his close proximity.

So close you can smell the cherry on his breath, hear the faint sound as the confection clatters against his teeth. Your eyes focus on the white stick poking from between his lips and he watches you. His hands dig into the roughness of the oak and his chest pressed against yours. Suddenly the heat of the afternoon feels suffocating. He brings his own hand to his mouth, plucking the stick from between his teeth and the sticky residue touches your lips. Upon instinct, your tongue darts out to collect, catching the sweetness and savoring it for a moment.

“Open.” His voice is low and gravelly, and for some reason you find yourself obeying his command before you can even think too hard about it. Your lips part and you stick out your tongue in anticipation, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you and he hums. “Can y’hold this for me, puppy?”

A heat swirls in your core, and without noticing your thighs clench together and a whine escapes your throat as you nod. Harry places the sweet candy on your tongue and your lips wrap around the stick slick from his own salivation. “Good girl.” He mutters, stepping away and creating space between the two of you. You snap out of the trance you seemingly had fallen into and scurry away, catching up to your friends and leaving him laughing behind you.

Nightfall comes before you have a chance to think about it. You had taken a quick nap after you returned from the hike and it was much needed, considering your mind was going haywire and you just needed a break from your thoughts drifting to Harry. It was quiet out here, you and Harry the only ones left sitting next to the fire Josh and Pauly had started a couple of hours ago. You were huddled up under a blanket, the air blowing off the lake making it feel colder than it actually was. Frogs were humming by the water and the crickets were chirping in the grass, the sounds of nature around you made you feel calm. You had the book Harry had loaned you resting against your thigh as you read the prose on the weathered pages. Harry had his head leaned back, fingers weaved together on his chest with his eyes closed. Occasionally you would peek over at him and he seemed tranquil. You weren’t sure why he was still here with you, but maybe he was just enjoying the fire like you were. You had purposely avoided him after the incident on the hike, the memory still causing an arousal to pool beneath the denim of your shorts and you tried like hell to push it from your mind.

“Let’s swim.” He states, pulling you from your thoughts. You raised your brow at him, a quizzical look.

“I’ll pass.” You blow out a laugh and he turns his head towards you then.

“Why? Faye and Josh are off somewhere, probably fucking, and Pauly and Alex are doing bong rips inside. Not really a fan of that…they're incessantly annoying when they’re high. So let’s go swim.” He says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the most sound choice of activity for this time of night.

“It’s cold, and I’m actually enjoying this book of poems you lent me.” You tell him, and because you’re not looking at him at that second you don’t see the way the corner of his mouth twitches into a half smile.

“Anna Akhmatova is interesting. But you have all weekend to read it.” He turns to face you then, you catch the movement out of your peripheral.

“I also have all weekend to swim.” You tease him. He’s silent for a moment and you turn the page to read the next poem. He shifts in his seat.

“Alright. I didn’t want it to have to come to this…” He says, sighing. He stands, making his way over to you. Before you can process what he’s doing, he snatches the book and throws it onto a neighboring chair. In one swift movement, he picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks towards the dock. You thrash and kick but it’s no use, not when he’s stronger than you’ll ever be.

“Harry! Put me down!” You exclaim, laughing in the process and you feel his chest against your thighs. He doesn’t respond. “Okay! I surrender. I’ll swim with you. Please just don’t throw me in.” You try to reason with him and he stops, pausing his movements and taking in your words. He plants your feet on the weathered wood, and you look up at him with narrowed eyes as he smiles down at you, a crooked grin that had your knees feeling weak. “That wasn’t funny. I don’t have a swim suit on either.”

“I guess that gives us a perfect excuse to go skinny dipping then.” He states as if there’s nothing wrong with that scenario.

“Respectfully, no. I’ll swim in my clothes.” You counter back.

“Sweet girl, it’s nothing you or I haven’t seen before. Be mature.” He teases and you want to laugh, but you cross your arms over your chest, instinctively making yourself smaller. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of his shorts before looking back at you, noticing your hesitation and he stops. “We really don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He puts his hands on your arms, and you shake your head, looking out at the ripples on the surface lit by the moon.

“No it’s—I’m not—it’s fine. I want to. I just haven’t really taken my clothes off in front of a guy in—since…” You pause, collecting your thoughts before looking up at him. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I’m being this way. I think I’m just nervous.”

“You don’t have to feel that way around me. Promise.” He smiles and turns back around, pushing his shorts down so you have a view of his bare ass. Your cheeks redden as you avert your gaze elsewhere, and he jumps into the water with a splash. You can’t see him, not until he pokes his head back up and shakes the water from his hair. “It feels great.” He covers his eyes with his hands. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to. Not until you’re in the water.” He says and you nod, and then realizing he can’t see you clear your throat.

“Okay.” Your voice feels small. Hesitantly you unbutton your shorts, sliding them down along with your underwear and pulling the sweatshirt over your head leaving you bare and exposed, and you hoped and prayed that Alex and Pauly weren’t watching out the window. You drop it to the dock, your clothes and his making separate piles, taking a step towards the edge and looking down into the water. Here goes nothing, you say to yourself and leap in. And he was right, it really did feel great. It envelopes around you as you swim upwards and breach the surface, wiping your eyes and opening them. He’s there in front of you, a smile plastered on his face.

“See, s’not so bad, right?” He asks and you shake your head again as you tread the water. And you both stay like that for a while, swimming and floating. He floats on his back and you try a little too hard to not let your gaze travel south, focusing on his face and how content he looks with his eyes closed. You’re too busy staring at the tattoos littering his torso when he says something you don’t quite catch.

“Hm?” Your gaze flits back to his face and he’s smiling.

“I said,"Do you like what you see?” He laughs and you can feel your cheeks redden because he caught you staring at him.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize sheepishly and he swims over to you, closing the distance and you bite back a grin at the close proximity.

“Don’t need to apologize, sweet girl.” He says, his voice low and he brings his hand up to thumb over your lips, parting them before his thumb runs over your cheek. “Be lying if I said I haven’t been staring at you all night.” He confesses and you think if you were nervous before, then you’re not sure what you’re feeling right now. It feels like a stampede of elephants is running through your belly as he runs the backs of his fingers across your cheek. You decide to just rip the bandaid off and go for it. Your hands find his face and you crash your lips to his, and he’s taken off guard but the next second his hands dip under the water and he pulls you into him, the warmth of your bodies melding together underneath the surface. Upon instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as you push your chest into him, causing him to tighten his grip on your waist, dimpling the skin beneath his fingertips.

It was almost like neither of you needed to speak, once the kiss had broken you both swam fervently towards the dock. He hoists you up by your waist, quickly dressing just to go inside and get undressed again. He pulls you by your hand towards the cabin, and you say a silent prayer that your friends who were in here made their way outside.

By the grace of some higher power, the house was empty and the air inside was cold and smelled of the aftershocks of bong rips and a half smoked joint. Harry pulled you down the hall, into his room, and shut the door behind him with a click of the lock.

He smirks and he pushes you down into the bed, hair wet and sticking to the skin of your neck. He crawls over you after pulling your shorts off and throwing them somewhere across the room, slotting a knee between your thighs and instinctively you grind against him, gripping onto his biceps. He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties and slides them down your thighs in one swift move, and you kick them the rest of the way off in anticipation.

“Been thinking about taking those off since I saw you prancing around your room in them this morning.” His voice drops an octave as he ghosts the tip of his nose along your cheek , tracing the outline of your jaw as you desperately move your hips seeking for any friction it would give you. He pulls back, looking over your features and you can see his pupils blown from his own pleasure.

“Look at you.” He coos, clicking his tongue behind his teeth. “Taking before I can even give anything to you, so selfish.” He purrs, and somehow the tone of it makes you stop, halting the movement of your hips.

“No. Go ahead, angel. Wanna watch you get yourself off just from riding my thigh. Need it so bad, can’t even help yourself.” He coos, but his tone is condescending and you almost question him. He raises a brow, running a thumb over your cheek delicately. The harsh tone of his voice and the softness of his touch playing mind games with you. “Do it. Be a good girl.” He encourages you, and you feel like it’s a trap.

“N-no. Want whatever you wanna give me. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” You pout your lower lip out and he thumbs over it, pulling it down before it bounces back into place. You like that he takes initiative, being dominant over you like it comes so easily for him. He can see the wheels in your mind turning and he cocks his head to the side.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just never done this before. Never had someone be…” You trail off, but he nods like he already knew what you were going to say.

“I see. Sweet girl’s never had someone take control over her?” You shake your head. He rolls his lip between his teeth, eyes flittering around your face. “But you crave it, don’t you? Just wanna be a cock-drunk little slut? Wanna have someone filling you, telling you what to do?” His words penetrate your brain and your eyes flutter closed. “Answer me. Is that what you want?” He demands and you nod, faster than you ever have and he flashes his pretty smile at you.

“Yes. Please.” Finding your voice, begging him. He shifts, pressing his thigh into your center and a whimper falls from your lips, the heat growing between your thighs.

“Go.” He leans down, pressing his lips to your pulse point and trailing kisses down your collar bone. Slowly, your hips begin to move and you’re almost embarrassed at your arousal coating his skin, glistening in the soft glow of the lamp. You push the thoughts away, focusing on your pleasure as you feel his hardening length against your thigh, pressing into you. You reach down, palming him through the material before he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head. “Didn’t tell you you could touch.” He mumbles against your skin and you whine in protest. Your hips move faster now, and you’re so close. Just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away and your lungs deflate, a breath being taken away from you. He stands over you, pushing his shorts down and your eyes widen at the sight of him. You want to reach out and grab him, pump his cock with your hand but you refrain. He leans over you again, planting kisses down your chest and dipping in the valley between your tits, his nose ghosting over your skin.

“Want you to tell me red if you wanna stop, okay? Green if you wanna keep going. Got it?” He asks and you nod. He peeks up at you through his lashes and cocks his brow. “Words, puppy. Can’t hear a nod or a shake.”

“Yes. I’m—yes. Got it” You’re breathless with your answer. He peppers small kisses over your navel, gripping your hips between his fingers as his head dips lower, kissing the insides of both thighs, trailing his tongue over your skin and purposely skipping over your weeping hole just to make you squirm under his grip. He parts you open then, collecting your arousal on his tongue and the wicked sensation makes your back arch from the bed, pushing your core closer to him and he forces you back down.

“Uh-uh. Stay still or I’ll stop.” He mumbles, and a whine bubbles in your throat. He laps lazily st your core, circling and flattening his tongue over your clit as you try your hardest to keep your hips still. His fingers dimple your skin, digging into the muscle underneath. He knew he was gripping hard enough to leave small bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and he wanted to. Wanted you to remember his head between your thighs as you shattered just from the flick of his tongue against your sensitive bud. You’re a mess of moans and panting his name over and over. He pulls your clit between his teeth and your hips jolt upwards and he pushes you back down to the mattress. He pulls away, and your chest heaves at the loss of contact but a cry escapes your throat when he lands a light smack to your center, and the pain morphes into pleasure as tears well up in your eyes at the sting.

“Told you to stay still. Can’t follow simple directions, angel?”

“M’s—sorry.” You gasp and he glances up at you, noticing your wet lashes and he props himself up on his elbows.

“What's your color, sweet girl?” His tone is gentle, planting a soft kiss to the top of your thigh and peeking up at you from under his lashes.

“Green.” You answer eagerly and he smiles against your skin, crawling back up to level with your eyes. His lips find yours and you open, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth against your own, the room around you melting away. It’s slow, sensual and full of desire. He doesn’t pull away as he lines himself up with you, the tip of his cock teasing your aching hole and you move your hips trying like hell to get him further inside.

“So needy.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls your bottom one between his teeth, nipping gently. He pushes into you slowly, your mouth dropping open as he lays his forehead against your collarbone. “So tight, sweet girl. I don’t think m’gonna fit.” He pushes into you further, teeth marking your skin as he groans against your skin and you whine at the sting of him stretching you.

“Fuck, Harry.” You whimper, he cages your head between his hands, holding himself up as his biceps flex and extend, the sinewy tissue underneath his skin prominent. He looks down between your bodies, where he's halfway sheathed inside your pussy and he chuckles, a breathy laugh that morphs into a sigh.

“Pretty little pussy looks so pitiful like this. Can’t do it, puppy.” He pants, and you know somewhere in the back of your mind that he’s just playing a part, but it doesn’t stop the cry that escape from your throat as you beg him to fuck you.

“Please, Harry. Need you. Want you so much. Can take it, promise. Please.” You look up at him with wide eyes and he admires you for a moment, taking in the pout playing on your pretty mouth that he just wants to kiss away, the tears welling in your eyes that he’ll wipe away if they fall. The need in your voice letting him know you’d do anything he asks of you in this moment.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. Gonna go slow til you’re all stretched out f’me.” He palms your thighs, hiking them around his waist and continues to fill you, your head lulling to the side as your eyes flutter closed and your jaw falls slack when he reaches to the hilt, balls resting against your ass as his head falls back. “So fucking good, angel. Look at me, wanna see those pretty eyes.”

So you listen, do the best you can to force your eyes open as he starts to rock his hips into you, pulling out to the tip before filling you up again and again. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, kissing down your calf as he sets his rhythm, going deeper from this angle. His eyes never leave yours as he groans and nibbles on your skin, peppering small bites and then soothing with his tongue. He hits the right spot every time, and when your eyes finally betray you and fall closed, you feel a smack land on your cheek. Not hard, but just enough to sting and you whimper.

“Thought you were a good girl.” He says through gritted teeth and he drives into you harder.

“I-I am. Want to be good for you.” He grunts at your response, he pulls out and flips you over before pulling your ass up in the air so you sit on your knees with your face down in the mattress. He palms your ass, landing a smack to your cheek. He rubs over the spot gently, soothing as you push closer into his touch and he's climbing behind you, lining up and pushing back in and it feels even better from this angle. Hitting every spot just right and you swear you see stars. He reaches around you, pushing on your tummy just under your navel and wraps his other hand around your throat lightly, pulling you up.

Your back is flush with his chest, skin sticking together from the light sheen of sweat coating both your bodies. One hand squeezing the sides of your neck and the other pressing still on your belly and he nips at your ear.

“Can feel me all the way in your tummy, can’t you? This is what you like right? Nobody’s ever had you like this have they?” He whispers and you shake your head. His hand finds yours and he brings it back to the spot just below your belly button. “Feel that? Feel me so deep in this pretty pussy. Gonna get you all full of me, fill you with my babies.” He grits and squeezes your neck a little harder, the corners of your vision darkening before he lets go and you take in a full breath, feeling high on him…and he’s all you know. His words, his hands roaming your body and his cock stretching you.

“Harry, I’m so close.” You breathe out and he grunts, lips ghosting over your shoulder blade.

“I know…can feel you squeezing my cock so tight angel. C’mon. Cum for me.” He encourages you and you shatter around him, pussy pulsing around him bringing him to his own release as he paints inside you. He wastes no time pulling out and you topple over from your legs feeling weak and he dips down behind you. You feel him dripping out of your hole, and his fingers spread you open. Pushing one inside with no warning, he fucks his cum back inside of you with his fingers and you hum, unable to make any other noise and he chuckles behind you.

“Like being filled like this? Look so pretty full of me, dripping out of you. Never gonna forget it.” He mutters, planting a kiss on the small of your back before standing. Finding the energy to roll over, he offers his fingers to you and you take them between your lips and taste the mix of both of you on his fingers. He curses under his breath at the sight of you, feeling his cock twitching back to life and he pulls them away to stop himself thinking about fucking you again and again.

You slept in his bed that night.

The weekend ended all too quickly, and you were half asleep in the back seat of Josh’s car with your head resting on the window, holding Harry’s book on your thighs and fiddling wither cover, something you had become accustomed to as you read the prose on the pages or when you closed in while engaging in conversation. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you’d see him in that capacity again after this weekend and didn’t know if you wanted to go back to being strangers that passed each other in the economics building on campus.

Josh pulled up to the house you and Faye shared, and Harry follows you out of the car. He retrieves your bag from Pauly’s car for you, carrying it up to your room and putting it down on your bed. You almost felt like you were having deja vu, the scene similar to one from Thursday afternoon, except this time you weren’t half naked in front of him and he wasn’t just a stranger in your room anymore. You look around, then to the floor before meeting his eyes and he smirks as he leans against your doorframe.

“Here.” You hand him the book but he puts his hands up, shaking his head.

“Keep it.” He says, and you almost refuse but accept it anyway. He bites the inside of his cheek, shifting his weight and shoving his hands in his pockets. He steps closer, brushing your hair behind your ear as you look up at him. “Don’t be a stranger, angel.”

“I won’t be.”

He leaves you there, standing in the middle of the room with his book clutched to your chest with a cheesy grin plastered on your face.

And you knew it wouldn't be the last time you saw Harry Styles.

1K notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 3 months

Note

This isn’t really a request but this came to may head at three in the morning ok Imagine like your getting fucked by one of the Marauders or all of them and yk those moving pictures they have in the wizard world image they have a whole box filled of the reader getting back shots and EVERYTHING 😵‍💫🥴

THE STASH | marauders x reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Reader

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings: Smut, finger fucкing, a little bit of PTSD on Sirius, pictures taken w/o reader’s knowledge, reader being insecure and gaining back confidence thanks to the boys.

Prompt: You find the boy's stash, filled with lusty pictures and they make you feel insecure, thoughts about not being good enough for them arise, the catch is, that’s THE OLD stash. (Happy ending)

Notes: I had a similar idea already in my head so when I saw this ask I just knew I had to make it happen.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You knocked on their door a couple of times when no one said anything, you decided to let yourself in, “Rem? Jamie? Sirius?”

No answer.

You looked around and went to sit by Remus’ bed. He said he’d see you in their room later that night for study and maybe something more, but with study club and prefect duties, you assumed he was as busy as the two other boys were with the quidditch training. You didn’t mind it much though, their room was a lot more quiet to study in than yours, and it was always fun to see their surprised faces when they walked in and you were there.

You were taking your book and some parchment out when a pot of ink fell from your bag and onto the floor. There was a thud and then another one and then it spilled all over. You gasped and left the bag on the side before leaning down to pick it up. You whispered a quick “reparo,” and the crystal pot wasn’t leaking anymore, but the ink was still on the floor and some of it was spilling down the wooden floorboard.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you summoned a napkin from your bag and started to clean as best as you could, but it didn’t seem to be working, it was still spilling down into what looked like a nook on the floor. You frowned and looked at the wooden board in detail only to realize there was a section that was a little more worn than the rest.

You frowned and tried to lift the board by digging your nails on the side but it wasn’t working, you huffed and walked over to Sirius’ night table to see if he still had his pocket knife there. Luckily he did, and you took it, pulling out one of the blades and using it as a crane to lift the wooden board.

Once you did you realized the ink had slipped inside most of the things they kept in there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered continuously as you tried to pull off the things in fear that they would be ruined with the ink. There were some old letters, some hand-rolled cigars, a few potions and then a small box, that one had gotten most of the ink. You winced and pulled it out, biting your lip as you tried to concentrate. You had been so busy with the cleaning, that you never saw the spiderwebs that covered most of the items.

“Evanesco,” you whispered, focused solely on the ink, which successfully disappeared, but so did the small lock they had on the box and it opened by itself. You blinked a couple of times when you saw what was inside. You carefully grabbed one of the images, a stunning red-headed witch, winking at you as she bounced around, with her very large, and very beautiful breasts in full display.

You gulped as you stared at her, she wiggled her shoulders a bit and gave you another wink. You sucked in a breath, she was freaking stunning. And probably there because of James’ fixation with redheads.

The rest of the pictures were turned over, but curiosity got the best of you, and you took another piece of paper from the box. That one was bent in four, as if it had been ripped from a magazine. You slowly unbend it, first one fold and then the other and there was another stunning witch in the image.

This one had smaller breasts, but she was leaning down on a bed, perfectly manicured hands brushing over her own folds, two perfectly long and well-shaped legs on the side. She had dark skin and the light reflected on her legs as she accommodated on the bed, her head leaning back with what looked like a sigh as she rolled her hand over her clit. She too was beautiful, and perfect.

You sat the image on the side, next to the redhead and pulled another one. One of the smaller ones, only to be met with yet another stunning witch, perfectly flat stomach, and beautiful perky breasts, she was riding a pillow, one hand on the bed and looking straight at you as she bit her lips, inviting, enticing. You placed her next to the others as you pulled another image. And then another, and then another.

Image after image, perfectly attractive witches in all sorts of positions, some by themselves, some with companions (either other hot witches or the cock of a wizard or two). You pressed your legs together, there was a mix of feelings inside you. First of all, you were a little turned on after seeing such kind of imagery. But second, and most important. You were a little upset.

Which was ridiculous, you knew. Expecting the boys to pleasure themselves with the thought of you in mind when you weren’t around was stupid, especially when there were clearly much better and hotter witches in the market. What with their perfectly round breasts and their beautiful lips and flat stomachs and long legs and rosy cunts. You looked at them with a bit of a frown, they all had something in common, they were perfect, and you? You were far, far from that.

Now you weren’t upset that the boys were doing themselves, you knew men needed a lot more release than women did and you tried to keep that in mind as you placed all the beautiful witches back in their box, but you couldn’t help but think: Did they also think of them when they were with you? Did they imagine the beautiful redhead’s breasts when they were kissing yours, or maybe that they were in between the legs of that girl with the gorgeous reflective skin instead of your own?

While the pictures were meant to be stimulating, and they had been a little at the beginning, the more you thought about them, the more you thought they were so much unlike you and the more your thoughts continued to spiral.

“Such beautiful witches…” you murmured as you closed the box, “and they are equally gorgeous men… why are they–“ You didn’t finish your words out loud, too painful to say them outside of your head.

Why are they with me?

You carefully placed the box back into its spot, cleaned the rest of the things that had gotten stained and placed everything back in their stash. You carefully placed the wooden plank back where it belonged and put Sirius’ knife back in his drawers. You took a deep breath, not feeling up for much and instead ripped a page from your notebook.

“I’m feeling a little sick, see you boys tomorrow.”

It was simple enough not to make them question further, you left it on top of Remus’ bed and left the room.

The following day, the boys being as marvelous and attentive as they were, had gotten you to forget about the stash almost completely. And things had been absolutely perfect since then.

At least until a few days later, you had been playing wizards chess with Sirius on his bed, and after he beat you for the third time making you feel both hopeless and a little dumb for not anticipating his moves –which was also ridiculous because Sirius had been a wizard chess champion– he offered to make it up to you.

It was in the spark in his eyes that you knew exactly what he meant. You bit your lip, Remus was reading a book on his bed while James was snoring lightly next to him, one hand draped across the other boy’s torso. You knew they’d want to join in when they realized what you and Sirius were up to, and it sent a shiver down your stomach.

“What do you say, doll?” Sirius asked as he levitated the chess board and the broken pieces to the side, inviting you to come closer.

You huffed “You think you can make it up with your little puppy eyes?”

Sirius pretended to think about it for a second before nodding. “While they should be enough, I’m still planning to use more than just my looks to make you feel better.”

You returned the smile and leaned closer to him, moving to straddle his sitting form, his back was pressed to the headboard and you could feel he was at least a little excited as you leaned into him.

“Did you win so many times just so you could say that to me?” You asked in disbelief, you were drumming your fingers near the nape of his neck.

“I might have been a little extra attentive,” he replied as he grabbed onto your hips and placed a kiss on your neck. “I know how riled up you get when you can’t best me,” he said before placing another kiss, this time further up, “I kind of enjoy seeing your little frown, and angry looks,” he admitted, he was now kissing your jaw. You rolled your hips into his and he tightened his grip on your hips in response.

You smiled, loving the fact that you knew exactly what Sirius liked and how to get him worked up, at least as much as he knew of you. You rolled your hips again and he reached his hand under your skirt, feeling the outside of your leg before flicking his hand to the inside of it. To the softer skin that he grabbed with firm tenderness. Itching his hand closer and closer, making sure to massage your skin, tauntingly.

You leaned your head onto his shoulder, letting his beautiful hair fall on your face as you rolled your hips again, a lot softer this time, matching his pace and wanting his hand to come closer.

“Eager, are we?” he teased.

“Shhh, you’ll wake up Jamie,” you said as you leaned over to kiss his neck. He bit his lip to hold back a moan and finally placed his hand over your panties, tracing a soft line over your slit. You bucked your hips against his hand and he chuckled lightly.

Remus, who had been focused on his book so far, frowned and looked up at the two of you, smirking a little when he noticed what you were up to. Of course, he knew that chuckle, it was Sirius’ sexy teasing laugh.

“Easy love or you’ll be the one to wake up Prongs,” he said, leaning his head to your ear and softly nibbling on it. He traced his hand over your slit a couple more times, and you bucked your hips again. He smiled, you didn’t see it, but you felt it against your skin, “All right, all right…” he said as he flicked his finger over the hem of your panties and moved them aside. You leaned even closer to him as he dug his fingers in, “All of this for me?” he teased as he felt how wet you were.

Remus, who was now only half looking at his book, had somewhat of a fun time as he listened in to your conversation with Sirius. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it stimulating. But he also knew Sirius had had a bit of a bad week, so he thought of letting him have you just for himself, at least for a little bit longer, or until James woke up, just as eager to join in.

“Sirius please,” you whined with a frown and he smiled, letting his fingers trace up until they found your clit, making circles over it, which had you bucking your hips against him again. You bit the side of your cheek as you allowed him to move his hand, leaning in to kiss his neck again, to muffle any possible moans with his skin.

“May I?” he asked, teasing your entrance with his index.

“Mhm,” you said and bucked your hips again, eager for him to do his thing. And he complied, digging his finger inside and allowing it to move inside you as expertly as ever.

“So tight,” he whispered, Remus’ cock twitching at Sirius’ words and reconsidering whether he actually wanted to wait more before joining in.

He did not, so he carefully lifted James’ arm from his torso and walked towards Sirius’ bed. He sat right beside the two of you, a cocky smile on his face as he tilted his head to the side, “You two having fun there?” he asked, “without me?”

“You’re always welcome to join in Moony,” Sirius said with a teasing grin as he pulled you back just a little. You had both of your hands on Sirius’ shoulders, and you were now using them as leverage to ride his hand.

Moony smiled, “I might just watch for a while,” he said, leaning back and placing one of his hands on the back of Sirius’ neck. He knew how much small actions and touches like that made Sirius react, and he smiled as the boy’s breath hitched in his throat. He then turned to look at you, a mischievous grin on his face, he took his wand out and whispered “Evanesco.”

Suddenly both your shirt and bra disappeared, giving both boys the perfect sight of your breasts perking up at the sudden cold. Sirius grunted as he stared, and Remus hummed satisfied. You clenched around Sirius’ fingers –which were now two– whimpered and let out a soft moan.

But then, as you felt their gazes on you, and you felt your own boobs bouncing as you continued to ride Sirius’ expert fingers, you started to feel self-conscious, of how you looked, of how they were staring at you, on whether they were actually thinking of you or imagining something else, someone else. Maybe the beautiful redhead? The busty blonde? The reflextive-skinned goddess with the beautiful legs? The brunette with the beautiful ass?

Suddenly the lights flickered, and they were gone. You relaxed, Sirius felt the grip on his shoulder untensing, but he thought it was because you were close. But Sirius liked to see your fucked out face when he had his fingers inside you, and in seconds the lights were turned back on, and you tensed instantly.

The muscle movements were normal, but the way you suddenly dug your nails into his shoulders was not, at least not in the moment it was happening and not in the way it was either. Something was up.

He stopped moving his hand in an instant, “you all right, angel?” he asked, a small wrinkle forming on his forehead as his brows furrowed together.

You seemed to be lost in thought for a second, Remus noticed that too, “Yeah… just. Let’s leave the lights off today.”

Now it was Remus’ turn to frown, he took his hand from Sirius’ neck and sat straighter, pulling back and leaning in closer to look at your face, his hand instinctively traveling to your thigh. Sirius, with one hand still inside you –now unmoving– was brushing his thumb in circles on your waist, they were both giving you their unwavering attention, and your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at them nervously, your eyes traveling from boy to boy at unprecedented speeds and you bit your lip, and then the lights were off again.

Once they were off, you sighed and leaned your head on Sirius’ shoulder. He felt how you relaxed in an instant, and his frown deepened. “Angel, what is it?”

“Nothing, light’s giving me a headache,” you lied.

Sirius turned to Remus, while he couldn’t see much, he knew Remus would probably be able to see his questioning stance easily, with his enhanced senses, at least. “You believe her?” he mouthed.

Remus shook his head in response, and when he realized Sirius couldn’t actually see he turned to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure that’s it, luv?”

You swallowed, which was enough indication you weren’t, and you lied again, “Yes, let’s just, continue as is.”

Sirius knew you were lying, and he hated it when you lied to him, he also hated not being able to see shit while Remus could see your every reaction so he turned the lights on, didn’t even use his wand for it, and you tensed again.

You were taken aback by that and swallowed thickly. Your breath was slightly ragged and it was not because you were turned on, in fact, if anything, you felt rather apprehensive now. You cleared your throat. “You know, maybe I’m just not feeling it,” you lied again and pulled yourself off of his hand.

Sirius felt way too many things at the same time, he was worried about your reaction since he thought he’d done something wrong. He was angry because he knew you were hiding the exact reason; he wanted, no, he needed to know what was up so he would never do it again, and thirdly, he was upset, he’d felt…rejected. And by you, no other.

By the time Sirius reacted again, you were buttoning your shirt up and walking towards their door. James, who had been asleep till then, was finally awoken by the lights coming on and off and the small commotion going on. He was confused, at first he thought you were just playing, but perhaps that was not it.

But Sirius was faster, and he jumped over Remus to get to the door just as you were opening it and shut it closed. You jumped back just a little, shocked at how fast he’d moved, you were now the one with a frown, anger bubbling to your chest, Sirius’ temper had always been something you’d learn to deal with, and even if you knew it was justified now, that didn’t stop yours from flaring up.

“That’s not it,” he said confidently, “that’s not it and you’re not getting out until you tell me what’s upset you.”

“Sirius,” Remus said now, ever the conciliator. He’d also stood from the bed and walked the few strides left to get next to the two of you.

Maybe it wasn’t the best reaction you could have had, but you were already pretty shaken up by the situation at hand, by your rather torturous thoughts and by Srius’ slamming of the door. “Oh, so you know my body better than I do?” you said defensively, “you would know if I have or not a headache.”

“YES!” he responded stubbornly. “I know how it reacts when it has a headache and it’s not the way you were reacting now!”

You shook your head as you scoffed, James was now sitting on the bed looking at the situation both confused and worried.

“Moony! Back me up on this?” he said as he turned his face to him.

Remus bit his lip, as he shook his head, thinking before speaking. “He’s right luv, that was not your headache reaction.”

You scoffed, “ff course, you’d take his side.”

“I’m not taking any sides.”

“Well you are, just don’t realize it!” you said angrily. “If I say I have a headache, I have one and that’s it. Now, I want to leave.”

“Darling,” Remus said as he let out a breath, he seemed worried and upset as well now, you were trying really hard not to feel bad about it, trying to remind yourself why you needed to leave.

It was Sirius who spoke again, his lips quivering as he found the right words, “Just tell me what I did wrong, I’ll never do it again, I promise,” his voice broke near the end. He was panicking, he was terrified he’d hurt you and that you’d leave thinking the worst of him. You knew what was hapening had brought back some past trauma and you didn’t want to be the catalyst of another panick attack.

You took a deep breath when you heard him, your frown deepening as you considered your words, “I found your stash.”

The three men went quiet in an instant. Sirius looked like a deer trapped in headlights, Remus’ jaw had tightened and you’d heard James’ gasp in the back.

“Darling, I–“ Sirius tried to speak but you cut him off.

“No, no,” you tried to reason, more with yourself than with him. “I get, it’s fine, you need your release time and all that, I don’t mind.”

“Well, you clearly do,” Remus said. You felt a hand on your shoulder, it was James’. He had walked towards you the moment he heard about the stash but you hadn’t noticed until then. You flinched but missed the hurt look that etched his features as he looked at you.

“Well yes. But it’s a stupid feeling nonetheless. I’ll get over it. Just need time.”

“It was me,” James said from behind, “it was my idea, not Sirius’. Don’t be upset at him.”

You swallowed thickly, not wanting to be angry at James for something so natural in men, let alone because you knew this whole mess was created due to your own thoughts and insecurities, not theirs. And now you were upsetting them, what a great bIoody girlfriend you were.

“I don’t bIoody care whose idea it was!” you spat. “Please let me off,” you said then, leg bouncing, you wanted to get out before you said something that would upset them more.

“We’ll never do it again if that makes you feel better,” Sirius tried.

“No it– It fucking doesn’t, okay? It’s fine, it’s… Found it a couple of nights ago when my ink pot fell on the floor.” The three boys exchanged a look with each other, had either of them changed its spot? “It’s pretty fresh in my mind and– I just– I can’t stop thinking you’re imagining them while being with me.”

“Them?” Sirius asked, confused.

“The pretty witches!” you responded, almost angrily. Remus, who was in front of you looked confused, and you huffed before adding in more detail. “Beautiful redhead,” you looked at James. “Gorgeous blonde,” you added as you turned to Sirius. Then looked back at the taller boy, “need I elaborate?”

You heard James gasp from behind. “She found the old stash!”

“Ah, so you have a new and improved one,” you said now, and shook your head as you turned at the door. Sirius was leaning in and he had a cheeky smile on his face now, which pissed you off even further.

“You could call it that,” he said with a shrug.

“Sirius,” Remus said calmly again. “Don’t.”

But Sirius just smiled instead, “Oh but, I’m impressed. Our lovely angel was jealous.”

“I was not.” You said flatly. “Get off the door, please,” the last part was much more of a beg than a demand.

Sirius shook his head, “not until you see the new stash.”

Remus and James exchanged looks after that, not even sure if they should or shouldn’t stop Sirius.

“I don’t want to see the witches you use to wank off now, it’s enough with the images already in my head. Can’t stop thinking of them, of you thinking about them when you’re looking at me.”

Sirius’ face fell instantly, his teasing stance almost faltering but not his determined blockage of the door.

“That’s not–“

“Have you considered perhaps it was the other way around?” Remus asked as he placed a slightly hesitant hand on your shoulder.

“What?”

“That we imagined you when looking at them.”

You were taken aback by that. No, you hadn’t considered that. “What about the redhead, can’t tell me she wasn’t there because of James’ old obsession with Evans?”

James sighed, it was. That’s why they had to get a new stash.

“She needs to see the new stash,” Sirius said while looking at the two other boys.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” James intervened, it had been his idea after all, and he had admitted it to you now. He didn’t want to have you get mad over something else, and this time your anger would be indisputably justifiable.

“I think it is,” Sirius insisted.

You sighed, “you can continue deciding if you’re going to show me your new fuckable witches or not a different day. Sirius, get off the door.”

He shook his head and turned to James, “Please?”

“I don’t want to see them! Enough is enough!”

You turned to the side to try and find another exit when you bumped into Remus, he had a box in his hand. He raised it a bit, you knew what it was instantly.

“Remus!” James complained and went to get it but was hastily stopped by Sirius who got in the way and trapped him in his arms.

“Prongs behave!” He said sternly.

The path to the door was free now, but Remus’ serious stance made you curious, even more when he moved his finger to his lips and bit hard enough to draw bIood.

“What the fu–“

“It’s so no one can open but us,” he explained. “We bIood charmed it.”

You looked at him with a shocked face, you didn’t think they’d go to such lengths to hide their spicy stuff, what the hell did they even have there?

Some of the metal hinges at the top moved around a little bit, looking almost like a miniature Gringotts vault, and then it snapped open. Remus pushed it your way. You looked at the three boys before picking the first image up. It was Remus, shirtless Remus on the day you’d gone swimming at the Potter’s last summer. He was pulling his hair back and water glistened all over his torso, he looked at you and winked, before turning to look at something else.

You gasped and pulled another picture, it was James and Sirius, both also shirtless, and they were making out under a tree. Sirius had his leg in between James’ and was leaning onto him rather intensely.

The next one was you, you had the swimsuit you’d bought that summer, the one you thought looked really good on you, and you were on your knees, looking for something on the sand, your ass was slightly prompted up and the picture was obviously focused on that. You swallowed thickly and went to grab another one.

You again, this time while making out with Remus, his hand was on your ass and you had realized they were taking a picture, looking at the camera with a diverted gasp before covering the lens with your hand.

You took another one, and this time around you were genuinely shocked, it was Remus, being blown by James. His pinky pretty lips wrapped around Rem’s cock. “Oh, wow.”

James frowned, he knew what else there was in there and he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to see it, he had never felt worse about his own ideas than now. Responsible, he knew he had bertrayed you, in a way. You took the next picture and stared at it for a minute.

It was you again, well, you’re back at least. You were riding Sirius, moving back and forth over his cock as he helped you, hands on your waist as he bit his lip. You didn’t see your face, but you knew it hadn’t been that long ago. If Sirius’ new tattoo was any telling.

You looked at the boys shocked, you hadn’t even realized they’d taken the picture, but you looked as pretty as any witch in the other photos, how had they gotten you to look so good?

They hadn’t done anything, it was just you.

“You don’t have to–“ James started, but you had already picked up another picture.

“Shut up,” you said simply.

You again, this time you were sprawled on the bed with a blindfold on your head. That had been on your birthday. James had one of his hands on your leg, dangerously close to your slit while Sirius was kissing your breast and sucking at your nipples.

And there was more, a lot of pictures from that day, all in compromising positions. Some involving you and the boys, some involving only the boys on different occasions, some you remembered, some in which you hadn’t even been present. There was even one of Sirius wanking off to the picture of you in the swimsuit you had seen earlier.

“I’m sorry–“ James said, now sounding distressed and shaking Sirius off him. “I’m sorry angel, we should have never done it.”

You grabbed another one of the photos, it had clearly been rushed, the camera being hidden as you turned your head to look at the boys, this time around you were kneeling on the bed, and James was jerking himself off to you, teasing your entrance before pulling out completely and allowing his cum to fall over your ass and back.

“You’re right.,” you said as you placed the pictures back in the box, expression neutral. “You should have never done it without asking me–” James swallowed.

“Love I–“

“James, shut up!” you said again, giving the pictures another look. “You should have never done it without asking me first,” you said as you flipped through some more pics and tsking. “I would have helped.”

James’ jaw dropped, and you looked at him with a cheeky smile. Sirius was looking at you proudly and satisfied with his choice while Remus stared at the picture you had in your hand. The one where you were getting a back shot but was shaky and blurry because the camera had been hidden before you saw it.

You moved the picture up, holding it between your fingers as you displayed it to the boys, “What do you say we recreate this one, but with better quality?”

Sirius scoffed a laugh and smiled.

“I’ll get the camera,” Remus said simply.

James was still stunned, and you leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Sirius leaned from behind and kissed you on the cheek “I told them you should know about it from the beginning but they said you’re too pure for it.”

You laughed at that, “you boys keep calling me angel,” you said as you turned to Sirius and wrapped your hands around his neck, “but I wouldn’t have done all the things I have with you all if I wasn’t the exact opposite,” you added with a smirk.

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This one might get a part two, if you guys wanna see that <3

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makoodles · 10 months

Text

ミ sex education

part one. | part two.

🍓 pairing: jake sully x human fem reader x neytiri

🍓 tags: nsfw, best friend!jake, dilf jake cause i can't help myself, jealousy, allien cultural misunderstandings,size kink, alien genitalia, human x na'vi, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, threesomes

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

You have no idea how you’ve managed to get yourself into this position.

Well, that’s not strictly true. You suppose it all started with your best friend stuffing you full with his fingers until you had trembled apart in his arms.

You awake the morning after, loose-limbed and jelly-jointed with a sense of bone-deep satisfaction, naked limbs tangled with Jake’s big blue ones. He’s comically overlarge for your bed, his legs hanging off the edge of the mattress, and one of his big arms is looped lazily over your back.

You had expected things to be awkward afterwards, but when Jake finally stretches himself awake he just greets you with a yawn, slaps your ass, and asks if he’ll see you later on for dinner. When you agree he kisses the top of your head, wiggles his way back into his loincloth, and gives you a cheeky wink before sauntering out to return to the village.

You’re left bewildered and alone in your room. Truthfully, part of you had expected him to freak out a little over awaking naked in your bed after indulging in inappropriate activities with you the night before; maybe panic and call it all a crazy mistake. You certainly hadn’t expected him to act as though waking up with you naked in his arms was the most natural thing in the world.

You spend the day alternating between overthinking and relishing the memories of Jake’s hands on you. Good god, had you been missing out on that all along? He had seemed so casual about it all, as though it was simply a given that he would finger you to climax if that’s what you wanted.

You have to take a cold shower shortly after Jake leaves, partly to calm yourself down and partly to wash off the scent of Jake that still clings to you. If your dull human nose can pick up on it, you can only imagine that you must stink to a Na’vi, so you make sure to scrub at yourself with your berry-scented shower gel until you smell of nothing but artificial human soap.

You’re still a little nervous when you wander into the village later that day, but you’re greeted as enthusiastically as ever by the whole Sully family. Jake ruffles your hair and winks at you before clapping Neteyam on the shoulder and leading him off towards the cookfire to gather meat for the family.

You’re left with Kiri and Lo’ak, and you can’t help but smile as the kids start to shepherd you towards the usual spot where you all usually take meals.

“– and then Lo’ak fell all the way down and landed flat on his back,” Kiri is telling you a story with great relish, walking close to you. “And all the girls he had been trying to impress thought it was so funny–”

“It was on purpose.” Lo’ak blusters, picking up the pace so that he can come up on your other side and interject. “I was trying to make them laugh–”

“Oh yeah? Did you mean to burst into tears too–?”

“Shut up!” Lo’ak hisses at his sister, but it comes out as more of a whine. “I did not burst into tears!”

The familiar sound of their bickering soothes away the last of your nerves. Your shoulders loosen, and you start to smile as you follow the kids towards their usual spot for dinner. Neytiri is already sitting there with Tuk, brushing back her youngest daughter’s hair and murmuring softly to her.

Your stomach clenches at the sight of her; you have no idea how she’s going to react to you, and you have no idea how you should act around her. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jake pleasuring you like that had been her idea, and you feel yourself start to sweat at the thought that she might act differently around you now.

As Kiri and Lo’ak approach the log where their mother is sitting, she looks up and smiles when she sees them. She really is very beautiful; her amber eyes are bright, the skin at the corner of her eyes crinkling up with joy at the sight of her children. She’s graceful even when she’s sitting down, her long limbs corded with lithe muscle as she stretches out next to Tuk.

Just the sight of her makes you feel clumsy and ungainly, and you feel your cheeks heat as you approach.

Her eyes flick from her kids to you where you’re following behind them, and you tense a little as you wait for her reaction. To your surprise, her face doesn’t contort into an expression of disgust like you had been expecting – her smile gets smaller, almost knowing, but no less genuine as you come to a halt by the log she’s sitting on.

Lo’ak and Kiri are still bickering as they flop down on a log next to their mother’s, but Neytiri is still looking at you. Her eyes flicker from your head to your toes rapidly, as though checking you for injuries.

You’re wearing the Na’vi clothes that have been gifted to you again today, and you shift a little self-consciously under her gaze. You feel more exposed than ever, and you’re hyper-aware of the subtle bruising around your tits from Jake’s teeth; you just pray that they’re not obvious to anyone else.

Neytiri reaches out to you, and you blink in bewilderment as she grabs at a string of broken beads on your top that you hadn’t even noticed before now. She peers at it critically, before looking up to your face with a small frown. For a moment you wonder if she’s angry at you, and feel your stomach sink rapidly until she speaks.

“He was gentle?” She asks quietly, and you twitch when her palm grazes the side of your breast. “He forgets himself, sometimes, and you are very weak.”

“I–” Your tongue feels too large in your mouth. You stumble over your words clumsily; your whole world has narrowed down to that one, confusing point of contact between Neytiri’s hand and the underside of your tit as she studies the broken string of beads. “He was– it was good.”

Neytiri hums, and you swear her mouth twitches as though she’s holding back a laugh. “You should have asked for it earlier. You know we would not have left you feeling neglected.”

You make an odd noise in the back of your throat, mortified. You dart a panicked look towards the kids, but Tuk has wandered over to Lo’ak and Kiri and they’re all laughing together a few feet away, blissfully ignorant of your conversation.

“I– I didn’t–”

Neytiri chooses to ignore your fumbling, instead leaning down closer to your chest so that she can tie the snapped string of your top. The back of her hand brushes over your nipple and you tremble, confused as warmth blooms in your lower belly.

“You have needs that must be met,” Neytiri murmurs, her voice low enough that it’s just for you. “You do not need to look elsewhere to have them maintained.”

Your heart leaps and your stomach flutters, and you hurriedly lower your gaze. This is far from the reaction you had expected from her, and it makes you nervous.

Stop it, you think furiously to yourself. They’re your friends! They’re married!

“Right.” You choke out, cheeks burning. “I– um… thanks.”

She nods, but then pauses. Her face is hovering close to your chest so that she can look closely at the snapped string of beads on your top, but she leans even closer as her nostrils flare. A small frown creases her brow, and her pretty golden eyes snap up to look at you. She’s so intense, and being caught up in her gaze like this has you feeling like a fly trapped in amber.

“You have used the demon soap.” She notes, still frowning.

One of her knuckles brush over your nipple as she fiddles with mending your top, and you end up jolting at the sensation as blood rushes to your face. You can only pray that she didn’t notice your reaction.

“Oh, yeah.” You choke out a reedy laugh. You know that the Na’vi don’t like the artificial, acrid smell of human soap, but you had figured it was the best way to get the scent of your activities from the night before off you. “I, uh… I reeked of Jake. Thought it would be best to wash it off before, um… coming back to the village.”

Neytiri hums with a frown, and with one last deft movement of her fingers, the broken tie on your top has been temporarily mended. However her hands linger somewhat strangely, and when she withdraws from you her wrist ends up rubbing a little oddly over the side of your neck. You have no idea what’s going on, and you have no idea how you should be reacting.

All you can do is swallow thickly, your throat bobbing against the warm skin of Neytiri’s wrist before she pulls away from you.

“It is good that Jake pleased you,” She says simply, turning her head to look casually towards the fire. When you follow her gaze, you see that Jake and Neteyam are returning from the cookfire with their hands full of food. “I worried that he would not.”

That makes you choke out a surprised laugh. “Wow. No faith in his abilities, huh?”

“It is not that,” Neytiri hums, though you can see the corner of her mouth curl in a repressed smile. “He was watching you all evening, getting worked up. I thought he may not be able to last long enough to satisfy you fully.”

That makes you laugh properly, surprised enough that you’re not able to hide your delight at hearing Neytiri roasting Jake. Your conversations with Neytiri alone don’t often poke fun at Jake, and you feel oddly thrilled by it. She offers you a small smirking smile, and you bite at your lip shyly as you return it.

You’re still stifling laughter when Jake and Neteyam reach you all again; Jake steps over to you and Neytiri as Neteyam carries his food over to the other kids.

“Hey, what’re my girls giggling about?” Jake drawls, sitting heavily next to you on the log. He’s holding several nikt'chey filled with sweet meat and vegetables in one large hand, and a little wooden carved bowl full of teylu in the other.

Neytiri grabs at a plant-based nikt'chey, but instead of eating it she passes it to you. You smile, flattered; teylu is an important food for the Na’vi, but you’ve never enjoyed the texture of the little grub worms. You’ve spent so many years sharing meals with the Sully’s, but it still surprises you when she shows that she’s noticed your preferences.

“I was asking about your performance,” Neytiri says casually, her expression growing coy. “Tawtute believes you could have been better.”

If that pricks at Jake’s pride, he doesn’t show it. He just laughs as though Neytiri has told a very funny joke, before he turns to you. He wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you up into his lap, still clutching his food in the other hand – the motion is so familiar for the both of you that he’s able to situate you across his thighs with ease, even one-handed.

Jake has been pulling you into his lap at mealtimes for a long time now, and yet this time feels different. His hand lingers around your waist, coasts briefly over your thigh. He’s always been touchy, but this time your brain keeps offering up memories from the night before; his big hot hands touching you, his mouth devouring you, his low voice murmuring insistently in your ear.

Your face burns, but you’re determined not to show it. You don’t want to be the one to make this weird.

“Now I know that’s a lie,” Jake croons, his breath warm on the back of your ear as he leans towards Neytiri. “You should have heard her cry–”

“Oh my god,” You hiss, whirling in Jake’s lap to slap at his chest hard enough that your hand stings. “I did not cry, you unbearable jackass–”

“It is normal to be overwhelmed by pleasure after so long of…” Neytiri pauses, her brow pinching just slightly as though she’s trying to remember specific phrasing that she’s heard before. “‘Not getting any.’”

Your jaw actually drops. The sound of the human phrase dropping from her lips is jarring, even more so when you know that it’s Jake she heard it from.

“Oh, you guys are the worst.” You grumble, curling into yourself in mortification.

The two of them snicker together as you scowl, and Jake pats your flank as though trying to calm an irritated cat. Neytiri, at least, bites at her lip and tries to hide her amusement.

“No shame in it, honey,” Jake says, and you can hear the stupid grin in his voice. “I’m just very good.”

You roll your eyes so hard that it almost makes you dizzy, and when you glance to the side you see that Neytiri has a similar expression on her face; this time, it’s your turn to laugh with her, with Jake as the subject of your snickering.

“Do not get too confident, ma Jake,” Neytiri croons, leaning in so that she’s resting her body against his side. “You have only pleasured her once, and it cannot have been that good – she has not said much about it.”

Jake makes a sound of pure offense even as he wraps the arm that’s not holding you around Neytiri’s shoulders. “What? Nah, she loved it. C’mon, honey, help me out here.”

Neytiri’s eyes slide to you as she takes a dainty bite of her food, and you can see the conspiratorial little smile that she’s trying to hide. Your own lips start to twitch in response, and you hide your own reaction behind your nikt'chey.

“Oh,” You say lightly, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. “He was okay.”

Instead of wounding his pride, your ribbing just makes him laugh. His arm tightens around your belly, holding you close to his chest as he ruffles Neytiri’s hair – she hisses playfully at him, though he just grins at her.

“Oh, you asshole,” He murmurs into your ear, his chest rumbling against your back as his bulk looms over you, “What, I wasn’t nice enough to you? I wouldn’t have known it from all the whimpering.”

Blood rushes to your face, and you barely suppress the urge to hide your face completely in your hands. You hold the nikt'chey up in front of your masked face in an attempt to hide, mortified when Neytiri chuckles softly.

“Alright,” She says, reaching out to pat at your thigh with her large, slender hand. “Enough. Tawtute is embarrassed.”

Jake just snickers, but mercifully gives up on his playful bantering in favour of taking a large bite of his own nikt'chey. His hand stays firmly planted across your middle, large thumb stroking over your exposed skin there every couple of moments. His touchiness isn’t anything new, but your skin is hot and sensitive and you have to fight back shivers every time he caresses your bare skin. Your stomach is alive with butterflies, shy arousal simmering at a low boil deep in your belly.

You’re antsy, and it’s only made worse by the fact that Neytiri still hasn’t removed her hand from your thigh. It just lingers there as she leans into Jake’s side, as though it’s just perfectly natural and comfortable for her to allow her touch to idle around the exposed skin of your thigh.

You wonder distantly if you’re reading too much into this. Jake has always been touchy, and it’s not that unusual that Neytiri has left her large, soft palm resting against the expanse of your thigh with her fingers curling absently around the sensitive skin of your inner knee.

Sure, it might feel as though you’re boiling up a little on the inside from the overwhelming contact of their big hands on your exposed body, but you push your reaction down the best you can. Maybe you’re just super conscious now that the nature of your relationship has changed. It seems like you’re the only one that feels that shift though, because Jake and Neytiri are so casual about the way they’re touching you, as though nothing has changed at all.

You’re so busy trying to appear calm and measured and entirely unaffected that you hardly notice when Jake pauses his eating to turn his face towards you with a curious frown. He sniffs at you once, twice, before glancing towards Neytiri and raising an eyebrow with a barely stifled smirk.

She just blinks back at him innocently, though there’s an unmistakable look of mischief about her eyes – whatever they’re communicating about silently, Jake seems to find it amusing.

The interaction flies mostly over your head, too distracted with the way Jake’s thigh flexes beneath you when he shifts on the log and the way Neytiri has started to draw absent-minded little patterns around your kneecap. While Jake has always been clingy, Neytiri has always been more reserved in herself. Now, with her touching you like this, you feel absolutely thrown. It’s like someone has turned on a white noise machine in your head; all you can hear is static.

“Sa’nu,” Tuk warbles from a few feet away. “Lo’ak is being mean to me.”

“I am not! Tuk, stop being such a snitch–”

Neytiri’s eyes turn sharp, and she whirls to glare at her children. “What is happening over there?”

Jake rests his chin on your shoulder as he allows his wife to take the lead on dealing with the children. It’s comfortable, and you allow yourself to melt back into his embrace, like usual. Everything feels so normal, as though last night was just a fever dream.

As Neytiri scolds the children, Jake turns his face so that his flat, cat-like nose is nuzzling into your temple. It’s almost like he’s heard your thoughts and wants to brush them away.

“You okay?” Jake murmurs in your ear. “Last night wasn’t too much?”

You laugh a little wheezily. “No, it– no. It was… it was great. I was only joking, before.”

“Yeah, I know.” He snorts, “You’ve never been a good liar, anyway.”

“Fuck off,” You grumble, wriggling on his lap and nudging your elbow back into his stomach. He groans, but you can tell he’s exaggerating the amount of pain he’s in. “Your dick isn’t nearly as big as your head is, you know that?”

Jake lets out a startled, full-belly laugh at that, his head tilting back as his arm tightens around your middle. He seems to find that very amusing, and he’s still snickering when he leans in to press a kiss to your temple under the strap of your mask.

Your stomach trembles a little, and you can’t help yourself from leaning back into the warmth of his chest – Jake has always expressed his affection physically, satisfying your own desperate skin hunger, but now that you’ve experienced his touch more intimately you find yourself craving more in a way that’s beginning to freak you out a little. You’ve never really thought about Jake like this before, and you can’t help but feel guilty.

After all, you’re the one who’s looking at him differently now – as far as you’re aware, nothing has changed for Jake. Though he seems very flirty, that’s the way he always is! The only reason he had touched you like that last night was because he wanted to help you out.

Neytiri turns back from the children after giving them one last warning glare, shuffling a little closer and tilting her head so she’s peering down at you. Her hand is still on your knee; it hadn’t shifted an inch even when she had turned to hiss at the children, and now she squeezes at it a little to get your attention.

“What is funny?” She wonders.

You clear your throat, a little flustered, and mutter, “Your husband is a moron.”

Neytiri’s lips twitch, and she darts an amused look over your head at Jake as his head looms over your shoulder.

“Yes,” She agrees. “He is a skxawng.”

“Alright, alright,” Jake says hastily, adjusting you on his lap so that you’re pulled right back against his chest, “No ganging up on me, thanks. Besides, I know you both love me.”

Neytiri makes eye contact with you, then gives you a conspiratorial little eye roll. You giggle, impossibly pleased with the sense of camaraderie between the two of you. You even push your knee a little further into her hand, enjoying the contact.

“Will there be more dancing later?” You wonder, turning to look back at Neytiri with a smile. You remember the wondrous dancing from the night before, and find yourself hoping to catch a glimpse of the mating season dancing once more.

Neytiri hesitates, her head tilting to the side like she’s confused. “You are very interested in mating season,” She says slowly. “Even still.” She turns and gives Jake a strange look – one that’s almost chiding.

You’re not sure you know what she means, so you just shrug. “The dancing was pretty. I enjoyed watching it.”

Neytiri hums thoughtfully, her mouth twitching. Her chiding expression turns playful, and she leans in to murmur to you, “We will dance for you later, if you wish to see it.”

You almost do a double take at that, eyes growing wide as you choke on your own saliva in surprise. Behind you, Jake laughs at your reaction, his fingers stroking absently over the soft skin of your belly. It takes a moment for you to register that Neytiri must have been joking, and then you laugh nervously, unsure how to respond.

Jake just snickers, and leans over to nudge at Neytiri’s shoulder. You’re still not used to how beautiful Jake and Neytiri are, how perfectly matched. They ebb and flow against each other, always communicating with just looks or gestures. Jake has always been pure raw passion, while Neytiri is more intimate and reserved about her emotions. They compliment each other so well, something you’ve always admired about them.

You’ve always thought that you would love to find something like that for yourself, but now it’s like your thoughts have taken a turn. Now it’s like you’re looking at them and wanting them; it feels as though your brain is rotting from the inside out.

The village is bustling full of life, the smell of sweet meat sizzling and the sounds of the People laughing and children squealing filling the air for dinnertime. You force yourself to relax in Jake’s arms, trying to act casual in the face of his and Neytiri’s teasing – fucking your friend was one thing, but now you find yourself utterly flustered at the thought of him and his wife dancing for you, of thinking about where things might go from there.

It’s a mercy when Lo’ak shuffles over, his presence promptly putting an end to any suggestive conversation. You’re almost desperately grateful; you don’t think you’d be able to survive much more of their teasing.

Lo’ak is quiet when he settles next to Jake, a little moody. It seems that he’s come over less because he actually wants to talk to his parents, and more because he’s trying to escape Kiri, who is still teasing him over whatever embarrassing mistake he had made while training.

Undeterred by Lo’ak’s scowl, you lean over and give him a little smile. You’ve always had a soft spot for Lo’ak – you love all the Sully kids, of course, but Lo’ak has always been your secret little favourite. The kid is funny, so like Jake, and so starved for recognition in a way that you recognise from yourself. When you reach out to pat his head, he leans into your touch with a little pout.

“Are they bullying you?” You ask teasingly, brushing his braids back in an attempt to neaten them.

Lo’ak just scowls even fiercer, but he doesn’t move away from your hand. “Kiri’s being an asshole.”

“Hey!” Jake says sharply. “Don’t talk like that about your sister.”

You offer Lo’ak a sympathetic little smile, before leaning over to whisper, “Are you still upset about falling out of that tree?”

Lo’ak’s ears pin back as he winces, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t fall. I slipped.”

“Ah,” You murmur, fighting a smile. “Of course. Completely different.”

From there, the evening mellows into a familiar, laid-back atmosphere that you’re familiar with. Spending time with the Sullys like this has always been easy, and you find yourself almost deliriously relieved that nothing has changed. You had been so anxious that sleeping with Jake would have totally ruined the dynamic between you and the whole family.

To tell the truth, you’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that it hasn’t.

You sit sprawled across Jake’s lap all evening, with one of Neytiri’s hands settled over your knee. Jake is always pulling you across his large striped thighs, supporting you with a massive arm around your back, but this somehow feels even more intimate than usual; or maybe it’s all in your head.

You try not to think too hard about it. After everyone has finished eating, the children all come to gather around Jake as he tells stories. Both you and Neytiri exchange eyerolls frequently – Jake is predictable, and always chooses the same tales to tell.

“—Your mother tried to kill me when we first met. She thought I was a moron, but I thought she was beautiful.”

Tuk looks absolutely enchanted by the story, despite having heard it a hundred times. Even Kiri, at the peak of her teenage angst, is listening with a little smile on her face.

Neytiri snorts, but she’s smiling too. “I still think you are a moron, yawntu.”

The kids laugh, and you hide a smile of your own. You feel at home here, with Jake’s family like this. That usual sense of pervasive loneliness that usually haunts you is entirely absent, chased away by Jake and Neytiri’s warm touches.

“What about um’ma?” Tuk asks, shifting closer with a bright smile on her face as she turns her attention towards you. “Tell us about how you met um’ma, dad!”

You had been getting sleepy, but her question wakes you right up. The kids have always called you um’ma, for as long as you can remember. It’s like an affectionate name for mom, as far as you’re aware. You’ve always sort of assumed that it’s somewhat teasing. You know it’s not entirely unusual for Na’vi children to refer to older female figures in affectionate terms like that – the school children had called Grace sa’nok, a much more formal name.

“Oh, god,” You breathe with a little wince. “No, that’s not–”

But it’s too late. Jake is only delighted to tell that story, too.

“The first time we met, your um’ma walked right past me.” Jake says, launching into his story before you can stop him. “I was trying to catch her attention, and she didn’t even look at me once.”

“I didn’t see you–!” You attempt to protest, but Jake steamrolls ahead.

“I was in my wheelchair, so I was shorter than her–”

“Shorter than um’ma?” Tuk whispers in what sounds like bewilderment, her big eyes swinging towards you as if she wants to double-check your height.

“–and she didn’t see me when she turned around, so she actually elbowed me in the face when I tried to get closer to her to talk to her. Gave me a bloody nose and everything.”

To your horror, the kids are acting as if they’re already heard this before. Neteyam is nodding along with Jake, and Lo’ak is already snickering. Tuk looks as enchanted with this story as she did with Jake’s story about meeting their mother, starry-eyed as she leans on Kiri. Your stomach flips – how often has Jake told them this story?

“I was trying to impress her, and she didn’t even look at me once.” Jake is still laughing, leaning forward over your shoulder so he can see his kids properly. “So you can imagine how embarrassed I was, after the pretty girl I had been trying to chat up completely ignores me and then nearly breaks my goddamn nose–”

You blink, startled. What?

Jake has teased you about your first meeting several times over the years, always delighting in the fact that you had been so awkwardly clumsy, but you had never actually heard him recount the full thing from start to finish before. You had certainly never heard it told like that before.

“You were flirting with me?” You blurt out. For a moment you’re worried that you had misinterpreted what he meant and that he might laugh at you, but no such thing happens.

Instead, Jake tips his head back and lets out a groaned little sigh. “Oh, come on. You didn’t even notice?”

Lo’ak looks delighted with this news, and nudges at Neteyam. “Dude! Dad has no game!”

Jake shoots Lo’ak an irritated sort of look, his pride clearly somewhat stung, but his youngest son doesn’t even seem to notice. Lo’ak seems to be too busy reveling in the fact that his father isn’t as smooth as he thought; in fact, he looks far too pleased about this little revelation.

“I have loads of game.” Jake argues, turning to the rest of his family as though seeking backup. Neytiri looks down, visibly hiding a smirk, and says nothing at all. “Your um’ma is just a difficult woman to impress.”

You’re still gawking at him, bewildered by the turn of the conversation. You’ve been friends with Jake for a long time, and he’s always been playfully flirty – that’s just his character. He makes cheeky jokes, he’s touchy, he calls you teasing nicknames, he gives you affectionate little kisses. That’s just Jake! He’s always been like this! And yet right now, he sounds as though he’s being serious about his flirting.

You look at Neytiri, still a little bewildered, but she has a wry sort of smile on her face as Jake defends himself. And that confuses you even more. Her hand is still on your thigh, her fingers stroking absently over the soft skin there. The caress is sure and unhurried; it’s a kind of patience possessed by predators who are sure of their prey. You’ve never experienced a touch like this from Neytiri before. Your skin is a little too tight, your breaths a little too shallow.

You feel like you’re losing your mind. It’s almost a relief when you’re interrupted, although you hardly even notice Ola’netu’s approaching figure until he’s stopped only a few feet from where you’re all sitting.

It’s Neytiri that notices him first, as evidenced by the way her hand tightens around your thigh, but you soon feel Jake tense beneath you as well.

“Olo’eyktan,” Ola’netu greets, his head dipping as he greets Jake with the traditional greeting gesture. “I see you.”

Jake’s hands flex at your hips, but he offers Ola’netu a stiffly polite smile all the same. Foregoing any greeting of his own, Jake simply says, “What can I do for you?”

Ola’netu straightens, and his big golden eyes land squarely on you. It’s unnerving to be on the receiving end of his sharp gaze, and you swallow nervously as your cheeks flare red. It’s… a surprisingly bold move on his part, approaching you like this when you’re having dinner with the Sully’s. Jake has always been a little overprotective of you, on account of you being so much smaller and more fragile, and right now his brow is drawing into a scowl that’s honestly intimidating.

“I wish to speak to tawtute.” Ola’netu says. Though his tone is perfectly polite, the fact that he’s not actually looking at Jake is clearly making your friend antsy; he shifts under you, adjusting you on his lap, and holds you tight.

The silence that follows is awkward. You had been so blown away by the exciting strangeness of having messed around with Jake, and then the way that Neytiri had been caressing you, that you had forgotten about Ola’netu entirely.

At your side, Lo’ak straightens up from where he had been slouching lazily. He’s got a little frown on his face, though he’s clearly a little confused, and he looks so much like Jake in that moment that it’s a little bewildering. He leans in a bit closer to you where you’re sitting on Jake’s lap, and all of a sudden it’s like you have two Sully guard dogs with their ears pricked up.

“Yeah,” You say, suddenly awkward. “Right, of course.”

It’s a bit of a struggle to get out of Jake’s lap. Not only do you have his hands holding onto your waist, but Neytiri is holding your thigh and Lo’ak keeps shuffling closer into your space. You actually have to practically worm your way out of their grip, before you stand in front of them all panting with the effort. You scowl a little at Jake, and he purses his lips in that way he does when he’s annoyed about something before he offers you a quick shrug.

Ola’netu leads you a couple of steps away from the family, before stopping just out of earshot and turning to you with a smile. He even bends down so that he’s at eye level with you. The village is bustling full of life, and the sounds of the People laughing and children squealing fill the air. Despite the hive of activity around you, you’re hyper aware of the stares of the entire Sully family burning into your back.

Ola’netu must notice the fact that the two of you are being watched closely, but he gives no indication of it. “I am pleased to see you here. Can I get you food?”

“Oh,” You get a little flustered at his offer, trying hard not to look over your shoulder at the Sullys. “Um… I’ve already eaten.”

Ola’netu glances over your shoulder, presumably looking at Jake, before his eyes fall back to your face. It’s a little difficult to read him; there’s a friendly little smile on his face, but there’s a small furrow in his brow that suggests he’s confused.

“Jakesully watches you closely.” He notes, his tone careful. “He is… always looking.”

“Oh, he’s a little protective.” You laugh nervously. “Don’t mind him.”

Ola’netu’s eyes linger on your face a moment. There’s a beat of silence as nostrils flare; you’ve seen Jake do this often enough to realise that he’s scenting you. It’s an embarrassing thought, made even worse when his brows furrow.

“Ah.” He says after a moment, his head tilting a little. He looks confused, as though he doesn’t quite know what to make of you. “He has scent-marked you. Neytiri too.”

Your hand flies up to hold your neck. “They what?”

Ola’netu hums, and reaches out to brush his fingers over the spot where Neytiri’s wrist had brushed earlier. Had that been an accident? Surely she would never have done such a thing on purpose.

He’s still watching your face closely. “I do not want to… misunderstand. You always smell of Jakesully but… they have not yet claimed you?”

You nearly do a double take. Claimed you? You don’t even know how to begin unpacking that. You wonder if there’s some sort of cultural nuance that you’re missing here. Your fluency in the Na’vi language is advanced, but even still you sometimes mistranslate or misunderstand things.

“Jake is my best friend.” You say with an awkward smile, hoping that answers his question.

You think of the way Jake had stuffed your pussy full with his fingers the night before, and the way Neytiri had been so subtly brushing her fingers over your tits earlier that evening, and you wonder how on earth to explain your relationship with them. Not even you fully understand it. They’re your friends, but even you have to admit that it often feels like… more than that. They feel like home in a way that the human outpost never has, and yet you have to admit that the dynamic feels a little different now.

“They look after me.” You continue stupidly. It’s the only way you can think of to explain.

Ola’netu looks thoughtful, but he nods slowly. “I see. But they have not…”

As Ola’netu trails off, his brow furrows in a contemplative frown. It seems as though he’s thinking about his next words very carefully.

You dart a quick glance over your shoulder. It’s not much of a surprise to find Jake and Neytiri watching you closely (just like they had the last time Ola’netu had approached you), but it is somewhat of a surprise to see that the kids are all watching you with hawk-like eyes as well. You offer them an awkward, close-mouthed smile to try and ease the tension. The only one who returns it is Tuk, who throws in a cute little wave as well.

Finally, Ola’netu seems to find his words. “They have not yet mated with you, have they? I cannot… I cannot tell from your scent. You smell like Jakesully… but you always smell of him.”

Your mouth flaps open and closed moronically. Oh god. The bold line of questioning leaves you completely flustered. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthright about things, and you’re certainly not prepared to admit that you had let Jake finger you until you were limp and drooling in his arms only the night before.

“I… I don’t- I mean, no, they haven’t mated with me.” You say when you finally gather yourself enough to answer. “They’re- they’re mated with each other!”

That makes Ola’netu crack a smile, as though amused by your reaction.

“It is not unusual for a mated pair to take on a third. Jake and Neytiri have not discussed this with you?” Ola’netu asks. When you shake your head, his big golden eyes dart over your shoulder towards where Jake and Neytiri are sitting behind you. “I had thought… they act as though…”

Ola’netu doesn’t finish that thought, though you wait for him to. The resulting silence is a little awkward, but then Ola’netu creeps forward a little. He doesn’t reach for you, though it looks as though he’s thinking about it.

You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, and scratch at your elbow. Now that you’re actually in front of Ola’netu, you feel incredibly awkward. You’ve been looking at the Na’vi in a rather hungry way for a while now, and yet now that you’re faced with a male who actually seems interested in you, all you can think about is the way Jake had touched you the night before.

It’s like the floodgates have opened inside your brain. You’ve been around Jake and Neytiri for years now, and yet now you feel shivery and bubbly with simmering arousal after experiencing their attention all evening. You wonder if there’s something wrong with you.

This is your best friend and his wife! You feel like a weirdo for thinking about them like that.

“You are interested in Na’vi?” Ola’netu’s tail lashes behind him as he watches you.

You swallow thickly. Oh, you feel totally out of your depth now. You can feel the eyes of the Sullys boring into you as you speak with Ola’netu; you’re just grateful they can’t hear what you’re saying, because you don’t think you’d be able to live the embarrassment down.

“Um… Yeah.” You say faintly.

Your brain decides unhelpfully to offer up memories of Jake’s big hands and pretty blue skin from the night before, and the ridiculous size of his dick. Jake may have only touched you like that so that you could experience being with a Na’vi for the first time, but you think he may also have unintentionally ruined you for anyone else. Your mind just keeps replaying the encounter in your head like it’s a damn slideshow.

“But… you do not accept Jakesully and Neytiri?” Ola’netu speaks slowly, as though approaching a sensitive topic.

All you can do is blink, wondering if you’re misunderstanding what he’s asking you. It sounds as though he thinks that you’re the one making the final decision here, as though you’re the one with the power. The thought is comical.

“I’m not sure I…” You trail off, bewildered. “What do you mean ‘accept’ them?”

“As mates. They seem to be waiting for your decision.” Ola’netu murmurs, his eyes darting back over your shoulder towards when Jake and Neytiri are no doubt still watching. “But you must be a difficult creature to impress.”

That’s so similar to what Jake had said earlier that you find yourself floundering. That couldn’t have been what Jake had meant though, surely? You feel as though you’ve been struck dumb – the connotations of what Ola’netu is suggesting is almost more than you can handle, and yet he keeps on talking before you can actually wrap your head around it.

“Perhaps it is that you are not ready to take on a mate?” Ola’netu says, his big golden eyes peering into your face. It seems as though he’s having difficulty assessing your thoughts thanks to your alien human features. “I, too, am not ready for a mate. But if it is exploring you are interested in–”

You’re hardly listening to a word he says. You think back rather frantically to every reaction you’ve had with Jake and Neytiri for the past several years. It’s true that you’ve always been close, probably closer than any other relationship you’ve ever had in your life.

You spend almost all of your time with them when you’re not at the human outpost, you sleep in their bed when you stay over with them, their children call you um’ma. And that’s not to mention the tactile nature of your relationship with Jake. But that’s how Jake has always been, even when he was human!

Okay… maybe you can see where Ola’netu’s coming from with his assumptions.

“Wait,” You choke out, interrupting whatever the hell Ola’netu had been saying. “Hang on, are you… are you saying that everyone thinks that I’m– that Jake and Neytiri are–” You can’t even figure out how to put your thoughts into words. You end up just standing there, gawping at Ola’netu like an idiot as your brain tries to sort all of this out.

Ola’netu frowns, tilting his head in honest confusion. “I had thought that you were mated for many years. But maybe they are just courting you?”

You positively goggle at him, struck dumb. You don’t think you could form a reply even if you wanted to.

It should be a ridiculous notion. Jake has been your friend for years! Sure, you might be closer than most friends, but that’s just how you two have always been. And Neytiri has become your friend too, treating you like family and even welcoming you into her and Jake’s bed whenever you happen to stay the night. If Ola’netu had told you this a week ago, you might have even laughed at his questions. But now, after your experimentation with Jake and all of his and Neytiri’s suggestive touches and comments today, you find yourself baffled.

You never get the chance to respond. Footsteps sound from behind you, and Ola’netu’s eyes flicker above your head as a warm body presses close to your back. You glance over your shoulder, expecting to see Jake – you’re surprised to find that it’s Neytiri who’s standing at your back, watching Ola’netu with sharp eyes.

“Come,” Neytiri murmurs to you, but her eyes remain fixed on Ola’netu. “You have not finished eating.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring up at her. You wonder if you’re losing your mind – Neytiri is so beautiful, her features sharp and bold and her golden eyes intense as she stares down Ola’netu. There’s an awkward silence, but then you start to nod.

“I’ll, um… see you later.” You say to Ola’netu, but your heart’s not in it. You’re distracted, sending uncertain glances up at Neytiri. Ola’netu nods and raises a hand to wave, but you’re already stepping after Neytiri as she leads you back towards the family with a large slender hand pressed between your shoulderblades.

Jake is sitting on the log where you left him, but he’s leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees as he watches you return with Neytiri. He’s frowning, his ears twitching; he looks strangely alert, although some of the stiffness in his shoulders eases as you and Neytiri join him again. The kids are all gathered nearby, and you can see them exchanging looks with each other in a little silent conversation.

You feel embarrassed that they all just witnessed you chatting with Ola’netu, but you try to shake it off. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, after all, and it’s not like they heard you.

“What was that all about, sweetheart?” Jake asks when you get close enough, already reaching out to try and pull you into his lap.

But for the first time, possibly ever, you resist. You pull your arm back, refusing to go, and Jake blinks at you in bewilderment. You feel sort of guilty, but your head is spinning so fast that you feel dizzy – you need space, and time to think and sort out all of these bizarre thoughts and revelations.

“I’m… I’m going to head to bed, I think.” You blurt, taking a step back.

Hurt flashes across Jake’s face, and he sits up straighter. In all your years of knowing each other, you’ve never pushed Jake away like this.

“You are not staying with us tonight?” Neytiri asks with a discontented frown. She sits down next to Jake on the log, and you think you see her nudge him hard in the side.

You shake your head, swallowing thickly. Normally, you’d be only too delighted to spend the night, but everything has happened so fast and you need time to think.

“No, I’ll just… I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You murmur, forcing a smile as you step back.

Your expression can’t be very convincing, because the kids exchange another look before turning to look at their parents. Lo’ak stands, looking between his parents before turning to look at you.

“I’ll walk you back, um’ma–” He starts to say, but he’s cut off when Neytiri grabs his shoulder and pulls him back down.

Jake stands instead, and rests his hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk you back.” He says, squeezing lightly.

You can’t bring yourself to refuse the offer — the forests of Pandora are deadly for a human alone, and you can’t afford to go without an escort. You bite your lip, before nodding jerkily. This is fine. Jake is just looking out for you as a friend, like he always is. You’re the one that’s acting weird! You need to pull yourself together.

The walk home is awkwardly silent. You’re lost in your thoughts, replaying every interaction you’ve had this evening and picking them apart obsessively in your head. Meanwhile, Jake ambles along at your side, matching your pace perfectly. He’s equally as quiet, but he keeps darting looks at you out of the corner of his eyes. Jake is many things, but he’s never been subtle.

By the time you reach the outpost, hardly a word has been shared between the two of you. Jake has started tapping his fingers against his thigh, and the frequency of his glances have increased yet again. He clears his throat, and finally speaks up.

“So, uh… did you enjoy dinner, honey?” He asks. The levity in his voice is rather forced, and it contrasts with the little frown creasing his forehead.

You hum, but you’re distracted. “Mm, sure. It was fine.”

Jake bites at his lip for a second, obviously thinking. His nose twitches, nostrils flaring. He leans a little closer, and you can see his pretty golden eyes dart to your neck.

“Did he touch you there?” Jaks asks. A scowl creases his brow as he reaches out to brush his fingers over your throat, right where Ola’netu had touched where Neytiri had scented.

You jerk back, and then it’s like the floodgates open. You’re unable to keep your thoughts to yourself any longer.

“What the fuck is going on, Jake?” You blurt, eyes wide and bewildered as you take a step back. “I don’t– I’m so confused. Last night was– but then today! You were so– and then Neytiri as well! I don’t understand, and then Ola’netu said– but I don’t get it–”

Jake’s expression drops, all pretence at cheerfulness abandoned. He takes a knee instantly to put himself down at your level, his eyes wide and a little panicked.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, sweetheart. What’s the problem? Deep breath.” He says, his voice low and soothing as he tries to shush you. He reaches out and puts his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs stroking delicately over your skin.

You push his hands away, still reeling. “Ola’netu thought we were mates. As in, you, Neytiri, and me.”

You wait for a moment, and allow that to sink in. You’re not entirely certain what you’re expecting his reaction to be; will he laugh at that ridiculous notion? Will he be horrified? Disgusted?

But instead, Jake’s face wobbles, as though he can’t hide his expression fast enough.

“He… and yet he was trying to put moves on you anyway?” He says, his nose scrunching in distaste as his fangs glint in the moonlight.

You gape at him. Jake misses the point so damn often it’s like he does it on purpose, but the fact that he doesn’t see that you’re being serious about this infuriates you.

“Jake!” You hiss, fists clenching at your side. “You’re not even listening–!”

“I’m listening, I’m listening–” Jake throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“You said that you’d help me– or, or that you’d help me experience Na’vi… um, bodies, and it was… it was really good, but– I thought that– I don’t know, I just– you said that you were going to guide me through it before I went messing around with other Na’vi–”

Jake’s ears have folded back against the side of his head, and he listens to you with a frown. “I didn’t think you’d actually want to mess around with other Na’vi after I took care of you–”

“Oh what, you think your dick is just that good?” You fold your arms across your chest immediately, scowling.

Jake pauses for a moment, and you see his mouth begin to twitch into a smile. Your temper flares, and you glare furiously at him.

“Don’t you dare.” You warn, already knowing that he has some smart remark planned.

Jake breathes a soft laugh, but then hastily wipes his expression clean when he catches sight of the glint in your eye. He sighs, and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. He looks a little ridiculous kneeling in the dirt and bending over so that he’s on your level, his expression open and conciliatory.

“Honey, I don’t understand what’s wrong–”

“Stop calling me honey!”

Jake gapes at you. You’ve never shouted at him like that; in all the years you’ve known each other, you’ve never gotten so mad at him that you’d yell, and you’ve never once told him to not call you by his cutesy nicknames. For the first time, Jake seems to actually realise that you’re in turmoil over here.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He says, and his voice has lost all trace of levity and humour. His expression is serious now, as though he’s dedicating his full attention to solving this problem.

You groan, reaching up to scrub at your face. You can barely even sort through your own thoughts in your head, you have no idea how to effectively go about communicating your feelings here. Throwing delicacy to the wind, you take a deep breath.

“I think I have a crush on you!” You yell close to hysterics. “And it’s ruining my life! I mean, fuck! I’m ruining everything just cause I can’t control myself–”

Jake’s ears twitch and his tail lashes wildly, as though he momentarily loses control of his extremities. His eyes go big and round, and you wonder if this is it – have you fucked everything up?

You had such a good thing going with the Sully family, and the thought of you ruining it just because you got flustered over Jake and Neytiri touching you in a way that was probably meant to be friendly anyway makes you feel ill.

“Baby, come on. We’re practically married anyway, a crush is a good thing.” Jake says, reaching out to take a hold of your elbows. He shuffles closer on his knees, his back bowing as he ducks down to look you in the face.

His expression is open and earnest, and there’s a faint trace of urgency in his eyes as he watches your reaction, and yet you find yourself rearing back and searching his face desperately for any hint of a lie.

“What do you–” You start to say uncertainly, but Jake keeps going before you can finish.

“The kids call you um’ma, you sleep in our bed, you do everything with us. You’re– I mean, we’re crazy for you. Can’t you see that?” Jake’s forehead is all creased up as he tries to keep your attention on him. “We’ve– we’ve been together for years–”

“What?” You blurt, bewildered. “We– no. We’ve been friends. You called me your best friend last night even when you had your goddamn face between my legs–”

“We always call each other that! It’s like… it’s like a bit or something–” He looks helplessly confused. “When you talked about Ola’netu I thought you were just curious, or that you just wanted to experiment or something–”

“Why would you not tell me!” You shriek, throwing your hands up in the air. You feel like an absolute madwoman, and Jake is regarding you like you’re something fragile about to shatter. “Oh my god– so, you and Neytiri have been married for years, and the whole time everyone has thought that I’m just some sad loser that follows the two of you everywhere–”

“No!” Jake says, and now he’s raising his voice too. “No, that’s not what I meant! I meant that you’ve been part of our family this whole time. You must have known that–”

Oh god, you’re getting overwhelmed. Confused and embarrassed tears begin pricking at your eyes, and Jake’s entire face drops when he realises that you’re about to cry.

“How would I have known that, Jake?!” You’re shouting loud enough that you’re certain the scientists inside the outpost can hear you, but mercifully no one comes to check what’s going on. “You’ve never said anything! The only time you’ve ever touched me in a way that suggests we’re more than friends is last night–!”

“It never occurred to me to say anything!” He’s clearly fighting not to raise his voice, trying to keep calm and composed. “I didn’t realise that you didn’t– baby, I have plenty of friends. How many of them spend the night in our bed, or sit on my lap? How many of them do I kiss–”

“I don’t know! You’re a friendly guy!” You yell back, painfully aware of how stupid you sound right now. “But– it doesn’t matter how touchy you were, you never actually did anything! And yet now you expect me to believe that you really wanted me all this time–”

“I didn’t think you were interested!” Jake bursts out. “You never talked about sex, not until last night! I’ve been hinting for years, I just thought that you weren’t into sex or intimacy that way– which is fine by the way, me and Neytiri never minded that, you know that we’d take you anyway we could have you–”

“I’m only human, Jake! I have– I have needs!” Your cheeks are absolutely burning, but you manage to hold eye contact with him. “I mean, you never said anything! So I’ve been sitting lonely in the human outpost while you and Neytiri have been having babies–”

“You–” Jake’s ears flick desperately, “You want a baby?”

“NO!” You yell, flustered and frustrated.

“What?” Jake breathes to himself so quietly that you nearly miss it. He shakes his head quickly, as though trying to clear his head. “Okay, okay, I screwed up, obviously. I should have been more upfront, I should have talked things through with you, I shouldn’t have just assumed we were all on the same page, I get that. But honey, you’ve always been a huge part of our family, we’ve been bringing you gifts of jewelry and clothes and food for years–”

Fuck, you feel so mixed up and confused. You run your hands frustratedly over your face, already shaking your head. Jake is getting steadily more frantic as he talks, clearly seeing that you’re beginning to withdraw.

He tries to take your hand but you step back, chewing at your lip.

“Stop. Jake, stop for a minute.” You groan, turning away from him so that you can breathe for a moment. Your breath rasps through your mask, and abruptly you feel incredibly claustrophobic.

You can’t wrap your head around any of this. Truthfully, you had been perfectly content with your life on Pandora up until a few weeks ago. Jake had satisfied your skin hunger with his caresses and cuddles, Neytiri had always made you feel welcomed around the village by providing you with pretty Omaticaya style clothes and jewelry, and you’ve always been so close to the children that you never craved any of your own. The fact that you had gone so long without any sexual intimacy is surely a testament to how happy you were with the way things were, and yet now you find your head spinning.

Does this mean that you could have had more this whole time? That all those months of craving sexual intimacy, of your growing interest in Na’vi biology, was entirely useless because you had two enormous sexy Na’vi who loved and cared for you very much just sitting right there the whole time thinking that you weren’t interested in sex? What the fuck?

“I can’t do this right now.” You whisper. You’re breathing heavily, as though all of your overthinking is taking an actual physical toll on you. “I have to– I can’t. I have to go.”

Jake’s expression drops entirely, and he pushes himself to stand, already reaching out after you. “Hang on, please. Look, kid, why don’t you just come back home, huh? We can talk things out properly, all three of us–”

You shake your head as you step backwards towards the outpost door. You probably should talk this out, but you just can’t right now. You need to get this mask off, and you need time to think to yourself about all of this and what it means for your relationships going forward.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.” You whisper.

You don’t let yourself listen to the way he calls your name as you escape into the outpost; you already know that if you see the look on his face, you’ll crumble.

The heavy door swings shut behind you, the hiss of the hydraulics drowning out the last of Jake’s pleas. You’re finally alone for the evening, but for a very long moment you can’t move at all. You just stay leaning against the heavy door as the oxygenation chamber begins to work, finally allowing you to tear your mask off and toss it to the floor.

You take deep, heavy breaths, before hiding your head in your hands. You can’t help but feel as though you’ve handled that rather poorly.

For the next several days, you don’t leave the outpost once. Ostensibly, you’re helping Norm with his research. In reality, you’re likely just getting underfoot and annoying all the other scientists that are actually trying to do work.

It’s cowardly and immature, but you just don’t think you can face Jake or Neytiri right now. You can’t stop thinking of the looks and whispers that the two of them had exchanged when you had talked about possibly being interested in Na’vi men and mating. You’re so damn embarrassed, and you feel like a total idiot.

And yet at the same time, you feel so prickly and irritated. After so many years of friendship, how ridiculous is it that they didn’t speak to you about this? Your irritation bleeds over into your mood as you sit around the base, and soon enough everyone else in the outpost starts to avoid you as best they can.

Three days may not seem like an extraordinarily long time to avoid your friends, but it’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing them in… well, possibly ever.

Jake knows you well enough to know that you need space to think things over, which probably accounts for the fact that he hasn’t yet shown up to bust your door down. But while Jake may be giving you space, no one seems to have given that memo to Lo’ak.

“Whatever dad did, I’m sure he’s sorry.” Lo’ak blurts on the afternoon of your third day of self-imposed exile.

The two of you are sprawled out on one of the couches in the meagre corner that Max has attempted to turn into a recreation area – the couch Lo’ak is laying across was originally designed for Avatar bodies, and he spends enough time in the outpost that he looks perfectly at home here with a CO2 respirator hanging around his neck for him to sip at the air.

You sigh, avoiding his eyes. You know you’re not meant to have favourites among the children, but you’ve always had a mushy little soft spot for Lo’ak. He’s always so hungry for recognition and validation, and yet he can be so damn sweet. It’s no surprise that he’s the one that’s skipping his duties in the clan just to hang out with you at the outpost because he’s worried about you.

“Your dad didn’t do anything, Lo’ak.” You murmur, though you’re still having a hard time looking at him.

Lo’ak’s brow puckers. “... Mom, then?”

“No!” You say quickly, before taking a deep breath and continuing in a calmer tone of voice. “No, it’s not– look, it’s just… sometimes, grown-ups just need some time apart to think, that’s all.”

Lo’ak is quiet for a moment. He’s staring down into his lap, his brow drawn together moodily as he fidgets with his thumbs. He’s obviously thinking hard, lost in his thoughts, though you couldn’t begin to guess what it is he’s thinking about.

Lo’ak is more like his mother than anyone gives him credit for; just like Neytiri, he does a poor job keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself for too long.

“Spider said that Norm told him about a human thing called divorce.” He bursts out, finally raising his head to look at you. For the first time, you see the glimmer of panic in his eyes. “Are you– you’re not doing that, right?”

You rear back, struggling to hide your shock from him. Oh god, now the guilt is starting to set in. In all your panic and embarrassment, you hadn’t really considered what the kids must have thought about all this.

Lo’ak’s ears are pressed flat against the side of his head and his tail is coiled tightly against his body, giving you an insight into how vulnerable he’s feeling right now.

“Oh, no, kiddo!” You blurt, sitting up on the couch and leaning over to place a hand on your shoulder. “It’s not… It’s not like that.”

Lo’ak’s eyes are suspiciously glassy, and he immediately shuffles over to hide his face in your shoulder. The hug is a little awkward; he’s not nearly as small as he used to be as a small child, but he’s still trying his best to curl his much larger body into your chest. It’s like cuddling a golden retriever that doesn’t realise how large it is.

“Mom and dad have been arguing since you left.” He mumbles into your shoulder. “Whatever they did to make you mad, they’re sorry about it.”

Your heart aches, and you close your eyes and sigh as you kiss his forehead. Damn, now you really feel like an asshole. You never expected this to impact Jake and Neytiri’s relationship at home, and to hear that they’re actually in conflict comes as a surprise to you. They’re usually a united front, so to hear that there’s cracks in that front because of you is somewhat jarring.

“... What are they arguing about?” You murmur, feeling a little guilty for prying.

Lo’ak shrugs, as though the way his parents think is utterly mystifying to his brain. “Mom thinks dad fucked up somehow, I dunno.”

He darts a quick look up at your face as though trying to check whether he’s going to get scolded for cursing, but you hardly notice. You’re too busy thinking. You can’t help but wonder exactly how Jake had recounted your little conversation to Neytiri, and you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of what she must have had to say about it. They probably both think you’re a total moron.

You sigh through your nose and pet Lo’ak’s braids absently. He seems happy to burrow close as you think, relaxing into your arms as though he’s not comically large for a fourteen year old.

Truthfully, you wonder if you’re overthinking this. Because if you’re being honest with yourself, the thought that Jake and Neytiri think of you romantically sends a thrill of excitement so pure running through you that it feels as though it’s going to knock you off your feet.

You’ve spent so long moping about being alone that you didn’t even realise that you have two big sexy Na’vi sitting there interested in you but thinking that you weren’t interested in sex? Fuck, how could you have misassessed the situation like that?

“Hey, um’ma?” Lo’ak mumbles, his voice all muffled by your shirt.

“Yeah?”

There’s a pause. Then Lo’ak says, “Ola’netu’s a loser.”

“Lo’ak!” You scold, swatting at his head.

“It’s true!” Lo’ak complains. Your light smack to his head is so inconsequential that he doesn’t even bother moving his head out of the way, choosing instead to shuffle even closer until he’s practically crushing you.

“It’s rude to call people losers.” You sigh.

Lo’ak just grumbles. “Not when they’re trying to steal one of your moms.”

“That’s not–” You start, before falling silent. Na’vi mating practices and culture still throws you for a loop sometimes, but to hear Lo’ak say that he considers you a mom leaves you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. You had known he viewed you as some kind of role model figure based on how he used to follow along behind your ankles as a young child, but to hear him come out and say it is something entirely different.

“Aw.” You whisper, unable to help it as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tight. “You’re so sweet, aren’tcha?”

Despite the fact that Lo’ak was literally just burrowing his way into your side, he starts rolling his eyes and leaning away. “Um’ma, quit it!”

You’re still laughing when you hear the sound of a door opening somewhere behind you, and you don’t even bother looking around. It’s Lo’ak who looks over your shoulder instead, and his face goes slack in surprise as his mouth drops open.

“Mom!” Lo’ak says, pushing himself up onto his knees on the couch so he can stare wide-eyed behind you.

You whip around at that, and feel your heart actually skip a beat at the sight of Neytiri picking her way through the narrow walkway of the outpost. You’re certain that your own expression matches Lo’ak’s surprised bewilderment perfectly.

Neytiri has never visited the human outpost before; she mostly tolerates the presence of the humans living beyond the boundary of the Omaticaya village, and is understandably wary of most of them. The sight of her walking towards you as she fiddles with the respirator around her neck is surreal.

Your stomach trembles at the sight of her. You’re not sure you’re ready to have this conversation with her, but you already know there’s no escape. If there’s anyone that can match Jake in pure hard-headed stubbornness, it’s Neytiri.

“Lo’ak,” Neytiri murmurs as she approaches. “Go home. Your father wants you to go foraging with Kiri.”

Lo’ak groans loudly, and Neytiri shoots him a look so sharp that it practically cuts. He gets the message almost immediately, and obviously decides it’s in his best interest not to argue any further. He stands up off the couch and skulks off, though he glances over his shoulder at you before he rounds the corner.

“See you at dinner, um’ma?” He calls, his eyes gone soft and hopeful.

You hesitate, glancing nervously at Neytiri. “Uh… I’m not sure.” You say non-committedly, smiling weakly.

Lo’ak frowns, stopping dead-still as his ears pin back. “Um’ma, please.”

Ah fuck, you never could deny that kid anything. You sigh, reaching up to rub at the space between your eyes. “Right. Yeah, okay. See you later, Lo’ak.”

As soon as Lo’ak disappears around the corner, Neytiri steps towards you. Flustered, you stand up to meet her as she stops just short of the couch. She’s watching you closely, her honey-coloured eyes tracking over every inch of you.

You’re so thrown by the fact that she’s actually here, in front of you, in the human outpost, that you barely even know what to say to her.

“Um… hey.” You say stupidly.

Thankfully, Neytiri decides to ignore your weak little greeting.

“I wish to talk, tawtute.” Her voice is soft, as though she’s trying not to scare you away.

Right. Of course she does. Your eyes dart around the little rec area, all shifty. Towards the back of the open space of the outpost, you can see some of the scientists sending you curious looks. You can’t really blame them; while the Sully kids are regular visitors around here, the sight of Neytiri must be rather startling.

“We can talk in my room.” You mutter, stepping back and hurriedly leading the way towards privacy.

Neytiri follows along silently, though her attention is mostly taken up with looking around the building curiously. You usher her into your room quickly, your heart rate already picking up nervously.

It’s more than a little unnerving to watch Neytiri’s tall, willowy figure stepping into your cramped, windowless room. She looks so out of place amongst the clutter of your stuff, and yet she steps forward and sinks down to perch herself on the edge of your bed as though she belongs there.

You barely manage to stifle a squeak at the sight of her sitting right where Jake had sat only a few nights earlier, right before he had fingered you within an inch of your life. She’s watching you as though she knows what you’re thinking, and you feel your face grow warm under her regard.

“Jake said that you needed space,” She murmurs, breaking the expectant silence that had settled over the two of you. “And I trust him with many things. But he has already made a mess of this, hasn’t he?”

You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your fingers. You can’t help but feel guilty; it was you that had made a mess of this by hiding yourself away like this and refusing to face them after your obvious misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry.” You say stiffly. “I didn’t mean to… well. I just needed time to think.”

Neytiri hums, though she doesn’t appear too convinced. “Jake tells me that you did not realise how we valued you as a mate.”

She says it as though she thinks it’s ridiculous, which certainly doesn’t help things. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she watches you. Her delicate little chest covering sways forward, and it takes everything in you not to stare at her tits.

“Why would you wish to mate with someone you cannot connect with?” You ask, your voice quiet.

It’s probably not fair to throw Neytiri’s own words back at her from the conversation you had had about Ola’netu on the first night of mating season, but you get a twisted sense of satisfaction from the way her expression cracks into surprise. She looks taken aback, her ears flattening.

“That was not what I meant.” She protests, her brow creasing into a frown.

“You were asking me to find “release” with the other humans!” You burst out. It might not be fair to get frustrated at her like this, but all of these thoughts have been brewing since your little argument with Jake and you finally get the chance to express them.

Neytiri’s tail lashes, revealing her own restlessness.

“You never approached us for…” She trails off, then takes a breath. “I assumed that you were seeking pleasure from your kind. It is like I said; sex is a way for bonding in mated pairs as well as outside of them.”

You blink at her, bewildered. You had thought that she was just making a sweeping statement about Na’vi sexuality. It hadn’t occurred to you that she had been telling you this because she was including you in the mated subsection of the population.

“Jake thought that you were not interested in sexual intimacy at all, because you never mentioned anything to him.” Neytiri says. “But I had thought that you just preferred intimacy with your own kind. And that would be fine, tawtute. There is much diversity among Na’vi mating bonds, and there is almost no mating bonds between Na’vi and Sky People. We are learning as we go.”

She’s doing the same thing that Jake had done; keeping her voice carefully low as though trying not to upset you. You’re a little torn; you can’t decide whether it’s sweet or aggravating that they treat you like you’re something delicate that needs to be protected. You decide to settle on aggravated, even as she keeps talking.

“There are other forms of intimacy; sitting in laps, grooming, cooking for each other, sleeping in shared spaces, spending quality time together. We do all of this, syulang.”

“If you aren’t interested in having sex with me, just say that.” You say, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. You know that you sound like a little brat right now, but you can’t help it. “You don’t have to come up with all these different excuses.”

Neytiri’s eyes widen, her hairless brows raising.

“We did not think we were–” Neytiri struggles for a moment to find the right word. “Compatible. Sexually. We are too big, tawtute, we could have hurt you.”

“But you never even tried.” You say stubbornly, a frown creeping onto your face. “Jake wasn’t too big when he fingered me the other night.”

You might be stretching the truth a little there, because Jake has fat-ass fingers that had stretched you until you had been an actual sobbing mess, but you’re trying to make a point here.

Neytiri reaches up and presses her fingers against her mouth, and it takes you a moment to realise that she’s trying hard not to laugh.

“If you wanted to be touched, all you had to do was ask.” She murmurs, before reaching her other hand out towards you.

You hesitate for a moment. You’re not sure if you’re ready to let go of your annoyance so easily, but you step towards Neytiri all the same. Her tail is twitching, a clear sign of her anticipation. As soon as you get within arm’s reach, she takes you by the arms and pulls you right up into her lap.

You squeak, flustered at the sudden movement. It’s not like it’s strange for you to be hauled into a Na’vi’s lap, but it’s never been Neytiri’s lap before. You grab onto her shoulders without thinking to try and steady yourself, and out of the corner of your eye you see a pleased smile playing about her lips.

“What did you think of Jake?” She asks, her voice low. Her long, slender hands wrap around your hips to keep you in place across her thighs.

“Um…” Your brain has stalled a bit, completely distracted by the way your own thighs are spread wide so that you’re straddling her hips.

Neytiri’s tiny little smile is knowing, as if she knows that your cunt is growing wet and hot just from the feeling of your thighs being stretched wide over hers. Even more distracting is the way her long fingers are tracing over the exposed skin of your thighs where your dress has ridden up over your hips.

“You wanted to experience Na’vi bodies, hm?” She murmurs, her fingers pushing higher as she traces little circles over your hips. “What did you think of Jake’s?”

“It was– he was… great.” You sound like an absolute idiot, and you feel like one as well. It’s like your brain is actually grinding to a halt, as though every ounce of your awareness is narrowing down to the points of contact between you and Neytiri.

Neytiri hums, her eyes dropping down over your own body and lingering. She’s clearly curious about your cotton dress – you almost exclusively wear your Omaticayan style beaded top and loincloth when you’re in the village, and Neytiri hasn’t actually seen you wearing your own human clothes in years. She tugs at the back of it with a tiny frown.

“Good.” She murmurs, her fingers tangling in the soft fabric of your dress. “But just as you were unfamiliar with Na’vi bodies, I have never experienced the body of a Sky Person.”

You take a sharp breath. You’ve clearly been painfully oblivious of any signals that Jake and Neytiri may have been sending you over the years, and you’re not prepared to miss out on anything else just because you’re not willing to take a risk.

“D’you want to?” You ask in a whisper. It comes out more breathless that you had intended, your excitement causing your lungs to squeeze tight.

Neytiri’s smile widens, the delicate skin around her eyes creasing right before she leans in and presses a full-mouthed kiss to your mouth.

It’s messier and more heated than you had expected from her, and you moan without meaning to when her sharp canines tug at your lower lip. Neytiri kisses like she's got something to prove — her mouth is firm and unyielding against yours, and her teeth nip lightly at your lips in a way that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

As you gasp into her mouth, her hands grip at your waist and haul you closer to her until your chests are pressed tight together, your thighs spread wide around her hips as she pulls you tight to her.

You whimper against her, unable to help yourself, and then to your immense disappointment she pulls back. Her mouth is wet and swollen, but she looks so pretty when she grins at you. When she tugs at your dress again, you pick up on her unspoken request and immediately begin tugging your dress over your head.

You’re left in just your bra and panties, but you’re not given a moment to feel self-conscious. Neytiri’s big golden eyes are taking you in hungrily, but despite that hunger there’s also a gleam of curiosity in her eyes. When you unclasp your bra and let it fall to the side, her eyes land on your breasts as though you’ve just unwrapped a gift for her.

She reaches for your tits immediately, and her big hands practically swallow them whole. You’re reminded of the way she had brushed her hands against your tits when she had fixed your top in a way that was almost casual, but in hindsight was unmistakably erotic.

“Ah,” Neytiri murmurs, sounding almost surprised as her hands close around your tits. “They are softer than I expected.”

“Are they?” You breathe a little dazedly.

She hums, and you bite back another squeak when she reaches up and pulls off her pretty chest covering. You’ve seen Neytiri’s breasts before, of course; the Na’vi are not modest about their bodies, and those beaded tops the women wear are mostly just for accessory.

But seeing is different to touching, and your breath catches when she takes your wrist and guides your hand to one of her tits.

Neytiri’s breasts are small, in proportion to the rest of her tall svelte body, but they’re firmer than you had expected. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, you suppose – the muscle structure of the Na’vi is insane, and there’s almost zero softness to them. Neytiri’s breasts are probably the most pliable part of her whole body, but even still the flesh doesn’t yield as much as you might have expected. You can certainly understand why Neytiri is so fascinated by the cushiony softness of your own chest.

Neytiri lets out a small, pleased sound when your thumb rolls over her nipple, and she lifts her CO2 respirator to take a quick sip of air before dropping it and clasping your jaw with one hand. She pulls you into another kiss, and you sigh happily as her tongue slides against yours. The size difference means that the kiss is a little awkward, but her enthusiasm makes up for that.

It feels like the world is spinning, and you let out a soft noise of surprise when her teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but the sensation has you shivering in her lap. You almost whine when she breaks away from you, but she just starts to trail kisses down your neck and across your chest.

“Oh, fuck.” You breathe, your whole body jolting when she bites at the curve of your breast. It stings, and you look down at yourself to find a reddened bite mark at the top of your tit, right where it starts to swell.

“So soft and pretty, syulang.” Neytiri mumbles, sucking a bruise on the top of your other tit.

She’s the oddest mix of rough and gentle with you; she’s obviously very conscious of how much bigger and stronger she is, because she’s holding you like you’re made of glass. But even as she strokes her thumbs over your hipbones, her hot, hungry mouth nips and kisses at your sensitive skin and leaves purpling bruises behind.

When her mouth actually closes around your nipple, you let out an absolutely mortifying sound of confusion mixed with arousal. She can fit so much of your breast in her mouth that when she actually suckles on it, your eyes practically roll back at the stimulation.

“God,” You whimper, your hips twitching against her lap. The lace of your panties drags over the soft buttery fabric of her loincloth, and the friction against your clit leaves you shivery. “Neytiri, will you please– can you–?”

Neytiri hums, reluctantly releasing your tit from the wet heat of her mouth. You shiver as the cool air of the room hits the spit-slick skin of your breasts, but Neytiri quickly places her hand over the spot she had been sucking, warming your skin as she squeezes lightly.

“So eager, tawtute.” She coos, smiling at you like she thinks that you’re just adorable. She reaches her much larger hand into your panties, her long slender fingers sliding through the slick folds of your pussy with ease.

You groan like you’ve just been punched, and drop your head down against her shoulder. Her thumb rolls over your clit and your hips jump, grinding in her lap. She chuckles at your reaction, and watches your face closely as she presses one of her fingers inside of you. While a single one of her fingers is much larger than yours, it’s still smaller than Jake’s and you find yourself wanting more.

“Another one.” You beg, already humping your hips into her hand.

Neytiri laughs softly, but does as you ask all the same. The second finger is a definite stretch, but you’re so aroused already that it only stings for a moment before your body adjusts, squeezing tight around her.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” She whispers, ducking her face back down to your chest even as she fingers you.

Oh god, she’s bitey. The wet heat of her mouth leaves trails of stinging bruises across your tender chest and shoulders, which she then soothes over with her large, catlike tongue. There’s going to be no covering the marks she’s leaving behind, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You’d likely let her do anything to you right now; you feel overheated and shivery, and you can’t stop your chest from heaving as you rut your hips into her fingers, moaning as the heel of her hand grinds into your clit. Her hand is much too big to fit properly in your panties, but you’re far past the point of caring if she stretches the fabric out.

The only thing that could actually bring you out of the sweaty, horny haze you’ve found yourself in is the sound of your bedroom door opening, and you freeze in Neytiri’s lap with your breathing embarrassingly loud in the silence.

For a wildly horrifying moment, you think that Lo’ak had returned for something, and you think about just dropping dead on the spot.

But then you look reluctantly over your shoulder, and you see Jake’s big body standing hunched in your doorway, and you want to drop dead for an entirely different reason.

Jake is looking between you and Neytiri with wide golden eyes, his eyebrows raised so high that his whole forehead is creased. His stare lingers on your bare chest, then on Neytiri’s, and then drops down to where Neytiri’s hand is stuffed down the front of your panties.

“Oh shit.” Jake breathes once he manages to get over his surprise. His expression brightens and he hastily shuts the door behind himself, shuffling quickly over to your bed to join you and Neytiri.

The little room you had claimed as a bedroom is far from large, but it feels even smaller now that you have both Jake and Neytiri’s nine-feet-tall big ass bodies joining you on your miserable, rickety little bed.

“I guess that your little chat went well, huh?” Jake murmurs, a shit-eating grin on his face as he settles next to Neytiri, leaning in close so that his hungry eyes can rove over your almost naked body.

Neytiri hums, though she hardly even looks up at her husband. She’s too busy nuzzling little kisses into your throat, pulling helpless little gasps out of your mouth every time her lips close over your sensitive skin. Her hand doesn’t stop moving either, and you feel like you’re going weak in her lap every time the thick pad of her thumb rolls over the little bead of your clit.

“You handled things badly, ma Jake. I told you I would sort it.” She says, and you can feel her lips curving into a smile against your throat.

Jake just snickers, and you can feel the warm weight of his palm land on your back. He strokes over the bare length of your spine, and then you feel his fingers tug playfully at the back of your panties. He purposefully tugs the lace fabric so that it’s wedged uncomfortably between your asscheeks, and you let out a soft yowl of complaint before half-turning and slapping at his hands.

“Ah fuck, you’re wearing your sexy panties, huh?” Jake’s laugh is a little hoarse as he tugs at your underwear.

Neytiri hisses at him in aggravation when his messing about leads to her hand being forced out of your panties, but Jake just grins. The two of them are so fucking big, they’re practically looming over you right now. Even perched in Neytiri’s lap, you feel tiny in between them.

“The fabric means something?” Neytiri asks, her attention now caught on your red lacy panties.

“Oh yeah.” Jake mutters, his chest pressing up against your bare back, which consequently pushes your breasts against Neytiri’s. “Why don’t you tell her what your panties mean, honey?”

“Jake.” You complain, though it comes out more whiny than you had intended.

He just ignores you, his chest rumbling quietly in amusement against your back as he leans down to murmur in your ear. “Means she was hoping someone’d take her clothes off to get a peek at her, isn’t that right?”

You don’t get the chance to respond, because Jake wraps an arm around your middle and plucks you right out of Neytiri’s lap. You end up sprawled in his lap with your thighs spread wide over his, your back plastered against his chest. One of his hands rests against your belly to keep you pinned against him, keeping you firmly in place against him.

You half expect Neytiri to be irritated over being interrupted, but if anything she’s brightened even further. There’s a gleam in her eyes as she pushes herself off the bed, landing on her knees in between Jake’s spread thighs.

You feel ridiculously exposed like this; it’s almost as if Jake has maneuvered you into this position with the express purpose of showing your body off. Your thighs bracket his, and when he spreads his legs yours are forced wider too, giving Neytiri an eyeful of your scarlet red panties and the absolutely humiliating wet spot that’s currently soaking through the crotch.

Your back is arched too thanks to the way that he’s holding you tight against him, which forces your tits out and gives him a good eyeful of the nips and bruises that Neytiri’s greedy mouth had left behind.

“Damn, you did a number on her, didn’t’ya?” Jake’s big fingers trace over the tender marks across your breasts, and you swear it feels like the contact sends a little zap of electricity racing through you.

Neytiri just giggles, her cheeks dimpling as she smiles up at you and Jake from between your spread thighs. The close proximity of her face to your pussy almost takes your breath away, and your breath catches in your chest when she rubs her big thumb over the wet patch on the fabric of your panties.

Some part of you wonders if you should try to slow things down, to talk things out, but then Neytiri hooks her long fingers in the band of your panties and tugs them clumsily down your thighs and all sensible thought completely abandons you.

You let out a soft, wanting sound when Jake’s fingers run through the slickness of your pussy, spreading you wide so that Neytiri can get a proper look at you. She even leans closer, and the heat of her breath against your oversensitive, damp skin has you twitching.

“What do you think, baby?” Jake asks Neytiri, leaning over your head and looking down at her with a grin. His fingers roll a teasing circle over your clit, and you groan as your head falls backwards to rest against his chest.

“She is so small.” Neytiri coos, her own big fingers joining Jake’s in stroking over you.

All you can do is lay there in Jake’s lap, with your eyes wide and your chest heaving as their big fingers press into you, stretch you wide, and rub at your clit. It’s like they’re trying to outdo each other, trying to unravel you with their fingers alone. Their hands are so big that the combination of their touches feels overwhelming, as though the heat of their fingers is stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

God, you love how they make you feel so small and delicate. Getting manhandled and pinned down during sex is exciting normally anyway, but with two Na’vi twice your size that excitement turns into an outright thrill.

Neytiri kisses the inside of your thigh. It’s such a sweet little motion, her plush lips dragging gently over the thin sensitive skin of your inner thighs. It’s not much of a surprise when her lips add a little suction, a little nip of her canines, just so she can suck another little lovebite at the juncture of your hips and thighs.

“So pretty, syulang.” She whispers, but her voice is muffled as she trails kisses tantalisingly close to where you want her mouth.

“Neytiri,” You whimper. You try to squirm, but Jake keeps you still. “Please-!”

Jake chuckles, his chest rumbling pleasantly against your back. “C’mon, Neytiri, baby, help me get her ready.”

“She’s so wet already.” Neytiri murmurs, her cheeks dimpling so prettily as she leans in and finally lays her mouth on you.

The wet heat of her mouth has your head tilting back onto Jake’s shoulder with a moan, earning a quiet laugh from Jake as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. His big hands keep your thighs spread, and you end up with your legs spread wide and thrown over Neytiri’s shoulders as she latches onto your clit and sucks.

“Fuck!” You yell, your hips jerking. But Jake keeps your hips pinned down so that your ass is pressing against the hardened bulge in his loincloth, his arms wrapped around your belly as he watches Neytiri eat you out from over your shoulder.

“She tastes good, doesn’t she, baby?” Jake croons to her, snickering when Neytiri moans out a garbled response, all muffled into your cunt.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can see the excited smile that’s tugging at Jake’s lips as he hooks his chin over your shoulder to get a better look at Neytiri hungrily licking you out. Judging by the stiffening of his cock pressed against your ass, he is more than enjoying the view.

Na’vi tongues are so oddly textured, like a cat-tongue almost, and Neytiri’s licks against you are rougher than they would be with a human partner. It also means that when her wide, rough tongue rasps over your clit, sparks practically burst behind your eyes as you cry out.

“That’s it, honey. Just relax.” Jake whispers to you, his wide palm cupping your tits and squeezing a little.

Neytiri’s tongue slides down the lips of your pussy until she reaches your slit, and then her tongue is wiggling inside of you and you’re turning your head to the side and whining into the pretty blue skin of Jake’s neck. He just hums, obviously enjoying the sight of his wife tongue-fucking you as you’re held spread open in his lap.

Jake’s cock is pressing into the dip at the small of your back, scalding hot and hard as a goddamn rock, and you alternate between rocking against the length of his hard dick and back into Neytiri’s greedy mouth. She mouths along your pussy, her teeth grazing and scratching at the sensitive skin just right.

You let out an overwhelmed sort of sob, the air catching in your chest as you heave for breath, and you can feel Neytiri smile against the soft flesh of your pussy. Neytiri’s tongue traces your folds, pulling them into his mouth and suckling. You arch your back and moan into Jake’s neck, though your own little sounds of pleasure are mostly drowned out by the soft, breathy moans she keeps making into your pussy everytime she licks into you.

The two of them are caging you in with their big bodies, holding you so gently even as they push you close to the edge. The sweet, hot tension in your lower belly coils tighter and tighter until you’re a trembling wreck, ready to shatter apart.

“Oh… oh god.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut tight as your head rests back against Jake’s chest. He just chuckles, and smooths some of your sweaty hair back off your forehead.

“Gonna come, honey?” He whispers, his voice all coy and teasing in your ear. “Oh shit, you crying?”

You are tearing up, just a little bit, from all the sheer stimulation of Neytiri’s mouth on your pussy and Jake’s enormous hands groping at your tits. You still manage to smack Jake’s bicep for that comment though, a weak little slap to his hard muscle.

“Shit, I’m… I’m gonna–” You start to say, your eyelids fluttering shut in anticipation as that beautiful, toe-curling tension starts to coil sweetly in your lower belly.

But right as you’re about to tip over that precipice into bliss, Neytiri pulls away and you nearly start crying for real.

“No! Wait, don’t stop–” You whine, your hips humping into the air in an attempt to follow after Neytiri’s mouth.

“Shhh, mawey, syulang. Calm.” Neytiri purrs, another little kiss placed on your soft inner thigh. “So perfect, yawntu.”

The pupils of her eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them, and she keeps leaning her cheek against the plush flesh of your thigh. She looks drunk almost, even as she keeps kissing all along your thighs and up over your tummy, before returning to your cunt just to give you slow, kittenish licks right over the bead of your clit.

Your entire body jerks with every kiss. Her tongue is hot and wet as she licks at you, and it feels like liquid fire erupts through your nerves. Your hips twitch and chase after her touch, but Jake keeps you in place with his firm grasp on your thighs.

You’re desperate, frantic for any kind of release. This feels as though it’s been building for years, as though your body has just been waiting for them to touch you like this. God, it feels good. They’re so much bigger than you that any wrong move could end up with them actually crushing you between them, and yet they’re so sweet and careful. You feel as safe with them as ever.

As if he senses your impatience, Jake kisses the spot just under your ear. “You want more, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You hiss, already squirming in his lap. Your ass rubs against his dick and he groans, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you back onto him so that he can grind against you.

“What d’you think, huh?” Jake’s voice is rough and gravelly as he speaks to Neytiri, his arousal obvious. “Is our little lady ready for it?”

“She is so small, ma Jake. It will be a tight fit.” Neytiri murmurs, her voice all muffled as her fingers dip back inside you. You roll your hips against her fingers, whimpering a little at the mouth-watering stretch as she pushes a third long finger inside.

“She’ll take it,” Jake murmurs, his flat nose pressing into your temple. “Won’t you, beautiful?”

One Na’vi finger is probably the equivalent of two of yours, so the stretch is enough to send your head spinning. You barely even comprehend what he’s saying to you, but you nod blindly anyway, gasping wetly as Neytiri fingers you.

“Uh huh, yeah, please.” You say stupidly, wiggling on his lap.

Jake lifts you a little higher, holding you close to his chest as Neytiri pulls his loincloth off. And fuck, you had almost forgotten how big his dick was. He’s so hard, the delicate little glowing white freckles along the length of it twinkling like little stars, just like the ones splashed across Neytiri’s tits.

“Hush, honey, we’re gonna look after you.” Jake soothes you, kissing your temple. “Gonna be so good to you. Fuck, been waiting so long for this.”

Jake grunts a quiet moan when Neytiri’s hand closes around his cock, and he muffles his appreciative noises in the curve of your shoulder. Neytiri presses a playful kiss to the tip of his dick, earning another groan from Jake, before she looks up at you again.

“You are okay, syulang?” She whispers, setting one heavy hand on your waist and stroking her long thumb over your stomach.

You’ve never been so eager for anything in your life. It’s like your body remembers the feeling of Jake’s fingers and the weight of his cock on your tongue, because it feels like every nerve is aflame as you wait for him to press into you and stretch you wide. You’ve been thinking about this since that night, lying alone in your quarters and stuffing yourself full with your fingers trying to imagine it was his dick. No matter what though, it never feels like enough.

You nod, and lean forward in Jake’s lap to try and kiss Neytiri again. You’re a little shy about it, still a little thrilled that you’re allowed to do this, and she ends up sitting up on her knees and placing her hand on the back of your head to pull you into a sweet, lingering kiss.

As she kisses you, the thick head of Jake’s dick drags through your folds and you shiver in anticipation. Even just the tip of it feels big when he’s grinding it against your clit, and you wrap your arms around Neytiri’s shoulders for stability as Jake positions himself at your entrance.

“Fuck,” The groan is punched out of you when you feel the insistent pressure of Jake’s cock pressing into you. “Jake… Your dick is too big, it won’t fit–”

“You think I gotta big dick, sweetheart?” Jake laughs, cause he’s an asshole like that. His teeth flash in a grin.

“You’re such a dickhead.” You complain, but you find yourself laughing breathlessly anyway.

His intention was to make you relax a little, and it works. Jake and Neytiri’s big fingers have been stretching you out, and you’re so horny and eager right now that it’s now or never.

Jake just snickers, and reaches over to your bedside locker. He opens it up and reaches inside, and pulls out the tiny plastic bottle of lube you have hidden away in there. You can't even think about how he knows it’s there because Neytiri keeps kissing you stupid, and you don’t have any brain power to spare.

Neytiri trails kisses down your neck and chest, pausing at your breasts again. She takes a hasty, shaky breath from the CO2 respirator around her neck, before dropping it and leaning forward to wrap her lips around your nipple again while massaging your other breast with her free hand. Her gentle but eager touches feel genuinely addictive, like she’s leaving trails of pure heat along your oversensitive skin with every brush of her lips.

Jake’s cock, slick with lube, presses up into your cunt, and you let out a garbled whimper at the feeling of intense dull pressure. “Oh, fuck.”

You jolt when Neytiri lets your tit go with a soft, wet little pop. She coos softly at you, cupping your cheek with her hand and brushing her thumb over your cheekbone. Her eyes are so big and golden and pretty, and she’s looking up at you with an awed sort of smile, as though she can hardly believe she’s seeing you like this right now.

Jake begins to press into you, stretching you wide and slipping inside inch by inch.

You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open. Your hips twitch, unsure whether to press back into him to get him deeper inside of you faster or to jerk away from the intense stretch, but his hands are clamped tight around your hips to restrict your movement.

“Fuck, so tight.” Jake grunts, pausing. “Strangling my cock. Shhh… your pussy was made for this, honey. You’ll stretch.””

The noise you make barely sounds human, an incomprehensible mix between a moan and a squeal as Neytiri steadies you, her big hands settling on your waist. She’s staring between your legs, obviously transfixed by the sight of Jake rocking his cock into you in steady increments. Though you can’t see yourself, you can only imagine that it must be quite the sight.

“Just– put it in all at once!” You burst out, gasping as you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel as though you’re about to get totally overwhelmed, the breath driven right out of you as the shocking girth of him stretches you wide.

“Easy, baby girl.” He rumbles into your ear, breath coming in short puffs. He bites at the junction between your neck and shoulder as he slides another inch deeper inside of you. “You’re doing so good.”

You try to calm yourself, taking your deep breaths, but for a heartbeat or two you can’t breathe at all, hovering on a knife's edge of pain and pleasure as your body could only yield – it doesn’t even feel like there’s room in you even to inhale –

“Be gentle, Jake.” Neytiri murmurs, her thumb landing on your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles against it to soothe you.

“I know, I know, I got her.” Jake grunts.

Each ridge on his cock rubs against your inner walls, the slick, throbbing friction never flagging. His rough hands wander erratically, raking up your rib cage, over one breast and down again, grasping as if a handful of you is not enough as he moves his hips in slow humps to get his cock as deep in you as he can manage.

“Fuck!” You moan throatily, dropping your head to hang low as you rock your hips experimentally back on his dick. “Jake, you gotta… gotta move.”

It doesn’t all fit inside of you, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind – he’s grunting out quiet curses, his voice rough and deep as his cock rocks into the tightness of your cunt. The stretch is achy, but the weight and girth of his cock rubs against every goddamn nerve you have. Even though it feels as though he’s splitting you in two, you still find your hips rocking insistently against him, mewling at the sensation.

“Oh honey, you been practicing?” Jake grunts, his sharp canines dragging along the side of your throat. “Goddamn, look at you. Sucking me right into you, aren’tcha? Look, baby, you seeing this?”

“I see.” Neytiri hums, still playing with your clit. She shoots you another smile, before leaning in and kissing at your tits again. “So soft, syulang. So lovely. Doing so well, yawne.”

“Fuck,” Jake groans as he watches his wife touch your tits and marvel at how soft they are. “That’s hot.”

“Go faster.” You whine, tilting your head back to rest against Jake’s shoulder. “Fuck me properly, I can take it, I promise–”

Jake chokes out a laugh, and pulls your back tight against his stomach as his dick grinds deep inside of you, stealing your breath and promptly shutting you up. The moan that’s torn from you is absolutely filthy, your cunt fluttering around him as you fight to take him in, every nerve firing as Neytiri suckles at your breasts.

“Shhh, just take what I give you, gorgeous. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my cock off. So fucking tight, mama, goddamn–”

You try to lift yourself up, determined to ride him, to take some kind of control over the pace, but Jake holds your hips tight to keep you exactly where he wants you.

It’s so frustrating, because you’re so desperate for more. You know you can take it, you’ve been fucking your fingers just imagining this for days now, gradually stretching yourself out, and Neytiri has already ensured that you’re good and ready for this. You feel like you’re going to lose your mind if Jake doesn’t just fuck you properly already.

Neytiri’s tongue rolls around your nipple, pulling a soft whine out of your throat, before she releases your titty and kisses her way up your neck, pausing by your ear.

“He can be mean, can’t he, pretty girl?” Neytiri whispers in your ear, her voice all teasing and playful. “You musn’t let him tease you. Take what you want. Do you want me to show you how?”

You nod, your mouth dropped open as you pant, your stomach fluttering in excitement.

Neytiri gives you a sharp, hungry smile, before pushing herself to her feet once more. You crane your head back to watch her, your breathing picking up. You must have missed her taking off her loincloth, but now she’s entirely naked in front of you. Your eyes trace over her small but firm breasts, her toned belly, the impressive musculature of her legs, the pretty curve of her pussy. The beautiful bioluminescent freckles all over her jewel-blue body twinkle in the dim artificial light of your quarters, and your mouth goes dry as you’re seized with the desire to trace them with your tongue.

But she’s already climbing onto your rickety bed, and shoving roughly at Jake’s chest. He lets out a low, wanting sound, and lets her push him flat. Now that he’s laying flat on your bed, Neytiri coaxes you to turn – you have to bite back your laughter as you spin around on Jake’s dick so that you’re facing him, and you can see the way he’s clearly fighting his own snickers too.

But Jake never gets to make a joke about the way you just spun around on his dick like a top, because Neytiri swings her leg over his head and straddles his face as though it’s nothing, her body facing you as she simply sits down.

“Ah,” She moans, her eyelids fluttering as she grinds herself against Jake’s mouth. “He talks so much, doesn’t he, syulang?”

You wheeze a laugh, hardly able to believe this is happening. Jake does talk a lot, but he seems very happy to be forced into silence like this judging by the way his cock is twitching inside you. His groans are muffled but no less pleased, one hand coming up to wrap around Neytiri’s thigh and encourage her to rock into his mouth.

Neytiri lets out a soft pleasured sound, before raising her eyes back to you. Her smile is lazy, her eyes half-closed as she relishes the feeling of Jake’s mouth against her pussy. She reaches out and takes one of your hands, intertwining your fingers before she leans forward and kisses you so sweetly.

“Go ahead and move how you want to, tawtute.” She whispers, her tongue gliding over your lower lip.

You mewl a little, but do as she says. You place a hand firmly on Jake’s belly for balance, before lifting yourself on shaky knees and dropping back down again. You groan at the feeling, and in the same moment Jake’s hips rock up into you and his belly visibly tightens. His obvious pleasure buoys your confidence, and you do it again.

Your thighs burn – Jake’s cock is long, and you have to lift yourself higher than you’re used to in order to ride him properly. But it’s a challenge you’re willing to take because even though the stretch of him burns, it feels delicious. You feel drunk on it, your mouth falling open as tears over overstimulation begin to leak from the corners of your eyes.

Neytiri watches you through her half-lidded golden eyes, a lazy smile pulling at her lips as her tails sways in the air behind her. One of her hands is squeezing absently at her tits, the other holding your hand tight as the two of you rock against Jake.

"Hah," You gasp out as you involuntarily squeeze around the girth of his cock. “Ah… oh god, I’m…”

“How does it feel, syulang?” Neytiri breathes, watching the way your hips undulate over Jake’s stupidly big cock, trying to get it to hit just right.

“Feels– shit, so big, but so good–” You sob, overwhelmed yet so needy. Your legs are tiring already, thighs burning as you grind against him. “Want him to move–”

Neytiri hums, before reaching out and smacking at Jake’s hip. He groans into her cunt, the slick sounds of his mouth against her enough to heat your cheeks up, but he gets the message loud and clear because his hips jolt into action.

Each thrust shakes your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Jake’s hips thrust up, fucking you from below. Your pussy is drenched, aiding the lube he had soaked his cock as he glides in and out of you effortlessly, your body opening up for him as though you had been born for this.

His cock reaches something within you that has a sob ripping from your throat, your head tossing back as you wail towards the ceiling.

"Oh my god," You cry out, his cock spearing into you and hitting that spot with precision over and over again, "Fuuuck."

“Is that how you like it, yawntu?” Neytiri breathes. She’s getting close herself; you can tell by the jagged rhythm of her hips as she humps against Jake’s face, and the wide blackness of her pupils.

“Uh huh, yes!” You whine, your vision blurring. It feels like your body is drawing tense as a bowstring, your toes curling so hard it almost hurts.

You’re not sure if Jake can actually hear you or not, considering Neytiri’s thighs are closed tight around his ears, but the hand that isn’t holding onto her leg travels down to your hip and holds you tight. His thumb strokes over the swell of your ass even as he encourages you to rock against him. All you can do is grind against him every time his hips piston up, the thick swell of his cock settling so deep inside of you it feels like it’s in your stomach.

Your pussy is already fluttering, your belly tightening as your rising orgasm begins to prickle at the edges of your body. Fuck, you already feel as though it’s about to shake you apart at the seams, like you’ll never feel whole again without the delicious stretch of Jake’s cock.

To your surprise, it’s Neytiri that comes first. She cries out, her big hand encompassing yours as her eyes roll, her head dropping forward to nestle into your neck as her body shakes apart.

Beneath her, Jake’s chest rumbles with a low purr of arousal as she comes all over his face – but he’s a man devoted to his mission, because he somehow manages to keep fucking into you all while he licks Neytiri through her own orgasm.

You’re actually quaking at this point, grinding yourself desperately on top of Jake as his hips thrust up into, the friction so damn good even though you can tell that he’s trying so hard to be careful with you. This particular position isn’t super conducive to your own pleasure, but being fucked like this while having such strong visual stimulation is nice – you can hardly tear your eyes away from Neytiri as her body goes lax, her eyelashes fluttering wildly as she humps lazily against Jake’s face to ride the last shivery shocks of her orgasm out.

God, it feels as though you’re never going to get over this. You feel as though your nerves are right on the edge of frying, your lungs and muscles burning and your skin slick with sweat as you rock and writhe wildly, taking a cue from Neytiri and seeking your own satisfaction. You can’t imagine ever feeling better than this; it feels as though you’re blooming under all of the attention that’s being lavished upon you.

Once Neytiri stops shaking, she takes a moment to just gasp for breath even as her hips roll slowly over Jake’s tongue. Slowly, she blinks back to herself, then her eyes fall back upon you. A slow, lazy smile spreads across her face, and then she’s reaching out to you all over again, her fingers landing on your clit to rub over it in a teasing circle.

Her long fingers barely brush the fraught nerves before ecstasy settles between each of your vertebrae. Your pussy flares, gripping onto the throbbing thickness of Jake’s cock. Shaking violently, your thighs squeeze Jake’s slim waist as everything tightens, pulses, spasms.

Overwhelmed, whimpering sort of wails pour from your lips in a deluge, your jaw is slack, the waves of ecstasy rendering you utterly helpless to the instinctual rutting motions of your hips. You're rocking up against him while simultaneously attempting to escape the sensation, choking out gasping moans as you fall apart.

You must tighten up like a vice when you come, because Jake yells out, his hips bucking. His shout is muffled by Neytiri’s pussy as you squeeze down on his dick, trembling.

The way your cunt constricts around him proves too much for Jake’s poor cock. You can feel the hot, thick spurts of cum as as he empties himself inside of you, his soft tummy twitching and trembling as his hips flex. You're exhausted, powerless to do anything other than bathe in the sensation of your cunt convulsing around Jake’s twitching cock as he shakes under you, moaning into Neytiri’s cunt as she grinds lazily on his tongue.

When your thighs finally stop trembling, your over-fatigued body starts to go limp. It feels as though your muscles have been liquefied, and you start to slump over a little. Neytiri seems to take sympathy on Jake, because she finally lifts herself off of Jake’s face in order to cup your face, kissing your cheeks and forehead.

Below you, Jake just groans, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe. He only takes a moment though before he starts slowly rocking his hips again, as though he’s just trying to fuck his cum deeper into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below.

“Oh my god.” You pant, your lungs overworked as you try to catch your breath. “Oh, holy fuck.”

Jake laughs, wheezy with his own disbelief. However wrecked you feel, Jake looks absolutely destroyed. His chest and stomach are glossy with sweat, his hips drenched in lube and your own release. His dreads are in disarray, his eyes hazy and a little dazed as his chest heaves. His mouth and nose are shiny slick too from both his own saliva and from Neytiri coming all over his face.

Despite his dishevelment, he looks impossibly pleased with himself as he fumbles for his respirator, taking clumsy breaths even as he smiles dopily to himself, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

Neytiri helps lift you off Jake’s dick, which you end up being extremely thankful for when you find that your knees are watery and weak. You try to pretend you don’t notice the sheer amount of come that’s leaking out of you, thick and a little iridescent in the artificial light of your quarters.

You’re so fucked out that you hardly even twitch when Neytiri pulls you back against her chest, settling comfortably back on the mattress beside Jake. You end up squished between them in a pile of sweaty slack limbs. You feel so tiny next to them, especially considering the two of them don’t even fit properly on the bed – their legs are hanging right off the mattress, their feet planted on the ground as they nuzzle against you and each other.

Now that all the adrenaline is wearing off, you can certainly feel the ache left behind from all of your activities, and the sting from the sheer stretch of Jake’s cock.

“Ow.” You mutter absently, though it comes out muffled as your face is currently squished against Neytiri’s firm breasts.

She coos at you, her big hand stroking over the back of your head before she reaches out to smack at Jake’s forehead. “You were too rough with her, skxawng–”

“I was not– ouch, damn!” Jake flinches back, ducking down and using you as a floppy sort of human shield. “Okay, okay. You alright, honey?”

“Mm. Tired.” You mumble. You feel like you’ve just had all the thoughts fucked right out of your head, because you can barely string a sentence together right now.

“I have balms back at home,” Neytiri ensures you, her lips dragging over your temple. “Where you should be.”

You manage a breathless sort of laugh, your toes curling at the sound of that. They’ve always invited you into their home, but you’ve always been a little worried about overstaying your welcome. Now, all wrapped up in their naked embrace in your little blissful post-coital puddle, you find yourself almost deliriously thrilled about going back home with them.

“You hurt?” Jake asks, his voice rasping pleasantly in your ear. It sends a pleasant tingle down your spine, but that disappears almost instantly as his big fingers prod at the oversensitive lips of your pussy.

“Ow! Fuck, Jake, what is wrong with you-” You grouse, slapping his hand away from you. “No, I’m fine, but I’m sensitive down there. I don’t need your fat fucking fingers poking inside of me again.”

“You loved my fat fucking fingers before.” He grumbles, but there’s a teasing edge to his voice as he places a tiny kiss on the back of your neck. “Neytiri’s too, huh?”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, but there’s no point denying that. You just grumble incomprehensibly, burrowing deeper into their arms. Jake snickers, shuffling closer so that he’s completely plastered against your back, his big arm wrapped around both you and Neytiri.

Neytiri hums, enjoying Jake’s arm around her as her own hand trails over the valley of your waist and hips. “No need for others, syulang. You have us, yes? We look after you.”

You breathe a weak laugh, but your answer is interrupted by an ominous creaking noise coming from beneath you. There’s a brief pause, and then an almighty crash as your rickety old bed breaks from the weight of the two full grown Na’vi bodies laying atop of it. You squeal, but there’s really no need because Jake and Neytiri hardly flinch at all. They just glance down as though the wreckage of your bedframe is nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Oh my god.” You squeak, sitting up to try and see the damage.

“Does not matter.” Neytiri says dismissively. She’s stretching out, her lithe body elongating as she yawns like a big cat. “You will just stay in our bed.”

There’s a pause. You nearly start laughing, though you manage to bite back your reaction. Oh god, you’ve just fucked your best friends. It feels as though Jake has managed to screw your braincells right out of your skull, because all you can do is gape at their big, sexy bodies like an absolute moron. Not only have you just fucked your friends, but they’re also clearly expecting you to come back home with them.

“Lie back down,” Jake murmurs, reaching out to beckon you back to their sides.

“I should shower,” You mumble, but you’re already laying back down. Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, and you have no confidence that you’re actually able to stand without your knees buckling. “I feel gross.”

“Bathe with us back at the village.” Jake says immediately, his wide nose burying itself into the back of your neck. He breathes deeply, and his chest rumbles in a quiet purr. It sends soothing little reverberations down your spine, encouraging you to relax into his big body.

You have a feeling that he just wants you to walk around the village, stinking of the two of them. You also have a feeling that it’s the same reason behind Neytiri leaving all of those throbbing hickeys behind on your body wherever her mouth could reach, and you can’t fight the tired smile growing on your face. You’re too tired to argue, and just flop bonelessly between the two of them, enjoying your warmth. It’s so familiar, laying in their shared embrace. You’ve been doing this for years, although admittedly it’s usually with the rest of the family and you’re usually clothed, but it’s still comfortably domestic and intimate.

You suppose you’ll doze for a while, napping in wreckage of your shitty old bed in the pleasant afterglow of what was probably the best sex of your life. Jake and Neytiri have burrowed so deep into your life, your mind, your body, that everything feels so bizarrely natural with them.

You won’t sleep long, you think as you cuddle up against Neytiri’s smooth skin, with Jake’s bulk curling around your back. Dinner will be soon, and you’re hungry.

Besides, you had promised Lo’ak you’d be there.

#no one @ me asking about word count i dont wanna talk about #sex education #bsf jake #jake sully #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #jake sully x human reader #jake x reader x neytiri #na'vi x human #terato #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #awow #avatar way of water

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rinhaler · 5 months

Text

𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I’m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you’re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he’d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

#rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x reader #rensuke kunigami x you #kunigami smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #kunigami x you #rensuke kunigami smut #tw alcohol consumption #tw dumbification #tw size difference #tw size kink #tw dacryphilia #tw praise #tw bullying mention

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coeurify · 6 months

Text

jus’ a little drabble of gf!ellie couple’s costume

a/n based off that one emma&izzy tik tok(at bottom.)

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“El, please come out.”

“I cant. I cant do this.”

Your lips purse together to hide the smile forming from Ellie’s nervous tone, the pitch of her voice just slightly higher behind the door she seeks solace behind.

“You should‘ve just let me dress as Spider-Man!” Ellie whines, muffled by the white painted wood.

“Oh,” you scoff, “so I could be what, Mary Jane.. or Gwen?”

“Yea!”

You shake your head even though Ellie can’t see it, the red fabric of your hood moving with you. “Every masc lesbian and frat dude in the ten mile radius of that party is probably dressed as Spider-Man, El. Just open the door.”

Your fingers reach for the metal knob, and you press on it lightly, turning it just a bit.

 Ellie may be embarrassed, but she’d never lock the door on you.

When the creaky wood opens fully, and the bright bathroom light spills into the hallway, you cant stop the grin that spreads on your face.

 Ellie is standing there, a sweet little pout on her face as she adjusts one of the ears on her head. The black triangle on her nose is slightly smudged by the nervous hand she rubs across it. “I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid,” you coo, the red hood of your ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ costume falling as you step closer, pinching your girlfriend’s red cheeks, fixing the little fluffy wolf ear attached her her messy auburn hair.

“Babe, i’m wearing a leash,” she whines again, the space between her eyebrows furrowing.

You nod. Yea… you had picked that part out. But cmon, how couldn’t you? Ellie had flushed so cutely when you explained the costume idea that you just could not think of anything else.

Your fingers dip beneath the flannel she wears, searching until they find the cheap metal chain attached to El’s neck.

“Gotta keep the big bad wolf close by, don’t I?” You chastise, giving the chain a little tug, bringing Ellie’s lips to your own.

Ellie melts into the affection, pout long gone as she kisses you, “Isn’t the wolf supposed to be the one chasing Little red?”

She smiles against the kiss when you start giggling and pull away. It leaves a little stain of your gloss on the pink fat of her bottom lip, and you resist the urge to reach forward and wipe the stickiness off.

Her lips curl up even further as you step back into the hallway. “You wanna chase me?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Dunno, maybe I should. You made me wear a leash,” Ellie teases, stepping closer.

Her hands reach out, fingers reaching toward your hips as you back against the wall.

You knew what she was doing. “Don’t you dare-“ You point an accusatory finger toward her chest as she closes in on you.

Ellie’s shit-eating grin only grows more, her fingers wiggling as they find your waist, digging playfully into you.

Your weak spot.

The scream that falls from your lips might actually concern some of your neighbors, and you scramble to escape your girlfriend’s torment, tripping down the hall.

“Run little red, run!” Ellie bellowed dramatically, the chain around her neck dangling as she ran after you.

“We’re gonna be late!” You cried, a breathy giggle falling from you as she chases you around the couch, one clip on ear falling from her head in the process.

“Should’ve let me dress as Spider-Man!”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams #gf!ellie williams

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andvys · 7 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 11

Warnings: none really, mentions of smoking and drinking, reader punching someone....

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler , slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Steve watches you from afar, confused about your relationship with the metalhead.

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: @mysticmunson you're always my biggest help and inspiration, thank you, angel🤍

series masterlist

“Will you hold still?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Why are you so shaky?”

“I-I don’t know.”

You drop the eyeshadow brush on the desk and put your hand on your hip, sighing as you look at Chrissy who looks more nervous than ever. She is still wearing a hoodie, the cheer uniform is hanging over the back of your chair. You have been trying to do her eye makeup for the past twenty minutes.

“Lay down.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, confusion takes over her face, “why?”

“Because I can’t work like this, you keep fidgeting – seriously, what’s up? You are never this nervous.”

You and Chrissy always get ready together whenever there’s a basketball game. Usually she does her makeup herself but tonight she asked you to do it, she wanted something similar like you, just with more color.

She seemed happy and excited when she came over but now she seems like a nervous mess. Every time you move closer to her, she starts fidgeting, it’s not the first time you had noticed her doing that. You have noticed a lot in the past three months.

Heather and Chrissy kept being secretive, oftentimes you would catch them whispering before they’d notice you in the room, they share glances that you don’t understand. They still make you feel left out. You confronted them a while back but neither of them gave you any answers to your questions, it upset you and it caused you to distance yourself from them a little.

They had started to make you feel the way he made you feel. The constant lies, the whispers and them going behind your back had gotten to you. It triggered some feelings that you thought you had left in the past.

They were upset when you stopped answering their phone calls and when you would cancel plans but you couldn’t be around them when they refused to talk about the very obvious issues they had with you. You would never drop the friendship, you would never leave them behind, they mean too much to you to just kick them out of your life but you needed some distance, for your sake.

You made a new friend, Robin Buckley. Eddie introduced you to her back in January, they had been friends since middle school – back when he was still a theater kid.

You instantly hit it off with her, she is nice and she is very different from Chrissy and Heather, which is why she didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with them yet. It’s a miracle that she gave you a chance considering that ‘popular’ people make her feel extremely anxious and uncomfortable – which you can understand now that you see things from a different perspective.

To most people, you are still the ‘the queen of Hawkins High’ but to some you are one of the freaks now. They glare at you, they whisper about you, they call you names and point their fingers at you, especially when they see you with Eddie, who feels guilty about the treatment you are getting from some of the people that used to be in your friend group when you were still with Steve. You don’t care though.

You don’t care what other people think of you.

But you do care what your friends think about you, your friends who still keep secrets.

“Yeah Chrissy, why are you so nervous?” Eddie chuckles as he looks up from his magazine, glancing at the two of you. Wiggling his eyebrows at her. She glares at him and rolls her eyes, which only makes him chuckle again.

Eddie knows why she is so nervous, it’s obvious why – well, it’s obvious to everyone but you. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. The subtle glares and the attitude he sometimes gets from the usually nice cheerleader isn’t because she doesn’t like him, it’s because she is jealous of him. Because she likes you.

And she knows that he knows, she realized it after he started teasing her with small comments and the smug looks he would throw at her when he’d catch her checking you out. At first, she was scared. Scared that he would tell you something that she had been trying to hide for so long. Eddie promised not to tell though.

Chrissy lies down, a small huff leaves her lips. You get on the bed and scoot closer to her, reaching for the eyeshadow brush, you dip it into the blue eyeshadow before you lean down.

She is looking at you – staring at you.

“Close your eyes,” you chuckle.

“O-Oh right,” she whispers and closes her eyes.

Eddie puts the magazine down, he leans back in his chair and puts his arm behind his head. He looks at you, you are already wearing your uniform, your hair and makeup is already done. He watches the way you bend down to get closer to Chrissy, your skirt rides up a little, exposing your spandex and more of your skin. He really really doesn’t want to look at you in that way but he can’t look away either.

You are his friend and he really loves your friendship and how easy things are between the two of you but you are beautiful.

And you are sexy.

You suddenly turn around and glance at him, you catch him staring at you. Eddie’s eyes widen but he plays it cool, smirking at you. Your eyes flash with amusement, you raise your brows at him, a smirk tugs at your lips.

“Stop staring, Munson.”

Eddie gives you a cocky grin, “I can’t look away from a beautiful sunset.”

You furrow your brows and a laugh escapes your lips, you shake your head at him, “what does that even mean, you dork?”

You turn back around, still smiling. Chrissy snorts at his words.

“Okay, tell any sane person to look away from two cheerleaders straddling,” he says.

“Eddie!” Chrissy mumbles, opening her eyes to look at you with a disapproving frown.

You grab one of your pillows and turn around, throwing it at him, “perv!” You laugh.

He catches it and presses it against his chest, he smirks at you, “can you do my eyeshadow too, sweetheart?” He jokes.

“Shut up,” you chuckle as you turn back around. You reach for your makeup bag and look for the glitter you bought when you went shopping with Robin, yesterday.

Chrissy leans on her elbows, she glances at Eddie who is checking you out again and then her eyes move back to you. She can see the shine in your eyes, the smile that you are trying to bite back, the flustered look on your face.

It annoys her.

Eddie is amazing and with him, you would actually be in good hands. He is a much better person than Steve ever was. He wouldn’t hurt you, especially not the way he did. Eddie makes you smile, he spends more time with you than Steve did, he buys you little presents that he surprises you with, all the time. He takes you out on dates that ‘clearly’ aren’t dates because you are just friends. Eddie comes to basketball games – he comes to basketball games, just for you.

Eddie would be a good boyfriend, there is no doubt about that. She is not sure if you like each other or not but it seems like it. She should be happy for you and she should support it but the green eyed monster inside of her just refuses to let her be happy for you.

“Are you excited for the party?”

Chrissy snaps out of her thoughts, she looks into your eyes again and nods.

“Are you gonna wear the dress you bought?”

She closes her eyes again when you lean back in with the brush. She feels your fingertips on her cheek when you tilt her face to the side. She takes in a shaky breath.

“Should I?”

You hum.

“You look pretty in it.”

She smiles at your words, “I do?”

“Yes, you always do, Chris.”

She blushes and her smile grows bigger, “thank you,” she whispers.

You smile down at her, “you’re welcome.”

After you finish her makeup, Chrissy takes her uniform and goes into your bathroom to get changed. You clean up the small mess and put away all the makeup and the brushes, you grab your favorite lipstick and walk over to the mirror, you can feel his eyes on you as you start applying the lipstick. A smile tugs at your lips, you glance at him through the mirror. He’s wearing the same smile as you.

“What?”

He shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck, “nothing.”

You furrow your brows, you smack your lips together and look at your reflection one more time before you turn around to face him.

“Why are you smiling?”

He shrugs and gets up from the chair, he grabs the green hair bow and walks towards you.

“I like watching you get ready,” he says.

“You do?” You smile.

He nods, “mhmm.”

He stops in front of you and looks down at you as he holds up the green hair bow, “turn around.”

You turn around, facing the mirror again. He steps closer to you. You can smell his cologne, it’s a new one. It smells even better than the previous one he used. The smell of smoke always lingers around him though, nothing can hide the smell – not the cologne, not the aftershave, not his shampoo which surprisingly smells like apples, not the cinnamon from his favorite gum.

Eddie’s hands are gentle, his brows are furrowed in concentration, he presses his lips together as he puts the bow in your hair.

Something about this makes you giggle. Eddie being in your bedroom isn’t unusual but him helping you get ready for the game, putting a bow in your hair is very unusual.

His eyes flash with amusement as he raises his head to look at your reflection in the mirror, “what’s so funny?”

You shrug and continue watching him, “just you helping me get ready for a laundry basket game.”

He snorts.

“I’m helping you get ready for your performance and I’m only going there for you, sweets.”

Your heart warms at his words.

“And then you’re also coming to the bonfire party with me.”

“With you.” He nods.

“Alright, I’m done,” he grins and flicks your ponytail before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug, leaning his chin on your shoulder, causing you to giggle again.

You grab his forearms and lean back.

“Do you hug all your friends that way?”

He chuckles and pulls you even closer, “nah only the special ones, babe,” he smirks and buries his face in your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume and body wash.

You giggle and tilt your head to the side, “how many special ones are there?”

“Just one.”

You narrow your eyes as you turn to look at him, he smirks at you still.

“You’re my very special one.”

He isn’t joking about that, despite the teasing look on his face, he is saying the truth. You are special to Eddie. You haven’t been friends for that long, you started talking last summer, back in august but you have only gotten really close after your breakup with Steve. It feels like you have been friends for much longer than that though. The moment you first started hanging out, you instantly got attached to each other. Not a single day goes by when you don’t spend time together, he loves being with you and you love being with him.

Things feel natural, easy and just good when you are with each other.

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything. Sometimes that’s enough.

A smile tugs at your lips as you look at him. His smile grows as well and before you know it, you both start laughing for no reason.

Chrissy walks back into the room to see you in his embrace. She clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes in annoyance. She clears her throat.

You and Eddie look away from each other, the smile still ever present on your faces. You don’t notice the jealousy or the bitterness on her face. He does.

“Can we go?”

You glance at Eddie who nods at you with a shrug. He is definitely not excited for the game, you told him that he doesn’t have to go but he claimed that he wants to go, for you.

You smile at them both, “let’s go!”

Things between Steve and Billy were tense all night. You could tell from the moment they walked out into the gym, the glares they sent each other were more intense than usual, they wouldn’t pass on any opportunity to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other and not to mention Steve’s bleeding nose, he tried to hide it but he kept wiping his nose and you noticed the blood on the back of his hand.

He looked angry and frustrated. You noticed it, right away.

She didn’t.

Despite the tension and the weird energy that surrounded one of the best players on the team, they still won against the opposing team and took another win home, which of course has to be celebrated.

Lovers Lake is filled with people, the bonfire party that had been planned for weeks is in full swing, loud music is sounding through the speakers, the smell of burning wood mixed with the smell of the crisp spring air brings you comfort. The cold months are over and the warm weather is finally approaching.

The beer you have been drinking all night makes you feel a little tipsy but you feel calm and the stars in the sky make you smile as you lay on the grass with Eddie. He lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke up into the air.

You turn your head and look around, a few people are sitting by the fire. You see Chrissy and Heather talking to a few girls from the cheer squad. You see Nancy sitting on a log with Jonathan, they are both laughing, leaning closer to each other, Steve is sitting on a different log, he is holding a red solo cup in his hand, he looks into the fire with a dull look on his face.

You raise your brows, you look at the three of them. Odd. Shouldn’t he be the one next to her? Shouldn’t he be the one whispering to her? Shouldn’t he be the one making her laugh?

“Do you think there’s more out there?” Eddie asks, pulling your attention away from him.

“Hmm?”

Eddie repeats his question and you turn back to look at him, he is pointing up at the sky, “like aliens and shit.”

You scoot closer to him, looking at the way he squints his eyes as he smokes.

“Hmm, maybe,” you shrug, “I think there’s more than just aliens though.”

“Oh, do you?” He asks, turning to face you, “tell me more.”

“I think there’s other universes.”

He raises his brows, waiting for you to explain more.

“I think there are different worlds, different versions of us – like, maybe there's a version of us fighting interdimensional monsters right now,” you joke, which he seems to love.

His eyes light up at your words and he laughs.

“Maybe we are slaying a dark wizard right now – what was his name again, Vecman? You know the one from your new campaign?”

Eddie laughs loudly and he shakes his head, “it’s Vecna, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and snort.

“Right, we are killing Vecna, right now.”

“Are we normal humans or?”

“No, we have superpowers.”

“What kind of superpowers?”

You put your finger on your chin and look up, “hmm… you got super strength, super speed,” you pause and look into his eyes, his skin looks pale beneath the moonlight, his eyes are dark. Your eyes widen, “you’re a vampire!”

His jaw drops, his eyes widen, “I’m a vampire?”

“Yes!”

“That means I had to die – wait! Did you bring me back from the dead? You know, since you’re a witch?”

"Absolutely,” you giggle.

“That’s so sick, sweetheart.”

“Right?”

You both giggle as you stare at each other. His eyes fall to the chain around your neck, the one that he had put on you earlier tonight. He reaches his hand out and touches it.

“Maybe we are both rockstars in a different world.”

“Both of us?” You laugh, “I can see you being a rockstar but me?”

“Hush. You are helping me write songs and you can play guitar now – well a little, never as good as me but yeah,” he says, cockily. Smirking at you.

You shake your head, snorting at his words.

“Maybe you are my groupie.”

“You wish!” You slap his shoulder, making him laugh again.

“Okay okay, not a groupie – you are the lead singer and I’m the sexy guitarist.”

“Mhmm.”

You lie back again and look up at the stars, a grin takes over your face, “or maybe you are my groupie.”

“Oh absolutely, I’d totally be your groupie if you were a rockstar, y/n.”

You and Eddie are in your own little world, you always are. You don’t care about anything or anyone else when you are with each other. The rest of the world melts away when you spend time together.

You don’t care about the people around you or the awful music that one of the jocks picked out, the prying eyes of the judging girls from the cheer squad. You just don’t care about anything.

You don’t even notice the curious eyes of your ex boyfriend but Eddie does, after you get up to get a new drink. His eyes find a sulking Steve Harrington, who is still sitting by the fire. His girlfriend is long gone and so is her friend, Eddie doesn’t bother to look around for them. He keeps his eyes on Steve, watching the way his eyes follow you. Eddie wonders why he looks so miserable, because of Nancy and Jonathan or because of you? It seems to be the latter, he could be looking for her but instead he is watching you.

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, how stupid can someone be? He wonders.

Suddenly, Steve straightens his back and his expression changes from miserable to curious and tense? He turns his head, looking right at him. Eddie raises his brows when he finds himself locking eyes with him. Steve looks confused, his eyes flicker back and forth between you and him.

Eddie follows his gaze to see what confuses him so much. He is looking at you and at the guy who is shamelessly checking you out as you laugh at something he said to you.

Eddie snorts. Of course. If there is one thing that he got used to when going out with you then it’s you being hit on, every damn time.

The guy is tall, probably taller than him. His shoulders are broad beneath the flannel, it’s clear that he’s some sort of athlete. He looks familiar but Eddie doesn’t recognize him.

Curiously, Eddie watches the interaction from afar, sipping his beer.

You are holding a drink in your hand, you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. Eddie can see the smile on your face, you nod to whatever he is saying to you. He steps closer to you, pretending not to hear you properly, he leans closer and licks his lips when he looks down your shirt.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “douchebag.”

The music is loud but he still hears the approaching footsteps, narrowing his eyes, he almost laughs in surprise when he sees Steve. Getting up, he dusts the grass off of his jeans and finishes his drink.

Steve stops in front of him, when Eddie sees the look of disbelief on his face, he almost bursts out laughing.

“I’m not selling tonight,” he mumbles.

Steve shakes his head, furrowing his brows at his words, “I don’t wanna buy anything.”

“Oh, to what do I owe you the pleasure then, King Steve?” Eddie asks, mockingly. He expects Steve to look annoyed but he doesn’t, just very confused.

“You’re not gonna do anything?” Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, his brows draw together and he tilts his head in question.

“What do you mean?”

Steve raises his hand, pointing his finger at you and the guy who is now holding his hand out to you – you are writing something on his palm, presumably your number.

Eddie rolls his eyes again.

“This guy is flirting with her,” Steve mumbles.

“I’m not her keeper.”

Now he looks even more confused, if he didn’t look so serious, Eddie would have laughed. But then he realizes why he looks at him so shocked. Steve must think that you and Eddie are dating and he doesn’t understand how he as your ‘boyfriend’ just lets you flirt with some other guy.

Steve sighs, he turns around. Eddie watches the way he stares the guy down, a look of distaste appears on his face.

“That’s Ray, he used to be the captain of the basketball team. I always hated that guy.” Steve mumbles.

That’s a lie. Steve used to look up to him, when he was a freshman in high school and he was new on the team, Ray had seemed like the coolest guy around, he was the most popular guy at school, the girls loved him, the boys wanted to be like him and so did Steve until he became popular too and he realized that he could be even better than him. Ray was just a popular guy but Steve Harrington became the King of the school.

A title he used to be so proud of is just an embarrassing part of his past now.

Steve is certain that you and Eddie are dating. He could just ask to be sure but he thinks that it’s too obvious. You are dating. But why are you flirting with the former captain of the basketball team? Why are you writing your number on his hand? Are you in an open relationship with Eddie?

An open relationship is something you never approved of, you always made that very clear, not that Steve suggested something like this. Tommy always joked about it to Carol and you looked disgusted and always voiced your opinions on it.

What happened?

Did the hurt change you so much?

Ray walks away from you and you turn around, walking back to Eddie when someone else steps in front of you and both Eddie and Steve sigh in annoyance.

Billy Hargrove. Always there to ruin the night.

“Getting bored of the freak?”

The smile on your face falls, a sour expression takes over and you tense up. You can’t stand Billy. Not only does he keep trying to get in your pants while he has a thing going on with your friend, he also keeps insulting Eddie and picking fights with Steve, which shouldn’t be any of your concerns but something tells you that Steve’s bleeding nose and the bruise on Billy’s jaw has got something to do with you.

“Fuck off, Billy,” you mumble, trying to move past him. He doesn’t let you. He steps in front of you and chuckles.

“Don’t be like that, baby.”

You scrunch your face up in disgust, “don’t call me that.”

His eyes move up and down, he looks at your exposed skin and you suddenly regret wearing a low cut shirt.

“Ray Parker, huh?” He smirks, licking his lips, “going for the jocks again? The freak ain’t doing a good job at satisfying you? You know, you can just come to me instead of going for some retired team captain.”

“Jesus, shut up, Billy.”

Billy chuckles, his eyes twinkle with lust as he continues to stare at you, “when will you stop playing hard to get? We both know that you will end up under me at some point.”

If you didn’t feel disgusted by him already, you would definitely be now. Anger rushes through you and you roll your eyes.

“Keep dreaming, Hargrove.”

"Oh, I will."

You clench your jaw as you look into his blue eyes. You hate the cocky look on his face, the self assured expression that he always has. The smirk that he wears. God, you want to punch him.

You go to walk past him and surprisingly, he lets you walk away this time but then he says something that makes your blood boil.

“Yeah be a good girl and run back to the freak, no one else will fuck that loser.”

You halt in your tracks and you clench your fists. You had always been protective over your friends but especially him. Eddie may be good at pretending that the bullying doesn’t get to him, he learned to ignore them or to throw some punchlines back but you are not going to stand by and watch how others degrade and belittle him.

You turn back around and his smirk grows when he notices how angry you look.

“I never thought you’d be into some trailer trash a–”

You never punched someone before but you always wanted to know what it feels like to slam your fist into someone’s face, someone that you can’t stand. You didn’t think that it would hurt so bad but the look on his face and the bruise that he will wear later on, makes it all worth it.

His head snaps to the side and he looks stunned for a moment.

You hear the gasps around you, the chuckles from a few boys.

A part of you expects him to hit you back, you are no stranger to his anger issues. The reaction you get isn’t one that you expected though. He furrows his brows and suddenly he bursts into laughter, his eyes flash with amusement and his pupils dilate even further.

You want to punch him again.

“Shit baby, I’m even more into you now,” he smirks.

A groan of disgust falls from your lips and you turn around to leave before he can do or say anything else.

Eddie and Steve stand there with stunned looks on their faces. Eddie looks impressed and proud, a smirk is tugging at his lips.

Steve’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted in surprise. Out of all the things he expected to see tonight, this wasn’t one of them. The feeling that rushes through him is intense.

You should have punched him a long time ago.

“That’s kinda hot.”

Eddie snorts at Steve’s words.

Yeah, it was hot.

“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, smirking as you walk back to him. He sees the way your eyes flash with confusion when you notice Steve next to him. “I didn’t know you had such a mean right hook.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. You don't even acknowledge him.

“He had that coming.”

Eddie throws his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest and leans down to kiss your cheek sloppily, not caring that your ex boyfriend is staring.

“That’s my girl.”

He wonders what Billy said to you to make you this mad.

“You gonna hit me next, big girl?” Eddie jokes.

You giggle, biting down on your lip, you look into Eddie’s amused eyes, completely dismissing his presence. You pull away from him, he looks at you curiously, eyeing the smugness in your eyes. Before he can react, you reach your arm behind him and slap his ass.

Eddie’s jaw drops at the smack he received, he snorts at your action, squinting his eyes at you, he tries to give you a mean look which only makes you giggle again. You step back when you realize what he’s about to do. Just as he tries to swat your ass, you run off, giggling.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to run after you, trying to catch you. Your laughter is loud as you run away from him, pushing past the groups of people as you near the forest.

Steve's brows are still raised and his face is still stunned.

Many emotions went through him today; anger, sadness, irritation, jealousy but mostly confusion.

He watches Eddie grabbing you from behind, he hears your squeal and he sees the way Eddie kisses your cheek, again.

He blinks and forces himself to look away, only now noticing how wrong it still feels to see you with him.

But it's not wrong, right?

It's not wrong because you aren't his anymore.

He let go of you because you had asked him to, because he loves her, because he wants to spend his life with her.

He still has love for you, he always will but you are a part of his past now, a past that keeps calling him. The past that keeps haunting him in his mind and in his dreams.

Sometimes when he can't sleep at night, he stares at the telephone on his nightstand and he wonders what it would be like to call you, to hear your voice again, to ask you how you are doing, to ask if you are happy with the life you are living now that you are strangers to each other.

Sometimes he wants to call but he never does. You won't pick up the phone. He is sure of that.

But, if you called, he would pick up the phone, anytime, without hesitation.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @hellfire--cult @screammunson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @xxhellfiregirlxx @trashmouth-richie @somethingvicked

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

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