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sapphosclosefriend · 9 months

Text

- I need you by my side -

Pairing: Royal! Natasha Romanoff x Princess! Fem! Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, tiny tiny bit of angst

Summary: you have known Natasha pretty much your whole life and you never thought you'd end up marrying her. On your first night officially together you learn to appreciate each other in more than one way (Medieval AU)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha, bottom! R, Nat has a penis, virgin! R, arranged marriage, very brief drinking, kissing, size difference, SMUT, oral (Nat receiving), balls sucking, cum eating, nipple stimulation (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), squirting, vaginal penetration, rough sex, cumming inside, a whole lot of fluff

A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Both sets of parents are shitty tbh, but I guess it's accurate to the time period? The aesthetic in my head was very much game of thrones for this one. This is so much longer than I intended!! As usual likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

It has been a long long day of making merry, a joyful celebration of honour and union for everybody, but also a dreadfully awaited day full of anger and resentment from your new spouse. You could feel it radiating off of her throughout the whole day, and the weeks prior for that matter, and the tiredness only makes her more frustrated as she walks next to you towards your now shared chambers. Her long legs and anger driven fast pace almost make it hard for you to keep up with her and for a moment the thought of telling her off crosses your mind, immediately followed by your father’s reprimanding voice, forcing you to calm down immediately. The moment the large wooden doors close behind you, the sight of the bed adorned with rich fabrics and clearly made to harbour two newly wed people makes you freeze as you can only move your eyes from to bed, to the other girl’s back on the balcony and back towards the bed. You both know what you’re expected to do and unfortunately sleeping the exhaustion away is not yet included.

In the meantime, Natasha’s blood boils even more now that all the tension she’s been holding back in favour of decency is coming back in the confinements of her, no, your private room. The thought of what she’s been forced to do only makes her feel that all too familiar anger that’s been eating her up for months now: she’s always known that she was eventually going to have to marry someone of a certain status and that the range of possible candidates was quite small, but she thought that the last word would be hers, it was promised to her! But the moment you became of age it was all clear, it was going to be you, it was always going to be you, there was never anybody else for her parents. All those times where they visited your family because of what they would say was a special friendship between them and your own parents, where she was always made to play with you, to sit next to you, to take you on walks, to talk to you, get to know you, it was all a lifelong plan to get to this very specific moment, you and her married. The fresh night air helps cool her temper as she turns around to lean against the cold stone of the balcony railing and looks at you, nervously pouring yourself a cup of deep red wine, only tasting a sip of it before repeatedly tapping the metal cup, lost in thought. She feels a lot of guilt whenever she thinks about you because, although she’s never been outwardly rude to you, it’s clear that you feel as part of her problem and that her reassurances don’t help ease your mind at all. The only people she’s deeply angry with are her parents, but seeing your sweet eyes, knowing how hopeful you’ve always been of finding a person to love for the rest of your life and that person forcibly being her, reminds her of how your lives have never truly been yours and how naive you’ve been for thinking otherwise at the empty words of reassurance coming from your parents. She knows she has to try at least, if not for her family, for you, for the respect she has for you, so she takes one last breath of fresh air to ease her nerves and walks back inside.

The smell of her favourite incense and the dim lights coming from all the candles give her a small sense of comfort as she slowly walks towards you, standing next to the table still with your wine in your hand, and pours herself her own cup, which she downs in one go.

“I was very happy to be able to catch up with Yelena, it had been a long time since I had last seen her”

At your words she looks down at you and can’t help but give you a little smile at your attempt at breaking the ice, knowing you’re not the most outgoing person

“She was very happy too, she couldn’t wait to see you”

She goes to sit on the bed as she talks, making your mind go back to that imminent moment. Seeing you nervously swallow the lump in your throat, she pats the spot next to her and intently looks at you as you set down your cup and walk towards her, taking a seat on the soft mattress: you can clearly feel the heat of her body with how close you are and secretly savour it as you both keep looking in front of you to avoid meeting your gazes. There’s a long pause where only your slightly shaky breathing and the distant sound of the celebration going on without you two can be heard, before her voice, strangely uncertain and almost a whisper, breaks the silence

“Have you ever done this before?”

You were kind of expecting it, but the question still makes your heart stop

“…kind of”

At your small voice she turns to look at you, confused by your answer

“What do you mean “kind of”?”

“I’ve done something, but not…all of it”

There’s almost guilt in your words and after reluctantly looking at her and meeting her expectant gaze, you go on

“There was someone who was always very…interested in me..”

You can feel her brain working hard and the realisation getting closer and closer until

“Wait, you don’t mean…”

You can barely give her a side look, feeling regret at your own actions from the past

“What?!”

“I know, I know!”

You really can’t look at her now, knowing her opinions on that certain Someone

“Not that asshole!”

“Yes, well, of course I didn’t listen to you and…I got used like a whore. But I’ve never been touched, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

She watches you looking down at your own fiddling hands with sympathy and sadness, knowing how genuine and even naive you can be with your selfless trust in people. Her hand on yours almost startles you and gives her the chance of taking your own in hers: you can see a small, healing cut on her knuckle and her rough palm, testimony of her constant sword training, is warm against yours, except for the two small, golden rings, which feel like ice against your own skin. The moment you take your eyes off your joined hands to look at her you find her eyes already on your face, making you look back down

“You have, right?”

“Yes, how do you know?”

You let out a small chuckle and start playing with one of her rings without even noticing, catching Natasha’s attention to the action

“You and that girl, it was quite clear, you know?”

Of course you noticed, you always did, you were almost too good at reading her considering that you didn’t see each other that often. That time, during one of her family’s visits, a girl with beautiful red hair was with her when she arrived and, although she was introduced to everybody as a normal lady in waiting, you immediately caught the glances and small touches between the two. Another moment of silence engulfs you two and you can’t keep your mind from spiraling at what’s going to happen soon. Not even Natasha’s ring is enough to keep you calm anymore, so you just let go of her hand and finally tell her what you’ve been wanting to say since you got alone. She’s still thinking about how much she surprisingly misses your hand in hers when your words startle her

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, I know you’ve never wanted any of this and I’m sorry that you were forced into it…I know that we have to do this, but you shouldn’t if you don’t want to”

Your words make her heart swell at how thoughtful you are to her, unlike her own family, before guilt takes over her once again

“I want to do this…with you. To be honest I’m happy that you’re the one I’m stuck with”

Her playful tone makes you giggle and look at her, getting caught off guard at the small traces of happiness on her face, finally getting free of that constant frown that you’ve consistently seen on her as of late. She finally looks back at you and once your eyes meet it seems like you’re really looking at each other for the first time in a while. She’s always been known to be one of the most beautiful people of the realm, so it was never that big of a shock to look in the eyes of what could easily be a goddess amongst mortals and be taken back by all that beauty and all the small details that make her so unique with nothing but adulation. You’ve never been scared of displaying your appreciation for anyone, so seeing your look of fondness towards her doesn’t surprise her at all.

On the other hand, Natasha finds herself truly entranced by you for the first time since you’ve known each other: she’s almost surprised to notice just how beautiful you are and how all those comments made by her friend, even if quite crude most of the time, were not the nonsense she made them to be.

“You do realise that anyone would pay to be in your place, right? You whine like a baby because you have to chat with her or something, it’s not like you have to marry her. And even if you did you’d get to have a go at it with her every night”

The familiar words make her grimace at the thought of such comments being made behind your back but the faint feeling of jealousy deep in her is enough to bring her mind back to you, sitting so close to her and looking up at her with such timid adoration that in that moment she can’t keep her eyes from finally moving down on their own towards your lips, looking so inviting she doesn’t even realise she’s slowly moving closer to you until the air you exhale melts together and your lips touch each other every time you breathe

“Natasha”

Your whisper ignites something inside of her and what could be considered almost curiosity makes her move just enough so that your lips are finally fully on hers in a small kiss that makes your heart beat so fast it feels like it’s trying to escape from your chest to get to Natasha. Oh Natasha, she’s the only thing that exists in that moment, just Natasha, nothing else. As soon as you part you barely have time to look into each other’s eyes and for her to admire your panting state before she’s cupping your face and leaning in once again, making you melt into the kiss while you try to turn your body towards her. You are thankful that you’re sitting on the bed, otherwise you’re sure your knees wouldn’t have been able to keep you upright. You still reach for her shoulder for support as your lips move against each other slowly, deepening the kiss more and more until you can feel her tongue on your lower lip, asking for permission and being granted it when you lightly suck it, making her moan lowly and break the kiss to catch her breath. You can’t help but admire her and reach for her hand, still under your jaw, to hold it in your own, making her open her eyes at the gentle action. In that moment, sitting on the edge of her bed so close to each other you’re almost in her lap, breathing hard from all the nervousness finally wearing off thanks to the act of newly found intimacy between you two, you truly feel the need for each other, not something necessarily carnal, but a deep need to have the only person who could really understand what you’re going through and who could support you through all of it by your side. You don’t know how much time you spend kissing, you just know that you can feel yourself grow more and more restless at her wandering hands caressing your arms with a touch so light goosebumps grow under her fingertips.

You have no idea of what has gotten into you, maybe it’s her intoxicating smell, or the way she’s now firmly holding your waist with one hand, or her frustrated sighing every time she catches her other hand searching through the seemingly never ending fabrics of your gown for a snippet of skin, or maybe it’s just all the stress you’ve been subjected to lately, but you are sure of one thing, you need to feel her, as much of her as possible.

In a spur of bravery you get on your knees on the mattress and do your best to straddle her lap without tripping over the layers of your dress, finally succeeding and finally being able to feel more of the heat coming off of her that you've been enjoying since you've sat next to one another ot the bed. Your faces are finally at the same height and for the first time you can see her enchanting emerald eyes even better. You move some small strands of hair that have fallen on her face to briefly take a better look at her, before your lips are connected once again and your hands are tangled in her hair. You can clearly feel Natasha's hands move over your back, repeatedly shifting down to the small of your back and stopping herself from going lower, making you whine as you take her hands and move them to your ass, getting a small groan out of her at your sudden boldness. She's finally able to reach your skin, after not so little effort of going through the fabrics of your skirt, when your lips leave hers to move down to her jaw and neck, leaving shy pecks hiding the deep hunger you suddenly feel for her. The gentle touch of your mouth on the sensitive skin of her neck and your small unconscious movements over her crotch start making it hard for her to hold back to let you go at your own pace. She loses control just for a second once you feel something poking your center and ground your hips over it with a little bit more will with a small muffled moan, and she moves her hands towards your front to try to reach for your breasts but fails to do so

"Damn dress"

The frustration of once again not being able to get to your skin almost makes her growl the words, getting your attention and making you stop yourself to look at her expectantly

"Sorry, it's just always in the way"

"Well…would you help me get out if it then?"

The clear contrast from your previous slightly daring demeanour and now your usual shy tone interests her and after a nod from her you get up from her lap and stand in front of her, still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you turning around and asking her to loosen up the laces of your fitting dress. The pads of her fingers briefly go over the skin of your back where the fabric ends as she reaches for it, making you not so subtly shiver at the anticipation you now feel, in clear contrast with the almost fearful nervousness that dominated you once you first got alone with her. Once she's done with her task you slide your arms out of the sleeves and are finally able to feel the fabric slide down your body and stop at your hips, catching some resistance at the tight fitting and exposing your torso to the cool night air coming from the balcony. Your hair put in an intricate updo gives her a clear view of the creamy skin of your back and makes Natasha feel even more anticipation once your hands move to your hips to push the dress past them to let it slide down your body, leaving it a heap of embroided fabric on the ground. You once again feel your heart beating out of your chest at your now fully naked body exposed to Natasha and you suddenly seem to be frozen in place, not able to turn around and fully face her. Her warm hand gently touching yours startles you but the following sound of her voice immediately puts you at ease a little

"Wait, let me do something"

You immediately miss her hand once it leaves yours and soon after you hear her getting up from the bed and moving a little to do something. After a little bit she gently puts her hand on your shoulder and rubs her thumb over your skin to hopefully help soothe your nerves before speaking in the most gentle tone you've ever heard from her

"Remember that you don't have to"

She's the first person to tell you that. Since your birthday all your life has been revolving around this marriage, everything you've been made to do has been in favour of this event, most of the things your parents have said to you lately were commands on what you needed to do in order to be a good and honouring daughter. She's the first one to tell you such a thing, she's the first one to give you a choice in a situation where you've never had one, she's the first one to see you as a person in this circumstance and not as trade goods. She understands you and she understands the way you feel because she's gone through the same. You're on the same level. You suddenly turn around to look at her and for a second you almost miss the way she's completely naked too, taking you by surprise at her bare body

"This way we can both see each other"

She once again talks with that gentle and caring tone that this time makes your heart swell a little just for her. Your loving gaze is lost in her entrancing eyes when her hand slowly takes yours and moves it higher and higher, leaving it on her chest and making you feel the faint beating of her heart, soothing you for a moment, also thanks to the tiny reassuring smile she gives you. You do the same to show her your willingness to put all of yourself in this with her and take her hand and put it on your own chest. You don't say a word but you understand each other surprisingly well, making you both for once relieved of such a marriage and the chance of being one another's companion instead of some stranger. It's true, in all the years of knowing each other you've never been extremely close but you've certainly never hated one other. Sure, sometimes Natasha may have been annoyed at having to spend time with you but it was mainly because she was once again forced to do something by her parents. In all honesty, being with you always ended up helping her get over her irritation. You once again catch yourself getting lost in thought while fidgeting with her golden necklace with her family's sigil on it, but clearly catch the warmth of her hand leaving your chest to lightly caress your cheek before gently pushing under your chin to lift your gaze to her

"I need you by my side"

Her whispered words are barely audible but sound crystal clear to you

"Always"

You know that, from now on, you're the only two people who can help the other, you need to be strong for each other.

Before you know it her hands hold you on each side of your face to kiss you once again, taking your breath away at the need you both feel for the other. Her hands soon move down to your back to pull you flush against her front, getting you the closest you've ever been and making you reach for her shoulders to hold onto. The feeling of her soft skin against yours seems to never be enough and you realize you're pushing her to get impossibly closer too late, only when her back hits the mattress and you almost land on top of her

"Sorry-"

She doesn't let you finish before she's pulling you in again to keep your mouth on hers and she's grabbing your ass for the first time once you fully straddle her hips, making you whimper at the intimate act. You're both breathless, you know it, and the last thing you want is to stop kissing, but you need to take a small break and, once you part, you take the chance to sit up and unmake your updo, letting your hair fall down your back, taking out as many of the golden pieces of jewellery in it as you can and letting the smaller braids here and there done not to waste any more time. You're aware of your position and you secretly savour the way Natasha grips your thighs at the feeling of your bare center on hers. Feeling slightly confident you lean down to give her one last kiss on the lips before moving downwards, leaving small pecks on her neck, collarbone and chest, and then leaving her lap to get to her abs and lower abdomen, looking up at her after noticing her breathing quickening a little bit and catching her slightly clouded eyes looking back you. Right before being able to kneel down she offers you one of the many pillows from the bed, preventing you from being in pain from kneeling on the hard stone floor and puts another one under her head to get a better view of you between her legs.

The anticipation takes over the nervousness you feel at the sight of her semi hard cock in front of you and before you can get too anxious you reach with your hand to wrap around it, slowly pumping it a couple times and immediately getting a small, low moan from Natasha. You're not sure you've ever heard anything hotter than that and the excitement from making her feel good makes you more and more eager to please her as best as you can, so you keep moving your hand up and down until she's fully hard and a small bead of precum has formed, looking too tempting not to taste and making you reach over to give a small lick to her tip. You moan from finally being able to taste at least a little bit of her and at the same time Natasha hisses at the feeling of your tongue on her making her twitch.

You don't think you can wait anymore after getting a glimpse of her, so you get comfortable and finally fully wrap your lips around her tip, gently sucking it for a bit, if not to get yourself used to it, then to hear her groans again and again. Her hand moving towards your head excites you more than you'd like to admit and you'd lie if you denied the small disappointment you feel when it gets to your hair just to keep it out of the way with a makeshift ponytail. You realize it, you want her, all of her and she needs to know, so to try and make her understand it, feeling too embarrassed to say it to her face, you take more and more of her, doing your best to relax your throat and not gag too much around her surprisingly girthy cock. Her pants turn into loud groans once you do your best to look up at her as you slowly take all of her down your throat in one go, stopping only when your nose hits her crotch and staying like that for a couple seconds before lifting yourself off of it and sucking a deep breath while a string of spit still connects your mouth to her tip. To give your throat a small break you keep pumping her with your hand while you move downwards to lick her balls a couple times before taking one at a time in your mouth and very gently sucking them, making her curse out loud and sending a shiver through your whole body at the sound.

After a little bit you go back to her cock to take it back in your mouth, moaning at her taste and making her grip your hair tighter at the vibrations of your voice on her. You know she's close and you know you want her to take her orgasm from you herself, so you reach for her hand and make it lay flat on top of your head, before giving it a small push, hopefully making her understand what you want. She does, oh she does. After letting out a breathy chuckle at your eagerness she looks at you go back to your ministrations and guides you through it, making you take more and more of her until she's pushing you all the way down her cock and your gagging and her groans are all that can be heard in the room. She's close, so close and you know it, so you open your eyes to look back at her and meet her gaze already on you, before you reach for her balls to lightly fondle them, making her reach her orgasm in a couple more thrusts and finally feeling her cum in your mouth. You gently keep sucking her tip through her high until she's fully done and takes her cock out of your mouth

"Show me"

You don't expect her words but feel excitement when you open your mouth to show her all her cum on your tongue, and she bites her lip at the view

"Good, go on"

Her voice, still panting, and her taste as you swallow all of her cum makes your center ache like never before, even more so when you open your now empty mouth to show her that you've done it and she smirks

"Very good, you've done so well for me"

Her praise makes you smile at her and you can't keep yourself from climbing on the bed to kiss her briefly before she moves to make you lie down with your head resting comfortably on the fluffy pillows while she positions herself between your legs. Your new position gives you the perfect opportunity to fully explore her body, feeling her defined muscles under her velvety skin with every brush of your hands over her shoulders, her arms, her abs, her back, her ass, her thighs. She looks even more godly now, looming over you with her large, sculpted frame, looking quite bigger than you, and essentially trapping you between her and the bed. You don't feel trapped though, you feel safe and free, as you lie under her, with the knowledge that she's not here to take something from you, but to have an exchange, that she's accepting what you have to offer with a deep respect for you and your relationship.

The small traces of boldness you felt when you were pleasuring her disappear, as doubt takes over your mind: will you do a good enough job? Will she like your body? Will the fact that you're new to some things make her lose her excitement?

She immediately senses your uncertainty and can almost see your racing thoughts behind your eyes, getting her a little worried

"Are you alright?"

"I just…I don't know what to do now"

You can't even meet her gaze as you almost whisper the words, her constant and extremely casual confidence making it hard for you to admit your helplessness

"Let me do it then, hm?"

She waits for you to look at her and nod back before giving you a sweet smile and laying her palm on your cheek, savouring the way you subtly snuggle into its warmth, making her heart swell at how small you look right now. She leans down and kisses you gently over and over until she feels your tense body relaxing little at a time under hers and, once she feels you slacken, she finally lets her hands wander, gently gliding them over your body as if to not only lull you further, but also to imprint its curves and feel into her own mind. It's only once your breathing quickens and you kiss her more hungrily that she lets herself tentatively reach closer and closer to your chest, cupping your breasts once your hands tighten on her biceps to pull her closer.

The breathy whimper you let out once she lightly swaps her thumbs over your nipples, breaking your kiss, makes her even more excited and curious to find out what other sweet noises she can get out of you, so she moves her lips over your neck, leaving kisses here and there to find your sweet spot and indulging herself into leaving visible marks over your skin, getting spurred even more by your nails slightly scratching over her back and the subtle rocking of your hips. Moving lower and lower she finally comes face to face with your chest and feels pride at the sight of your already panting state, getting even more determined to make you feel as much as she can, so she finally wraps her lips around your right nipple, making you moan out loud and grip her hair harder than you intended. If she's able to make you feel so euphoric even with the simplest of touches, you can't even imagine how you're going to keep yourself grounded later on.

Your body feels like it's on fire and every single snippet of your skin that comes in contact with hers makes you long for her more and more.

She spends quite some time paying attention to your chest, sucking your nipples and the skin around, certainly getting it bruised and sending even more shivers through your body at the thought of being marked by her.

You're so lost in the moment that you don't feel one of her hands leaving its place on your breast to move lower, startling you when it makes contact with your very inner thigh, still wet from you previously rubbing it with the other while on your knees. She sucks your nipple on last time before kissing you while propping one of your legs over her hip and slowly gliding the pads of her fingers up your thigh, getting closer and closer to their destination and making your anticipation grow like never before. The moment her fingers get right below your hip bone she parts from you and looks you dead in the eye, searching for any sign for her to stop and when you give her a small nod she finally lets herself touch you, gently running her fingers up and down your surprisingly soaked slit, making you gasp at the contact and sending a wave of arousal through both of you.

Soon enough, after getting used to the feeling of someone else's hands on the most private part of your body, you can't help yourself from slightly rolling your hips in search of something, anything more, so she finally moves her ministrations directly over your clit, rubbing it slowly in circular motions and making you moan more loudly than you expected. You get even more excited at the feeling of her cock twitching on your thigh every time you moan for her, so you take one hand out of her hair and move it down to grab and pump her, making her hiss at the feeling of your hand back on her, while she keeps touching your clit and occasionally lower, closer to your entrance. You immediately miss her once her fingers leave your center as she gets them closer to your mouth

"Taste yourself"

The rasp behind her voice almost makes you miss her actual words at how hot it sounds, but you're still barely able to make out their meaning, so you grab her hand and suck on her wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your own arousal on your tongue and the feeling of her fingers in your mouth. Once you've sucked them clean and gotten them wet, she takes them out of your mouth and moves them back to your clit, rubbing it one last time before gently probing at your entrance and slowly pushing a finger inside, looking for any sign of discomfort from you before adding another one at the sight of none. You can barely whine as you bite your lip to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, feeling embarrassed at how your cunt tries to suck her fingers in by tightening around them over and over. Once she's knuckle deep inside of you, you let out a deep breath at the faint pulsing of your clit against the palm of her hand, and look at her with watery eyes at the pleasure you feel even from her fingers staying still inside of you, giving away your extreme arousal when you tighten around her from a small kiss on your lips

"Can I move?"

She whispers her words but you can clearly understand her and quickly nod with big pleading eyes

"Please!"

She can't help but groan at your enthusiasm and barely moves her fingers in and out of you, focusing more on massaging your front wall little by little, getting you used to the sensation and making herself even more frustrated each time she feels your walls spasm around her fingers instead of her cock. She's been extremely patient since you've first gotten on your knees for her and the need to take you and feel you has been eating her up more and more, but the last thing she wants is to make you feel pressured by her, the last person you should feel unsafe with, so she does her best to keep herself grounded and fully focuses on you.

She gradually keeps increasing the pressure of the pad of her fingers on the spongy spot inside of you she easily found, making you embarrassed by the lewd, wet noises that come from your center with each stroke of her fingers and only getting you out of your own head with a particularly hard thrust that gets you freely moaning and tightly gripping the sheets under you. The muscles of her arm get even more defined from the task at hand and her breathing starts shaking from your wet walls engulfing her digits so tightly and the look of ecstasy on your features as she essentially takes your breath away. You're so close, so close to finally cumming undone for her for the first time, so close to the sweetest release

"Natasha! I'm-"

You can barely call her name before your orgasm crushes over you like a tidal wave at full force and runs through your whole body. She can't keep herself from basically growling at just how tight your walls regularly spasm around her fingers and the sight of small droplets of clear liquid coming out of you with every thrust, wetting her wrist and creating a small patch on the sheets under you. It takes you a bit to get down from your orgasm and once it stops, you can't help but sob from how intense it was, slightly shaking from time to time from the aftershocks

"Are you alright? Was it too much?"

There's genuine worry in her voice and eyes and you feel the need to kiss her, hopefully freeing her of her concerns as well

"It was perfect, Natasha"

You barely get to mumble the words against her lips before you need to kiss her again and again until your heart doesn't feel like it's beating out of your chest anymore. She uses your moment of blissed distraction to take her fingers out of you, trying not to cause too much discomfort and breaks the kiss to suck her fingers clean, lowly moaning at your taste on her tongue for the first time.

The sight makes the desire you've been feeling, that's never truly left you yet, come back at full force, startling you at how easily she's able to cause such waves of arousal to run through you.

You can't wait anymore, you need to feel more of her inside of you so bad you might just cry if you can't have her immediately and, based on her hungry eyes and fully erect cock, she might be feeling just the same

"I need you inside of me Natasha"

If your mind wasn't clouded by such want you'd feel embarrassed by your own words and the extreme neediness in your voice, but you simply can't bring yourself to care about it right now and whine at the loss of her body's warmth once she leans back on her knees. You're at a loss for words once you give yourselves time to truly look at each other's naked bodies for the first time and not even the way she grabs your waist to gently slide you down the bed a little bit before putting a pillow under your ass is enough to get you distracted from the perfect sight in front of you. You're finally pulled out of your trance once she makes your thighs rest on top of hers and gets you to automatically wrap your legs behind her back, giving her easy access to your center. Her cock sitting heavy on top of your mound makes you just a little anxious at how big it looks near you, but, sensing your doubt, she immediately takes one of your hands and kisses its back as to hopefully soothe you

"We're going at your pace"

Her words do help you a little but you still feel incredibly nervous, so much so that it seems like you suddenly get aware of every single thing near or on you, the cold golden earrings near your jaw, the soft fabric against your back, the slightest breeze of cooler air over your arm-

"You don't have to…not tonight if you don't want"

Her words, accompanied with a soft rub over your knee finally get your mind back to the moment and remind you, once again, that you can trust her and she won't judge you for anything

"I want it! I want it…"

You reach for her thigh to lightly squeeze it as to further reassure her and, once she gives you a brief nod, you smile at her and very slightly move your hips back and forth to feel her cock slide over your clit, signaling to her that you're more than ready. Natasha feels anticipation like never before once she grabs her own cock and moves her hips back a little to line it up with your entrance, making you tighten around nothing at the lewd sight of her spitting on it to get it all wet before grabbing your hips and slowly pushing in the head.

Your mouth opens in shock at the surprisingly not painful yet still almost extreme stretch and your eyes are pulled away from the sight of your centers getting closer to each other the more she pushes inside, at the sound of her voice as she curses under her breath. Your walls feel even tighter than they did around her fingers and it's really hard for her to keep herself from taking you immediately, but of course your comfort is her first priority at the moment, so, once she's fully inside of you, she stops for a bit, waiting for you to feel comfortable enough for her to move. On the other hand, the pleasure she makes you feel already starts clouding your mind and at the feeling of her staying still, completely inside of you, you can't help but let your head fall back on the mattress and let out a loud whine before looking up at her with pleading eyes

"Please Natasha! I'm ready, I promise! Please!"

That's it, there's no going back now.

She squeezes your hips quite hard as she slowly pulls out to the tip, pushing back inside a bit more quickly and going like this over and over, making you moan a bit more each time, until she sets a steady pace, getting lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around her. You barely realize it when you're suddenly moving one of your legs to prop it on her shoulder, making her reach different spots than before, sending shock waves through your body and making you squeeze her tighter. Intent on making you feel even better, she almost immediately takes your other leg from her hip and puts it over her other shoulder, ripping a loud moan out of you from the feeling of her cock now reaching your sweet spot more easily with each thrust. The sight of your hands going from gripping the bed sheets to playing with your own nipples makes her throb inside of you and, needing to go even deeper into you, even if impossible, she lets go of your hips and puts her hands on each side of your head, getting as much leverage as she can, while still keeping your legs against her shoulders, to set a new pace, slower but with much harder thrusts, essentially knocking your breath away at the force with which her hips meet yours

"You're so beautiful"

Unfortunately you can barely register her words and find it impossible to form a single word, but try to find her wrist next to your face to give it a squeeze and hopefully make her understand if not that you think the same, at least that you appreciate her telling you that.

You know that in a short time it'll be almost impossible for you to keep yourself from tumbling into another breathtaking orgasm and you try your best to tell her, even though you know she's probably already aware of it by the way your cunt keeps squeezing her more and more

"I'm! I'm going to-"

She was waiting for you to say it yourself and hearing your straining voice trying to get the words out gets her close as well and, before she knows it, she's leaning down on her forearms, basically trapping you under her and reaching impossibly deeper inside of you

"Fuck Natasha!"

You didn't think her thrusts could get any harder, but you were wrong, her rough movements and panting groans right next to your ear are too much for you and get you to an orgasm even harder than the one before in only a couple of seconds. She tries her best to keep herself from cumming to keep thrusting into you and help you through your high, but your desperate moans, your nails raking over her back and your cunt squeezing her impossibly tight make it impossible for her to keep her orgasm from crushing over her. Her clear groans, the feeling of her cum deep inside of you and her, already balls deep, trying in vain to thrust even more into you, send an almost painful pang of arousal deep in you, pulling the last bit of energy out of you and leaving you limp under her large body.

Once her breathing has gone back to somewhat normal she finally lifts herself from her spot and comes face to face with you and only then, after you slightly hiss at her movement, she remembers that she's still inside of you

"Sorry"

There's a light sheen of sweat over her whole body, her mane of hair is tousled and her eyebrows are furrowed as she leans back to slowly pull out, trying not to make you feel too much pain also by gently running her hand up and down your side, making your heart swell at the sweetness behind her action. For a brief moment she looks slightly entranced by the sight of her cum slowly sliding out of you but soon moves away to let herself fall on her back next to you quite ungracefully, making you chuckle at her very non-regal manner. A comfortable silence falls between you two as you savour this moment of serenity and only now you notice how some of the many candles have died out, making the room feel even cozier.

Your droopy eyelids keep closing on their own accord, as exhaustion slowly starts taking over the both of you, but, right before you can drift off completely, her hand reaches over to hold yours one last time and her tired voice breaks the serene silence

"I'm very happy you're the one by my side"

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #marvel #mcu

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randombush3 · 3 months

Text

dies irae

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three

words: 12425 (sorry not sorry)

summary: part four, the part that made me realise another part was necessary

warnings: drugs, alcohol, cheating, (a lot of???) vomiting, general angst tbh

notes: in all honesty, i started this with the intention of finishing the series, but it hit 12k and i thought maybe not x

weird little comment, but the last section was originally written in spanish (hear me out: i was on the plane and i didn’t want the people beside me to read it over my shoulder) and i’m still feeling a little iffy about my translation of my og version but oh well!

i hope you enjoy this and are content w waiting another five years for me to churn out the new FINAL part

The sand is warm beneath your feet, each grain rubbing against your bare soles as you sprint. The ground under such surfaces often hardens, proven by the sweat trickling past the thin string of fabric that holds your bikini together. If the beach were not so private, you would be worried about wandering camera lenses.

However, there is no one else here but your favourite people. Well, maybe Nico has dropped to the bottom of the list now that your energy has been worn down while his does not seem to waver.

“I give up,” you pant as he continues to tumble down the shoreline, changing his tactics and swerving into the water, comfortable in his sea. The same sea he looks at each morning from your bedroom window. The one he learnt to swim in. (That and a variety of hotel pools.) “You win, you win!”

The small figure, around twenty metres away, comes to an abrupt halt, wobbling on little legs for a moment. Then he begins to run again, but this time towards the towels and constructed shade you had set up earlier. Unwillingly, you race him back to base camp.

“He ganado,” he declares as he taps Alexia’s shining back as though she is the signpost signifying the finish line. Your hand caresses the divots of muscle soon after, brushing sand across smooth, tanned skin. Nico peers at you strangely, but understands, thanks to Tia Alba, that the beach outfits are special to his mothers.

“Mi ganador,” comes a tired murmur of praise.

“Did you see, Mami? I was so far ahead.” She nods, craning her neck upwards to talk to him. You gladly sprawl out on the vacant towel, passing on the baton to your wife, fortunate that Elena has been asleep in her buggy for the past twenty minutes. “Can I play with Lela now? Is nap time over?”

“No, sweetheart, naptime has just begun.” He looks up at you with pleading, bored eyes. The one unfortunate consequence of going to a private beach is that, unless you bring along your babysitter, there is no one else for Nico to play with. Alexia and you are both exhausted, and today is supposed to be about relaxation. Three-year-olds don’t understand that concept. “If you don’t want to sleep, how about burying Mami?”

“In the sand?”

“Sí, in the sand.”

He leans close to your ear. “Mami says I’m not allowed to do that,” he whispers, though he has not quite mastered the volume of such a tone yet. Alexia pretends not to be listening, but you can feel her foot prodding your shin in protest.

“Rules are sometimes made to be broken,” you tell him. “And if you do bury her, the only way to make her happy again is to get ice-cream. Which means you can also get ice-cream.”

“You are so annoying,” grumbles Alexia.

“This morning, I believe the word you used was ‘sexy’,” you retort. With the Euros on the horizon, it seems that the two of you are using up what little time you have to spend together. Though Alexia sometimes feels like there are hands wrapped around her neck after she failed to win the Champions League once more, she is more than happy to take advantage of the time off before she tries to make amends internationally.

“Mm. You are magically both.”

You tug your sunglasses – Prada, brand-new from a modelling campaign – down slightly, so that they sit lower on your nose. The sun is warm and doing its best to wear Nico down as he finds his discarded spade and begins to dig, and Elena is still fast asleep.

A mischievous grin forms on your lips, one that Alexia knows well. Topless, she flips over onto her back, excusing herself with a muttered comment about an ‘even tan’, and that is invitation enough for you to cup her cheek, your touch as fiery as the surface of the sun that blankets the beach. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair as you lower yourself down to her level.

“The phrase is ‘annoyingly sexy’ in English, darling,” you murmur, your eyes locked onto hers. Even now, after six years, the proximity ignites desire over every inch of your skin, and you cannot wait to kiss. Alexia’s initial grumble turns into a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something more. Impatiently, you kiss her, aware that the moment will soon be ruined by a spray of sand as Nico pursues his mission.

She is just as eager to kiss you back, craving the way you seem to hold the solution to every problem. Part of Alexia’s mind has not yet been able to comprehend the way in which you love her. It is hidden by the other, much larger compartment: the one that reminds her every day that she should never, ever tell you, because it would break your heart. To you, Alexia is making up for lost time. To her, she is secretly begging for forgiveness that you don’t even know she is due.

She knows the minute your phone rings that everything is about to go wrong. No one is supposed to call you today; you have been emphatic about it. You blindly reach for the ringing device, ready to lob it into the ocean, but Alexia grabs your wrist. “It must be something important,” she says, and it feels like she is telling you she understands; you are busy, and she understands.

“I’ll be quick, I promise.” With a quick jog up the steps and onto the concrete of the promenade, you perch on the stone wall separating the beach from the carpark, bare feet swinging over the edge. The rough surface of the wall presses uncomfortably into the exposed flesh of your bum, but you remind yourself that you will soon be lying back down on the beach towels. “Hi? I thought we agreed that pretty much everything could wait until tomorrow. I don’t care about any photos taken of me, and you know that my automatic position is simply to ensure that the children’s faces are blurred out before they get spread around.”

“Y/n!” Your publicist sounds nervous. It’s a stressful job, you guess. Between organising interviews and brand deals and the like, she has to stamp down on unwanted rumours and be on the look-out for any perceived cracks in your very public person. Naturally, you are not perfect.

“Yeah, I’m here. Hi.”

“I’m afraid that it’s not a picture of you this time.” Alexia is now famous in her own right, as she always should have been. With a Ballon d’Or under her belt, you have been promoted to a ‘celebrity couple’.

“She has her own team, you know.”

“I’m sure she will be firing them soon.” The joke fails to land, instead crashing and burning and… You freeze.

“Why?”

“I am sure that you are aware we have feelers out for anything that could potentially harm your reputation.” You nod foolishly, caught up in the undisclosed severity of the phone call, forgetting that she cannot see you. “An hour ago, we were contacted by a photographer; one of the usual ones we get in when you’re in need of a bit of a press-boost. He’s based in Barcelona, has lots of friends in the area and such. I have the terrible job of telling you.”

Your heart quickens as the confession hangs in the air, leaving a heavy silence on the other end of the line. The anticipation builds, and you can almost feel the impending storm swirling just off the coast, waves beginning to thrash against rocks, nature beginning to tear the world down.

“He claims to have some photos, ones that could potentially damage your image,” she says, tone measured and professional. “I haven’t seen them yet, but he described them as… intimate, to say the least.”

“Of Alexia?” you question carefully, forcing the words onto your tongue. “Intimate? What do you mean?”

“Well, they are of her and someone else. Someone who isn’t you.”

“Who?” Dread sets in, and the wall is suddenly not the most uncomfortable thing about your position. You feel too exposed, unsafe in what you are wearing. Taken advantage of, perhaps.

Cheated.

“I have not seen the photos yet, babe. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He would have attached them in his email. Paparazzos don’t have time to harass you digitally as well as in real-life. She must have avoided opening them. Or. Or she is lying.

“I need to see those pictures,” you assert, your need for clarity driving the sentence forwards.

“Are you sure?” You nod again, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, knowing that she cannot see you but feeling helpless to do anything else. She takes your silence as confirmation. There is a brief click of a mouse, and the animated swoosh of an email. “They should come through in a moment.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you… alright?”

She quickly takes the hint from the lack of response and hangs up.

You rest your phone on your thigh as your arms grip onto the ledge of the wall, pulling yourself backwards so that you do not fling yourself off it. You shake as you reach safety, and your fingers feel numb as they tap the screen, accessing your emails robotically until a pinwheel is all that separates you from the photos.

Intimate, huh.

They are practically snogging.

There are eleven images, and each one delivers a blow more painful than the last.

The beach feels confined, like an elaborate cage that you cannot escape. The shoreline creeps towards you, and you seem to be pressed against the hot metal of the car in the carpark. You struggle to recognise the scenes captured as ones where you were present, and the unfortunate date in the bottom right-hand corner evidences the photos as a time when you were not in Barcelona at all: 2021.

The realisation hits hard and you find that everything you have ever believed to be true has simply been a cruel joke that you were excluded from.

What you have been sent is more than just proof; it is a betrayal etched in pixels, an undeniable record of a moment that shatters the foundation of your relationship. Your heart races as your scroll through the images, cruelly reminded of a reality you desperately wish were not true. One you had no idea existed. One that had been kept secret from you.

The lump in your throat grows, and your eyes blur with unshed tears. You are overwhelmed by sharp pain coursing through your veins, and it is as if you have been injected with a poison that burns through your cell tissue, disintegrating every block of your body. It scorches the things you know to be true.

Love goes up in flames before your eyes.

And then a voice that you really do not want to hear speaks, and, just like that, the ashes of what has disappeared are suddenly ablaze once more.

“Nico y yo vamos a tomar helado. ¿Quieres algo?” Sandals, sunglasses, a loose linen shirt. Nico holds her hand, proud of himself. You cannot bear to look at either of them, so you stare at the towels a few metres beneath you.

“Where is Lena?”

“Dormida, aún.”

Shaking, you stand up, enjoying the sharp rocks that pierce into your skin, reminding you that you are yet to die. “Take Nico. I’ll go back down and sit with her.”

“Vale. Te quiero.”

You don’t reply. You wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

Every step feels as though the world is cracking open and you are going to fall to your death, yet, in the midst of the impending doom, you feel as calm as can be. Numb, perhaps.

Elena stirs as you adjust the parasol providing her the necessary shade. A hand reaches out, prepared to grab onto you, searching for your body like you are her lifeline. You are her lifeline; you are her mother. And so is Alexia.

A tear rolls down your cheek as you let her pull your fingers to her mouth, nails brushing her lips as she whines with the headache of waking up from a nap. “What are we going to do?”

…

The car journey home is silent on your part. You stew in your nothingness, unwilling to engage in the light conversation Alexia creates to keep Nico awake before his sleep schedule is ruined. Barcelona flashes past you, and the city that you once admired feels like the scene of a crime. Looking out the window is almost as sickening as if your eyes were to land on the woman beside you. Almost.

You withhold your grief for the evening, going through the motions of nightly chores; putting the kids to bed, finishing the remainder of your packing, drying the dishes without throwing them at the blonde hair that sails past as she sorts her own suitcases out. A few texts are exchanged between you and your publicist, in which you graciously decide that those pictures will not come from you. Though if her team fails to catch them before they reach Twitter, that is not your problem.

Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the comforting blanket of darkness, you clear your throat.

It has been six hours since you found out.

Every second that has passed has done so with excruciating pain, yet you cannot determine whether it has sunk in at all yet. You wonder if, given the chance, you would crumple into yourself and weep as though she has died.

When you look at Alexia, readying herself for bed, you decide that the whole situation is laughable.

You are so stupid. You thought she loved you more than that, and you were embarrassingly incorrect.

“I want you to leave now,” you say firmly, only the bed between you. Alexia pauses, pyjama shorts halfway up her muscular legs as she peers at you curiously. Her confusion is infuriating. “I want you to… go to your mother’s or something. You’re not sleeping here.”

“Why? What have I done?”

She speaks as though this is a normal argument, or as though you are hormonal and unreasonable. You clench your fists and remind yourself not to wake the children up. “I am surprised you didn’t follow her to Mexico.”

It is then that Alexia Putellas realises three things. The first: she hasn’t spoken about Jenni since she left for Pachuca, and she barely pays attention when Nico persuades her to find the stream for the striker’s matches. The second: it has been six months since Jenni called whatever they were doing quits. And the third… the third is how well and truly fucked she is.

She should have confessed her crime the minute she first slept with her; the night after they were knocked out of the World Cup. Elena wasn’t even a concept, then. You took her back though you were unaware you had ever lost her.

Last year, when it was Alexia all alone, she should have confessed her second betrayal. A longer, more hurtful betrayal. Something fuelled by meaningfulness, not passion and heightened adrenaline. If she were in your position, the physicality would not be what obliterated her heart; the emotion behind the entire affair would.

She wipes her eyes, aware that she has started to cry. It is all the confirmation you need. “I’m so sorry,” is the only thing she can think to say, but ‘sorry’ does not amount to the pain she knows she has caused. ‘Sorry’ won’t heal a wound that has cut deep, cut through years of love and happiness and supposed loyalty. ‘Sorry’ does not change the fact that Alexia lent herself to Jenni, let Jenni take her in any capacity she wished, and then returned to you as though it had never even happened.

In all honesty, part of Alexia is very curious about how you have found her out. Mapi would not risk being caught up in such a storm, and Jenni would gain only suffering from telling you because she knows that Alexia would never choose her. Though she has spent night after night with her finger hovering over her sister’s contact, she resolved never to tell Alba either, for fear that her sister would see her for the monster she is and side with you. Selfishly, Alexia does not want anyone to side with you, but even she finds it easy to hate herself.

“Is that all you can offer me?” you croak, and it is clear to Alexia that you are this calm because you are putting your children before yourself. They do not need to hear their parents’ marriage implode; not tonight, not ever. She cannot bear to meet your eyes as you pierce through her bowed head. “Alexia.” She pulls her shorts up fully, forehead parallel to the floor. “Alexia!” you snap.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

Alexia Putellas is regarded by most as intimidating, yet, here, she is anything but. She is meek. Pathetic.

She is a woman who continued to make a stupid mistake although she was given so many opportunities to fix it.

And, when Alexia finally grows the balls to look into your piercing eyes, she sees, reflected in your hardened, dark pupils, weakness and idiocy, rimmed with the most stinging of betrayals. It kills her to see you fight your own tears, and it is worse when you have to break eye contact because you are afraid you will vomit if it goes on any longer.

“You are packed, so you can leave tonight. Sort yourself out while I get the children up.”

Everything is ruined because of her.

It is the last night Alexia lives under the same roof as you. It is a horrible way to end a golden age, and the worst possible confirmation of the fleetingness of all things that exist. You hate the world, you hate Jennifer Hermoso, and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to hate your wife.

Alexia says goodbye to a sleepy Nico and a clingy Elena. Your daughter refuses to let her mother go the minute she is passed to her, and all four of you try your best not to cry, whether it be from confusion, regret, or heartbreak.

Nico, inquisitive as one is at his age, does not let the door open without questions. ‘Why now?’ is what causes Alexia to freeze, searching on your face for permission to have one more second with him. You cup the back of Elena’s head, fingers splaying out against her soft hair, soothing her back to sleep. And you nod.

She crouches to his level, dwarfed by her suitcases. In her pocket, her phone buzzes; her taxi has arrived. “¿Te acuerdas cuando te hablé sobre la responsabilidad? Soy la capitana, cariño, y tengo que cuidar a mi equipo, así que ‘ahora’ es lo mejor para ellas.” You are grateful for the lie.

“¿Ahora yo mando? ¿Como me dijiste?”

“Sí. Tienes que cuidar a Mama y Lela, y protegerlas como yo os protejo a vosotros. Y nos veremos prontito, petit. Te lo prometo.”

He is fighting his tears, stiff like a toy soldier marching off to an imaginary battle. You half expect Nico to salute with his chubby, unpractised fingers, but he simply stands there, between Alexia and you. Though Elena is safe in your arms, Nico is caught in the crossfire, two feet innocently leading him into no man’s land.

You take a deep breath as Alexia closes the door behind her. She has been driven out – her own doing – and she knows, because she knows you, that there will be no space in your life for her until your gaping wound dulls in pain. The journey to her mother’s house is the second time she ever considers killing herself, with the first being the night her father died.

But this is how it goes.

You fly to England the next day, holding it together until Elena and Nico are safely in the hands of Anya, but you do not give her a reason for her much-needed babysitting abilities.

It is a small secret. You keep it because on top of being in agony, you are so fucking embarrassed. You. You got cheated on. You weren’t enough for her. (And Jenni was?) It’s really easy to pretend you’re stressed for Alexia, knowing she is heading into a tournament that Spain could win but won’t.

The first official step you take – the very first – is with a nanny. You meet her the day after landing at London Stansted, and she seems to be the perfect choice for the interim period of your life that you have unexpectedly entered; she speaks Spanish, she is discreet, and she reassures you that she is there to enhance family life, not destroy it. And possibly another alluring factor: she is quick to sign an NDA and promise that no photos of your children will make it into any dogshit magazine.

Her first interaction with your children is two hours before your lunch with your publicist, manager, producer, and lawyer. They have agreed to congregate – they have seen the pictures (an exclusive peek, as the deliciously world-destroying surprise photoshoot has not yet been picked up by anyone with ganas to publish it). Each one has a purpose, each one wants to profit off your heartbreak, and, though they’d never admit it for fear of breaking their hard exteriors, each invitee would also like to see if you’re okay.

“Do you… like her?” you sheepishly ask your son while Isabela, the nanny, supervises Elena’s lunch. You’re not entirely sure your daughter understands that the hummus is supposed to go into her mouth, not redecorate the highchair table from white to beige, but Isabela does her best to instruct her, the familiar tinkle of Alexia’s language making your daughter’s eyes light up.

He looks a little puzzled. “Is she a babysitter?”

“Sort of.” You sigh, “it’s just that I have a lot to do, and Mami is playing football now. Isabela is going to help us, but I want to make sure that you want that.”

Nico shrugs. “Don’t care.”

“And she’s going to speak in Spanish, just like Mami does.” In anticipation of a worse reaction, you wince at the slight insinuation that you’re replacing Alexia. He doesn’t pick up on it.

“She sounds funny.”

“That’s because she’s from Colombia,” you answer him, and he nods, storing that information for later. Probably for when Alexia calls to speak to him (a moment you are dreading).

“Is Colombia near Mexico?” He perks up; you know what’s coming next. “Does Isabela know Jenni?”

You have to remind yourself that Nico has not done anything wrong. The fault of the mother is not the son’s, and, briefly, you pray he has inherited your fidelity for the sake of his future partners.

You pretend that the name that just fell from his lips does not fill you with the overwhelming urge to strangle someone. And, calmly, you reply, “probably not, but you can always ask her.”

…

Alexia does not know what to do.

She wishes, she really does, that someone would pass her a clock… and she knows she has trained and worked hard enough to wrestle the hands of time back a year and change her decisions in every situation. Alas, that is impossible.

She tells Mapi, as the team touches down in England, what has happened. The defender is unimpressed – angry, even, at her best friend – but nothing warrants what is to come.

The morning feels eerily normal. Breakfast is difficult, especially when all Alexia can think while she eats is that every morsel in her mouth fuels the monster she has become. Every bite, every sip of coffee, leads her to live another day. She is not particularly certain that she deserves that.

Mapi does not look at her, swerves her request to be partners when training begins. Head down, eyes slowly filling with tears, Alexia takes the punishment. She says nothing when Pina pinches her side, “Patri’s being annoying”, and drags her into the drill.

She runs, she passes the ball, Pina turns and shoots it into the mini-net.

Pina runs, she passes the ball, Alexia turns.

Something goes wrong.

Maybe it is that the pitch is uneven, cut up from whoever had trained before. Maybe it’s the pass, slightly off-target. Maybe she is at that point in her menstrual cycle where the risk of injury is higher – that’s being looked into, isn’t it?

Maybe it’s that her body can no longer stay so robust when everything else in her life is hurtling towards the ground in the most epic downhill slope possible.

Maybe.

The pop is unmistakable, and the pain searing. She can’t help the scream she lets out, barely registering whoever has rushed to her side while she presses her face into the dirt, tears watering the grass.

“I’ve done my ACL,” Alexia gasps, lifting her head up slightly. She catches sight of the blue sky, the green grass. The bright sun shining down on her, hot against her neck but nothing in comparison to the agony in her knee.

She blinks, thinking her eyes are blurring from her tears.

A second later, she is unconscious.

When Alexia wakes up, she is glad to have passed out. She has no memory of being hauled off the pitch or brought into the medical room. Her head aches and her knee throbs, but she knows that there is someone beside her so she does her best to hold in the immediate wave of sobs that seem to take over her.

A calloused hand reaches for hers, unclenching her fist, urging her to squeeze the pain away, pass off some of it to her companion. They have given her pain medication. She can tell because the white walls dance around her and the only word she can manage to get out is your name.

She whispers it over and over again.

“I know,” comes a soothing voice, poorly concealing the worry that cracks the tone. “Shh, I know, I know. You’re okay, Ale. She’s… she’s on her way.”

…

The call is unexpected.

Mapi never has much reason to talk to you on your own, unless you share a concern for your wife’s wellbeing. You suppose that’s a bit of a redundant commonality now. Your lawyers have drawn up a custody agreement and, upon meek request, divorce papers: a gift for after the Euros.

“Dime, Mapi. Estoy trabajando,” you say curtly, signalling from inside the booth that the phone call is nothing to worry about and you can resume the recording session in a moment.

Mapi’s news makes you even more resentful than you were already feeling, because you can’t help but sprint to your car the minute the address is given.

…

Pain becomes part of everyday life.

Crutches, too.

Alba and Eli already existed as frequent visitors, but the former increases her appearances so that she has moved in the day before Alexia’s surgery.

It spills out, the night of the surgery, that Alexia and you are no longer together. That you left her, with good reason. It’s a surprise, considering you had stayed by her side during the twelve hours in England between the medical room, the hospital, and the airport.

When Alexia reluctantly tells Alba why, Alba decides that you are a saint and her sister, a sinner. She holds her hands behind her back to keep herself from slapping Alexia across the face, but little does she know, Alexia longs for the anger, wishing she wasn’t being pitied for her injury. She wishes there was no injury to be pitied for, but, then again, she tells herself that she deserves it and accepts the agony as one would hold a blade to their wrists and slit them.

This behaviour, this quiet ideology that she has been punished for her mistake, is what leads Alba to ensure the keys to the balcony are hidden and the kitchen knives are tucked away in a cupboard, out of sight. Or perhaps it is what she hears her sister telling herself in the mirror. Worthless. Degenerate. Evil, cruel, horrible. Selfish!

She has two children with you, for God’s sake!

“I have ruined my own life.” Her words burn, the intensity of her anger enough to make Alba flinch, hands gripping the steering wheel harder, forcing her way forwards. The hospital comes into view and Alexia cries out in anguish. “I have ruined it, Alba! I have ruined everything!”

Alexia, The Ruiner.

She bears the new name with something more than disappointment. She lets the nurses examine her knee, compliment Alba for her care-taking, and reassure her about the surgery. She lets them talk her through possible complications, secretly hoping one will occur and she will wither away; no longer a footballer, no longer a mother, no longer your wife. Just Alexia, The Ruiner.

Alba and her argue, Alexia lying back in the cot, hospital gown patterned against clinically white sheets, light fabric against her paling skin. “You wanting to die is not you wanting to kill yourself. It’s your regret, and it’s your cowardice at not being able to face the consequences of your actions.” Alexia had been hot-headed enough to voice how she did not want to make it through the surgery. She is in excruciating pain, and is convinced they need to investigate it. “It’s your knee, not your heart. Your heart hurts because you cheated on her and she rightfully left you! Don’t you ever say something so fucking stupid again.”

“Alba!” Eli’s entrance is neither good nor bad. “Alba, leave her.” Alexia’s tears run down the sides of her face, hitting the sheets like little bullets. The soft caress of her mother’s hand across her cheek is no comfort, and Alexia only sobs harder. “You are going to be fine, mi cielo. The surgery is going to go well and you will come back even stronger.”

Alexia knows that, once you have torn your ACL, you are more likely to tear it again, so she mentally disputes her mother’s claim. She has no energy to voice the thought, however.

“Mamá, she’s convinced she’s going to have a heart attack.” Alba points to her sister’s chest, as if to disagree by showing their mother that nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. They begin to argue, and Alexia watches her family implode, deeming herself once more, Alexia, The Ruiner.

It’s not a heart attack, it turns out. She falls victim to a severe panic attack just as they begin to wheel her away. They increase her dosage of anaesthetic.

Unfortunately, the next morning Alexia comes to after a successful surgery and remembers nothing. That is until she looks to her bedside and finds only her mother there (Alba having gone to the big, empty apartment to adjust it to her sister’s newly-disabled lifestyle).

She relives the kisses Jenni used to press to her neck, the marks sucked into her skin though Jenni knew she was not hers to brand. She relives your expression when you told her you knew, the grimace you had worn, the way your eyes flicked to the ensuite as though you were going to throw up at any point.

She hears her knee pop again, sees the trophy slip from her grasp, sees it float into the realm of possibility along with the Champions League cup.

“You’re awake,” Eli says with surprise, offering a warm but sympathetic smile. She reaches out to touch Alexia, but Alexia jerks her body backwards, instantly regretting it when her knee begins to ache unbearably. “They said you’ll be in a lot of pain at first, but it will subside and, soon, you can start recovery. Your physiotherapist is going to visit in an hour or so, and I cannot count how many well-wishes you have received.” Weirdly, Eli thinks to herself, Jenni has said nothing.

Alexia shakes her head, trying to dispel the fog in her mind. “Do the… Do the children know I am hurt?”

“I believe so,” Eli replies with a nod. “Y/n broke the news to them, but we haven’t heard from her since you went into the operating theatre. I have no idea whether she’s going to come here. I assume she will.”

“She won’t,” mutters Alexia, refusing to look at her mother.

“Oh, don’t be so gloomy. She’s your wife, of course she is going to come.” A dark storm brews in the cagey hospital room, but Eli remains an oblivious ray of sunshine. “I know you don’t want Nico and Lela to see you like this, but they miss you. They must have been so excited for the Euros!”

All of it is the wrong thing to say. If Eli had known, she would have approached the uncertainty differently.

If Alexia were not so angry at herself, so guilty, so destructive, she would have calmly explained that your absence is both warranted and understandable.

Instead.

Well, instead, this comes out of her: “She is not going to come because I had a fucking affair and she has left me and taken the children to fucking England where they are probably never going to be allowed to see me ever, and I will live out the rest of my days as a fucking coach because I am useless and I am never going to play football again!”

Eli sits back in her chair, shocked.

“What have you done?”

Neither knows if it is a question or a damnation, but Alexia chooses to answer her mother regardless; “I have ruined everything, and now I am paying the price for it.”

…

Your friends gloat a little bit, calling it Karma. Anya and Gio are first in disbelief, but they soon progress onto the stage of hatred – something you have not yet been able to access.

For now, life feels as though it is on auto-pilot. Your children are happy and safe, your country is going to do well in the Euros, and time does not stop ticking no matter how hard you wish it would.

Alexia’s surgery is successful. You see the update on Twitter, not wanting to contact Alba or Eli in case Alexia thinks you have forgiven her. You haven’t. Perhaps you never will.

“There are two ways you can go about this,” Gio says with a smirk, holding out a thong to you as you stand in your bedroom in just a towel. “You’re hot and rich and famous… and now single, too.” You are not completely sure of that, but you nod, following along. You slip into the lace and then point to the England shirt folded on top of your pillow. It gets thrown at your face. “You can wallow in it and weep like a damsel in distress, giving her the satisfaction of breaking your heart…”

“I don’t think she wanted to–”

“She cheated on you,” Gio cuts you off bluntly. After a moment, your shoulders drop and you resign to hearing her plan. “As said earlier, hot, rich, famous… Babe, just get with someone else. Get with everyone else! Your babies are looked after 24/7 and this is London, my dear. The pond is really an ocean and you are a catch. As your bestest friend, I know what’s best for you. You’ve got an album coming out in September, a tour to hop on in November, and about three thousand dildos you can hop on after that!”

You cringe. “Don’t be crass.”

“Don’t be a prude.” She gestures to herself. “Look at me; Mia’s fine and healthy, doesn’t legally have to see her arsehole of a father, and I get a good shag every fortnight.”

“No, I’ve drawn up the custody agreement already. I’ll go back to Barcelona when the school year starts, and we can swap every two weekends. But I’m keeping our home – she can find somewhere else to live, seeing as all of this is her fault.”

“And the tour?” Gio asks as you pull on your England jersey and a pair of shorts. Good weather has blessed the start of the tournament, and you have been invited to the first match at Old Trafford by Manchester United themselves. Gio and Anya are coming, and you think they have put you in with a few of their players and executives. Your father has his own ticket, planning to meet you there and convince you to pay your grandmother a visit (she doesn’t like that you are lesbian and therefore you don’t like her).

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “because I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to make the children’s lives even more unstable. Maybe it’s best to give them a few months to adjust to the idea of us not being together.”

Gio hums in agreement, knowing she had it easy with her own co-parenting adjustment because her daughter was a baby with no recollection of her parents being a couple, much less in-love. “You’re a good mum.” She kisses your cheek and wraps you in a very needed hug. “You’ll get through this because you are stronger than a pathetic affair.”

You swear.

“What time’s our train leaving?!”

The match is a good one, and the atmosphere is enough to make you feel the slightest bit alive. Spain plays in two days, and though you have good reason to believe Alexia is going to be there, you are booking a family trip to Legoland to delay the first hand-off of many.

England win with one goal to nil, courtesy of Beth Mead’s chip. You are on your feet, cheering the entire match. One of the United executives tells you that he loves your passion and asks you if you’d take his ticket to the post-match drinks as he wants to head home for a nap. You laugh, the old Mancunian reminding you of your father, and accept. It’s just the one ticket, so you bid Gio and Anya goodbye, book a hotel for the night (comfortable with the idea that Isabela has safe hands to care for your children), and give your father a valid reason to pass up on the visit to Didsbury.

The only person at this event that you really know is Alessia Russo, after exchanging a few DMs last Christmas to wrangle a signed Manchester United jersey for Nico’s Christmas present (a gift Alexia had refused to say was from her as well).

“No kids today?” she asks with a grin, pulling you into a friendly hug.

“Didn’t manage to get them tickets,” you reply. “But now I get to drink, and you get to watch me and wish you weren’t on a nutrition plan.”

She shakes her head. “We’ve actually been instructed to celebrate the wins. Sarina Wiegman says it’s a key part of tournament success.” You look around the room, noticing every Lioness here, hair still wet from the showers and donning team-issued tracksuits, has a can of beer in their hands. Jorge Vilda could never. “Glad to see you haven’t yet become a Spain and Barcelona fan. Feeling patriotic enough to be introduced to our captain?”

Leah Williamson bears the same concentrated eyes gifted to Alexia; determination, victory, leadership.

You’re unsure if you have ever formally met her, perhaps at the Brits once. “I go with Alex? Alex Scott,” she says, as though she is trying to impress you. She takes the briefest of looks down to your hands that hang near your waist with no glass to hold (the bar has cut you off for half an hour).

You wear one ring. It is not the one with which Alexia promised you her total devotion, but it is from her all the same. An old gift – maybe from your first anniversary?

Leah doesn’t ask whether you are still married.

“I heard your son loves football?” He is obsessed with his mother, he wishes to follow her in every single thing she does. “You should bring him to our next match. I’ll get him one of those passes, and– Hey, you know what? I bet there’s a way I can get him a place as a mascot for one of the matches! Both our next ones are down south.”

You smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, course. He might be a bit young but I’m always glad to help out our little fans, and it might throw Spain off their game.” She winks, offering no further explanation, and is suddenly called away before you can request more information.

You have to admit, the idea of Nico walking (toddling) out with England makes you feel both proud and satisfied. It will be a tiny jab towards Alexia, which, honestly, is a privilege considering how she has stabbed you in the back repeatedly with a machete.

When your son’s first time on a proper football pitch is with Alessia Russo, holding her hand with wide eyes and a wider smile, you are sure Alexia has smashed the screen of whatever TV she has been studying her opponents with.

…

Spain playing England in the quarter-final feels intensely political within your family.

Alexia is in Brighton for the first time in her life, and she hates more than anything that she is not preparing herself for a match. She won’t be going through her pre-game rituals for another seven months, at least.

You tell Isabela to take the children to Alexia’s hotel, unable to put yourself in front of the wheel. Your hands have not stopped shaking since your manager texted you a screenshot of their conversation (seeing as you refuse to talk to her, not for pettiness but for fear of breaking yourself in two), and Isabela poured you a glass of wine before she left to calm your nerves.

You feel sick, and the toilet water turns red as your body rejects the rioja. Once you have wiped your mouth, you laugh at the notion that even Spanish wine is unwelcome inside of you.

“Who are you?” Alexia demands as the revolving doors of the lobby reveal her two babies with a stranger. She is quick to remove Elena from the arms of this new woman, although she is disgruntled by how comfortable her daughter seems. One of her crutches falls to the ground, Alexia not having been able to master childcare and post-surgery impairments because she has not seen the children she is supposed to care for, but she does not find it in herself to care.

“Hola, Sra. Putellas. Encantada.” Isabela holds out her hand but Alexia does not shake it, jaw clenched at the way you have gotten a Spanish-speaking nanny as though to completely erase her babies’ Catalan accents and memory of their other mother! “Me contrataron para ayudar a Y/n con los niños. Me dijeron que usted se encargaría de ellos hoy.”

“Sí, lo estoy haciendo, porque son MIS hijos.” She looks at Nico, who has been hiding shyly behind his nanny’s leg, afraid of his mother’s fierceness. Alexia softens, hoping to welcome him into her embrace, but her stupid knee won’t bend and she can’t get onto his level. Isabela reaches out to help her, or to at least steady her so that she doesn’t drop the squirming toddler she is holding, but the help is unwanted and, quite frankly, embarrassing.

Alexia’s frustration brings tears to her eyes.

She quickly blinks them back.

“¿Le gustaría que la ayudara, Sra. Putellas? Me han pagado por trabajar hoy, así que no es un proble–”

“¡No!” Alexia snaps. Silently, she curses how condescending and petty you have become. Paying the nanny in advance to taunt her for her injuries! “No. Estaré bien. Soy su madre.”

“Por supuesto, pero también está herida.” Isabela looks around the lobby for a moment. “¿Está sola?”

Alexia knows that Mapi’s parents are going to be arriving any minute now, kindly offering to help out with Nico and Elena. “Oh, we do not mind! We’d love for María to have children of her own,” they had said.

“Soy perfectamente capaz de manejarlo–”

“Isabela,” Isabela supplies.

“Isabela,” Alexia repeats. “Ahora, si ha terminado, vaya a disfrutar su día libre.”

She waits on the sofa just left of the door for Mapi’s parents, silently begging them to arrive as soon as possible. Nico is bored and would like to run around, upset that Alexia denies him his fun whenever he whines to play. Elena is tired, grumpily napping in Alexia’s lap, but that means she can’t position her knee the way the surgeons had asked her to. Isabela hadn’t meant to, but she had dumped two rucksacks of toys, snacks, and clothes onto Alexia, who still hasn’t been able to retrieve her crutch from the floor.

Close to tears and very overwhelmed, the arrival of the couple comes as a great relief. “Oh, you poor thing,” coos Mapi’s mother, a caring woman from whom her friend inherited the same quality. She kisses Alexia’s forehead and instantly takes the weight from her lap, hushing the soft whimpers Elena lets out. “Let us look after the babies. You make sure you have the tickets sorted. Have you taken your pain medication? Oh, let me take care of it for you.”

The fuss is something she has had to get used to, but she is thankful for the assistance. They wrestle Nico into his red Spain jersey, something he was not delivered in, and they ensure all three of their wards are comfortable before the stadium appears in the windshield of the taxi.

Alexia begins to get nervous.

Spain has more talent than England – always has – but they don’t have the same funding nor support. Their manager is a dickhead and the federation corrupt, and Alexia’s teammates suffer daily in a way no Lioness would be able to comprehend. She fears for their reputation, for their progression.

Her nerves increase when she sees you in the stands, in your own box of course. It seems that you see her too, but your only acknowledgement of her presence is the wave you give to your children. Alexia has to remind them sharply in Catalan that they are Spanish.

Afterwards, when Spain lost and Alexia is blaming herself for the defeat, you walk through the tunnel, following Leah’s directions that she had sent over text. You’d added her to your contacts yesterday, growing tired of Instagram DMs.

The odd thing about this area is that to your left, nothing is heard and the air hangs its head in shame, but to your right, a nation celebrates its victory. Sadly, you know you have to fetch your children from the Spain changing room before you say goodbye to the English heroines.

You knock on the door, politely. You have never been more glad that a player has not been selected for a squad. Jenni has missed the Euros due to injury, much like her partner-in-crime.

A solemn Ona Batlle, a Manchester United player who serves as a bridge between worlds in your household, opens the door, making no attempt to force a smile when she sees that it is you. You are (were) their captain’s wife; you are like family.

“Hi,” you breathe, not wanting to be the one to pierce through the silence.

Ona stands to one side and you pass.

Most of the girls are tearful, sniffling into their jerseys, heads in their hands, but no one is as distraught as Mapi. Her sobs take the fun out of winning, her devastation crushing and contagious and impossibly hard to ignore. She buries her face into Alexia’s shoulder, but it does nothing to muffle her cries.

You gulp, catching hazel eyes, understanding the plea to not make this feel worse.

You are heartbroken, and so is Mapi. For different reasons, yes, but both organs are shattered in the same way.

Alexia mutters something very quietly, secretly wishing Mapi does not let her go because this is the first time the defender has actually spoken to her since Alexia did what she did, but the blonde hair stops itching her face soon enough.

Rooted to the spot, you search the room for two smaller Spaniards, finding them both taking after Alexia, comforting the players.

“Nico, Lela, come on,” you croak, finding tears in your own eyes. “Say bye-bye to Mami.”

Their hugs and kisses are missed the moment Alexia leaves the country, and the absence of them makes Alexia crumble completely when she finds the letter from your lawyer that Alba has been hiding from her.

…

September rolls around with school, the start of your custody agreement, and the release of your new album.

Judgement Day.

For many, it confirms the split from your wife. Those pictures were never picked up by a magazine, so you have had them deleted with a baseless threat to sue for defamation.

Alexia no longer has to communicate with you through one of your employees, but any texts exchanged are few and far between. She tells you that she is renting a flat near the training centre. It has three bedrooms, but Nico and Elena share one because her mother is living with her while she recovers from her ACL. She also partially tore her meniscus, though she had hesitated to pass that news on, but everything seems to be in order and she is ahead of schedule.

You reluctantly text her whenever you leave the country, whether that is because you are flying to London for work (and to visit Leah, who you are now good friends with) or because a club opening has called and you have answered. It’s not as messy as the media makes it seem, but you agree with the articles that say you seem to drink as though it is what keeps you alive. The word ‘addict’ gets thrown around, but you are sitting in an armchair in front of your therapist before that escalates, if not for yourself then for the sake of your children.

They themselves do not understand. Nico frequently asks when Alexia will come home, though he has usually just visited her when this question pops out, and Elena throws big tantrums during the swaps. Those are done at a neutral location: the park near you. You hope the playground takes the edge off the palpable tension between you and Alexia as you sit on opposite sides of the same bench, exchanging brief updates about your shared duty until whoever is a mother for the next two weekends makes up an excuse to go.

Just before Christmas, once you have calculated that it’s technically Alexia’s turn with their children until January, you go on your biggest night-out since the days when all you were was a 2010s pop star in a girl-group. With no one to go home to and an empty house in Highgate awaiting your return, you get the closest to sleeping with someone else since before meeting Alexia. Her lips trail down your neck, the white powder on her nose rubbing onto your skin as she presses herself into you. You grope her body desperately, painfully dissatisfied by the bones and creamy skin your hands find. You are used to muscle, to strength, to power.

Not some anorexic model who calls you a MILF and hasn’t had a sober day in years.

In the end, you don’t end up sleeping with her, but it makes the headlines nonetheless. Your publicist lets them. “The world needs to see you move on, even if you aren’t,” she says. Your slight disagreement is not voiced, and social media explodes with further confirmation that you are single. A group of football fans are quick to attack you, calling you cruel for leaving Alexia when she is injured, but the thousand-person army doesn’t particularly bother you. You are doing your ex a favour by not opening up about the reason for the split, and you are both aware of that.

You spend Christmas with your parents, who are not pleased to have you moping about their house. Your father tells you that success is the best revenge. You tell him that your album has topped the charts in December, winning its battle against Christmas music.

“But that hasn’t mended a broken heart,” he is unkind enough to point out. “And neither will models, drugs, or alcohol.”

At this point in the day, you have made it through a bottle and a half of wine and a pack of Marlboro Golds. Voice hoarse from smoking and sobbing the entirety of Christmas Eve, you tell him to “fuck off” and call a taxi for yourself.

You don’t remember the destination you had typed in, but you end up at Leah Williamson’s house.

Leah is home, having returned from Milton Keynes half an hour ago, and is not really surprised by the state you are in. She supposes that she has gotten to know you well enough to realise that you are far from stable. This is the first time the English captain has seen you heartbroken, but she is unsure whether it will be the last.

…

Your tour commences the following month, with January being a fresh start to a new year. You tell Leah, who invites you out with her on NYE, that this year you won't be cheated on. It is not the comment that makes her laugh, but rather the way it slurs out of your mouth.

Barcelona feels suffocating when you arrive at the park to say goodbye to Nico and Elena. You’ll be in the States for the entire month and maybe some of February. Alexia is sure it will be fine, especially since the team has taken it upon themselves to look after the two children and help where they can. Additionally, Alexia is growing closer to one of her friends, Olga, who loves children and wanted to be a teacher before she decided on something much cooler.

Alexia has the courtesy to send Mapi and Ingrid in her place, knowing that you do not want to talk to her. You haven’t yet heard her explanation, but that does not matter. Nothing excuses what she did, and nothing will. (And with Jenni, who is no longer the godmother to Elena, the title being revoked instantly.)

“Will you miss us?” Nico asks as you kiss his soft hair, hugging him tightly. “Mami said that we have to swap every three findes so why no now?”

“Why not now?” you gently correct him. “Because I have to work. I’m going to sing in front of lots and lots of people and, maybe, write some new songs!” Your attempt to excite him crashes and burns, but you are not going to give up. “This is a secret so you can’t tell anyone, but some really, really special people want to make songs with me.”

“Who?” he pouts.

“Well, one of Mami’s favourites, Karol G. She is very nice, and she told me she has an idea for a collaboration.” Petty, yes, but also a career move. Nico’s innocence and lack of understanding about the meaning of separation means that he sees your plans as a very nice gift for Alexia. “And, let me think. Ooh, Bad Bunny – you know him, don’t you? I’m sure Pina or Patri or–”

He pulls away from your embrace, taking a step back. “Sí,” he says, sounding exactly like Alexia, “but to Mami, she no like because he says rude things.”

“Adults are allowed to say rude things,” you reply with a cheeky smile, winking at him. “Your mami says rude things all the time, but not in front of you.”

“Really?”

“Yep, but you’ll have to ask her about that.”

Alexia has hobbled through the nighttime routines, aided by Olga, who has halved the job by picking Elena and Nico up from nursery and school and watching them until Alexia’s day at the training ground had ended. Her and Olga haven’t kissed yet, but Alba has advised her sister to be quick about it if she ever intends to. Alexia is not sure she does want that, because your absence has only made how much she loves you (and how much she fucked up) even more obvious.

Their beds are on opposite sides of the room, which is technically the master bedroom – only fair, Alexia thinks, because they are having to share here but not when staying with you – and Elena is fast asleep by the time Nico is tired of the bedtime stories he has relentlessly requested. She brushes off the slight sting of his dismissal of her acting and helps him settle underneath the covers.

As usual, she presses a kiss to both cheeks and the tip of his nose, and tells him to have nice dreams and a good rest. The weekend starts tomorrow, which means he gets to join Alexia at the training centre and sit in on the sessions. Alexia is slightly jealous because she is still stuck in the gym, but as long as he is entertained, she will get over it.

“Mami, how long is a month?” asks Nico, voice small and groggy and… is that a hint of an accent? Maybe the two and a half months of Isabela’s Spanish has affected him. She will look into it.

He tugs on her jumper when she spaces out. “Sorry,” Alexia whispers. “A month is thirty days. Maybe you need to pay attention at school.” She pokes his cheek playfully, and he giggles.

“I do pay attention, I do. Thirty days is long.”

Alexia dreams of the football pitch, of the grass she has been promised she will play on before April. “It can be very long,” comes her agreement, picturing where in her recovery she will be come February. “It can also be very short.”

“I miss Mama.”

His statement, unbeknownst to him, is uncomfortably relatable.

“Thirty days will be very short. You’ll see her again soon, and, you know what? She made me promise to give you goodnight kisses from her every night! She is going to send them to me from America, and I’ll pass them onto you.”

“Really?”

“Sí,” says Alexia with pursed lips, raising her eyebrows to invite him to doubt her. He looks up at her with adoration, as if her word is law. She can only be thankful that you are merciful enough to have not turned her own children against her. You have expressed your wish to keep them from being collateral damage, and Alexia respects you for that.

“Mama said that she makes songs in LA with Karol G!”

Then again, there are other ways to be petty.

…

Touring has always exhausted you. Eat, sleep, travel, sing, in varying orders; the schedule grows repetitive and tight after the first week.

After the first show in LA, you bring a blurry face to your hotel room. You kiss her, you can’t bear to do anything more, and you let her sleep off her drugs in your bed while you take the sofa in your suite.

High on adrenaline half the time and utterly knocked-out when not, you zombie your way through the travelling, grouchily rehearsing new songs on the road, signing merchandise for your screaming fans. You get asked about your private life in a few interviews initially, but the journalists soon learn that the topic is to be avoided if they wish for you to talk to them at all.

The headlines continue to tear apart images captured of you at clubs, and magazines never seem to find the pictures of you with your children when you visit them while you make your way around Europe.

There comes a point where you look at a woman and she becomes, in the eyes of the media, your latest plaything.

Alexia is seething by the time your two-night show in Barcelona rolls around.

One day, when Nico and Elena understand the concepts of affairs and heartbreak, they will see the articles written about their mothers; the hate Alexia gets, the times she has been called a whore by fans of the same sport she devotes her life to, the stark inequality between her and her male counterparts. With these horrors of the world, they’ll see the pictures of you, pupils blown out, eyes red. Women clinging onto you that perhaps faintly resemble Alexia.

Because Alexia knows you, because she loves you, she can see that what has been labelled your ‘slay’ era is really fuelled by devastation. A disaster that she caused. It riddles her with guilt, but she doesn't know how to expel that emotion from her head without reverting to the early days of her loneliness where she ate nothing and made her sister seriously worry whether she was going to find her bleeding out in the bathtub one day. And so, with a lack of command over such a strong feeling, she decides to rage. She is furious with your irresponsibility.

“Where should we eat?” your guitarist asks with a grin as you touchdown in Barcelona. The soft murmur of Spanish and Catalan is unexpectedly comforting, the familiarity grounding. Maybe Barcelona has become your home. Maybe it never stopped being that, because home is where the heart is and, frustratingly, yours still belongs to the woman who tore it out of your chest and didn’t even have the guts to tell you about it.

“I can’t,” you reply quickly, wiping the sweat from travel off your brow with the sleeve of your turtleneck. “I promised my son I’d tuck him in while I’m in the country, and my daughter has been drawing at nursery so I’d like to collect some of the pictures and see if I can get them blown up onto canvases.”

Laughing, your crew make their way off the jet. “You know, most celebrities would pay thousands for abstract art but you get yours from a toddler.”

“She’s talented.” Mapi draws with her, you’ve been told. Elena is what makes Ingrid yearn for a ring to appear in their relationship sooner rather than later. “And take the piss all you want, but if you had had to put my kids through what I have, you’d feel the same.”

The sofa in the Putellas household (the apartment no longer inhabited by Eli, who was very glad to escape the intense atmosphere as soon as Alexia was cleared to live by herself) houses three unsettled humans of varying sizes. The biggest, Alexia, shifts on the soft, new cushions, awaiting your arrival with gulps of brewing tears and the latest set of paparazzi photos of you fresh in her mind. The boy, Nico, practically vibrates with excitement, promising himself that he will drag out this bedtime as long as possible to make up for all the others you have missed. The smallest is upset because she hasn’t fallen asleep yet, kept awake by her older brother who shakes her whenever she starts to drift off, hastily scolding her with a ‘no, Lela! Mama is coming home’.

With no key to this flat, you are forced to be buzzed up.

The anticipation builds. Nico and Alexia try to remember what you smell like, testing themselves to see if they can recall it scent for scent. Have you changed your shampoo? Alexia wonders, Do you still use the same moisturiser?

“Hi, my darlings!” you squeal as the door flies open and Nico comes hurtling into your crouched form, closely followed by his unsteady little sister. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” You squeeze them as though you are never going to let go, and only release them from the hug when Elena begins to whine, adrenaline rush dying and tiredness overcoming her once more.

“Mama, home,” Nico says with an inaccurate finality. You spare Alexia a glance as he pulls you through the bare walls and grey decor until you reach a door with stickers up and down the white-washed wood. “Mami made me change, but you can read! Lela wants this one.” He rumages through the box of books near the children’s whiteboard (on it, the odd x’s and o’s of football tactics), pulling out a few to stack into his own pile before thrusting something you recognise very well.

“Mami reads to us in English sometimes,” he says matter-of-factly, though Alexia silently curses him from where she is standing in the doorway. “Important to know.”

You chuckle. “Mm, very important. How else would you talk to me?” Elena quietly crawls into your lap, happy to take over Nico’s bed, where you are sitting. You stroke her hair, holding her close. “Mami reads you ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’?”

He is too young to know what scepticism looks like.

“Es que hay ‘La Pequeña Oruga Glotona’.”

You refuse to look at the voice which speaks, but you nod.

“Alright, why don’t you get into bed, and then I’ll start to make my way through the mountain of books. I am absolutely all yours for tonight, my loves.”

…

Alexia’s hands slam down on the dining table, slapping against the wood with a loud bang. “Enough!” she exclaims, her voice slicing through the tense air like a knife. Her eyes blaze in fury and you shrivel, not quite sure what you have done to her. You grant her the silence she needs to continue, though her shout echoes through the shattered tranquillity like a bomb that continues to explode. “It is enough.”

“What, Alexia?”

You sound kind of… bored once you have regained your composure. Your shock is now replaced with a blank expression, and you run your eyes over your nails, examining your cuticles so that you don’t risk making eye contact with her.

“You think you can just waltz in here as if you haven’t offered yourself to the entire world and expect everything to be okay?” Her voice trembles with indignation, venom dripping from each word she spits out. “You can’t go from common slut to mother in one day!”

Nails forgotten, you square your shoulders and set your jaw. “I hadn’t realised you were the jealous type, Ale.” The nickname slips out like a poisonous dart, taunting her, wounding her. It rattles her, and you intend to shake her more. “It’s none of your business, not anymore. Deal with it – or don’t, I don’t care.”

“What kind of example are you setting for our children?” she continues, lips curling into a scornful sneer. “Kissing anything with a mouth! Like some, some hormonal teenager. And to have it all over the papers? It’s trashy! It’s embarrassing for me, because my wife has her hands down the pants of every woman she meets, pumped full of alcohol and drugs and… You, you go to these events, paid to get yourself on the front pages so that they can be mentioned in the location of the incident, and… and that’s like prostitution! Making money from your body, from sex!”

Her fists clench and she storms towards you, footsteps harsher than her bad knee can probably take, but you make no move to back down. You lift your chin up; “I don’t have to resort to prostitution for money. I have more than enough.”

“Then you do it for attention,” Alexia reasons with herself, albeit very loudly. “That is what you are, aren’t you? A slut for the cameras and the glitz and glamour of it all. So quick to jet off on tour, leaving me with our children–”

“I may be a ‘slut’ for attention, but at least I am not a whore for a woman who is not my fucking wife!” You press your hand to her chest roughly, pushing her away from you. “I’m not the one who had an affair, I’m not the one who ruined everything!”

Alexia recoils at your words, freeing herself from your searing touch before she melts. She forces her fury to its boiling point. “How dare you,” she seethes, voice cracking at the ferocity in which she forces the sentence out. “You think you can just throw my mistakes in my face?” You hold your ground. She will not intimidate you. “You think you’re so righteous, but you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”

It is a baseless accusation. You both know it.

“The only fact we have here is that you fucked Jenni. Our daughter’s godmother. Your ‘best friend’, my friend too! I trusted her, and I trusted you, and you took that trust and obliterated it by sleeping with her!”

Alexia wants to cut you deep, wants to give you the gory details of it all, but she hears the croak of your voice and knows you will not make it to your hotel if she tells you.

“I slept with Jenni, sure, but you have passed yourself around enough to make us even.”

“Nothing will make us ‘even’, Alexia,” you cry, meaning to sound scarier than you do. You can’t help the tears from streaming down your face, nor the hoarseness of your throat. “And I would never ever do to you what you did to me!”

You have to go on vocal rest the next day, otherwise the concert would be called off.

Alexia refuses to attend, even though most of her teammates will, instead pawning Nico and Elena off to your backstage staff and dangerously driving herself to Alba’s place.

It is one of those nights where Alba cannot leave her side for fear Alexia will choke herself to death on her tears. When the elder of the two can longer hold it all in, Alba ties her hair back with an old hair bobble so that the blonde strands don’t get in the way of her sister’s vomit.

("I don't want to live like this," Alexia says, her eyes wide and alert. Her little sister looks at her with empathy, searching, with a broken heart, for a version of a woman from the past she's not sure she knows. This Alexia is not the same.

"Of course you don’t." It's obvious. Obvious by the way she forces her existence without happiness, without company, without a smile. It's like there is no sun in Alexia's world, nor a blue sky, nor an end.

It never ends.

So, she says, "I don't want to live like this, without her, without the family I dream of every night, every waking moment. I don’t want to live, Alba. I didn’t want to live in August, and I haven’t since, and I… I do it because people rely on me." She takes in a deep, acidic breath, grimacing at the taste of bile on her tongue. “If it were just me, just Alexia”--The Ruiner, she silently adds–“I wouldn’t be here. Alba, Alba, I don’t want to live like this.”

She carries on repeating it because Alba has to understand. There can't be a possibility that Alba thinks her sister is insincere. What a lie that would be! To Alexia, she prefers death over continuing like this, with her head in the toilet and vomiting, vomiting, vomiting.

"If I had the chance, I would go back to August 2021 and never sleep with Jenni. I’d not let her kiss me, not give into it. I'm exhausted from it; from my loneliness, from the kids' questions, asking when their mother will come back home. Do you know that Nico asked me if we still loved him? If she still loves him? And why his friends have two parents and he seems to have a shell of a woman for one, and a vacant space in the king-sized bed for the other?"

"She might not want you again, however, and your imagined future may be false – it is the opposite of reality, no? If I were her, I wouldn't. You cheated on her when she only gave you love and patience and… Well, Alexia, I swear I really want to see you happy, but I just don't think she'll forgive you."

"And why not?"

Alba sighs. She places her hand on Alexia's back, moving it in circles to calm her sister down. When they were little, it was always Alexia who helped Alba. With school, with her problems, with new lovers or ones from the past. It was her responsibility to take care of her little sister, and when their father died and there were only three of them, Alexia felt that responsibility even more.

Here, roles reversed, Alba can only apply that which she has learnt from the heaving lump of flesh slumped on the chequered tiles.

"Alba," repeats Alexia, lowering her voice, relenting. "She loves me."

The younger of the two can’t help the tears that brim in her eyes, distressed in her own right. "She loves you despite your other girlfriend because she's a saint. She's a saint but, if you want her to be happy, you cannot take advantage of her," Alba warns gravely, sincerely, and correctly. Alexia lifts her head and looks at the clock on the bathroom wall. Alba's apartment is clean and trendy, just like the woman, and she has dirtied it with her presence. She remains, for the foreseeable future, Alexia, The Ruiner.

"Smartass."

"It's just the truth."

"Well, if that's the truth, I'd rather you be a liar."

Alba sighs again, more heavily, and asks Alexia to get up from the floor. If Alexia's knee hurts, she says nothing and jumps up and down. "Ay, your knee," Alba grumbles but Alexia keeps going. She keeps going and going until she can't breathe and her lungs hurt. She keeps going because she believes it will rid her of her sadness, or at least hopes so. She hasn't stopped when Alba asks her to. A loud voice breaks the silence. "What are you doing?"

"Destroying everything. If I can't be with her, I don't want to play football. I don't want to walk, or see, or talk. I just don't want to live."

To Alba, this tells her two things. One is that her sister has gone batshit crazy. The other? Well, that is the solution. It's simple, really; one sentence, and Alexia will know what she has to do.

"You need to fix this.")

Heartbreak is ugly, but Alexia’s guilt is uglier.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #woso imagines #fc barcelona #mapi leon #ona batlle #alexia #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #randombush3

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

Text

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (female) Reader

Summary: grinding on Eddie until he cums in his pants, there’s no real plot here tbh

Warnings: smut, dry humping, sub Eddie, minors DNI

A/N: based on this ask from my darling 💀🦄 anon! they sent me this ask and I just had to write to something, I literally churned this out in like half an hour once I got going with it so thank you sm for the inspo!! I hope you all like it <3

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

“Fuck” Eddie groans into your mouth. “I’ve been wanting you… all… fucking… day” he whispers between kissing you.

You smirk into the kiss as the two of haphazardly make your way towards Eddie’s bedroom, desperately trying to keep your lips together as you stumble through the trailer.

The two of you giggle lightly as you crash through his door, Eddie quickly slamming it shut behind you. He all but throws you onto the mattress and jumps straight on top of you, wasting no time in pressing his lips back against yours. His hips slot between yours and he starts to grind into you. You could feel how hard he was even through his jeans as he rubs his crotch between your legs. He groans and grunts into the kiss, his lips moving just as fervently as his hips. He really had been desperate for you all day, that was plain to see.

Eddie slides his hands down your sides, reaching under your skirt. But before he has the opportunity to do anything else you flip the two of you over, pushing Eddie down on his back. He looks up at you with a mixture of awe and confusion as you sit up, your hips settling over his. He moves to sit up himself, to bring his face back to yours, but you simply push him back down with a light tut.

He smirks up at you, thinking he knew where this was going.

“Oh you wanna ride me do ya?” He asks cockily. “Well, be my guest babygirl” he hums.

Eddie leans back against he mattress, relaxing as he thought you were about to take care of him. He starts to undo his belt buckle, but hesitates for a moment when he sees your face. You tilt your head at him, a sinister smirk of your own painting your face.

“Hmm not quite” you taunt as you grab his hands, stilling his movements.

He looks at you with confusion as you pull his hands away, placing them on your thighs that rested on either side of his hips.

You keep your eyes on his and slowly start to buck your hips back and forth, pushing down as you did so, grinding hard against the tent in Eddie’s pants.

“Oh fuck” he hisses, his hands squeezing your thighs. “W- what are you doing?” He asks, his voice strained.

You don’t answer him save for a small giggle, you just keep humping him, your body rocking against his. You rest one hand on his stomach, using it for balance and momentum as you increase your speed.

“Shit, shit” Eddie groans, one of his hands moving to run through his hair.

You revel in the tremble you can see in his fingers, you can feel him shaking slightly underneath you. It just turns you on even more, spurring on your movements. You knew he’d been horny for you all day, he’d told you as much. And you knew because of that he wasn’t going to last long. But you were having too much fun to care. Watching him like this, a complete puddle under your touch, was almost just as good, if not better, than letting him help get you off as well.

“Fuck baby stop” he begs, his hands running up your thighs to grab at your hips desperately.

“Uh uh” you tut, grabbing his hands again and pulling them off you. “No touching, Munson. You keep your hands where I left them” you command huskily, returning his grip to just above your knees.

“Baby please” he groans, his eyes screwing shut, his face contorting.

If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was in pain.

“Stop, stop. Please stop” he pants. “If you don’t stop I- I’m… fuck… uh… I’m gonna cum in my fucking pants” he whines between his sinful moans.

You hum in satisfaction; “maybe that’s exactly what I want, babyboy.”

“Oh fuck” he practically cries, throwing his head back once again.

You giggle again and increase your speed even more, humping him with everything you had. You even let yourself moan, relishing the feeling of his hard clothed cock grinding against your pussy. Your fingers dig into his stomach where your hand was splayed there, supporting yourself as you continue to buck against him. One of his hands move to hold that hand of yours, his fingers still trembling as he held onto you.

“Seriously, I’m not… not gonna last” he rambles breathlessly.

At that you lean forwards, keeping up your grinding motion as you bring your face dangerously close to his.

“Good” you whisper against his lips before quickly sitting back up and grinding harder into him.

“Shit shit shit” he mumbles incoherently. “Oh fuck, fuck… fuck…oh…” his voice pitches in tone and his fingers dig into you even harder.

With a final loud grunt and pathetic whimper you feel his body go rigid beneath you as he reaches his climax. A string of incoherent and barely audible profanities fly from his mouth as the pleasure courses through his body. You moan in satisfaction when you feel the warmth beneath your pussy, the wetness of his cum as it seeps through his jeans. His chest rises and falls heavily, his fingers squeezing yours so tight it hurt. He practically shudders as you keep humping him, milking out his orgasm, slowing down just enough to keep him the place of pleasure without overstimulating him too much.

“Fuck!” Eddie swears loudly once he starts to come down.

He sits up on his elbows and looks at you with wide eyes, his face flushed and sweaty. You just chuckle to yourself, so unbelievably pleased with yourself that you’d just managed to get this boy to cum in his pants just by grinding on him. Not to mention how wet it had made you, your pussy was aching and desperate for your own release. He just looked so fucking good like this, putty in your hands, breathing raggedly, his hair a mess, his face clammy, his fingers still trembling. All of this, looking so incredibly fucked out, and you hadn’t even actually fucked him.

Your reverie is broken and you squeak in surprise when Eddie suddenly flips you over, pinning your body down into the mattress. You barely have time to acknowledge the change of positions when you feel his hand dive straight between your legs. His pushes his fingers through your panties, the thin fabric brushing against your clit as he quickly starts to rub small circles. Your hips involuntarily buck up into his touch, craving the same release you’d just provided for him.

“Eddie wh-“ you moan but he cuts you off with sinister smirk of his own.

“Shhh, I’m simply returning the favour. Now it’s your turn to cum in your pants.”

Masterlist

A/N: yikes I’ve genuinely never been so horny over my own work before asdfghjkl I am fucking wet lmaoooo! um yeah I hope you guys liked this!! <3

Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi

#stranger nightmare #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn stranger things

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dallaji · 6 months

Note

can you do bada lee smut, where bada wants to film while 🤟🏻 with reader HEHE i'm gonna leave the others to u:*

♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗

WORD COUNT: 5k

CW: exactly what it sounds like tbh!! established relationship, porn without plot, once again giver!bada, filming 🔞 (consensually)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is loosely a part two of this / "Hope we make it to the Cloud". i received these two requests and felt they were alike enough to "combine" the two, hopefully that's ok! 🩷 thanks for the request and hope you enjoy. (ꈍ꒳ꈍ) ┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆

Living alone wasn’t so bad.

When spending a long month performing, interacting with hundreds of people every day and flitting from one schedule to the other, getting to wind down in the comforts of your humble apartment almost felt like a privilege. And as soon as your promotions had ended, you had to take the time to get reacquainted with the place that you called home; time spent away, sleeping in cars or planes, almost made you forget what it felt like to have your own bed.

Sometimes you felt pangs of loneliness, when you were no longer experiencing the rush of backstage and the fleeting interactions with other celebrities, some of whom you now considered friends. The feeling was especially present when you were on break, fighting the urge to get a pet to keep you company on several occasions. Though calling it a “break” was a bit premature, your team always surprising with a last minute schedule on your calendar.

Still, living alone wasn’t so bad when you finally got a break from bright stage lights, sore limbs and buzzing eardrums.

Besides, you aren't so lonely nowadays.

It was the middle of the day and you were watching a game show, feet propped up on the table and hair tied together, when you heard your front door unlock.

“Honey, I’m home,” A tired voice sounded.

Tossing the spare key you had given her a few weeks prior into the little bowl on the table next to the door, Bada entered the room with the nonchalance only a person who spent a lot of time here could have. And well, she did spend a lot of time here.

As you beamed up at her from your seat, Bada was kicking her shoes off: donned in her practice cargos and a comfortable sweater, she looked as effortlessly attractive as ever. If you didn’t know her well enough by now, you would’ve almost missed the metaphorical thunder cloud hanging over her head.

You patted your lap eagerly. “C’mere!”

And with quick shuffling footsteps, Bada made a beeline for where you were seated, first dropping her backpack to the floor with a sigh and then unceremoniously flopping onto the couch, her head snuggling into your lap.

Your hands immediately caressed along her face, fingers gently pushing her bangs aside as you ran them through the pink streaks.

“Long day?” You asked as you fanned her hair over your lap, combing through and detangling the knots.

Her eyes were shut, zoning in on your soothing touches. “Maybe I need a manager,” She muttered quietly, “I don’t know why I thought three choreo sessions in one day would be doable.”

You placed your forefinger between her eyebrows, smoothing over the frown that had started to form there. “Try not to hire mine. Before you know it, three sessions become six.”

Bada laughed at that, eyes opening to gaze up at you affectionately. “Missed you.” She mumbled, head turning to nuzzle into the palm of your hand.

“Is that so?”

She sat up slowly upon hearing your playful words, turning to face you with half-lidded eyes. Leaning in, gaze dropping to your lips, she placed her hand atop your thigh and gave it a firm, meaningful squeeze. “Want me to show you how much I missed you?”

You held your breath expectantly, leaning closer with a barely-there nod as Bada inched towards you to close the gap; she tilted her head and your eyes fluttered shut.

But then, the growling of a stomach sounded through the room.

Bada groaned as you erupted into giggles, shoving her off of you: “Please go eat! There’s some leftover rice and salmon in the kitchen.”

Her disgruntlement faded immediately at your words and she swept down to press a peck to your lips. “You’re the best.”

“I know...” You hummed against her mouth, tugging her down again to steal seconds, feeling self-satisfied when Bada complied without hesitation.

You let her scurry off to the kitchen with a smitten grin plastered across your face.

“Did you finish the routine for that boy group?” You asked, watching her scavenge with your chin propped on the palm of your hand.

Bada dug into the rice cooker as she nodded, already chewing on a piece of salmon: “Yeah, it came together nicely! Wanna see?”

Clasping your hands together, you perked up. “Yes, please!”

“Laptop’s in my bag. All my recent recordings should be on it.”

Bending over to unzip her backpack, you carefully pulled her laptop out and set it on your lap. You heard Bada heat up the remaining salmon as you booted up the computer. Her password was just her birthday, which she had sheepishly confessed to when you were still practicing your choreography together. As you opened her files, a screen popping up with over fifty recordings, Bada came to stand behind you, shoveling food into her mouth as if the bowl would sprout legs and run away from her.

You scrolled through the recordings, which were arranged chronologically, until you noticed a thumbnail with a very familiar practice room.

As your mouth fell open in disbelief, your mouse hovered over the picture of what was undoubtedly Bada hunched over you in front of your practice room’s mirror; both your backs turned to the camera, but the scene all too recognizable.

You didn’t know why, but you felt your lower stomach warm up at the thought of her having kept the recording. You barely registered the audible gasp behind you, and you turned around.

Bada was frozen in her tracks, chopsticks motionless at her lips as she stared at the laptop on your lap.

“Oh my god, I—” She began, eyes searching the room for a place to set her bowl down as your eyes scrutinized her, “I could’ve sworn I deleted that! How did that— How did that get on my laptop?” She was stumbling over her words, and always had been a terrible liar.

You wordlessly navigated to the top of the screen and clicked on ‘Sort by last opened’, the videos reorganizing at your command.

The video was the third one on the list, even though it was over two months old. Once again your stomach curled, face heating up at the implication spread out in front of you.

Bada pressed her lips together in a fine line, face beet red as she was unable to meet your eyes, entirely unaware of your inner turmoil and instead cowering away from you. “I’m sorry, you— you can delete it. I shouldn’t have—”

“I never told you to delete it, back then.” You cut in hurriedly, and it was true, but you felt embarrassed at the words leaving your mouth all the same. “You’ve watched it?”

Bada stared at you in bewilderment, but she nodded, perhaps comforted by your words and thus no longer seeing the point in lying: “Several times.” She admitted bashfully, gaze moving back to the laptop.

You felt lightheaded, briefly imagining Bada alone in her studio with her hand between her legs and her eyes glued to the screen.

“Oh,” You responded, “Why didn’t you...?” Unsure of how you were even trying to finish that sentence, you trailed off.

“We’ve just been so busy…” She said, sounding solemn, leaning over the backrest of the couch as her arms draped themselves over your shoulders. You leaned back into her embrace, your hands curling over her arms.

It was true: between a grueling comeback schedule and the heightening demand for Bada, especially following the release of your single, made it difficult to see each other regularly. Bada had visited you backstage a handful of times, the both of you savoring your short moments together, hungry lips meeting while hiding away in your dressing room, until you were inevitably whisked away for your next schedule. Similarly, you dropped by her studio whenever there was an opening on your calendar, but the curious eyes of her students made it difficult to do much of anything. It was then when you had given her a spare key to your apartment, hoping you could meet each other halfway more often.

“I miss you so much.” She murmured, cheek resting against your temple, and the way she said it left you breathless. It had a hidden meaning to it, clear to no one but you. It almost sounded like a plea with the way she nosed into you.

“You were gonna show me how much you missed me.” You whispered, angling your head to look up at her properly. Her eyes were already on you, gaze heavy. You didn’t have to say the words back to her with the way you looked at her.

She barely gave you a moment to let the words hang in the air before she pressed her lips against yours with a desperate inhale, hand curling over the crook of your neck. The position you were in brought you right back to your first time together; Bada crowding over you with an insatiableness she only reserved for you as your mouths fit together, her warmth washing over you. You felt her nails scrape along the nape of your neck, her lips parting against yours, pleading, as you slipped your tongue past. She hummed pleasantly, lips closing around the wet muscle and sucking as her fingers dug into your hair.

Suddenly overwhelmed with the need of wanting her all over you, the couch separating your body from the comfort of her lean figure, you parted the kiss unwillingly. Before you could beg her for anything more, however, she moved her lips to your neck; immediately sucking a bruise against the unmarked skin. You gasped, instinctively baring your neck for her.

“Bada-” You began, but the words died in your throat as the tip of her tongue circled the mark.

“Click on the video.” She spoke in a hushed voice and only then did you become cognizant of the laptop resting on your lap, cursor still hovering over the video. “Fast forward a bit.”

With your eyes locked onto the screen and without moving your head, afraid you would lose the warmth of her mouth against your skin, you did as you were told; skipping through the recording until you found the exact moment Bada had turned you around, her chest pressed against your back. The sounds that came from the laptop speakers after you unpaused the video were sinful: the smack of lips gliding together and your quiet gasps as Bada smoothened her hands along your figure. You were feeling overwhelmed already and the two of you had barely done anything.

“You’re so beautiful.” Bada spoke as she watched the video from over your shoulder, still pressing soft kisses against your neck.

You could say the same about her with the way she was, and still is, able to command your body like an instrument. You were putty in her hands then and now, turning whichever way she conducted you.

She straightened her back slightly, looking down at you as her hands lowered to your front. In tandem with the Bada in the video, she found the hem of your shirt and pulled upwards, your arms raising to aid the process. You weren’t wearing a bra, and the cool air of the room made a shiver run down your spine. Bada, however, was delighted, warm hands immediately cupping over your breasts.

You craned your neck, chasing after her lips and she let you indulge: with your head tilted backwards your tongues met before your lips did, Bada angling her head to deepen the kiss impossibly more, fingers pinching your nipples inquisitively and stiffening them. You were sensitive straightaway, gasping into her mouth.

Then, an idea. Your fingers managed to find the space button and pressed, effectively pausing the video. Bada parted the kiss reluctantly, curiously peeking at the screen before looking down at you.

“Do you have your camera with you?” You asked, voice breathless.

She blinked at you in wonder but nodded: “Yes, in my backpack.”

You gave her a suggestive look, hands coming up to rest atop hers; still covering your breasts. “Do you… want to film a new one?”

You hoped you hadn’t misjudged Bada, and for the few seconds she was silent you feared you had ruined the atmosphere, but that feeling didn’t last long. The look she gave you was nothing short of infatuated.

Bada smiled, albeit entirely flustered, before giving you another kiss and you sighed in relief. She walked to her backpack, where it still laid on the floor, and began searching through it for the camera. As you shut the laptop and moved it off your lap, Bada reemerged with the familiar device.

The display was already flipped open, Bada’s fingers fiddling with the buttons with an almost childlike excitement that made you giggle. She looked up at you as if breaking out of a daze, and softened instantly at the sight of you: topless and patiently waiting for her. She lowered the device.

“You’re certain you’re okay with this?” Her eyes looked into yours, searching for any hints of doubt or apprehension.

“More than okay,” you assured, “Just tell me what to do.”

And as soon as the words had left you, Bada hit record. “Be you.”

She slowly walked around you, angling the camera as her eyes were glued to her display, taking in your appearance with the delicacy of someone who practiced this often enough in their head. You were starting to feel skittish, despite her attention on you almost feeling reverent, and fought the urge to cover yourself up.

Instead you crossed your legs, head tilting to the side as you looked straight into the lens of the camera: “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to keep your distance the whole time.”

You heard the buzzing sound of the lens zooming in on you, though you had no clue what exact part of you it was focusing on. “That would be impossible when you look like this, baby.”

The nickname, which was usually reserved for when the two of you spent time tangled up in each other, visibly flustered you. You sucked in your lower lip to hide a growing smile and glanced down, Bada smirking at your reaction.

“Trying to set the scene for my future self.” Bada added meaningfully, and the implication made you feel warm.

She strode over towards you, eyes still focused on the camera display as she sat down on the table in front of you. You followed her movements intently, anticipating whatever request was burning on her lips. But instead of asking anything of you, Bada wordlessly nudged her knees in between your thighs, forcing your legs apart, and you adhered.

“Take your pants off.” She commanded and virtually immediately your hands dropped to the waistband of your trousers, tugging it below your hips. You would have time to ponder how embarrassing your submission to her was later, but for now you wanted to give her everything she asked for.

With her unoccupied hand she helped you pull the fabric all the way off, with an almost impatient tug, and you made sure to stretch your legs as elegantly as possible, doe eyes never losing track of the lens; hyper aware of the camera following your every move as if this were just another music video recording.

You let your hands slide up your thighs, fingers momentarily hooking into the straps of your panties before snapping them against your skin. Bada angled her camera, tracking the movements of your hands intently as her tongue peeked past her lips; wetting them. The palms of your hands moved along the curve of your waist, trailing them higher and higher, until you were pushing your breasts together ever-so-slightly. Then, you brought one hand behind your neck and leaned back into the couch. Your other hand dropped back to the strap of your panties, toying with the fabric between your fingertips, granting a sneak peek for the skin underneath - not that there was much more left to the imagination.

For a moment Bada’s eyes moved away from the display, zoning in on your ministrations, and then she leaned back herself, the movements forcing your thighs further apart by the dull push of her knees against yours.

“You’re a natural.” Bada said teasingly, but remained cemented in her spot, much to your frustration.

You pulled the strap of your underwear below your hip, blinking up at the lens through long eyelashes, and pressed your crotch down into the couch. Subsequently, you slid your hand to your front, fingertips digging below the waistband of your panties; your eyes never losing track of the lens. You went lower and lower, gauging the taller girl’s reaction.

Once again you heard the noise of the lens zooming in, and your fingers finally found the top of your heat. You were already wet, spreading your folds with a quiet hum, and began lightly rocking against the fabric of the couch. The friction made you gasp, the thrill of your predicament making you feel increasingly more responsive to any touches.

Bada parted her lips, watching on in awe. “Take those off.” Her voice was almost uncharacteristically deep, dripping with want.

And because you knew her well enough to know she couldn’t hold off for much longer, you gave her the most coy look you could muster and answered: “Come do it yourself.”

The sound of the table moving backwards echoed through the living room, Bada using her body to push it away. You didn’t cease your movements however, dragging your crotch against the couch again as you watched Bada in anticipation. She had placed the camera on top of a stack of books lying on the table, pointing the lens at you in a sideways angle, and stepped towards you. She towered over you before pulling her sweater over her head, and you watched as her slender frame appeared; still touching yourself. She was unbelievably pretty.

Then, she dropped to her knees, arms hooking under your legs as she pulled you to the edge of the couch in such a sudden motion you couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell from your lips. Her thumbs hooked under the straps of your underwear and pulled them off brusquely, leaving you completely bare in front of her.

She settled in between your thighs like she belonged there and leaned up, her hand on the side of your neck as she brought you in for a hungry kiss. The noise you made was desperate, but she silenced it immediately by plunging her tongue into your mouth; licking into it with a groan. Your fingers tangled into her hair, clinging onto her as your body begged for more, tongue gliding back against hers through parted lips.

Bada cupped your jaw tightly as she swallowed the sweet noises you made, and parted the kiss to catch her breath; your own chest rising in exhilaration. Her thumb trailed along your bottom lip, moist from saliva, and pulled it down: “Just look pretty for me.” She muttered.

With that she slid down your body, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and to your cleavage, her hands feeling along the shape of your upper thighs, squeezing them. You felt your lower stomach curl when her lips pressed to your navel, and you put your arms at either side of your body; palms pressing into the couch as you gave your body away to her.

Her thumbs pressed into your hip bones when her mouth got closer to your core, but she immediately pivoted to the inside of your thigh, teeth grazing the skin before parted lips began to suck down a bruise.

Your head lolled to the side, letting out another soft gasp as her lips covered every area except the one where you needed her the most. You were going mad, wondering if you should start begging.

Her eyes met yours and she had the audacity to smile, a happy glow dusting her cheeks as her fingers dug deeper into the skin of your thighs. She pressed another openmouthed kiss near your hip bone before speaking: “Anything you want me to do?”

Your hand automatically moved in between your legs, but Bada stopped you with a firm hold on your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” she tutted, “I’m directing here. Tell me what you want.” Her gaze was intense, smile growing wider as you grew more flustered, thighs twitching.

“I—” You began, struggling to find the words, “I want you to touch me. However you want.”

“However I want?” She tilted her head to the side, feigning confusion in a sweet voice.

“With your hands.” You added quickly, something in you stirring at the way her grip on your wrist remained resolute. “Please, I need it so bad.” More words escaped you before you could dwell on the humiliation: “I’m so wet for you.”

The look in Bada’s eyes darkened as she placed your hand back onto the couch, grabbing onto your thigh once again. She looked down at your glistening heat, momentarily sucking in her lower lips before meeting your eyes again. “For me?” She asked again, knowing the answer well enough.

“Only for you.” You near whimpered, and she finally released you from your misery.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she lapped at her fingers before promptly lowering it to your vagina; spit-slicked fingers moving along your folds to spread your wetness with a purpose as her other hand held down your thigh, making sure you kept your legs apart for her. A groan of relief escaped you before you could realize and you bit down on your lower lip, feeling her explore. You heard her suck in a breath between her teeth as you glistened underneath her, marveling.

You felt yourself get impossibly more wet from her touch, and Bada immediately took advantage of that. She started to rub against you in slow, circular motions as your hips involuntarily jerked from the sensitivity. With a soothing shush, her grip on your thigh tightened as she let her fingers dig into your folds with more pressure, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“I’m starting to think you like begging.” Bada whispered longingly, fingers that knew exactly where to be circling against you with a deepening pace.

Unable and unwilling to answer, you brought a hand up to your mouth and pushed two fingers past your lips; you sucked around them, muffling your moans. The look Bada gave you was simply ravenous, and you then realized you were here to put on a show for her camera. Her thumb brushed down against your clit, and your eyes fell shut in pleasure, the ministration sending electric shocks across your lower belly as you were unable to stop your hips from rutting into her touch. You withdrew your fingers from your mouth and brought them to your breast, rolling your nipple under them.

You heard the taller girl cuss between your thighs, her fingers dropping lower as she followed the noises you made; spurring you on. Then, you felt her forefinger catch at your entrance, drawing circles around and all you could do was hold your breath.

Bada sank a finger into you, slow enough that the burn wasn’t overwhelming you, but you moaned all the same. She tentatively crooked her finger inside of you, intently watching your reactions, the grip she had on your thigh almost bruising. She began pumping her finger in and out of you, not too fast but fast enough to have you gasp her name, rewarding every honeyed moan with a curl of her finger.

“More…” You begged, toes curling.

“Yeah?” She whispered, pressing a kiss right where your inner thigh and core met before handing you exactly what you wished for.

Her middle finger pushed into you along with her index finger, and this time you felt the stretch more acutely. You audibly keened, nails digging into the fabric of the couch as she scissored her fingers inside of you, whispering soft praises encouraging you.

“That’s it, baby, let me make you feel good.”

Soon enough the burn was barely present, making way for an electrifying bundle of pleasure running up your spine. You rocked into her touch as much as Bada’s iron grip on you allowed, and she met you halfway, fingers pumping in and out of you at a steadily building pace.

The way she looked up at you was maddening: somewhere between wondrous amazement and self-satisfied smugness, drinking in every second of the way you opened up to her in more ways than one. She gave a sharp curl of her fingers, and your thighs twitched dangerously. Bada caught on immediately and began moving her fingers inside you in a come-hither motion, pulling every sweet noise from you that she could. You thrusted down harder, mouth agape as you zoned in on the ecstasy that overtook you.

“Third finger, baby girl.” And you somehow found a way to part your thighs almost impossibly further, your body eager to receive more.

While her two fingers were still curling inside you, the third one joined, and you choked on a moan. This time Bada didn’t give you time to get used to the stretch, as all three fingers curled inside you over and over again.

Feeling overwhelmed almost instantaneously, hushed cusses spilling from your mouth, you inadvertently wriggled backwards; but Bada immediately pulled you back, keeping you locked in place as she pumped her fingers in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. She knew your body too well, because soon enough you had your head thrown back and thrusted back into her motions, her long fingers finding the spot to curl into.

“You’re so fucking hot.” She mumbled, and before you knew it her mouth was on you, tongue digging between your folds as she continued pumping her wrist.

With her arm still curled around your thigh, she brought you closer to the edge of the couch; she wanted to dig in. Her name came out as a yelp as her lips closed around your bundle of nerves, sucking harshly as her moans began to reverberate against you. You brought a hand to the back of her head, fingers digging against her scalp as you held her in place, needing unfathomably more from her. Anything she was willing to give.

She swallowed around you so eagerly, so greedily, and then her hand let go of your thigh: she brought it between her own legs instead, fingers digging into her trousers.

You had to force yourself to look away or you would orgasm right then and there, feeling your eyes roll back instead. She was touching herself, rocking into her own hand as her mouth bobbed against you; her other hand still fucking into you. She was getting off to getting you off.

You thought you were going insane, only able to give into your instincts and rock into her movements, all the while pulling on her hair which she seemed to relish in: the both of you building up to a pace where she pushed in exactly as you thrusted. You felt your toes curl again as that familiar pressure in your lower stomach began building up, and your head lolled to the side. You were a sweaty, writhing mess, and Bada was moaning against you so loudly it made you lightheaded.

You noticed her own movements getting messier, too. Her wrist circled against herself as she slurped around you, and you brushed her bangs from her forehead to watch her own desperation overcome her. She curled her fingers inside of you again just as she sucked down on your clit, and you could've sworn you saw stars.

“Bada, I—” You began, warningly, as you fucked back against her, chasing after the uncoiling of your lower stomach.

Bada hummed encouragingly, nodding against you in a frenzied state herself and crooked her fingers sharply, beckoning you to let yourself go.

Something about the way she gasped and moaned against you, yet still remained so dedicated to give you exactly what you wanted, is what did it for you. You felt your orgasm ripple through you so sharply you felt dizzy. You clutched onto Bada’s head between your thighs as you shook all over, her fingers curling into you harshly as she sucked on your clit through your implosion, until you felt her tremble against you too.

She fell forward, teeth pressing down on the inside of your thigh as she came with your name on her lips, rutting into her hand. You moaned, sensitive all over but running your hands through her hair soothingly, nails caressing along her scalp.

The both of you stayed like that for a solid minute, catching your breaths, until Bada leaned up on her trembling knees; far enough to wrap her arms around your waist and lean up for a tender kiss. Completely smitten, you kissed back despite the heaving of your chest and you wordlessly urged her to get on the couch with you. The taller girl obliged, immediately climbing on top of you and nuzzling into your hold with a tired smile, her cheek pressed against your collarbones.

The both of you giggled at nothing in particular, your fingers tracing delicate lines along the side of her face.

As if experiencing a déjà vu, your eyes went to the camera perched on the table, inevitably recording, but the both of you too spent to do anything about it.

“You know,” you began, fingertips still absentmindedly caressing along Bada’s jawline, “You’re gonna need a better password for your laptop.”

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee smut #dalla!writes #requests #ask

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fandomfix13 · 7 months

Text

Get Him Back - Rafe Cameron 18+

* HI ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING BUT IM HERE NOW

* TBH THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO BARE WITH ME

* This is so super long and also completely filthy at parts SO MDNI and pls read warnings

* little bit of fluff? Def some pretty smutty smut. This did not start out as smut but here we are

* WRITTEN IN Y/N’s POV, lots of dialogue

*anything in italics is your inner monologue

Word count: 4K

WARNINGS: MDNI!, mentions of cheating (not rafe), toxic ex, oral (giving and receiving), fingering, rough-ish??, p in v sex, hair pulling, light choking??, not rated e for everyone

The rain is pouring down in sheets. Falling harder than it has in a while. My head is pounding from holding back tears, that I might as well let out. I never thought that I would be in this situation. Forced out of my boyfriend's car after a fight at nearly one in the morning, with a dead phone, left to walk home alone in the pouring rain. How cliche. Not to mention the fact that I’m just over three miles away from home. What a dick. Some “man” he is to leave me like that. For all he cares, I could be kidnapped out here. However, it's highly unlikely being that I’m wandering in one of (if not the nicest) neighborhoods in this entire state. Constantly guarded by a neighborhood watch, with gated community after gated community.

I can see the the sharp rain plummeting down in the glow of the street lights. Unlucky for me, the wind has picked up too making this walk even more miserable. At this point, I have two options; 1. I could continue to walk home in this miserable weather OR 2. I could lose all dignity and show up to Sarah’s house after not talking to her in months. Seeing as this storm is showing absolutely no sign of stopping, its looking like the second option is better. As I turn the corner, I approach the Seabrook Gated Community. A little ways down is the fence that Sarah and I used to hop all the time when we would sneak out. That’s my in. It’s an old rusty fence that is hidden behind some overgrown hedges behind some wildly overpriced house that rarely ever has anyone living in it.

After nearly slipping off of the slippery fence, I make my way down the street to Tanny Hill. Mentally preparing myself for the absolute humiliation that will occur if Sarah opens the front door. We had our falling out about 3 months ago and we haven't spoken since. We have tried our best to avoid each other at all costs. At least I’ve tried avoiding her, that is, until this very moment.

As I approach the front lawn, I genuinely consider turning around and quite literally braving the storm and walking home. As it is, I’m already soaked from head to toe and probably on the verge of pneumonia. However, I shake off my thoughts and walk towards the front door. I knock three times in hope that someone will hear. I don’t ring the doorbell out of fear of waking up the entire Cameron household which is the last thing I need to do. After a few seconds, nobody answers. This house is huge maybe they are coming. I convince myself that nobody is answering the door so I turn accepting my fate and I walk away. Suddenly, I hear the front door unlock and my breath gets caught in my throat when I hear his voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Fuck. Me.

“Hey Rafe.” I choke out. God I probably look insane.

“What are you doing here?” he looks at his phone “at 1:26 in the morning.”

“Um. Is Sarah home?” I spit out, trying to avoid conversation.

“She’s not…but I am.” He leans against the door frame looking me up and down in a ‘you good?’ way. “You also didn’t answer my question.” He adds.

“I uh…I didn’t know where else to go.” I say quietly. I was right. This is in fact humiliating. He just stands there and stares at me. Clearly unamused at the fact that I still haven't answered his question as to why I am standing on his front porch looking like a wet dog. I would stare too. “Are you gonna let me inside? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me in silence.” I add.

“That depends.” He says lookin back into the house then back at me. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here? Or are you just gonna avoid the question.” Touche. We stand here in silence for a moment as he watches me get pelted in the face by the rain and I chatter my teeth. He finally pushes the door open further and gestures for me to come inside. Thank go Sarah isn’t home because I would be shitting myself out of embarrassment right now. I walk in and Rafe opens a hallway in the closet as he reaches in and grabs a towel that he throws at me. “If You get anything wet, Rose will lose her shit.”

“How kind.” I say with strong notes of sarcasm.

“Hey I didn’t have to let you in. I could've just left you outside on your own.” he’s right.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first guy to leave me outside tonight, so I probably would’ve been fine” I blurt out without thinking. What happened to me tonight is none of his business. Plus I’m sure he will hear about it anyway. However, he did let me inside which he did not have to do, so I could at least pretend to be grateful.

“Damn. That's rough. Sorry about that.” he almost sounded embarrassed.

“No, it's fine. Thanks for the towel.” he nods and sits down at the kitchen counter. We stand in silence for a bit as I ring my hair out into the sink. This couldn’t be more awkward. Here I am standing in my ex best friend’s house with her older brother, who was in fact my first kiss in a game of truth or dare years ago, and who happens to be the best friend of my boyfriend who just dumped me on the side of the road in the middle of the night. This is just grand. “Do you have a phone charger? My phone is completely dead.”

“Uh yeah its upstairs. Do you wanna-” he cut himself off before speaking again. “Do you just wanna come up with me so you can change?” Right. So. Apparently this absolutely CAN feel more awkward. Whatever. I need to charge my phone and honestly a change of clothes sounds devine. I silently follow Rafe up the stairs and into his room. “If you want you can take a shower to warm up. Your teeth haven’t stopped chattering since you got here.” he’s being frighteningly nice.

“Um sure.” I say hesitantly as I am incredibly confused by his nice attitude. I plug in my phone and Rafe hands me one of his old t-shirts and a pair of booty shorts that were surely left here by some random girl, but honestly I don’t care. I have to get out of these clothes. “Thanks.” I say taking the clothes and entering his bathroom, closing and locking the door quickly behind me. Literally what the fuck. There is no way this is really happening.

I take my time in the shower as I let the steaming hot water warm me up for a while. When I’m done, I put on the clothes that Rafe gave me, and open the bathroom door seeing him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey Topper called you like five times when you were in the shower.” He says unfazed. My attitude shifts almost immediately.

“You didn’t answer it did you?” I blurt out. Nice job y/n! That wasn’t suspicious at all!

“No…why would I?” he laughs clearly confused as I let out a sigh of relief. Once again. Awkward silence. I take a seat on the edge of the bed going through my phone. “Are you gonna call him back?” he asks. Before I could answer him, his phone starts to ring. Toppers name is displayed on the screen. Rafe looks at his phone, then back to me, then back to his phone.

“I am NOT here. Answer it. Put it on speaker.” I say frantically. Now he's intrigued.

“Hey Top!” Rafe answers. “Rafe! I fucked up man. I fucked up BAD! I’m coming over. I need a drink asap.” I am immediately shaking my head and mouthing ‘no’. “Top I can’t tonight man. My dad is on my ass and if Rose finds out I have someone over, I’m dead bro.” Is he seriously helping me right now?

Topper scoffs on the other line. “Since when have you given a shit about what Rose thinks? I’m already on my way!”

“Then turn around and go home man. I can’t tonight.”

“What is up with you dude? You never turn down a drink” its silent for a minute “Oh shit do you have a chick over right now?” Im disgusted at the change in tone in Top’s voice when he brings up Rafe having a girl over.

“Yeah bro I do. And she’s alone right now in my bed so I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow.” Rafe responds, very quick to go along with Topper’s question.

“That’s my man!” Topper laughs “is she hot? She better be hot!”

Even Rafe rolls his eyes at Topper’s comment. “Yeah she’s hot. Okay gotta go man.” Rafe responds as he hangs up the phone. Is that true, does he think I’m hot? I don’t care. Do I?

I let out a huge sigh of relief that we dodged the bullet of Top showing up here.

“So. Are you gonna tell me why I just had to lie to my best friend?”

I shift nervously. “Well technically you didn’t lie. There is a ‘chick’ here and she is sitting on your bed.” I try to make a joke avoiding this conversation at all costs.

“Y/n.” He says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly wants an answer.

“I broke up with Top and he didn’t take it well.” I say on an exhale. He doesn’t say anything because he’s not stupid. He has probably figured out that much already. I let out a heavy sigh. “He kicked me out of his car in the middle of the road three miles away from my house in the fucking rain because I accused him of cheating on me. He told me that I had no idea what I was talking about. He said I was crazy, and that I was making shit up. But I’m not. I know for a fact that I’m not. It’s not the first time either. He’s done it before, which I’m sure you already know since you’re his best friend and he probably tells you everything.” I make that realization as I’m rambling my story out to him. Rafe is probably well aware of Topper’s lack of loyalty.

“I uh. I knew about it the first time.” He admits. His honestly with the situation makes me laugh a little as I roll my eyes.

“Of course you did. Being that it was with your sister. I’d be shocked if you didn’t know.” The look on Rafe’s face instantly changes. It’s almost like he’s holding something back. “Unless…Sarah wasn’t the first girl was she. There was someone else.” Tears that I have been pushing back for weeks start to well in my eyes. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m furious. Even Rafe doesn’t know what to say. Without thinking, I grab my wet clothes and my barely charged phone, and head towards his bedroom door. “I should go. Thanks for the shower and-”

“Y/n don’t be ridiculous” he says quickly following me. “You can’t leave right now that storm is getting worse” He puts his hand on the door, shutting it.

I turn and he is standing close enough to me to create an odd sort of tension.

“Why don’t you get him back?” Rafe suggests as I roll my eyes.

“I don’t want to get back with him Rafe I’m so ov-” he cuts me off.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean get him back. As in revenge.” he says as he steps closer to me. Jesus Christ I’m an absolute idiot.

“Revenge…right.” I laugh awkwardly. He continues to inch closer, creating an even bigger amount of tension. Not that tension is an unfamiliar thing with Rafe and I. There has always been a weird tension between us. Ya know…the whole best friends brother thing. I’ve known Rafe for almost 10 years. Something about his cocky attitude has always been attractive to me. Call it toxic. I don’t care. It’s just the truth. Rafe and I are standing right infront of each other. He is towering over me as my back is still to the door.

“You know…They say that one of the best ways to get over a guy is to get under another.” He almost whispers while moving my hair out of my face. I can’t help but blush. The thought of getting back at Topper crossed my mind the second he cheated on me. The thought of getting back at him by hooking up with his best friend? That’s even better. Rafe leans down and starts to kiss my neck. “Rafe we probably shouldn’t do this” I whisper clearly enjoying it.

“Of course we shouldn’t. But I do shit that I shouldn’t do all the time.” He stops kissing my neck to look me in the face.

“Me too” I nod letting out a breath as I crash my lips onto his. The kiss is instantly filled with an insane amount of intensity. Rafe backs me up against the wall as he deepens the kiss. He moves from my mouth to my neck, leaving hickeys all over. He is making sure that I can’t hide what we are doing. And I’m totally here for it. His hands move from my hair, to my hips, to underneath the hem of my shirt. Well. Technically his shirt. I’m braless since my bra got soaked in that rain earlier. He quickly realizes this as his hand grazes over my tits. He starts to grip them while kissing me, making me moan softly until he stops for a second.

“As hot as you look in my shirt…it’s coming off” he nearly growls. I lift my arms as he lifts the shirt over my head and throws it across the room. I reach for his shirt to take it off. Once he takes it off his mouth is back on mine. Our foreheads are pressed together as our bare chests are rising and falling against each other. He hoists me up, grabbing my ass as I throw my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. We don’t last long against the wall before we move to the bed.

He lays me down on the edge of the bed as he hovers over me kissing me yet again. Each kiss gets more aggressive. We bite each other's lips between kisses. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck leaving more marks. Slowly, he makes his way to my chests. The marks he makes get darker and darker. He puts his mouth over my nipple, making me moan as he slightly bites down. He quickly moves his hand up to cover my mouth.

“Shhh. Baby we gotta stay quiet.” He says as he moves from one nipple to the other. I moan into his hand as he stifles the sound that comes out. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as he wraps his hand around it lightly. His lips meet mine again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” holy shit. I moan into our kiss as his hand is on my throat. His hand travels down my body until its hovering over my shorts. He’s moving his hand from one thigh to the other. Barely grazing the spot where I need him the most. I breathe into our kiss as his hand stops at the waistband of my shorts. He’s such a fucking tease. He hovers his hand there for a minute sensing that I want more.

“Oh my God Rafe” I moan out of anticipation.

“You want more baby?” he smirks against my lips.

“You know I do” Smartass.

“Say less” he moves from his position above me, to kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down, revealing my bare pussy. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and spreads my legs in one swift motion, causing my breath to hitch. He leans down and attaches his mouth to my clit. This of course causes another accidental moan to slip from my mouth. I immediately throw my own hands over my mouth to quiet the noise. His tongue is swirling circles over my clit as he inserts two fingers without warning. As hard as I am trying to stifle my sounds, nothing could stop the groan that I let out at this moment. He moves his fingers at a faster pace that matches what his tongue is doing.

“Holy Shit Rafe.” I whine.

“You like that?” he smirks up at me. I nod and roll my eyes to the back of my head before shutting them tightly. But suddenly Rafe stops. “Open your eyes y/n. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to see who is making you feel this good.” I do as he says and open my eyes as I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better view. “Atta girl” He smirks before burying his face into me yet again. He adds a third finger as I throw my head back while remaining eye contact. He curls his fingers as he eats me out and I want to scream at the pressure building up inside of me. I reach forward and tangle my fingers through his hair as he grins up towards me.

“Rafe! Oh my God” I let out a string of other soft noises and words.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me,” I look Rafe in the eyes as I jerk my hips and arch my back, completely unraveling in front of him. As he removes his fingers from inside of me, he brings them up to my mouth. “I want you to see how good you taste.” he says as I take his fingers into my mouth until they are clean. He removes his fingers from my mouth and laces his hands through my hair as he devours me with a kiss.

“That was incredible.” I breathe heavily.

“Oh we aren’t done yet princess.” the sound of him calling me princess was enough to nearly send me over the edge again.

“I’d hope not” I tangle my tongue with his as he deepens the kiss by pulling my hair back. I reach for his pants and I undo his belt.

“Eager are we?” he scoffs, pulling away for a moment. He removes his belt and his pants. Leaving his boxers for me to remove. I gesture for him to sit on the edge of the bed where I just was. When he sits, I climb onto his lap, straddling him over his boxers. I can tease too. I lean in kissing him as I slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap. I can feel him getting harder by the second. To be honest this is doing just as much for me as it is for him. I start to kiss his neck, leaving marks similar to the ones he left on me. I start to rock faster back and forth until he is letting out moans the way I was. I cover his mouth.

“I thought we had to stay quiet.” I give him a sly smile before kneeling on the floor and removing his boxers. I come face to face with his cock as I run my tongue up the side, looking up at him while I do it. I move my tongue to the other side slowly, taking my sweet time.

“Fuck y/n” Rafe groans as he places his hand in my hair.

I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and start to suck slowly, using my hands to work the rest that I can’t fit in my mouth. I bob my head up and down while I look up at him, my eyes are starting to water. He grabs my head and slightly pushes me down further, and I can feel his tip hit my throat. When it does Rafe lets out a deep moan with a mumbled string of “oh fucks”. After a few minutes, I can sense that he is going to cum. I don’t bother asking where he wants to finish before he finishes in my mouth. I swallow and look up at him with a smile.

“Holy shit. You really know what you’re doing.” He lets out a heavy content sigh. “We still aren't done yet. I need to be inside you.” He says laying me back down on the bed. I still cannot believe that this is happening.

Rafe wastes no time climbing on top of me leaving sloppy kisses up my chest and meeting my mouth with his. “You sure about this?” He looks down at me.

“Never been more sure about anything.” I nod.

“Good” He says as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and puts it on. Seconds later, he is lining himself up at my entrance. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he enters inside of me. His cock stretched my pussy perfectly. He moves with smooth motions leaving us both moaning into each other's mouths as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He brings his hand to my throat once again,barely applying pressure, making me let out a moan that was too loud to be stifled. He doesn’t seem to care.

“You like when my hands are around your neck?” He whispers in my ear.

“Yes! Oh my god yes” I am starting to get louder. He moves his hand from my throat to my mouth to keep me quiet again. I moan into his hand as his thrusts hit the perfect spot inside of me. He can tell that he has hit the spot when my hips start to buck in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. I am almost screaming into his hand. As he leans down to kiss me again.

“You gonna cum with me?” he asks, pressing his forehead against mine. I nod unable to speak, to stop myself from screaming. “Words y/n. Use your words”

“Fuck yes. I’m gonna cum!” I whine out. He thrusts in and out a few more times, hitting the spot perfectly making me squirm underneath him. With one final thrust, I arch my back as I scratch my nails down his, definitely leaving scratch marks. We cum simultaneously as we let out deep and hungry moans into each other's mouths. He just gave me the best orgasm I have ever had. He pulled out and laid next to me.

“Holy shit. I’ve waited so long to do that.” he says looking at me out of breath.

“Me too. I always had a crush on you ya know.” I say looking at him equally as out of breath.

“Yeah I know.” He smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” I laugh back.

“Thank God I did. And I plan on doing it again. Just so you know.” I winked at me

“I’d hope so.” I smile, laying there next to him. He was right. That was the best way to get over someone.

** hi! I really hope you liked this. If you did and want to see more let me know what you want to see! I had fun writing this and in my many many years of writing fanfics this is somehow my first time writing smut so I hope it was okay lol ❤️

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfic #rafe cameron #rafe obx #obx fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #drew starkey #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc #obx smut

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uplatterme · 10 months

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love bites ♡

—cannibalism, s&m dynamics, bondage, blindfold, ball gag, double penetration, toys | dom!reader/sub!aether, s!reader/m!aether, reader is not gender-specified but does penetrate, aether's genitals are referred to with both cunt and cock (it is mentioned he has two holes + a cervix, but i didn't intend for him to be afab/intersex i just wrote ig?) —this is short. it's been in my drafts because i wanted to add more but i think this is fine tbh.

The ground below Aether is entirely soaked with his fluids. Both of his holes are filled, being controlled by the remote in your hand. It’s currently at a steady rhythm, but that doesn’t stop him from whining.

Aether’s head tilts back, a muffled groan erupting from his throat as another hit from your whip laid against his bare skin.

His steps staggered on the floor, only able to stand up with the tip of his toes as his wrists were tied too high to the ceiling, his short stature being barely even able to touch the ground with his feet.

It’s only been a couple of minutes or so, maybe an hour? He couldn’t tell accurately with the gag and blindfold numbing most of his senses so that he’d only focus on the pain you were giving to his rear.

The room was quiet except for the occasional screams and hitting, or the liquid that squirts onto the floor as Aether moans loudly onto the ball gag.

It was never easy whenever your jealousy took over you…but it was definitely fun. Especially for the immortal star whose skin was starting to bruise.

“They don’t deserve you.” Your voice rings in his ears.

“You don’t need to think of them, just focus on me.”

You take off the gag, dropping it mindlessly as it clatters on the ground. Next followed the blindfold, and though his eyes were stained, that didn’t take away from their shine.

With ease, you pull out the vibrator in his front. His wetness leaves a trail as you easily pull it out with how wet his insides are.

Aether flinches at the way he’s suddenly left feeling empty.

Although that doesn’t last long as that’s when he feels you stretching his hole, filling him tightly until he’s squirming onto nothing, unable to hold himself or even crawl away.

“If I can’t keep you in here, I suppose I’ll just leave enough marks so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Aether whines at the prospect. He knows it’s a useless threat, especially with how he heals much faster than humans. Stil, he did appreciate the—Oh.

A loud scream leaves the outlander’s throat dry.

“Hnnghh—Aahh…Haah!”

His entire body shakes from the pain, his movements causing you to go deeper into him. A cry leaving him from feeling everything all at once.

He did not expect you to do that.

“S-So mean…” He breathes out, watching the blood from his shoulder drip down his body. Yet there’s a matching red blush on his face, as if what you did was something all normal couples do.

“You taste good.” You compliment, the torn flesh going down smoothly as you swallow.

Aether’s face leans towards you as if asking for you to share what his own body tastes like. Your lips close together, his tongue grasping the remains from you biting a part of his collar. He’s never tasted himself before, though that thought was always something he was curious about, the only problem was that he was too much of a coward to do it.

You two continue kissing, you pressing deep into his cervix, the pain coursing through him as he matches your rhythm.

“You’re so cheesy…” He states after he finally pulls back.

“What else am I supposed to do if you keep healing through all the marks I make? Hopefully, this one lasts more than a week.”

“It will…Maybe, you can just bite me again to be sure…” He suggests.

“This is supposed to be your punishment, you know?” You remind him, though it’s difficult to stay mad with the kind of faces that he pulls against you.

“It’s not my fault you get jealous easily.” He refutes.

“I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Aether says, smiling as he snickers a laugh which quickly gets cut off when you continue thrusting into him again.

“You speak when I tell you to.”

He doesn’t get to argue this time, his mind too focused on the way he’s getting penetrated so deeply. He’s forced to take each pounding, each inch that rubs against his walls sending him closer to another orgasm. His choked-up sounds continue to leak out with the thought of you being so possessive of him.

Your hands reach his cunt, his swollen cock begging to be touched. And so you fulfill that wish, earning another whimper when you slap his cock.

He’s so out of it. He loves how his body feels so much of a wreck, his sweat mixing with blood, and eventually with his cum.

He pants, his hands still tied up. His entire body trembles, the feeling of you pulling out is so agonizing itself. He wants to keep you in, he needs it. He has to take advantage of you as he doesn’t know how long until he can experience this high again.

So with a shaky voice, he asks.

“More?”

#plattered writings #sub aether #aether x reader #genshin aether x reader #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin smut

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 2 months

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Alastor - [ DOWN IN THE DUST ] (Preview)

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WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MNDI ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/VIOLEMNCE ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ AGE GAP ] + [ COWBOY AU ]

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Cowboy Alastor teaches you how to shoot, and every time you hit the target, he gives you a kiss and soft praise.

“Good one, darlin’”

“Keep your arm out and straight, sugar.”

“Mhm, just like that, square your shoulders and eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, glancing up at him, smiling softly as he tips his head in approval. “Shoot, darlin’,” he commands, and your eyes lower from his, settling on the target as he instructed, and your finger pressing on the trigger of his gun right in time with his command.

“Bang!”

The first man who'd dared to put his hands on you fell to his knees, coughing up blood as the life left his eyes, and Alastor erupted into maniacal laughter while his body dropped to the dusty ground. “Good shot, sweetheart,” he boasts, grinding wide, leaning down just enough to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, “Give me some sugar,” he coos lowly, eyes narrowing as you peer at him innocently, blushing wildly as his lips met yours. “Mhmmm,” he hums, an oddly giddy sound despite the dark situation, but you're instead used to his strange amusement.

He was a bounty hunter, after all, a lethal one at that, and recently, you'd become an investment of sorts to him.

You knew him long enough to know that killing was his favorite pastime, and killing bastards who thought it was a grand idea to threaten and harass you was an even better form of entertainment for him.

The men he'd rounded up in front of you fit the second criteria perfectly.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, tipping his hat up as you looked back at the last two men standing a yard away. He insisted they face you head-on, that they see the satisfied look in your bright eyes as you picked them off one by one. Though you usually held yourself modestly in the presence of others, that facade came tumbling down in the thralls of Alastor’s encouragement. “Sorry for your loss, gentlemen, but I think it's only right you give my little lady a fair shot, seeing as you all ganged up on her without warnin’.” He chuckled as they let out muffled cries through their makeshift gags, hands tied behind their backs, and guns lying at their feet. You almost felt bad for them, but what little guilt you harbored washed away as Alastor tapped your backside with one hand while the other lifted your gun toward another victim.

“You think you can hit em’ right between the eyes, chere?”

You hummed, smiling with a playful glint in your eye while zeroing in on the man before you.

“I think I can manage it, cher. You've taught me well enough.”

Alastor chuckled, stepping back with a proud grin, pulling out a cigarette to light in his mouth, “That's my girl. Take them straight to hell..”

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A little sneak peak. ❤️ Tell me what you think!

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I watch this edit at LEAST 5 times a day for sanity purposes (I'm actually going insane tbh) ❤️ credit to creator

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starrystormwritings · 7 months

Text

Jealousy

Master List <3 Request List <3 Marauders Master List

Remus Lupin x Reader

A/n: this started strong but I started to loose it towards the end tbh

Summary: You and Remus hate each other, but what happens when he sees you with someone else?

Warnings: fake dating, swearing, jealousy obi, kinda ooc, Slytherin reader, reader wears a dress

Word Count: 3244

( NOT MY GIF )

"You need to add rosemary and oak bark professor." Remus answered Slughorn with a smug smirk on his face as the teacher praised him.

It was an obvious answer he just happened to put his hand up quicker.

"Okay last question, this one's a little tougher. What are the main ingredients in a wit sharpening potion?" Slughorn asked causing both me and Remus to shoot our hands into the air.

He looked between the two of us for a second before nodding toward me.

"Scarab beetles, ginger roots, armadillo bile and newt spines sir." I say with a smile, watching Remus roll his eyes as I smile at him.

"Well done Miss L/n, ten points to Slytherin."

A mix of groans and cheers echoed the room as the class was dismissed.

I gathered my books up into my arms and wandered out of the classroom.

I was looking down at my notes as I felt myself bump into a sweater covered chest, my notes and books falling to the floor.

"Crap." I dropped down onto my knees to try and gather the books and loose parchment without looking at who I bumped into.

"Look where your going Jesus,"

I rolled my eyes at his comment, of course it's Remus I walked into. He helped me gather the rest of the stuff before giving me another cocky smile.

"Haven't you got anything to say to me?" He said with a smirk, leaning against the stone wall.

"No? What are you talking about?"

"A thank you maybe? Considering after you rudely ran into me I still stopped to help you."

I scoffed slightly and just looked at him dumbfounded.

"Cmon then, I'm waiting."

I rolled my eyes again.

"My knight in shining armour, thank you so much for taking a minute to pull your head out of your own arse to help me. Appreciate it." I scrunched my nose at him whilst plastering an obviously fake smile across my face.

He chuckled slightly and stood up straight again.

"Your welcome sweetheart."

He laughed again and stopped for a second as if he was going to ask me something before just walking past me, causing me to inhale angrily before walking in the other direction angrily.

Me and Remus had always bumped heads during our time in Hogwarts, him being the smartest in Gryffindor and me the brightest in Slytherin theres always been some competition between the two of us.

His fake shyness paired with his cocky personality made my blood boil and I wasn't exactly the easiest person to get along with, I was aware I was a stubborn smart arse.

I made my way to the library, wanting to get ahead of the homework Slughorn just set.

I find my way to my usual table in the back corner of the room, sprawling my parchment and books over the table as I began work on my essay.

After a long hour of uninterrupted working I jumped as someone pulled out the chair next to me, snapping me out of my focus.

I look up to see James Potters smiling face looking at me, causing me to laugh slightly.

Me and James got along surprisingly well despite his hatred towards Slytherins and us both being captains to opposing Quidditch teams.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I ask with a laugh, putting my quill down as I turned my attention to the curly haired boy.

"I have a favour to ask." He said with an awkward laugh, fiddling with his glasses.

"Should I be scared?"

"A little bit, it's a strange one."

I quirked an eyebrow at him, gesturing him to continue.

"Will you pretend to be my date for the ball?"

I laughed and shook my head slightly "Why on earth would you want me to do that?"

"I overheard Lily say she wanted to go alone so I wanted to take someone else. Y'know, try and show her what she's missing." He awkwardly fiddled with his fingers whilst speaking, despite his normal confidence he always got awkward talking about Lily.

"I don't get how that would change her mind on you, surely you should just speak to her."

"You think I haven't tried a million times? She doesn't want to hear it, I just need one shot to show her what she's missing, and that I'm not always going to be waiting around for her."

I gave the defeated boy a small smile and sighed slightly as I braced myself for what I was about to say.

"Okay maybe. What's in it for me? I was supposed to be going with Reg as friends but I don't think he was too keen on going anyway."

His face lit up as he sat up in his chair happily "Really? I'll give you my word that you can have the Friday morning training slot for the rest of the year. Promise."

I smiled at that, enthusiastically nodding.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin team have been constantly fighting over who gets that practice spot all year, it's the best time to practice and James' friendship with the coach got him an unfair advantage.

"Deal."

"Thank you so much, I promise to be the perfect gentleman."

I laughed softly at him, rolling my eyes at his sarcasm.

"Does that mean I have to spend all night with your friends?" I asked with a small groan, causing him to chuckle lightly.

It's not that I hated the so called marauders, or most of them anyway. But my friendship with Regulus stops me and Sirius from ever being very close and spending any time with Remus made my blood boil.

Peter was a sweetheart though.

"Unfortunately for you yes, I'll tell Remus to be on his best behaviour though, promise."

"I'm shocked he's onboard with this, seems like such a stupid plan he'd talk you out of it." I say with a small laugh, picking up with quill again to twirl between my fingers.

"Oh he doesn't know. No one can know or it won't work. I love them but those idiots would give it away in seconds."

I nodded slightly, makes sense the three of them weren't exactly the most inconspicuous people.

"Okay well you've got yourself a deal. I'll see you on Saturday."

He smirked at me as he stood from his chair, hugging me for a second from behind my chair.

"Seriously I can't thank you enough. I'll see you at the great hall at eight."

I smiled up at him with a small nod.

~~~~

I play with my hair in the mirror, feeling like I couldn't get it to sit just right no matter what I did.

"I don't get why you care so much about how you look, it's not like you actually like the guy." Regulus said from the other side of the dorm where he sat on the edge of my bed.

"It's not about James, I just want to look nice it's a ball." I smoothed down my long green dress again before turning to fix my lipstick.

"Hmmm sure, or is there another certain Gryffindor that your trying to impress?" Regulus said with a snort.

"I have no idea what your implying."

"Yes you do. Lupin this, Lupin that, your smitten with the boy." He said with a laugh.

I scoffed, turning my attention away from my reflection to the dark haired boy.

"I have no idea what you mean, I hate Remus with every inch of me. He vexes me."

"Yeah sure, you can't deny that you like him a little. He's all you talk about."

I rolled my eyes at him again before going back to finishing how I looked.

"Talking about him and complaining about him are two completely different things so zip it. Okay I think I'm ready to go."

I couldn't lie a part of me understood where he's coming from, which was obvious to Reg as he laughed at the obvious blush that had covered my face.

It's not like I'd say I was in love with the boy, but I can't deny that every time we argue, debate or on the rare occasion engage in academic discussions, my heart always skips a beat.

And a very very very small part of me sort of hoped that it's not just Lily that got jealous tonight.

Regulus jumped up from the bed and offered his arm out to me.

"Let me escort you to your date, make sure he's treating you right."

I snorted at him and threaded my arm through his as we walked out of the dormitory's and up to the great hall.

My hands were a little shaky as I took a few deep breaths.

I understood that this stunt James wants to pull is going to draw a lot of attention, it's the last thing people would expect not to mention that gossip spreads around here and the awareness of all the attention that was about to be on me was spiking some anxiety.

Regulus leaned into my ear as we approached the hall,

"Don't worry, you look beautiful. Everyone's going to be jealous."

I smile at him and stop to give him a brief hug before looking over my shoulder to where James stood at the entrance of the hall.

I took another deep breath before nodding goodbye the Regulus and walking over to James.

He offered out his hand as I approached, pulling me closer to him.

"Don't worry, we've got this. You ready?"

His confidence caused a smile to creep onto my face as I nodded.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

As we walked into the great hall I could feel eyes on the back of my head, the two of us was a completely shocking thing I guess, James has always been so outwardly smitten with Lily nobody would ever expect him to show up with anyone else.

James led us towards the back of the great hall where I could see the other marauders stood around a table chatting, they smiled and waved as they saw James approaching, their expressions all changing slighting as they saw me on his arm.

Peter smiled wildly as I waved at him "Y/n hey! You look amazing."

I smiled back at him with a little laugh "Thanks Peter, you look wonderful as well."

I saw Sirius quirk an eyebrow from the corner of my eye before he cleared his throat to get our attention.

"James this is your surprise date?"

James nodded, giving Sirius a 'behave yourself' look.

"Yes, this is Y/n L/n, I don't think you two have properly met."

I smiled awkwardly at Sirius, hoping he wouldn't freak out on me because of my friendship with Regulus but the boy just smiled sweetly at me, pulling me into a short hug.

"It's nice to finally meet you, I hear your friends with that brother of mine."

I nodded slightly "Me and Reggie are close yes."

He clenched his jaw slightly and nodded back at me "It's nice to know there's someone looking out for him."

I notice Remus leaning against the wall next to Sirius being uncharacteristically quiet for him, he was stood with his arms crossed looking at me with an unreadable expression I hadn't seen on him before.

I hate to admit it but over the past few years of knowing him I've picked up on smaller habits of his. For example when he genuinely smiles his lips sit lopsided to the left, and when he's laughing he always throws his head back a little. When he was stressed he'd pull his hair, and when he was angry or frustrated he'd normally grip a pen in his fist and clench his jaw so hard it sometimes looked as if he was physically biting his tongue to stop himself from speaking out.

But this expression was something I hadn't seen from him before, he was intensely looking straight at me almost as if he was shocked but also with a small smile on his face which I'd never seen directed toward me.

I smiled at him as I looked over, causing him to look away and go back to the usual monotone expression I was used to from him.

If it wasn't the fact I was talking about Remus Lupin I'd say he almost looked in awe.

"Remus you didn't end up bringing a date?" James asked from behind me, causing his friends head to snap up from the spot on the floor he'd turned to.

"Hm? No I didn't ask her after all, decided it wasn't going to work out anyway."

James gave him a sympathetic smile and Sirius snickered from next to him, causing Remus to nudge him hard with his elbow.

"What about you Sirius? Flying solo?" I asked, trying to make myself included within the friend group.

Sirius laughed and shook his head "I always do these kinda things as a bachelor Y/n, it would break everyone's heart if I tied myself down to one person."

James laughed slightly and shook his head at his friend "On that note, care to dance Y/n?"

I nodded back at him and took a deep breath "Might as well put on a bit of a show since everyone's looking anyway."

He laughed at me and took my hand, leading me onto the dance floor.

We swayed back and forth together to the waltz music with some laughs as neither of us could take it seriously.

I could see Remus from over James's shoulder, he was looking directly at us with a cold expression.

It mirrored his usual habits he showed when he was angry but there was something else about it as well, I had no idea what was wrong with him but it was puzzling me that I couldn't read him as easily as I normally could.

As James spun me around I caught a glimpse of Lily stood on the other side of the room, her expression mirroring Remus's.

As the song neared to an end James bent down to my ear "I think it's working, she looks jealous. Would you mind if I kissed you? Just to put the nail in the coffin."

I looked at him for a second before nodded slightly.

He smiled at me before leaning down to plant a soft kiss on my lips.

It wasn't bad, he was gentle and soft but neither of us really wanted it and the awkwardness was obvious.

He pulled away suddenly and as I opened my eyes I saw Remus pulling James away by the sleeve of his jacket.

"Outside, now." Remus said as he pulled James out of the room, leaving me stood there alone with half the room staring at me.

I looked around awkwardly not knowing what to do before I felt someone touch my shoulders.

"Care to dance?" Sirius asked with a charming smile, taking my hands.

I took a deep breath and gave him a thankful smile. "Thank you so much."

He nodded and swayed to the side with me "I wouldn't let a beautiful woman stand alone unlike my idiot friends."

~ Remus's pov ~

"What's wrong?" James asked as I pulled him over to a quiet corner or the hallway.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you doing with Y/n? What happened to Lily? Since when did you even like Y/n?" I huffed at him, angrily balling my hands up.

I was supposed to take her, I was going to ask her but every time I tried I just couldn't get the words out, going for a cheap jab at her instead.

I've had a crush on her for the last year, our arguments after class was becoming one of the driving forces for the effort I was putting in and our little interactions somehow always managed to make my day.

I was stunned when I saw her in the Hall, she looked gorgeous and I went to compliment her. I finally gathered the courage to say something and then James put his arm around her.

It's always been Lily for him, just like it's always been Y/n for me. So what the hell was he doing.

"She agreed to come with me to make Lily jealous, I gave her the Quittich field on Fridays if she came with me. Why are you so bothered?" He furrowed his eyebrows at me, placing his hands on my shoulders to slow the pacing I didn't even realise I was doing.

"Oh." Shit I've made it so obvious "I was just worried you were making a mistake that's all."

He looked at me for another second before he connected the dots, his confused expression turning to shock.

"Merlin it's Y/n you were going to bring? You like her! Why didn't you tell us we couldn't helped you!"

"Shh your shouting, she might hear you."

He grinned excitedly at me.

"Remus you like her, that's so out of character for you. Why didn't you ask her?"

I shrugged at him "She hates me, she would've said no anyway."

He shook his head at me with a chuckle "God your both so stupid, she was staring at you all night. Just tell her how you feel, you might be shocked."

"What tell her how I feel so she can laugh at me? We might not be friends but I don't want to ruin the little interactions we do have. If she shot me down it would change everything, I don't want to loose her."

"You like me?"

The timid voice coming from next to us caused me and James to both spin around quickly, seeing Y/n and Sirius stood a few feet from us.

Y/n looking insanely confused and Sirius trying to keep his laughter as quiet as possible.

"This is such a shit show." He said with a laugh, causing Y/n to back hand his shoulder, still looking at me with an unreadable expression.

James rolled his eyes "Sirius maybe we should give them some privacy and go find Peter Hm?"

I looked at him with a silent thank you as he dragged a still laughing Sirius back into the Great Hall.

"You like me?" She repeated, walking to stand where James previously was.

I awkwardly tugged at my sleeves with a sigh, not knowing how to respond.

"I know it's stupid okay, I understand that you hate me and this is probably hilarious but yeah I think I do. I don't mean to be so mean to you I just don't know how to talk to you and I was going to ask you to be my date tonight but I whimped out and you probably don't care anyways but I think your the most brilliant, intelligent, beautiful and funny person I've ever met and-"

My rambling was cut off when I felt her hand touch the side of my face, the tips of her fingers going into my hair as I lent into her touch.

"Are you want to just kiss me or keep talking?" She asked with a giggle causing me to laugh a little bit as well.

"I think I'm gonna go with kiss."

She nodded with another laugh "Right as always Remus."

I admired her face for another second with a smile before finally leaning down.

#x reader #fanfiction #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #wwhp #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders #maraders fanfic #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x slytherin!reader #james potter #sirius black #hogwarts

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mapofthesea · 2 years

Text

poly!maknae line x fem!reader

genre: SMUT. Like SO MUCH of it. They’re all fuckin’. Porn with very little plot tbh

word count: 8.3k

summary: having gone years since your last real relationship and subsequent satisfying fuck, you decide its finally time to put yourself back out there at the club. For some reason, this club is full of sexy men-who all happen to be taken. As soon as you’re about to give up on men for the rest of your life, your night takes an extremely lucky turn.

warnings: swearing, dom!maknae line x sub!reader, reader experiences some self-doubt, boys are poly and all in love with each other, use of pet names, name calling but y/n is into it, specific smut warnings: unprotected sex (simply don’t do this irl please), oral (male and female receiving), some mxm, face fucking, spit, spanking, praise kink and degradation kink at the same time, maknae line are fucking hung, dacryphilia (but very slight), double penetration, Taehyung loves readers tits, bi!maknae line, cum eating

an: I don’t proofread so if there are typos that’s why. As always, this is mature content so if you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable then please do not go beyond the cut!

“You should really go catch a dick. Maybe that would make you less of a bitch.” The teenager pops her gum as she leaves, a loud complaint about ‘shitty customer service’ spilling to her friends as soon as she catches their gaze.

As much as the girl was annoying-demanding a refund for a dress that had clearly been worn-her words did hold a small modicum of truth. How long had it been since you even had a satisfactory hookup? Your last long term relationship fizzled out about 2 years ago, and a few months after that you gave up on the dating scene altogether. There’s no denying the fact that you’re a bit lonely, and a lot horny, and that there’s an easy way to fix those problems if you’re just willing to put in some effort.

So you find yourself at a club for the first time in probably four years, the bass pulsing through the sticky wooden floors. A group of giggling girls pushes past you, forcing your body further into the writhing mass of dancing bodies. Your heels pinched your feet as you walked, but they made your legs look good, so you soldier through the pain to make it to the bar. The prices make you cringe, but you haven’t flirted with anyone in so long you need the liquid courage. You order two drinks, intent on sitting at the bar to get your bearings before going to well, catch a dick. The height of the stool makes you struggle to get into it, extremely out of practice when it comes to balancing in heels. The chair shakes under you as you try to settle into it, finally planting your ass down ungracefully. You puff out a breath, already feeling downtrodden about the night and looking forward to swallowing down the alcohol set in front of you. Just as you gather one of the glasses into your hand, a voice sounds from your side.

“Excuse me, uhm,” you turn toward the source of the noise and thank the heavens you’re already sitting down. The man speaking to you is tall and built in all the right places, strong shoulders you want to sink your teeth into drawing your eyes upward until you reach his defined jawline, the plump of his pink lips that stretch into a boxed smile. His body is wrapped in a simple black button up with a subtle pattern, leaving only the top button undone to give you a glimpse of smooth skin and a chunky gold chain around his neck. Devastatingly handsome brown eyes peer down at you and you wonder when you got so fucking lucky. He seems to be alone, this perfect man, and he started a conversation with you?

He licks his lips, eyes darting pointedly down to your cleavage-thank god you chose this low cut dress- and then back up to meet your gaze. Sparks of excitement thrum over your body as he leans against the bar beside you.

“Can I ask you what you’re drinking? It looks quite...delicious.” The deep timbre of his voice burns you from the inside out and you nod dumbly.

“They’re called electric lemonades. They’re definitely among the things I find...delicious.” You hope that you haven’t completely missed the mark in attempting to flirt back. In a different setting you would have cringed at the words, but tonight you were operating only on the desire to get fucked. The man cracks a smile and extends a hand your way. His fingers are long and adorned with rings, and you shudder at the thought of how they would probably feel inside of you.

“I’m Taehyung,” he adds as you shake his hand. “And thank you for the recommendation...” he looks at you pointedly and you get the hint to provide your name. The feeling of his warm hand makes your voice waver as you answer him.

“Thank you, Y/N” His hand ghosts up your wrist, giving it a small squeeze and holding on as he grabs the bartenders attention. Your heart is thrumming erratically; trying to decipher what the contact means, if your night was really going to be this easy. He turns back to you, fingers dancing on your delicate skin as you catch a whiff of what must be expensive cologne. Your head fills with lust, abandoning rational thoughts as words bubble out of you.

“You, I think you’re-” Taehyung smirks at your stuttering, cocking his head to the side as you speak. “I think you’re really hot, and I- do you wanna get out of here?” You blurt, face flaming at the cliche you resorted to in the heat of the moment. Taehyung’s smirk morphs into a full blown smile, pearly white teeth on display.

“Oh, Y/N. I would love to, but I’m actually-” His eyes slide over your head, gaze locking onto something, someone, behind him. Your heart stops, world crashing in on you from overhead.

“Oh god, no, I’m so sorry,” you scramble out of his grip on your wrist, all but leaping off of the stool to get away from him. His handsome face twists in what must be disgust of your desperation.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t have to-” He speaks after you as you leave, drinks latched between your palms as you hurry away from the bar, desperate to find a new spot to sit and collect your mind.

As busy as the club seems to be, you find a small booth table squeezed toward the service door that leads into the kitchen. It’s dark and secluded, the leather of the seat smooth and cold against the bare skin of your thighs. Heat still simmers at your core from your encounter, and you down an entire drink in a few gulps, welcoming the burn of vodka and sting of sour lemon juice to wash away the embarrassment of being rejected. Still, there were a lot of people here, and although you doubted you would find another as hot and captivating as Taehyung, you weren’t ready to give up just yet.

“I told you I don’t have time to talk right now!” You jump at the person who seemed to have materialized from thin air sitting at the other end of your booth. His hair is shaggy, pieces hanging around his eyes in a tantalizing fashion, the beginnings of a mullet type style evident by the long cut. His short sleeved shirt shows off an arm of impressive tattoos you’re desperate to have a closer look at.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, hand clasping over your chest as your empty glass clinks against the full one. You don’t think he even heard you, dark eyebrows furrowed as he presses his phone against his ear. His free hand is digging harshly into his thigh, clearly annoyed at whoever was on the other end of the call.

He glances your way at the outburst, a frown marring his handsome features. Your stomach dives as you process just how handsome this stranger is too. Did all the hot men in the area flock to this club tonight? His eyes don’t leave yours as he finishes up the call with a curt goodbye and you squirm in your seat at the attention. The desire to down your second drink burns in the back of your throat but you suppress it by scratching at the back of your hand.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” the man speaks and you catch a glimpse of his shining lip piercing. He extends a veiny, tattoo covered-hand across the table and you catch a glimpse of a delicate sliver chain around his wrist that likely costs more than five months’ worth of your rent. You extend your hand slowly to his own, hoping he can’t feel the way your hands are clamming up.

“Jungkook.” He states simply, shaking your hand two times before dropping it gently back to the table with a deceptively adorable smile.

“Oh, hi. I’m Y/N. And it’s okay, really. I just didn’t notice you were here when I sat down...” His piercing eyes are still stuck on your form, eyebrows quirked in what now looks more like amusement. Your face flushes at his attention and you're worried that the heat will begin to melt your makeup off unintentionally. “I just, ah, hope that you’re okay. That sounded like an intense call?”

He grunts, fiddling with the bracelet. “Been on worse calls. And at least this one brought me some good fortune.” For a moment you assume he means whatever business he must be in, but the way he licks his lips tells you a whole different story. You squirm, in utter shock at the way your evening has shaped up. “M-me?” You finally stutter, once again proving why you hadn’t been in the game for a long, long time.

Jungkook’s eyes scan you, crinkling with a genuine smile that makes your stomach backflip. The hand you shook previously takes your own again, running a gentle line over your palm. “Yes, you, pretty. Don’t know why you’ve secluded yourself to the furthest booth in the bar, but I won’t complain if it means I get to be the one to entertain you.” He cocks his head in a way that has no right being so attractive, and you feel your insides start to liquify.

“Oh, thank you. I think you’re pretty too...” you deliberately dance your fingertips over his, hoping the teasing touch does a lot of talking for you. Jungkook’s eyes narrow in on the gesture, glazing over with what you believe is lust. Your heart kicks up in excitement, feeling like you had finally cracked the proverbial code. His grin widens and you feel your heart stutter at the way he suddenly grasps your hand between both of his own. “The things I would do to you, if only...” his face shifts, and you’ve done enough time in customer service to know it’s a look of disappointment. A shard of sadness strikes right through you as you wiggle out of his grip, quickly grasping your drink and downing it ungracefully in an attempt to wipe out the shame in your gut. You vaguely register Jungkook’s voice calling after you, but you power towards the dance floor, hoping to get lost in the press of sweaty bodies.

Alcohol and embarrassment are an interesting comorbidity, and the ache to get away from the gazes of the two men you had already met persuades you to weave further into the dance floor. You don’t know the lyrics to the song that’s playing but the beat vibrates through the floor and straight into your blood, encouraging you to rock your hips. You’re vaguely aware of the heat of bodies around you as your eyes slip shut, vodka finally doing the job you wanted it to. Something loosens in your chest, a feeling not unlike taking off your bra at the end of a long day. A body presses in close behind your own, a hand skating over your side to rest just above your hip. The two of you rock along to the music and you look down to see the hand on you looks strong and capable. Your heart and pussy lurch at the same time and you dare to spin around as you rock your hips to the music.

The man attached to the hand had to have just walked off of a runway. His eyes are rimmed in smoky eyeliner, even with his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth you can see a hint of gloss. His hand tightens on your waist, seemingly pleased with your ogling. You lean closer to his warmth, linking your arms around his neck to pull him down to your height. He takes the bait easily, slotting his head next to your neck and ghosting a hot breath over your skin. A shiver escapes you, exasperated as the music changes and the man makes a point to press his hips forward into your own. An unbidden groan slips from between your lips and you swear you hear him chuckle.

You move just as boldly as he is, rotating your hips forward pointedly. His hands wander to tease the curve of your hip before resting firmly on your ass at the same time he nips at a spot on your neck.

“I’m Jimin, by the way,” his voice is devastatingly husky and low right in your ear. It makes you shiver, digging your fingernails into the lean planes of his shoulders. “Y/N,” You answer back with a push of your hips further into his own, happy that the tight jeans he had on confirmed the bulge you thought you felt against you. A shuddering breath punches out of you and Jimin notices, nudging his nose firmly against the lobe of your ear.

“What’s a beautiful thing like you doing out here alone?” He husks.

“Tryin’ not to be. But I keep hitting on taken men, apparently.” Jimin abandons the spot at your neck to peer down at you, pretty eyes narrowed in to your own. Your veins thrum under his attention. There’s something in his stare you can’t explain, a quality so captivating that you don’t have it in you to look away.

“Well, what a shame for those guys. You’re such a pretty little thing, I can’t imagine turning you down...” he smirks in a way he must know makes your knees weak, hands taking another generous handful of your ass. You pitch forward into his chest, the fabric of what you assumed to be a simple tank top feels silky and cool under your cheek. Jimin’s chest rumbles with a pleased hum, lips ghosting over the sweaty hairs on your forehead.

“Fuck, baby. Should we get out of here?”

Your heart jumps at his words and you nod immediately, the desire to hook your legs around his waist and let him carry you out of the club replacing all of your usual concerns. You settle for clutching at the fabric of his shirt as he begins to move the two of you out of the crowd. People part easily for the two of you and before you know it you’re in a much quieter and cooler spot. Your fingers finally unlatch from his shirt and find a place on his jawline instead, hesitating for a second before pulling him down and kissing him. You feel triumphant when he falls into your rhythm, biting playfully at your bottom lip before weaving his tongue inside of your mouth. Desire is burning in your stomach and you squirm against him, desperate to get the fuck out of here and onto doing what you’ve been craving for weeks.

“Hey, what the hell!” Someone exclaims, obviously in close proximity. You jump, narrowly avoiding biting down on Jimin’s lips as you both turn toward the noise. He keeps you close in his grasp, arms tight over your waist- possessive in a way that makes your stomach clench.

“Oh, hey guys. This is Y/N.” Jimin grins, nodding his head in a loose gesture towards you. Your stomach knots and flips with anxiety as your drinks threaten to make a reappearance.

“Y/N, this is Jun-”

“Jungkook and Taehyung. Yeah, I um...” you trail off, wide eyes still in disbelief of the fact that your two failed endeavors are standing before you and seemingly are friends with Jimin.

Jimin puffs a breath that ruffles your hair. “Wait, is she- she’s the same girl you guys were talking about? And they’re the guys you mentioned earlier?”

The two other boys nod along with you, and despite the growing feeling of horror in your gut, you can’t help but feel hot under the gaze of all three of them. Jungkook locks his gaze on Jimin’s arms wound around you and his lip curls into a smirk. He moves in closer to your body until you can feel the heat radiating off of him. The tattooed hand you were so enamored with comes to tuck a sweaty strand of hair away from your face.

“I really wish you would have stuck around when I called after you earlier, babe. Just lucky you found your way to Jimin.” His eyes dart to your lips and your heart pounds out of your chest. Every one of your senses heightens; the feeling of Jimin’s arms around you, the scent of Jungkook’s cologne, the way your vision is swimming with desire.

“You can kiss him if you want,” Jimin offers, splaying his hand against your waist in encouragement. Your eyes go wide and you hear a throaty laugh- Taehyung- at your stunned expression.

“Here’s the thing, Y/N. What you didn't let Jungkook and I get to is that we’re dating. Us, and Jimin. His eyes have gone a shade darker than they were at the bar and it makes your pussy clench. “So if you’d like to have all three of us. We’d all certainly like to have you.”

You swear you forget how to breath as his words land and process, but the way your knees physically weaken is evidence enough of how you’re feeling.

“Yes! I uh, yes. To all of it. Y-yes. Please.” Taehyung smirks, running his sinful tongue across his lips, and before you know it you’re all moving towards the door. You feel hazy in the best way possible as Taehyung and Jimin go to collect a taxi and Jungkook hangs back with you, attacking your lips with his own. The cold press of his piercing pulls a gasp from your mouth as he devours you in a kiss even nastier than the one you shared with Jimin. You’re more than happy to get lost in it, allowing Jungkook to guide you until you’re at the taxi, squeezing into the back seat with the other two boys. Jungkook settles you on his lap, holding you steady around the waist as the car starts and gets you back to their apartment.

It’s a race to get up to their unit, and you can barely keep track of who is touching you where as the four of you ride the elevator up several stories.

The inside of the apartment seems nicely decorated and clean, but you only have time to glimpse the living room before the three men are pulling you into a bedroom.

“Look so fucking sexy, baby. I thought we’d lost you after you left me at the bar like that...” Taehyung shamelessly eyes your body, hands working underneath the fabric of your dress at your thighs.

“Can we get you out of this?” Jungkook presses in behind you, pulling your hair to the side and playing with the delicate zipper on your dress. “Yes, please.” You nod emphatically, head tipping forward to allow Jungkook more room. The gentle skim of his fingers on your back raises goosebumps and makes your nipples perk.

“Shit.” Taehyung swears loudly when your dress slips down, leaving you bare aside from a simple pair of underwear. His lips immediately attach to your nipple, sucking with a fervor that your ex never came close to. Jungkook’s calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your panties and rub the soft skin at your hip before pulling them down your legs. You can feel your arousal smearing down your thighs with the movement, sure that there’s already a mess between your legs. Before you can open your mouth to defend yourself, Jimin appears, shirt already gone, to claim your lips again.

Taehyung nips at the sensitive skin of your breast, leaving a mark that will be blooming in purple by the morning. He laves the spot with his tongue, humming against you as he helps himself to the expanse of you. Jimin lets up so you can both heave a breath. His eyes are much darker than they were on the dance floor, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver through you. He smirks, laying a possessive hand on top of Taehyung’s head as he continues to leave a path of marks on your torso.

Your stomach hums with anticipation as you watch the two of them. The simple touch speaks volumes to the closeness of their relationship. Jimin grips your chin with his free hand, tipping your head upwards until you make eye contact.

“You gonna be good for us?” You’re already nodding, and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Good little slut, letting us do whatever we want to you. Isn't that right?” A whine rips from your throat, as Jungkook’s hands find a new home in between your legs, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your body pitches forward, forcing Taehyung to back off as you move.

“S-sorry,” you stutter, embarrassed at the way you bent over for them so easily. The feeling washes away as your angle brings you level with Taehyung’s cock, clearly strained against the fabric of his linen pants. You swear your mouth waters at the sight, itching to have him in you. Jimin’s hands find a home on your lower back, the gentle touch grounding you to the absurdity of the situation.

Jungkook groans at the sight of your bared pussy, his hand immediately spreading your folds. You moan in tandem, eyes rolling at the pleasure. “Shit, she’s so fucking wet.” He’s clearly speaking to the men around you, and the idea makes your cheeks flame. The squelch of your juices fills the room as Jungkook pushes a long finger inside of you. The stretch makes you gasp and quiver, having been embarrassingly long since you had anything inside of you. Your hands flail wildly until they land conveniently on Taehyung’s waist, just inches from his waiting cock.

“Feels good?” He asks, latching his hands around your wrists and not so subtly inching them toward his cock. “Wanna suck your cock,” you blurt the words as soon as your hand grazes him and are immediately rewarded with triplet groans from the men.

“Go ahead, baby.” Taehyung encourages you as you find the zipper to his pants, struggling as Jungkook slips another finger inside of you and begins opening you up in a slow burn. You puff a breath when you finally get a look at Taehyung’s cock, heavy and flushed in your hand, with a prettily colored tip and strong veins under your thumb. You rub your thumb over the head and Taehyung groans, canting his hips forward into your touch. Anxiety stirs in your stomach at his size and your lack of experience, and your eyes widen at the prospect of trying to hold yourself up while being fucked on both ends.

“Wait, I-” the words punch out of you, loud enough that the room stills. Jimin’s hands move, encouraging you to stand back upright as three concerned faces materialize in front of you.

“Oh god, this is so embarrassing.” You groan, shutting your eyes tight.

“We can stop!” Jungkook insists, voice surprisingly high strung.

“No! No, I just.” You open your eyes again, licking your dried lips. “Its been a long time since I...you know. And I just, maybe we can move to the bed so I don’t like, fall?” Your eyes dart between them, expecting them to laugh or maybe tell you to just suck it up, but instead a low coo spills from between Jimin’s plush lips.

“Poor girl, you haven’t been fucked in so long you’re worried you won't be able to handle us? Come on.” He leads you the few steps to the bed, laying you down with your back on the cool comforter. His pretty hair falls around his face and your hands are immediately in it, relishing in the soft feeling of his locks between your fingers in a way that grounds you to the moment. All you can focus on is how handsome he is, and how lucky you are to have found yourself in this situation. His lips descend on your own as if he can read your mind, grabbing at your waist with both capable hands. The kiss tastes like alcohol and you can't get enough, welcoming his tongue inside of your mouth in a messy swap of spit. Your noses squish together, as close as humanly possible to one another, until a sharp moan throws you out of your rhythm. Jimin lets up when you stop, leaning to the side casually to let you get a glimpse of the other two boys. The moan belonged to Taehyung, who had apparently stripped down while you were kissing Jimin, who was at the mercy of Jungkook’s hand on his cock. Jungkook had rid himself of his clothing as well, and you couldn't decide where to look first.

Taehyung’s neck was on display, the muscular column inviting you to take a bite out of him as Jungkook works his deft fingers along the impressive length of his cock, all while his other hand grinds slowly against his own.

“Aren't they pretty?” Jimin’s sinful voice snakes into your ear and makes you shiver. His hands deftly work down his own pants and boxers, and you’re given a hint of what he has to offer.

“P-please, Jimin, want you.” He chuckles at the words but obeys you, quickly slotting himself between your legs. With no barriers between you, you can feel the thickness of his cock against your pussy, the girth of him taunting you.

“As much as I wanna dive into your pretty little pussy, she deserves some more attention, don’t you think?” A knowing smirk graces his features as he lowers himself to your stomach, skimming the skin of your stomach with his tongue. The trail he leaves is electric, sending shockwaves of arousal right to your core as he gets closer. Your hands find a home in his hair again, happy to scrape against his scalp with a gentle pressure as he finally settles between your legs.

A stream of air against your clit makes you whimper, hips bucking off of the bed enough that he loops an arm over your stomach to hold you down.

“Fuck, Jimin, please!” He giggles from between your legs and you think you might die before his mouth even touches you. Taehyung and Jungkook have turned their attentions to you, and the sight of them both hard in front of you is enough to make your head spin. You close your eyes, and as soon as your head drops back onto the bed, Jimin makes his move.

Maybe it's just because it had been so long since you had someone eat you out, but the first touch of his tongue brought you spiraling toward an orgasm. Your hands tighten on his locks and he groans as he laps at you, circling your clit with his tongue in perfect little circles. The noises that escape you don’t feel like your own as you rush embarrassingly fast towards cumming. Your vision blurs with tears, and you cum without a warning. A pleasant humming fills your mind as Jimin continues to eat you out, lapping up whatever you give him with a fervor that makes your toes curl. Wet tears roll over your cheeks and into your hairline, mixing with the sweat that was already there.

So lost in the pleasure, you barely notice that Jimin had stopped until your hands drop form his hair, limp at your sides. His lips and nose are glistening with your juices, and the sight of him makes you gasp.

“You came so fast, baby. Were you really that deprived?” You lean into the attention and nod, whining to him when he coos over you. “Such a pretty little pussy deserves attention, doesn't it?” You know he’s relishing in your submission, but you’re more than happy to fall into it when you feel so safe.

The bed dips above your head, and you know that it’s Taehyung and Jungkook finally joining you. You crane your head backwards to find them both staring raptly at your figure, the heaving of your chest as you recover.

“Think she's ready for a dick?” Jimin asks casually, as if you’re not right under him. You whimper, nodding your head emphatically. He finally casts a gaze back down at you, smiling with genuine kindness. After a second he leans away, allowing cold air to wash over your body. A small feeling of alarm washes over you as he backs up, and your eyes dart around as he reaches into the bedside table a few steps away. The silver packet shimmers in the low light, as as much as you admire their willingness to be safe, you shake your head petulantly.

Taehyung’s face hovers over your own in an instant, eyebrows furrowed as he examines you. You know he’s looking for signs of distress; assessing if you need to stop, but all he sees is your pouty lip and teary eyes.

“I wanna-” you gulp down a swallow. “Wanna feel you raw. Please. I'm on the pill and I’m clean.” You plead your case to the man above you, knowing well that they’re all listening. “I just wanna feel you...” you try again when no one says anything. Then, Taehyung’s face lights up in a smile that would seem evil if you didn't know any better.

“Hear that, guys? Our pretty little baby wants us raw.” Excitement passes through your stomach when you see how this is going.

“If that’s what she wants...” Jungkook chimes in, pretending like his cock didn't jump and throb at your words. Jimin comes back to you, hands empty, and grasps the meat of your thighs, hoisting them up so that they’re bent at the knees. One hand drops, and you assume he’s going to play with your pussy, but it instead comes down harshly on the juncture of your ass and thigh.

“You nasty little thing. Want all three of us to cum in you? Fill up your little pussy like you’ve been waiting for?” The gravel in his voice makes your pussy clench and he sees it, chuckling darkly.

“What do you say, guys? Wanna cum inside her?” A collective groan of agreement falls from everyone but Jimin, who is busy lining himself up with your soaking entrance. You heave a breath in anticipation as Taehyung and Jungkook move to flank your sides, eager to have their hands on you. “We’re all clean too, baby. Nothing to worry about.” Jungkook suddenly assures you, tracing a gentle line down your arm closest to him.

At your nod, Jimin presses forward, beginning his descent into you. The stretch is already unbelievable, much more intense than your tiny vibrator. He reads your body well, taking his time to enter you as you gasp and writhe. Taehyung and Jungkook do their best to soothe you, helping to pain morph into pleasure as Jimin is finally fully inside of you.

“Holy shit, you feel so good.” His voice is airy with pleasure and it inflates your ego just a bit. He begins a steady rhythm, splitting you open with every movement of his hips. A gasp stutters out of you when you realize just how big he is, tears brimming once again at the pure pleasure he’s giving you. It doesn't take long for him to increase his pace, fucking into you so hard that you’re pushed further onto the bed, tears spilling freely. Jungkook and Taehyung have each taken the liberty to attend to one of your nipples, pinching and licking at them as they please while Jimin wrecks you.

“Look so pretty when you cry, baby. Sweet little crybaby letting me ruin her pussy, huh?” Jimin’s words add fuel to the fire in your stomach, and you cry even more as he hits a spot inside you that you didn't even know existed.

“I’m getting close, Jimin-” your voice is stolen from you as Jungkook takes the opportunity to work two large fingers over your sensitive clit, heightening every sensation into a burning desire in your stomach.

“I’m cumming!” You’re impressed the words even make it out before you feel like you’re floating, cumming around Jimin’s cock. Neither him or Jungkook let up as you scream their names, hands scrabbling for something to anchor yourself. White spots cloud your vision, and as the sensation passes you realize that your whole body is trembling. Taehyung’s planting kisses on your collarbones, murmuring things you can't quite understand yet. Jimin and Jungkook’s eyes are glued to your pussy, and you can feel it fluttering with the aftershocks.

“Fuck, gimme a turn.” Jungkook is suddenly on the move, practically shoving Jimin- who was still hard- out of the way. Jimin doesn’t protest, his chest heaving from effort as he lays down next to you on the bed, immediately stealing your attention with a kiss.

“You are so hot, you know that?” He says, brushing stray strands of hair out of your eyes. “Crying like that got me fucking harder, somehow. Shit.” You almost feel bad that he’s still hard, but Taehyung steals your attention quickly with a kiss of his own. Jungkook’s hands dance on your thighs, admiring the red marks that Jimin’s hand had made on you. His hand comes down on the opposite cheek that Jimin slapped earlier, relishing in the way you whine into Taehyung’s kiss. He lands one more on each side for good measure, and you moan so loudly that you have to pull away from Taehyung’s mouth.

Jungkook takes the moment to tease his head against your slick entrance, and you nod fervently to tell him you’re more than ready for his cock. He’s somehow longer than Jimin, the impressive length a bit imposing as he begins to slip in. Despite just having orgasmed, he still stretches your entrance considerably. Taehyung groans along with you, sitting up for a better look as he wraps his hand around his cock. You can see now just how needy he is, the tip red and leaking. You reach for him absently, trying to keep your eyes on Jungkook as his face twists into pleasure.

“Think she wants you, Taehyung.” Jimin interjects, warm hands enjoying caressing your side. Your mind is fuzzy with desire, as Taehyung finally gets your cues and props himself up. The sight of his cock makes your mouth water, and you open it to him with no hesitation. Perhaps wisely, he sneaks a look down to your pussy, where Jungkook had started a slow and satisfying rhythm inside of you. As if he knew the exact timing, Taehyung shoves his cock into your waiting mouth at the exact same time Jungkook ramps up his speed.

Stuffed on both ends, you moan, surprised and delighted at how well the men worked together. Jungkook’s pace is punishing, relentless with the way he batters your pussy like it’s made for him. Lewd groans spills from him in a constant stream, and paired with the way he stretches you, you would be screaming for the whole building to hear if not for Taehyung’s cock.

You focus on him as well as you can, relaxing your throat to let him fuck your face as he pleases. Your gag reflex threatens to make an appearance but you fight through it, enjoying the burn of your throat expanding for him. Taehyung is surprisingly perceptive to your needs and speeds up his thrusts just enough to make you feel wonderfully numb, spit seeping around his cock. The wetness drips down your chin onto your chest, but you are far too gone to find it embarrassing. Jungkook is lost in his pleasure, hips moving at an inhumane speed that scrambles your brain and sends shockwaves through your pussy.

“Pretty fucking girl, slobbering on my cock. Lettin’ me fuck your throat like a whore while Jungkook fucks you. Just a good little whore, doing whatever we want you to do, huh?” You nod at his words as best as you can, the mixture of sweat, tears and spit making your neck feel stick, but it’s all worth it when Taehyung produces the deepest moan you've ever heard.

Jungkook mirrors him, letting out a string of high pitched whines. You choke around Taehyung’s cock at the movements and he lets up, allowing your wrecked voice to fill the room alongside Jungkook’s. With Taehyung out of the way Jungkook leans forward and leaves a bite on your neck, gasping as you feel his release fill you. The warmth makes your eyes roll back, satisfied to finally be filled with someone’s cum.

Jungkook continues to buck his hips as he cums, laying his head down on your chest as Jimin captivates him in a kiss of his own. You’re entranced by their embrace, watching the way their tongues slip against each others as Jungkook rests on your chest. A happiness settles inside of you, not even bothered that you didn't come, as Jungkook lets out an airy giggle. He stands up and finds the strength to pull out of you, eyes glued to the mess he made inside of you.

His cum rushes out and you clench to keep it in, loving the heavy feeling inside of you. Jungkook swears, pushing his sweaty hair back off his gorgeous forehead.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with your pussy filled.” You’re surprised to hear Taehyung say, as he rounds the bed. They fall into their natural rhythm again as Jungkook finds his place, cuddled into Jimin’s side as if they’re watching a show. Taehyung’s eyes glint with something you can’t explain as he works a hand over his cock.

He sees your questioning gaze and smirks. “Had to stop fucking your mouth cause I only wanna cum inside of you.” His hands find your hips, massaging the flesh there with reverence. “Flip over.” His sweet playful tone is gone, replaced by a hard dominance that churns your stomach. It takes a second to get your muscles to work, but soon you’re on your knees and elbows, head buried in the soft comforter. Taehyung groans, clearly enjoying the change in scenery as he gropes your ass. His fingers split open your pussy, watching Jungkook’s cum seep out of it.

He takes a swipe across your pussy with his tongue, sending a moan stuttering out of you. “Tastes so good, but I can't wait to be inside of it.”

“Please fuck me, Taehyung. I need you so bad.” You whine. The desire to have another load of cum inside of you overtakes any decorum as you shuffle your hips back against him, hoping it will make him act faster.

“You greedy little girl. Already been fucked twice and you can't get enough?” He teases but you can hear the hitch in his voice, the way the heavy head of his cock traces against your exposed folds. He takes extra time to run the head of his cock over your engorged clit, extra sensitive since you didn't cum with Jungkook. Without warning his cock is sliding into you, pushing through the wetness of Jungkook’s come and your arousal.

By far the thickest of the three, Taehyung’s cock punches the air out of you with the new angle. Your manicured nails grip the comforter in anticipation, and before you know it Taehyung is pounding into you. You feel like you will never catch your breath again with the way he’s moving inside of you, deconstructing your nervous system piece by piece. You’re vaguely aware of Jimin and Jungkook next to you and you turn your head in curiosity.

Jungkook, despite his tiredness, has his lips wrapped around Jimin’s cock, eyes closed in pleasure as he bobs his head. The sight sends a ripple of pleasure straight to your core, tightening around Taehyung so much that he slaps your ass in appreciation. Jimin’s eyelids hang low but open, dangerous eyes boring right into your own as if he could read your mind. The hand that isn’t propping him up is resting gently on Jungkook’s head, and even with the momentum from Taehyung’s thrusts making your vision blurry, you can tell that Jimin’s face is the picture of sinful pleasure.

Taehyung’s fingers seek out your clit and your instantly clench around him, your walls spasming as you fall into sensory bliss, all but drooling into the fabric below you.

“Love this greedy little pussy, baby. So lucky we met her-” a hitch of his breath accompanied by his hips stuttering. “Come on, cum for me so I can fill you up.” His fingers somehow move faster, strumming your clit in a way that makes your toes clench and your stomach unravel. You cum with a force you didn’t know possible, gushing around Taehyung’s cock in a sticky mess. He thrusts only a few more times before spilling inside of you, slapping your ass again for good measure. Your ears ring, happy with the numbness of your world. You can tell there are several hands on you, but who they belong to is a mystery. Taehyung’s cock leaves you and you whine, immediately missing the weight of him inside you. His cum spills out behind him and you feel like you could cry as the fullness slips away from you. You try your best to voice it as your body collapses onto the bed, but you can’t tell if they can even hear you let alone understand you.

The edges of your vision return, fingers and toes coming back to life. You finally make out the hands on your head to be Jungkook’s, who is laying down next to you, staring at you as if you were made of stars. He’s speaking lowly and you smile when you finally make sense of what he’s saying.

“Good girl, now there you are. Hey.” The soft tone he uses makes you feel at ease. “Can you tell me what you were just trying to say?” His eyebrows furrow cutely and you try so hard to focus on his question and not the way you want to kiss him so badly. It takes your mouth a few moments to catch up to your brain, and you finally wade through the happy haze of your orgasm.

“I said that I-” you wince at how wrecked your voice is. “I don’ want all the cum to slip out of me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your admission, perhaps expecting you to have much more PG thing to say. He recovers quickly, allowing a sexy smirk to break through.

“Jimin,” Jungkook says, and for a second you’re still confused, until the man he calls upon is taking his place. His makeup still looks impeccable, and this close up you can see the details in his irises. He says nothing, and you aren’t sure exactly what he heard, so you just start again.

“I want to-”

“Have all the cum stuffed back into you?” His words shock you despite how lewd the entire night had been. “Are you sure you’re gonna be alright? That last orgasm really took it out of you, sweetheart.”

Your heart jumps at his consideration, but there’s still a fire burning deep in your stomach that you know he could be the one to put out. You turn your head just enough to see that his cock is still hard, leaking precum against his toned stomach.

“Yes, I’m sure. Please. Please. I promise I’ll be good. Wanna make you cum. Wanna have you all in me.” Jimin’s eyes darken immediately, and his strong hands maneuver your pliant body back onto your back. A surge of confidence runs through you at the animalistic desire on his face.

“Gonna get you all filled up, baby. Our perfect little cum dump. Lettin’ us all take our turns with you.” He spreads your legs, examining your puffy pussy lips and the remnants of cum that leak from you. He gathers up what he can with his fingers and shoves it back into you. You shudder at the intrusion, beyond sensitive to his touches.

“”M not gonna last long, baby. I’m so fucking hard.” He whines, palming himself as he gets to where he needs to be, settled between your legs snugly. “S okay, just want your cum.” You assure him sweetly, feeling the weight of the night as well. You weren't even sure you had it in you to cum again, but you knew you wouldn't end the night satisfied without having them all spill inside of you.

Jimin wastes no time after your reassurance, and his cock slides right in as if you were made for him. The lubrication makes for an extremely easy glide. Every move he makes strikes pleasure in your pussy, the sensitivity of the muscles making your orgasm build with surprising speed. Jimin can feel you clenching around him and he gasps, knowing your tells after seeing you cum so many times in one night. He presses a nimble finger to your clit, and that’s all it takes for you to cum again. A slow simmering orgasm that makes your legs shake as you gasp, latching onto Jimin’s arms for support. He joins you not long after, giving a few short thrusts to make sure that he fills you up deep.

He drops his full body weight on top of you and you relish in the secure feeling, his cock twitching while still inside you. The shake in your legs finally stills, and Jimin pulls out of you, careful to minimize the amount that slipped out of you. You closed your legs instinctively although you were exhausted beyond belief. As the adrenaline wears off and the sweat begins to dry you shiver under him. Despite the heat of his body, you were definitely in need of something else to cover you. When he feels you shiver he plants a kiss on your forehead before sitting up and pulling aside the comforter on the bed before leading you underneath the layers of warmth. He slips in right after you, wrapping his arms steady around your figure. Your eyes threaten to slip shut, but the absence of the others nags at the back of your brain.

“Went to get clothes and water,” Jimin explains as if he can read your mind. His head barely lifts from your shoulder as he speaks, and the low hum of his voice against you soothes the very last of your frayed nerves. Seconds later the door glides open, a now-dressed Taehyung and Jungkook with bottles of water and fabric bundled in their hands.

You and Jimin both take a water bottle, and the other boys settle down on the bed. Suddenly you realize the bed isn't quite big enough for all four of you, as Taehyung’s limbs sprawl overtop of Jungkook’s.

Jungkook waits until you drain half the water bottle, and then shuffles the pile of clothes in his arms.

“They’re uh- they’re my clothes, but I. Figured they'd be better than your...dress.” He blushes, gingerly holding it out to you. The sight makes you giggle, but you thank him, and pull the shirt on over your head while you're still in the bed. Feeling like you could trust your legs again you slip out of bed and pull on the boxers and sweatpants he gave you. The shirt falls to your thighs and the bottoms he gave you only fit because of their drawstring, but the enveloping warmth and comfort made up for the size difference.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You whisper your thanks, scared to ruin the comfortable low hum of conversation between Taehyung and Jimin. It's easy to slip back under the sheets, wedged between Jimin and Jungkook. Taeyhyung takes the other side of Jimin, barely having enough room for his body at the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he reaches an arm across Jimin to reach you. He gently places a hand on your arm, rubbing gently at the skin there.

An odd wave of emotion crests over you and your eyes well. “Thank you, by the way.”

To your complete embarrassment they all coo at once, squishing in closer to you. You all smell like sex and sweat, but the embrace is so sweet that you have to remind yourself it was only a one night stand.

“We should be the ones thanking you, Y/N. Believe it or we don’t usually do...this.” Jungkook admits. He’s facing your back but you can imagine the blush on his cheeks as he speaks. The idea shocks you and a sound of disbelief punches out of you.

“It’s true,” Jimin pokes your ribs gently when he sees the look on your face. “We’re pretty picky. But you...” He stops himself, seeming to be afraid of saying too much. A teasing glimmer of hope sprouts in your chest with the implications of his words. Was it too soon for you to suggest doing this again? Or just hanging out like normal people? There’s no denying that you’re wildly attracted to all of them, but does that mean its worth pursuing? “We can think about it in the morning.” Comes Jimin’s gentle voice. Taehyung nods from behind him, and you can tell that his exhaustion is catching up to him. You have no idea it was when you left the club with them, and certainly have no idea what hour it is now. Jungkook grunts his agreement into your neck, and you hope he can't sense the way your heartbeat speeds up at his proximity.

“Well still, thank you. And good night.” You murmur, nestling into the surprisingly soft pillow. Your eyes shut, and sleep is just inches away, latched between the two men closest to you, when Jimin begins to wiggle.

“Shit, guys. Let me out, I need to piss.” Triplet sighs follow his demand, and you all laugh as he flips you off on the way to the bathroom.

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taintedcigs · 7 months

Text

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER FOUR: TWO NOTES AND A HEART DOWN

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✦ summary: in which eddie takes you for a trip down memory lane and you finally read the note. (wc: 9.4k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, argument </33, yelling, crying, mentions of sa (nothing happens) like its not brought up AT ALL it's insinuated like the tiniest bit, mean!eddie, kinda asshole-ish? pining and slowburn, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and drg use and a toxic/ab*sive relationship, food!!

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader, eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

✦ authors note — sorry for the wait but i hope a 9.4k chapter makes up for it omg! also feel free to chat with me in the asks abt this series (and anything tbh) pls!! not proof-read pls ignore mistakes!! ive been struggling with this chapter A LOT. its not at all how i wanted to write it but i was just tired of holding it off :// so hope u guys enjoy and this is like the last fluffy chapter lmao its all angst from here on (well kinda)

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His nose skimmed against yours, a mere breath away from the temptation of your soft lips, everything you’ve been wanting on the tip of your fingers.

But you couldn’t do that. It didn’t matter if he was sorry or if it was casual. Chrissy still existed. And he still kissed her in front of you.

Friends, is what he promised. And this was going to ruin it.

“Please, look at me,” he pleaded, you could hear the desperation in his voice. Your eyes blinked open slowly, how close he was to you had your eyes widened.

"I-I don't even know what's wrong with me," he breathed out. "I feel like...I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind, and I don’t even know what just happened,” he said in a strained voice.

“I-I just… I look at you, and I’m absolutely terrified.” He gulped. “It terrifies me that—” He stopped himself before he could spew out more.

It terrifies me how much I would do for you, he wishes to say, but he doesn’t, he can’t.

“I can’t—we shouldn’t be doing this." He stammered, quick to lean away from you.

“I-I know” You agreed hesitantly, because you knew this was a bad idea. But your stomach burned at the thought that he wanted to not kiss you because of Chrissy. Was he actually going to be with her now? Did he lie about things being casual?

“Do you…” You took a deep breath, “do you like her?” Your voice was strained, it was barely above a whisper, but Eddie heard you loud and clear.

Your heart rate picked up quicker than you intended it to, you leaned further away from him, your mouth flooded with a bitter taste.

“No!” His eyes widened, he answered it so quickly that the idea that he was lying sank further into you.

“No, I-I don’t know… I just-” He breathed. “We agreed to being friends… We should keep it that way, and I can’t keep doing this,” he stammered. “I need to stop hanging on to the past.”

“but, fuck. Each time, I try to, you just… prevent it!” He admitted, without realizing the weight his words held, your brows pinched quickly.

“I prevent it?” You enunciated with an exasperated chuckle.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mumbled under your breath as your body turned away from him, elbows holding onto the edge of the pool as you swiftly lifted yourself up.

Eddie just looked at you, baffled. “Do you realize how unbelievable you are?” You spat, looking down on him with your hair still wet and your dress uncomfortably stuck to your body.

“What are you talking about?” He gave you a puzzled look.

“Nevermind,” you huffed, facing away from him.

Eddie groaned, following you as he exited the pool swiftly. “Why do you even care?” He asked, breathless. Taking another step closer toward you.

“I don’t,” you lied with a gulp. You were a bad liar. And Eddie knew that.

“You don’t?” He narrowed his gaze, giving you a second chance to open up, but he knew you were too stubborn.

“I don’t.”

He huffed. “Fine.”

“That…” He paused, “was a mistake.” You could feel that horrible ache in your chest return. Sure it was a bad idea, but a mistake?

Did he really hate you that much?

“What does that mean?” You swallowed hard. Your heart was breaking the more he spoke, you wanted nothing more than to shut him up.

“It means we-I shouldn’t have done that,” he corrected himself with a tinge of disappointment in his tone. But what exactly did he mean by that? Did he mean that the almost-kiss was a mistake because it could ruin your potential friendship? Or did he mean it in a way that suggested he liked Chrissy?

Those words were enough to have your heart drop into your gut; your whirlwind of thoughts were mocking you, the idea that Eddie had a chance of liking her was eating away at you, and all you could do was stand there and watch it all unravel.

You parted your lips to speak, but all that could come out was a weak mutter of, “okay.” You turned your back on him quickly, picking up your jacket from the ground. You put it on in a struggle, fighting back the tears that were pricking your eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a puzzled look, and you refused to look back at him before your feet picked up. He didn’t seem to realize why his answer truly crushed you.

“I-I’m going home.” Your voice was barely audible; there was a lump sitting in your throat, causing your breathing to stammer.

“With what exactly?” He huffed, following behind you.

“I don’t know,” you muttered with a roll of your eyes. “I’ll figure it out… I always do, don’t I?” You shrugged.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t let you walk alone like this. You could catch a cold, or something could happen to you, Pinky." His voice was laced with concern, brows furrowed as he hurried to your side.

“I don’t care,” you muttered with an emotionless expression.

“I do!”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do!” He spat. “Please, don’t do something stupid and reckless. I can take you home,” he mumbled with a huff. There was no fucking way he’d let you walk home alone.

“And I have a towel in my car,” he added, you slightly huffed. It was chilly, your dress was soaking, and he was right. There was no way you could get home without him. At least until you were willing to freeze off or get hauled by whatever was roaming in the forest.

You followed him to the car with a simple nod, Eddie still failed to notice why you had gotten so upset, not realizing the implications his words held.

By the time you got into the car, you were shivering, faintly muttering a ‘Thanks’ to Eddie as he wrapped the towel around you, brows creasing with worry, but he didn’t know what to say to you.

Usually, he wouldn’t have let it go; he would’ve tried to get it out of you and ask you if you were okay, but when you were this upset, it was no use.

The ride was silent except for the faint sound of Eddie’s mixtape filling the space between the two of you. He had asked if you had anything specific you wanted to listen to, but you shut him off with a faint shake of your head.

Your heart was aching. Like he had just ripped open your chest and taken it without a care, not noticing how tight he had been squeezing and releasing it. As if he were toying with it.

And you felt nauseous. You weren’t sure if it was because you didn’t get a chance to eat all day or because of that mocking thought in your head that told you that Eddie wanted Chrissy.

Once your stomach grumbled, your question was quickly answered, your cheeks heated up as you crossed your arms against your chest in an attempt to shut it up. Eddie gave you a slight chuckle. “Munchies?” He chuckled. “Do you wanna get something to eat?” He asked with a reassuring smile.

“I just wanna go home,” you grumbled as your gaze refused to meet his. “C’mon,” he muttered with a huff. “Do you even have anything to eat at home?” He asked all-knowingly. You shook your head, you didn’t; your fridge was empty; it was late, so you couldn’t get any groceries; not to mention, your messy kitchen was in no condition to cook.

“Are burgers still your favorite food?” Your face unintentionally lit up at that; he was definitely thinking about Benny’s, and your mouth-watered just at the idea of their cheeseburgers.

“Benny’s?” You asked with an involuntary smile on your cheeks, and Eddie swallowed a deep breath. That curve of your goddamn plump lips was driving him crazy.

“Yeah, do you want to go?” He muttered slowly. “O-okay,” you mumbled.

First the Wheeler House, then Billy’s stupid camaro, then the pool, this goddamn van, that mixtape, and now Benny's... this whole day had been a nostalgic mind fuck for you. You couldn’t complain, though; no matter how upset his words made you, you were still so pathetically happy to spend some time with him, ecstatic that he didn’t let you go.

And so was Eddie. That’s why he had been holding his tongue back; he wanted to know why you cared so much about Chrissy. Sure, what she did with Billy was horrible. But it didn’t make sense. There had to be something he didn’t know.

By the time you guys arrived at Benny's, it was past midnight, so, the place wasn’t packed, of course, but surprisingly, there were still a lot of tables besides the two of you. Eddie let out an ‘Aha!’ sound once his eyes caught the booth that was nestled in the corner.

The same one the two of you always shared. The white light loomed over its padded, dark maroon seat, and you slid onto it with a huff. Your senses were immediately greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of toasted buns. The air was infused with a disgusting smell of frying oil, but all of it smelled irresistible to your growling stomach.

Once the two of you got situated, Benny was quick to rush to your side. “Welcome to Benny’s, what can I get you—”

"Oh my god!" Benny's eyes widened, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Didn't expect to see you! Jesus, how long has it been?" He chuckled, his memory working overtime.

A smile adorned your face, Benny had always been nice to you and to Eddie, giving you one too many free meals, always telling you that it was not an issue despite your protests, knowing of your absentee parents, just like the rest of the town did.

“Very long,” you added with a chuckle, “missed your cheeseburgers.” You pouted.

"Yeah?" Benny's excitement was palpable. "Mmhmm, nowhere in New York does it as good as Benny's," you hummed sweetly.

"Now, you're just butterin' me up!" Benny dismissed with a chuckle, eliciting a warm smile from you.

"But, New York, huh?" Benny inquired, raising an intrigued brow. "I've seen this one around, a lot, even last week." His finger pointed toward Eddie, prompting your brows to furrow.

Last week?

“So that's why you weren’t with him.” He added, realization dawning on his face. Eddie was quick to shoot a painful gaze toward you, one that almost said, ‘no, she wasn’t with me because she left me’, You didn’t know how it was possible to share a language just through your shared gaze, but it had you physically gulping.

“Uh-uh, yeah,” you mumbled, your gaze avoiding Eddie’s.

“I gotta say though…” He leaned down, almost like he was telling the two of you a secret, “It’s really nice seeing the two of you together, again.” Benny said with a sly smirk.

“‘Bout damn time y’all got together,” He teased further.

Your eyes widened in unison, both sets of cheeks warming before you spoke up.

“Oh, no—” You were quick to dismiss with your hands.

“We’re not—” Eddie joined in your protests.

“So, what can I get for you, lovebirds?” He hummed casually, ignoring both of your protests. Your eyes locked before both of you shyly avoided each other’s gaze. “The usual?”

“Uh-uh, yeah," Eddie grumbled, suddenly more interested in the wooden table.

When Benny turned toward you, “same for her, but with extra pickles.” Eddie said almost automatically, your brows pinched together and Eddie mentally cursed himself, “I-I mean… if that’s still your order…” His words smushed together, cheeks quick to heat crimson red.

“It-it is," you mumbled.

“Alright, comin’ right up,” he threw a wink at the two of you, clueless of the awkwardness apparent in the air.

It was stupid, all this back and forth all day. You weren’t kids anymore; you should have been able to just be friends and hang out, not fight. Yet, somehow, it had spiraled into a seemingly impossible situation.

Talking it out wasn’t going to do anything. If the two of you wanted any chance to salvage whatever your relationship was, you needed to talk about the bigger picture; everything needed to be spilled out. But neither of you wanted to do that.

Unspoken feelings were lingering, and none of you knew when they would boil over. Both of you desperately wanted to cling to the promise of being friends and make the most of it.

There were a lot of things you could say to him; you could choose to talk about Chrissy, you could choose to talk about L.A.; hell, you could choose to talk about his nerdy game, but your curiosity got the best of you, and before you could help it, the words spilled out of your mouth. “What were you doing here last week?”

Eddie was almost taken aback by your question, not expecting you to be curious about him again after icing him out for so long. “I like coming here,” he shrugged. “Whenever I’m in Hawkins, I drop by, you know, to write some stuff.”

“Here?” Your face scrunched, finding it hard to believe that a greasy diner could ever be inspiring.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “most of our second album was produced in this bad boy.”

"Are you serious?” Your brows raised, “and the rest of the band is just okay following you here?" You narrowed your gaze playfully, your hands finding a resting place on the worn wooden table.

Eddie’s mouth twitched with a smile. “Yeah, actually, they’ve gotten pretty used to it,” he confessed, “you-uh… I don’t know if you ever got to listen to the second one-”

"I did," you interrupted, voice resolute.

“Y-you did?”

“Of course.”

Eddie hesitated before asking, "What did you think of it?"

“Great record, are you kidding me? It had such a unique sound… You know, like, a timeless quality that makes it stand out?” You said excitedly, and he nodded with a raised brow, “that much?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’m not kidding, Eddie. You know how I don’t pull punches with music; if it wasn’t good, I’d tell you in a heartbeat.”

"Which one's your favorite?" Eddie asked, his curiosity piqued.

You pondered for a second before answering, "oh, definitely Aurora!"

Eddie's shaggy bangs fell onto his forehead as he leaned closer, listening intently. "I mean, 'I just kinda died for you, you just kinda stared at me' is genius," you said, your voice filled with admiration. You didn't dare look him in the eyes.

"And really, really sad," you continued, a hint of melancholy in your tone. "The idea that you could give the whole world to someone, to the point where you describe it as dying, and they don’t even see it... it sounds awfully painful." You gulped, your eyes fixed on the worn wooden table. You weren’t stupid; you knew why it was named Aurora; you knew what the lyrics were alluding to.

His car. The same car that the two of you drove around in. The same car drove the two of you out of Hawkins.

You knew he liked you way before he let you on, and you wish you knew.

Maybe if you weren’t dating that douchebag, maybe if Eddie said something sooner, maybe if everything that happened when the two of you left didn’t happen… Maybe just maybe, the two of you’d be together now.

Maybe if the timing was just right, it wouldn’t be like this; he wouldn’t have whatever he had with Chrissy. You wouldn’t have been in New York.

But what were you supposed to say? What could you say that would change all of this? Even if you told him about what Chrissy did, even if you explained why you had to leave him in L.A., there was no use. The truth couldn't turn back time. You two had ventured down different paths, and it was painfully evident.

He wasn’t the Eddie you knew, and you weren’t the Pinky he knew; it was too fucking late.

Eddie's mouth hung open in surprise; he hadn't expected you to delve into the song's meaning like this. Aurora was one of the heaviest songs he had ever written, and he held a special attachment to it. The label and the rest of the band had embraced it, which was surprising since they usually rejected his heartbreak songs, wanting more of that unbridled rage.

He didn’t answer you; there was a weird tension between the two of you again, so you diffused it with, “but kinda lame that you decided to name a song after your car,” while eyeing Eddie to gauge his reaction.

Eddie chuckled. “Oh, bite me,” he teased, "but yeah, that one was also written here, in that same spot you were sitting.”

“Shut up!” You said, hand playfully reaching out to nudge him.

"And to your question... I can't tell you why I was here last week," Eddie confessed, his voice carrying a hint of mystery.

Your stomach twisted at that, and you didn't know how many more punch-in-the-gut revelations you could handle today. "Why- uhh- why not?" You asked hesitantly, your words stuttering over simple syllables.

"Because then I'd be spoiling the note, dummy," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

A deep breath of relief escaped your stomach, and you chuckled. God, he was a douche. "Wait... so does that mean... I have a song in my pocket?"

"Not exactly."

"I'm the first one to see it, huh?" You asked excitedly, hand teasingly dipping into your pocket.

"You and the rest of the band," Eddie huffed, offering a sheepish grin.

You gave him a quick glare. “You know I could leak this to the press and make millions, right? No more dealing with rude customers, and no more nine to five hours stuck in a record shop?”

He narrowed his gaze. "You can't get shit for that," he mockingly retorted.

"What?" You frowned.

"Yeah, it's basically like the first chorus and some gibberish notes, it's worthless," Eddie explained.

You pouted. "Aww, damn it."

"I'm kidding, I'm excited to read it,” you reassured with a wink, “you know… Maybe I could give you some notes on it? Review it?" You suggested.

“Didn’t know you were a musician.”

“Rude!” You huffed, “I may not be a musician, rockstar. But I sell records for a living. I can promise you, I listened to many more records than you did this year.” You said with a playful smirk.

"How's that like?" Eddie asked curiously, his deep brown eyes resembling longing and curiosity.

You leaned back against the cushioned booth, letting out a wistful sigh. "Working at a record store? A rollercoaster,” you chuckled, “lame in some ways, but also incredibly fascinating. New York's a whole different world compared to Hawkins."

Eddie couldn't help but study your face as you spoke. He noticed the faint traces of insecurity in the way you held yourself—an air of loneliness that came with moving away from everyone you knew and your family leaving you.

"But also, it took me a while to get used to it," you continued. "Nancy and Jonathan used to visit me a lot; they've really helped me adjust.”

“And you know, of course, Robin and Steve, too,” you murmured.

Eddie’s brows shot up at that. So everyone but him.

It was a sting he couldn't quite shake, burning at his skin, that you decided to abandon him but were fine with everyone else, including Steve.

Your absence in his life had left a void he couldn't fill, ever.

Yet, here you were, replacing him like it was nothing.

Eddie knew he had no right to be jealous; you two were just friends, right? But it ate away at him; that feeling seeped through him, even though you were never his to begin with.

His face burned, and his jaw clenched involuntarily. He could almost feel the taste of bitter jealousy in his mouth, considering how it was overtaking his senses. “Steve?” He questioned; gaze seeping through you, an unbrittled rage ready to tip at any moment.

You didn’t seem to notice it, though. For someone who was usually very perceptive, it flew right by you—that slight tick in his jaw, the way his fists curled, the storm raging beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” you murmured, his head turned away from you, gaze fixed on anything but your face. The other corners of the burger place was suddenly very interesting to him as he grappled with his own emotions.

“It’s pretty crowded in here, right?” you remarked, trying to draw Eddie into the conversation and gauge his mood.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie replied, his gaze remained distant, thoughts elsewhere.

Concern etched across your face as you pressed further, “Uh, are you okay?” Something seemed to be bothering Eddie, and you couldn't pin-point what it was.

“‘M fine,” he dismissed with a wave of his hands.

He had to distract you and do something else because he was being super fucking weird, and you weren’t dumb; you could read him like a book.

He didn’t want that awkwardness or tension to reappear; he wanted to talk to you freely, he couldn’t let his insecurities ruin this for him.

Eddie’s attention turned back to you, “is that what you want to do with your life?” his brows raised, “The record store, I mean.” He didn’t want to sound rude, he just wanted to know more.

“I don’t know… I never had much time to think about it.” You gave him a small smile, shaking your head gently, “also, I can’t really afford to think about it anyway.”

“But what do you want to do?” He probed.

“Anything concerning art… I mean I’d love to be a tattoo artist, too. That’s the likely path I’m going down, dunno if the salary is good enough, though.” You shrugged, “but you know what I’d love to be?” Eddie leaned closer, his eagerness clear.

“What?” He asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Someone came in like a month ago, this bearded guy with lots of tattoos… We had a new album coming to our store that day, and he wanted to see them,” you mumbled with a warm smile, eyes glistening with a dreamy glow. “Then he told me about how he was a tattoo artist, but helped make some of the cover art for that album, and then something just like clicked in me.”

“I used to draw with the hope that maybe it could connect with someone, you know, like it did with me… I spent half of my childhood drawing and listening to music as an outlet. Whenever my parents left, whenever they were absent in my life despite ‘being there’, or whenever they had a screaming match, plates thrown at each other, the first thing I did was sketch, anything, on the notebook.” You mumbled, “or I listened to a record, and I let it consume me, in the hopes that it would drive me away from reality, diffuse the pain, even for a split second, and it worked,” you said with a simple smile.

Eddie hung on to your every word, his gaze never wavering, admiring that creative spirit shining in you. “Art and music shift the world in the best way possible, and maybe it is dramatic but it also saves lives in a way, you know, by helping you get through something, or making you forget. And that’s my biggest wish… to have my art be important to someone, to make them feel like they’re not alone, in any way possible. So when I saw how that guy combined music and art like that, I thought, this is fucking perfect, this is what I need to do.”

Eddie’s brows pinched together, “why haven’t you done it?” he asked, his voice a soothing lilt that could melt any doubts away. He could listen to you talk about your passions for hours, the way your eyes glistened with hope, that little quirk of your brow did when you found something interesting, it was heavenly to him.

“C’mon Eds, be realistic,” you murmured sadly. “Half the people that work for a good record company or with a good band have fancy art degrees, they have connections, they have the money, the time to do it. No one’s going to want a nobody who doesn’t even have a college degree from a small town.” Your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Bullshit,” he spat quickly, dismissing the way you so quickly diminished yourself, “I was the trailer trash of Hawkins, and look what happened,” he encouraged in a harsh but also a warm manner, leaning closer.

“Yeah, but you’re also a guy, Eddie.” Your voice wavered as you pointed out, “t-they have different expectations for women who don’t have those connections, or don’t come from like insanely rich parents… If you know what I mean,” you said with disgusted frowning upon your face, chill running down your spine.

Eddie immediately picked it up, his face growing to one of concern, “W-wait-” his voice quivered, the color drained from his face quickly, you immediately knew what he was implying and shook your head, “no, no, not me! But I heard lots of stories in New York, it’s just disgusting,” your face scrunched.

“That’s awful,” Eddie’s jaw clenched in anger, he knew there were a lot of scumbags in the industry, and it pissed him off that he could do nothing about it. He already felt guilty enough that he didn’t realize what a narcissistic asshole Billy really was, he wanted to help any way he could.

And then, like a sudden light bulb went off in his head, an idea illuminated his mind. “Have I ever told you that our record company is in need of a new art director?” He pouted teasingly.

Your eyebrows shot up as a giggle escaped your lips. "You're funny," you said, playfully skeptical.

Eddie, ever earnest, replied, "I'm serious."

“I-I can't do that," you said shyly, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress.

Eddie leaned in, and retorted with a, “and why not?"

“It-it feels wrong, and you don’t even know if I’d be good-“ you hesitated, not fully convinced if this was a good idea.

“Bullshit,” Eddie countered firmly, a small smile gracing his lips. “I know how great your art is, and I know how much you care about music, the way you describe it is exactly the reason why I love it so much.” Eddie always took you seriously and encouraged you about your dreams, no matter how unrealistic it was.

“You know what you said earlier about how you wanted your art to matter to someone?” You nodded, eyes glistening with hope.

“Your art is important to me, Pinky. The ones you sketched in your notebooks, is what helped me write some of my lyrics. The drawings you made when you were bored in class, the ones I have hung up on my wall still at the trailer… they mean so much to me,” he said in a hushed voice, he dragged his arm on the table, quick to point to the tattoo on his forearm. “This tattoo, is what helped with Corroded Coffin’s symbol bats, you do realize that, right?”

Skeptical, you scoffed, "you guys always had bats as your thing."

��“True,” he agreed, “but your design helped bring it to life.” He shrugged, “and you know the band better than anyone, maybe you could help us with our next album cover, too. I don’t think I could find someone more perfect for the job.” Eddie shrugged and smiled warmly.

“But-”

Your protests were gently silenced by Eddie, who insisted with a soft determination, “No but’s, just say yes, please.” His voice was sweet, sickingly sweet, you couldn’t say no even if you wanted to, and this was the perfect opportunity.

“I mean I’ll just have a talk with them, show them some of your stuff, so, no promises. But I can be very, very persuasive,” he teased, a wink thrown your way.

You stammered, the excitement bubbling within you. "Y-you'd do that for me?” He nodded surely, “even after everything that happened?" Your tone was muffled, laced with insecurity.

"Anything for you," Eddie reassured as he leaned closer, that familiar, small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

With your heart aflutter, you finally agreed, excitement breaking through the barriers of your insecurities. "If—if you really are okay with it, I-I'd love to."

“Of course,” he affirmed.

“Alright!” Benny chimed in, interrupting the two of you. “Two cheeseburgers with a side of fries, and two milkshakes.” He hummed, settling the food in front of both sets of hungry eyes.

“Enjoy, lovebirds!” He said with a smirk, sauntering away to the kitchen.

“Thank you!” Both of you exclaimed with happiness as you dug into the food.

As you munched on the crispy fries, you admired the other tables, each one occupied by a slice of life that you couldn't help but find intriguing.

One table was for a family of four. All you could hear was the distressed children, their whining echoed through the restaurant. The parents looked drained, faces etched with exhaustion as they juggled plates of half-eaten food, desperately trying to calm down and distract their kids.

Another table was occupied by a couple who was in a heated argument. The man wore a scowl, voice raised in anger, while the woman looked like she was about to cry, her eyes pleading for understanding.

But the last table was the one that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from, it brought a smile to your face. “Oh my god, look,” you said in a hushed voice, gaze pointing toward the booth that was nested in the far right corner.

Eddie was already face-first into his food, “later, ’m eating.” He grumbled. You poked your tongue out at him playfully. “Jesus… Forgot how grumpy you get when you are hungry,” you hummed, flinging a fry in his direction, causing him to pause mid-bite and chuckle.

“Oh, you don't wanna play that game with me, sweetheart,” he teased, dangling a fry in front of your face.

You grinned, your eyes dancing with excitement. “Just one look, and I’ll be out of your curly unbrushed hair, Munson,” you joked with a giggle.

His eyes rolled quickly, “you won’t stop until you get what you want, will you?” He asked with an annoyed tilt of his head.

You shook your head with a giggle. “Fine,” he huffed jokingly, dipping the fry in his hand into the vanilla milkshake, making an exaggerated sound of satisfaction as he devoured it.

“Gross.” You commented with mock disgust, and he rolled his eyes in response.

“Just tell me which table.” Eddie leaned in, his curiosity piqued as your gaze moved toward the couple at the adjacent booth. The girl was wearing a plaid mini skirt, expertly paired with a statement crop-top covered by an oversized leather jacket wrapped around her shoulders, likely borrowed from the curly-haired brunette sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

Her head was thrown back, and laughter danced in her eyes as she hung on to every word of the story he was telling. The curly haired brunette guy had a graphic band-tee and a guitar pick adorning his neck. Mascara smudged and eyes all red; you knew they probably had a long night.

It reminded him of something, or rather, someone.

He looked at you with his brows scrunched up, and you replied to him with a giggle. Both of you were thinking the same thing.

“That’s fuckin’ weird.” Eddie mumbled with a mouthful of his juicy cheeseburger. “Are those our… doppelgangers?”

“Right?” You almost mirrored him, taking a bite from your cheeseburger as you leaned further on your elbows. “What do you think their story is?”

“Uhhh-” Eddie grumbled, “us from five years ago?” His mouth partially obscured by the burger as he chewed thoughtfully, a furrow in his brow.

“Such a detailed story!” You mocked. He couldn't help but notice how the dim diner lighting accentuated your features—plump lips looking so soft from the way you frustratingly groaned—which brought an unintentional smile to his face.

You were so breathtakingly pretty; even when you were munching on a burger, he was absolutely whipped.

Eddie shrugged, that shit-eating grin still on his face. He looked you dead in the eye before he took another big bite, stuffing more fries into his mouth.

“Fine, I’ll give them a story,” you narrowed your gaze, “and you can keep eating your gross milkshake dipped fries,” you mocked, straightening up your back as you leaned closer, licking your lips before you spoke.

“So the girl… she’s pretty, like really, really pretty.” You said with a sly grin, your gaze now focused on the couple in question; if he wasn’t going to participate, then you could just drag this further.

“And there’s the guy." You gestured toward the other booth, gaze narrowing as you turned back to Eddie. “He’s just... there, I guess, kind of looks like a douche,” you mocked, mouth scrunching as you looked at Eddie all-knowingly, head tilted to the side.

Eddie scoffed, responding with a lighthearted yet passionate defense of himself. “He looks like a total stud,” he grumbled in between bites with a smirk, “and that band-tee? He’s so fuckin’ cool.”

“Oh, yeah?” You challenged, “I think he’s a total nerd, bet he’s telling his dorky D&D stories to his best friend.”

He stuck his tongue out, a carefree grin on his face, “Hey! You said you loved my campaigns!” He exclaimed and playfully tossed a soggy fry at you.

You gasped dramatically, reaching for another fry to retaliate before Eddie’s unreadable expression had you frozen. “Shit, I totally forgot, what time is it?”

“Oh, you’re not getting away with that, Munson, we’re in a full fledged food war now,” you teased, holding a fry aloft, your gaze narrowing in mock seriousness.

“No, no, I’m serious.” Eddie insisted, causing you to huff in response. You turned your back to try to read the old-fashioned clock that stood on the wall.

“Uh… 1.15, why?” you replied, your brows furrowed in confusion, trying to understand him.

“Shit! Shit, shit!” He cursed, getting up quickly while he started gathering his things.

“What?” You asked with a puzzled look.

“Wayne!” He exclaimed making you furrow your brows.

“What about Wayne?”

“I promised to pick him up after his shift,” he explained with a sigh. “You know, since I kinda have the car.”

"Well, when did it end?” you inquired, still calm as you took another bite from your burger.

He eyed you with urgency. “15 minutes ago,” grumbling, he shoved whatever was left of his food into his mouth.

“So, I’m going to see Wayne?” You asked with a smile.

“If we don’t hurry up, you’re going to see me dead,” he exclaimed dramatically, making you roll your eyes.

“You need to inhale all of that, now!” He screeched, and you looked up at him with a pout.

“Now!” He snapped, hands clapping in front of your face.

“Okay, okay, jesus!” You groaned, taking a deep breath, before you shoved a generous handful of fries in your mouth.

When Eddie led you to the car, all you could think about was how Wayne would react—would he be mad at you? Would he be disappointed?

Goosebumps appeared when a chill ran down your spine, you didn’t know if you could handle it. Wayne had been a staple in your life up until you left, he fed you, he listened to you when you needed it, he gave you a place to sleep, and he always reassured you that you were always welcome in their home.

And you didn’t even bother to say goodbye to him. Not that you didn’t want to; it’s because you couldn’t. When you and Eddie left, it was in a hurry. You had no time to tell anyone, not even Eddie told Wayne until you two were half-way there to California.

But it still didn’t stop your guilt, it still didn’t help the way your stomach twisted at the mention of his name.

Your feet picked up quickly as the thoughts filled your head, only stopping when Eddie called out to you. “I have to tell you somethin’” Eddie mumbled, eyes squeezing shut.

A huff of air was quick to escape your lips, you knew it was too perfect to end like this, you knew he was going to ruin it.

“She-uh… she’s coming to brunch tomorrow.”

You froze in place, almost everything fit like a puzzle in your mind now, and you didn’t know which emotion to feel first.

Anger, jealousy, or sadness.

And all three of them hit you at the same time. Because it made sense now, it was clear. He liked Chrissy. He wanted Chrissy.

He wanted to move on with her.

He had your heart in his hands, but this time he wasn’t toying with it; he was stomping on it, over and over again, not stopping until he was sure it was beyond salvageable.

Hand almost frozen in the place you opened the car door without a word, settling into the passenger seat like nothing had happened.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath before he opened his side of the door, getting inside swiftly just to turn to you, “are you not gonna say anything?” he asked, voice carrying a desperate tone.

Your gaze remained fixed outside the window, your cheek pressed against the cool glass. “We’re going to be late,” you replied with a cold, unfeeling tone. Silence filled the car, mirroring the gaping void that now existed between you two.

Thankfully, Aurora didn’t give him any trouble when he started the ignition with a key turn, and the engine roared to life. You didn’t want to speak; you didn’t want to say anything to him. You wanted to save all of your emotions, contain them in the depths of your mind, and cry yourself to sleep. You didn’t want him to know how much this crushed you.

But you couldn’t just do that; too disappointed to let it slide, the words escaped your mouth like a dam breaking, “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“Just, listen, I-I didn’t even invite her-” Eddie tried to explain, but you weren't listening, you didn’t care, you were letting it all out.

“How would you fucking feel if I kissed… Jason in front of you?” Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but you continued, “how would you feel if I invited him to brunch tomorrow?

Once you took a deep breath to gather your thoughts, he scoffed. “That’s not the same thing, Pinky. Carver made my life a living hell, he was a miserable bully.”

You should tell him, you should tell him what exactly Chrissy did to you.

You should tell him the whole story of that night at Steve’s party.

The part he didn’t know.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy to worry about whether he actually wants to be with her or not, your mind felt full, anxieties and worries dancing around in it.

“And Chrissy kissed Billy!” Your mouth dried up when that name left your mouth, you could feel that dreadful feeling consuming your chest.

That night was still a blur to you—the way you caught them, the things Chrissy said to you, the way Billy swore that she initiated the kiss.

Eddie shook his head. “She said it was a misunderstanding.”

You rubbed your fingertips on your forehead in disbelief. “And you believe her over me?” you asked, tone carrying a tinge of hurt and betrayal. The question hung heavy between the two of you.

“No, no!” He yelled out. “Jesus fucking Christ, stop putting words in my mouth, Pinky!” Eddie groaned in frustration, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “She explained it was a misunderstanding, and she does want to tell you that, too… maybe you could talk to her—”

You let out an exasperated chuckle, not interested in entertaining the idea. “no fucking way.”

“If you want to be with her, then just fucking say that, Munson, don’t do all this fuckin’ bullshit,” you added, crossing your arms against your chest.

“I don’t want- oh, you’re unbelievable!” He snapped, head bumping against the headrest of his van.

“You make it fucking impossible to start over!”

“Wh-what does that even mean?” You retorted back.

“J-just when I’m about to start over, just when I-I’m going to…” He rolled his tongue inside of his cheek in rage as he paused to better explain himself.

“I find a picture of you in my wallet that you put… or, or Nancy and Jonathan tell me that you invited them over…” You were on the brink of retorting when he continued, “or, or, you- you just barge back into town like you never left; talk to me like nothing fuckin’ happened.”

You didn’t dare to open your mouth; everything he said made you feel guilty. But everything he felt, you felt, too. Each time you felt like moving on, each time you wanted to try to be with someone, you physically couldn’t.

Maybe it was selfish that you liked hearing him feel the same way too. That’s why the way he was being so vague about whatever he had with Chrissy was like a stab to your heart, in the most non-dramatic way possible.

“You know… I used to think you were the best thing that ever happened to me… I used to think that you w-would always be in my life. That you’d be the one fuckin’ person who’d never leave me.” Eddie's voice trembled, and your throat was quick to tighten, lump forming as his words began to sink in. It felt like the car grew darker the more he spoke, your world crumbling down with it.

“I was wrong about all of that... all you fuckin’ did was ruin it… You ruined my life.”

The faint strains of heavy metal playing on the car's stereo seemed distant, before you spoke up, wobbly lips slurring your words. “I… I r-ruined your life?” You slumped back on your seat with his words slicing through you like a knife, gnawing at your insecurities.

“Y-you really think that?” Words barely escaped your lips, voice quivering.

He opened his plushy lips to speak, but he couldn’t answer; words died down in his throat, his gaze fixated on the road, lips pressed into a tight line.

That in itself was an answer, you knew it, and he knew it. You felt exposed to him, like he knew your insecurities but still did nothing to hide them.

You couldn't help but feel a hot prickle behind your eyes, the unshed tears were getting harder to hold back. You bit back on your wobbly lip, in an attempt to conceal the pent-up emotions that were begging to be let out. “This… this whole thing was a mistake,” you murmured, voice hushed and heavy with regret. The words felt like stones in your mouth, bitter and unpalatable.

“We-we were caught up in ourselves, ther-there’s no fuckin’ way we could ever be friends,” you continued, driving home the painful truth, just so you could hurt him like he hurt you, just so you didn’t want him to know how pathetically you still wanted to be with him in any way possible.

“I agree,” he grumbled, eyes still on the road. Tears streamed down your cheeks, tracing glistening paths along your cheeks, you didn’t even attempt to wipe them. Sniffles punctuated the air, body shuddering with an attempt to suppress your sobs, but then again, they were drowned out by the heavy metal music that echoed in the car.

Eddie’s gaze fell on you every few seconds; but you didn’t seem to notice. And the guilt ate away at him, too, his brows furrowed in agony. He knew that wasn’t what he meant to say. He didn’t mean it in that way, you didn’t ruin his life; you never could—well, not until you left him.

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel; this wasn’t how everything was supposed to happen. He didn’t even invite Chrissy; she asked to come, and of course Eddie said yes, what else could he do? So he just wanted to give you a heads up. Just so things wouldn’t get bad between the two of you again, but he managed to screw it up.

Grumbles and some curses were all the two of you could hear when Eddie pulled up to Wayne’s workplace. With a huff of breath, your car door hung open. “I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes, rockstar; you better have some good fuckin’ excuse-” Wayne’s eyes widened the second his gaze met your sad figure.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Wayne exclaimed as if seeing a ghost. “Am I seein' that right? Is that who I think it is?” Despite the heartache gnawing at your insides, you managed a smile.

"Hi, Wayne," you mumbled shyly. Wayne, however, wasn't having it. "Oh, you're not gettin' off with a simple 'hey,' come over here, kid!" He said excitedly, pulling you into a bear-hug. The embrace was tight enough to make you giggle and sniffle, an unfamiliar smile on your lips.

“Where the hell have ya been?” Wayne inquired once he let you go.

You tried to get up, offering him the front seat, he shook his head, hands holding you down by your shoulders, not wanting to interrupt the two of you.

You told him about everything—New York, your job, how you got here. Everything.

And all Eddie did was drive; he didn’t look at you or even Wayne for all that mattered—not a single glance. And of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by Wayne.

“Alright, kids, you two are bein' weird…” Wayne grumbled, glancing at Eddie. “Tell me what the hell happened. Some kind of lover's quarrel?” Eddie scoffed, and you couldn't help but snap your head in his direction.

"Somethin' funny, boy?" Wayne added, narrowing his gaze at his niece. Eddie sighed but still avoided both of your gazes.

“No, no, uhh- nothing happened.” He murmured.

Your gaze narrowed, and you couldn’t help the anger inside of you. “That’s funny, that is not how I remember it.”

Wayne’s brows furrowed before he leaned closer to the front seat. “What happened, P? You know you can always tell me anythin’” he murmured with a reassuring tone.

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you ignored him, “he is with Chrissy,” you said, scrunching your face as you turned to gauge Wayne's reaction.

Wayne's brows tilted together, his eyes narrowing as he tried to remember that name. “You remember her? Strawberry blonde hair and-”

“The blondie that made you cry?” you nodded, “with that Hargrove kid?”

“See, even Wayne remembers,” you grumbled, slightly elbowing Eddie to get a reaction out of him, only earning an offended huff.

“I never liked him, you know,” Wayne continued, large hands gesturing vaguely to emphasize his point, “always thought you were way too good for him. A guy like him has no business with my Pinky.” You leaned further into the headrest, fingers fiddling with your jacket as you gave Wayne a weak smile.

“Should’ve listened to you,” you hummed.

“So Eddie is with her?” Wayne mumbled, face souring.

“Boy, have you lost your damn mind?” Wayne was quick to chide Eddie, who was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in an attempt to not snap at either of you.

But it wasn’t working.

"I told you I'm not with her!" he hissed, voice dripping with irritation. He shot a glare at Wayne through the rearview mirror, but his words were directed at you.

“How would you explain kissing her and inviting her to our friend's brunch!” You snapped in Eddie’s direction.

“Eddie, tell me you did not do that!”

“It-it’s not like that, Wayne.”

“Oh, really? What is it like?” You gruffly asked, curiosity and hurt evident in your tone.

“Eddie…” Wayne warned him shushingly with a disappointed look, he could see how much you were hurting, and he knew Eddie was a bit oblivious.

“What?” he groaned.

“Don’t worry, Wayne, he just enjoys playing with my feelings,” you replied with a scoff, fingers tracing the pattern on the car’s leather seats, a relief to your pent-up emotions.

“Oh, you’re one to fuckin’ talk,” Eddie muttered under his breath with an out of place chuckle, his anger overflowing after holding it back for so long. “Newsflash, princess. You weren’t the one to wake up all alone in L.A. with one fucking note, I was!” He yelled, words punctuated by the heavy breath he took between each sentence.

“You should be grateful you have two notes in that pocket of yours because I barely got one!”

“Will you stop bringing that up?” You plead, lip wobbling as you bit on it harshly to stop your emotions from spilling.

“‘I can’t do this, sorry.’” He recited your words, and you refused to look at him. “Five letters, Pinky. Not even six. Five. You left me with that—no goodbyes, no nothin’, just a sticky fuckin’ note attached to the fridge.” His head snapped toward you.

A loud chuckle left your mouth, you turned to him with rage, and Wayne knew he had to step in or it was going to get ugly, even uglier than, whatever this was. “This isn’t even about that-”

“Alright, alright!” He interrupted, hands waving in the space between the two of you.

“Simmer down, both of you! I know the two of you have a lot of unresolved shit… but don’t burn this bridge,” he warned, “not again.” Wayne’s words were quick to disperse the emotional fog that had surrounded the car.

“The thing, whatever the hell it is, that y’all have… people spend their whole fuckin’ life lookin’ for it… Don’t be dumb.” That was enough to have the two of you shut up.

“Talk it out.” He said, firm but fair. “I know you’ve both been hurt, so, be honest with each other, and apologize,” he continued, urging both of you to confront each other.

“Okay?” He asked, head hanging in the space between the two of you.

“Okay,” both of you mumbled in unison, backs turned toward each other.

‘Too late’ was all you could think; that bridge was already burned. There was no way the two of you could ever go back now, right?

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when Eddie finally pulled up to your house, you didn’t waste any time saying goodbye to Eddie before turning to Wayne and giving him a hug.

“See you around?” You asked with a hopeful smile.

“You better!” Wayne warned playfully, evoking a giggle from you. “You gotta drop by sometime, promise?” He asked with a sly grin, he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn’t want to see Eddie anymore than you had to now, but if Wayne asked you to do something, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

You looked back at Eddie, your gazes connecting for a second before both of you turned away. “Uh-huh, promise,” you mumbled before exiting quickly.

“What the hell are you doin’, kid?” Wayne exclaimed the moment you left, causing Eddie to look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Walk her to her door, for Christ’s sake!”

“I-I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Eddie explained hesitantly.

“Where are your manners?” Wayne scolded him, raising his voice. Eddie grumbled in frustration but ultimately gave in, cussing under his breath as he exited the car to follow you.

He ran after you, breathless once he finally caught up to you. “Sorry, I should’ve walked you-” He mumbled

You shook your head interrupting him, “no, it’s fine.”

“So, uhhh…” He started, gaining your attention back to him. “Goodnight.” Eddie grumbled with a scratch of his head, barely able to look at you. He didn’t want to leave things like this, but the damage was already done. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it didn’t matter now.

He wondered what you would think of the notes; would you even read them? Would you get mad at him for the things he wrote?

“Goodnight, Eddie.” You muttered back, turning to the door as you avoided looking at him, your finger shakily retrieved your key as you fumbled with it, doing everything in your willpower to not turn back at him.

Eddie walked away with the same thoughts eating away at him. Were you going to look back at him? The temptation got the best of him, and he turned with a shy nod. You were struggling with your keys, muttering in frustration, and the sight unintentionally brought a smile to his lips before he hurried back to his car.

The moment you heard his car door open, you turned, slowly and reluctantly, only for your gaze to meet Wayne’s, who had an all-knowing smirk playing at his lips, waving at you.

You gave him a shy smile before you hurriedly turned your back, finally opening the door and rushing inside.

“You idiot lovebirds are goin’ to be the death of me,” Wayne grumbled to himself with a shake of his head, watching the way you scurried inside.

Once you locked the door, you rested against it, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. Your thoughts were swirling,but there was only one thing that was overpowering everything else; the note.

You furiously searched for it in your pocket, curiosity filling the course of your veins as you fished it out of the left one, your hand shaking as you held it in front of your eyes.

The words scribbled in the closed note had your heart racing, afraid of what it was going to say, once you fully opened it, your eyes roamed through it quickly.

The note was dated a week ago.

Don't fool yourself,

She was heartache from the moment that you met her.

My heart feels so still

As I try to find the will to forget her, somehow.

Oh I think I've forgotten her now.

(Is it obvious this last line is sarcasm?)

Your fingers traced the line that had the parenthesis and were crossed out. Eddie’s notes. If you the tears that escaped your burning eyes weren’t distorting your vision, maybe you would’ve appreciated some of the lyrics, and his funny notes, even though they were messy and all over the place.

I don’t blame you, but sometimes I wish we hadn’t met. (This is kinda too out there, but there could be something from this???)

Your heart pounded against your ribcage—that familiar ache that never fully left returned with a sharper pain. It hurt that he thought of you in this way. He thought you ruined his life, and now he wished he had never met you.

Those thoughts sank into your brain, and the anger that came with them was something you couldn’t comprehend. There was a lot more of the scribbled nonsense that you couldn’t read, other lyrics that were scratched out.

Your hands were shaking once you flipped it over. The other note was dated today.

I lied, didn’t I? I think I would prefer all the heartache in the world to not knowing you. I didn’t even realize that until today. Until I saw you across the room. And I can’t even explain how good it felt to look up and see you standing there. Even with that frown adorning your face.

Your tears hadn’t stopped, falling onto the piece of crumpled up paper and making a mess.

You felt like an idiot; you should’ve told him when you had the chance, and you had a lot of them. You were angry that you let everyone walk over you. You were angry that Billy had gotten away with everything. And now, Chrissy had a chance with him without ever paying for the consequences of what she did.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You didn’t want to be polite with your sadness anymore You didn’t want to absorb everyone’s pain to make sure they were okay. And you hated that that’s what you did essentially did when you didn’t tell Eddie about Chrissy.

You paced around the room, biting down on your nails.

Should you tell him? Or was that too selfish?

Because if you wanted to tell him, you had just the perfect opportunity to tell him and confront Chrissy; the brunch.

✦ final authors note —ALSO THE CHRISSY STUFF WILL BE REVEALED NEXT CHAPTER. IM SORRY FOR TEASING IT SO LONG BUT THE REVEAL IS GONNA BE GOOD I PROMISE LMAO. if you like this series pls support me by rbing liking and commenting ily thank youu🫶🏻 [EDIT: i forgot to say this but ofc the lyrics are not mine they are by jeff buckley’s incredible song “forget her” i listened to it A LOT writing this chapter👀 also if u can guess what the chapters title is inspired by ily]

permanent taglist (lmk if u want to be added): @mandyjo8719 @kellsck @batkin028 @hideoutside @sashaphantomhive @nabiiturner @andvys (ILY.)

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #getaway car series #getaway car

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