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azrielbrainrot · 9 months

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Maybe We Could Be The Start of Something

Pairing: Band member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there.

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: none

Notes: I had this idea after seeing this art and couldn't stop thinking about it. I actually had a lot of ideas for little stories in this universe but it makes sense to start with how they met. Also I know that's a terrible band name but I never had to name a band before okay. I didn't proofread this because I think I'd delete the whole thing if I did, sorry. This is really self-indulgent but I hope you like it!

Band AU masterlist

You could only blame yourself for agreeing to meet Viviane. Your skull felt like it was going to split open with this headache that has lasted all week. The only thing you wanted to do right now was try to sleep it off under your warm blankets, but instead you willingly came to a bar knowing it was just going to make it worse.

She's been telling you about this place and the bands that perform here occasionally for ages. Apparently it's a real hotspot for up and coming musicians ever since two bands made it big after starting out here. You've been turning her down for weeks so you had promised her that you'd finally come this friday, of course when you agreed you couldn't have known your week was going to be absolute shit. Though most of your days have been shit lately. That might be the actual reason Viv has been so insistent about you going out with her, she knew your mental health was ready to take a vacation and was just being a good friend.

This really hadn't been a good day to come though. Aside from your headache, your last class had also run late, making you lose your bus and barely have time to drop everything off at home and change to come meet your friends. As a little treat you also couldn't find your nice black skirt so you had to just wear jeans, you definitely needed the extra confidence the pretty skirt provided but the universe didn't seem to care about that.

The bar was already packed by the time you got there, you were almost being pushed around while you were searching for your friends. You look down at your phone to ask them where they are and see a text from Viv asking if you're still coming. Reading it makes you stop in your tracks. You can't really blame her for thinking you wouldn't show up since you've been declining every invitation lately, but seeing that she thought you wouldn't even give her a heads up hurt a little. You knew you had been distant lately but you were trying your best to deal with life and you never meant to do it at the expense of your friendships.

You're pushed out of your thoughts when someone taps your shoulder gently, making you look back at them. Turning your head you were faced with a muscular chest, slowly looking up a tattooed neck to meet beautiful hazel eyes staring back at yours.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he says, breaking eye contact for a second before continuing, “but I think you dropped this.” He raises his hand so you can see him holding your keys. Your house keys, the ones you would undoubtedly only notice were missing when you went back home and tried to open the door. That would have been the cherry on the cake after this whole day. Maybe you should see a witch to make sure it's not actually a curse, no one should experience this much bad luck.

“Thank you so much,” you almost yell as you grab them from his hand in excitement. He just saved you from having no place to sleep tonight. You notice him tensing up when your fingers brush against his hand and realize you might have made him uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” you take a tiny step back in the crowded bar, “I would have been locked out of my apartment if you hadn't seen that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he said, giving you a nod and something close to a smile, before going on his way. You curse yourself again for acting so awkwardly. You hope you didn't make him feel uncomfortable, he was nice in picking up your keys and giving them back to you. He was also really cute which only made it more of a shame that you met like this. At least you didn't lose your keys, that would have seriously sucked.

Making your way to the table Viviane told you they would be at, you notice almost everyone is here. She was leaning against her boyfriend, Kallias, while they listened to whatever story Alba was telling them about. Ezio and Celia were both looking down at their phones and showing each other something while giggling like schoolgirls. As much as you love your friends, you don't know how much socializing you can handle today. You already fucked up what could have been a very simple interaction. Then again, with all of them here you know Viv won't try to ask you about Eleanor so at least you can keep avoiding hard topics. Viv greets you with a grin as soon as she sees you, everyone following right after.

“Hey, thought you weren't coming after all.” Yeah, you almost forgot about that. You smile anyway, knowing she didn't mean to remind you of how much of a bad friend you've been lately.

“Sorry, guys,” you sit down in the empty chair next to Alba before continuing, “Class ran late and then I lost my bus.”

“Oh. Bad luck.” You have no idea, Kallias. Conversation picked back up after that and you let them do most of the talking, taking a back seat and just watching them. You're glad that they either noticed you weren't in a talking mood or just didn't realize you were mostly quiet anyway.

You have no new stories to tell them since you've barely been functioning outside of school and talking about your feelings is definitely a resounding no, especially at a bar, so you just let them keep up with their conversations and just nod along every once in a while.

Eventually, the DJ introduces the band playing tonight. The Night Court. Judging by the screams and the way everyone moves closer to watch, they're very popular around here and you understand part of the reason for said popularity as soon as you see them step up on stage.

“Oh, they're really good!” Viviane's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “The guitarist is Mor's cousin. You remember her, right?” You nod. Of course you do. The blonde with sparkly eyeshadow and red lips leaves a big impression, forgetting Morrigan is probably impossible.

You study the guitarist as he introduces himself and the band. He's extremely handsome, the type of handsome that would make you think he can't be human, like some kind of fairy or vampire. You can tell he's aware of this fact with every honey dipped word that comes out of his mouth, literally flirting with the whole crowd. Despite not having many physical similarities with Mor, that allure he exudes definitely matches with hers.

The drummer was already sitting in place, looking eager to play. It takes you a second to notice he was in fact already sitting down as he's probably one of the tallest men you've ever seen in real life. But, with the messy shoulder length hair and big boyish grin on his face, he doesn't look scary at all.

As your eyes travel to the bassist, half hidden in the shadows, you wonder why you didn't recognize him immediately. It was the same guy that helped you before. You had thought he was beautiful before but, considering the situation, you didn't have much time to linger on that fact. However now that he was standing on stage, you could fully appreciate it. He was tall - this much you knew since you were at head level with his chest - and by the way his arms strained against his black t-shirt as he picked up his bass, you could tell he was fit too. He was looking down at the bass in his hands, making the few lights that caught him cast an ethereal glow on his face and on his onyx hair. This man looks like he stepped right down heaven's gates.

They start playing what you think is an original song but can't be sure since you were too distracted checking their bassist out to hear what Mor's cousin had said. He does have a really good singing voice but as your mystery angel starts singing, you can't help but feel bewitched back to watching him.

You barely take your eyes off him during the whole performance but they're all undeniably good. It's easy to understand why this bar is so popular if this is the level of talent their bands have. You can definitely imagine them making it big. They all seem very comfortable and content on stage and the crowd can't get enough of them.

You're so distracted by them that you don't even notice your head pounding anymore, or how fast time flies because, before you know it, they're saying their goodbyes to the crowd and leaving the stage.

Conversation starts back up after that, everyone is gushing about how talented and hot they are and you find yourself easily agreeing with their sentiments. But, with no distraction and the dj back playing songs you've heard a thousand times and the pressure of keeping conversation going, your headache comes back. You wait out just a little longer until you think it's an acceptable time to leave without worrying everyone too much.

“I'm sorry guys but I think I'm going to head home.” You finish the last of your drink even though it's mostly melted ice by that point and start putting your jacket on.

“Already?” You're not surprised Alba is the first to speak up. You'll never understand how this girl has so much energy, you had the same morning class as her but she's still as energetic as she was at lunchtime.

“It's still kind of early,” Viviane looks up at you with her icy eyes and you can recognize the concern in them immediately.

“It was just a busy week,” you explain with a smile on your face, hoping no one reads too much into it even though you all know that's not all. “I think I need to go sleep it off.”

“Are you going by yourself though?” Out of everyone at the table, Enzo is the worst one at hiding his emotions. You can see as clear as day that he's worried about you.

“I'll get an uber. Don't worry.” You gesture to your phone hoping they'll drop it.

“I can wait with you outside.” Kallias offers immediately, ever the responsible one. You really wanted to stay alone right now though.

“You don't have to.” You put your bag over your shoulder to add some finality to your words. “It's cold and there's going to be enough cars out at this hour, I won't be waiting for long.” It looks like he's about to say more but Viv puts a hand over his arm subtly, making him shut up. The bass of the music keeps hammering at your head so you don't linger and just say your goodbyes, waving at everyone with what you hope is a seemingly content smile, before leaving.

As soon as you step outside the pressure you feel starts slowing down. The front of the bar is still full of people so you walk a bit more to the little parking lot on this street. The air is cold but it feels amazing after being in the stuffed bar and your thoughts don't seem so overbearing when you don't have to try to act happy with your friends.

You love them to death but everything about how tonight went just proves that they've been talking about you behind your back. You know this is just them being good friends. You've been acting so differently in these last few months that even one of your professors noticed so it's only natural that they also did, but knowing everyone can tell only makes it worse.

You didn't want to make anyone worry about you. Life has just been going for your throat lately, minor inconveniences keep popping up and piling on top of what was already a pretty shitty situation. But you know once the semester ends, you'll get the chance to finally breathe and solve some of the problems you've been ignoring. And then things will hopefully get better. It just really sucks that your friendships and even school life has been affected by this.

Sitting down on top of the small wall that wrapped around the parking lot, you look up at the sky, willing your mind to let you rest for a bit. Watching the stars twinkling and your breath turn into white clouds of smoke because of the cold. You should probably get that uber and go home before any of your friends find you here, but your body doesn't want to move for some reason.

You feel someone approach you and look back down to meet familiar hazel eyes. You both stare at each other for a second longer than what would be normal, not expecting to see each other again.

“We keep running into each other,” you can hear his voice better here. You didn't notice how deep it was in the crowded bar. His singing voice is also deep but a bit softer than this.

“Yeah.” You smile. Seeing him again after how he helped you and then watching him on stage is making you a little giddy despite your somber mood. He seems a bit less unsure after you respond as well.

“Are you here alone?” He asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“No, I'm just waiting for an uber.” You hope you're not making a bad impression again. He probably hadn't seen you with your friends before either.

“Alright,” he looks over to what you assume is his car and then back to you, “I can wait here with you.”

“You don't have to. It's cold,” you start but he shakes his head before you even finish speaking, “I actually haven't called it yet.” He gives you a look of amusement and it just makes you try to explain yourself faster. “I have a headache. The cold just felt calming. I'll get it now.” Opening the app, you start searching and, just like you expected, there's a car barely 10 minutes away from you. A wave of disappointment washes over you at the thought that you won't get to talk to him for longer but you push it aside quickly, you barely know him.

“A bar probably isn't the best place to be if you have a headache,” he tilts his head slightly in what you're almost sure is concern. He's a little hard to read.

“I know but I already had told my friends I was coming so…” You shrug and change the subject, trying to allow this moment to let you forget about your earlier thoughts. “Didn't turn out too bad. There was this really good band playing today.” You can see a flush take over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and you feel incredibly proud of yourself for being the reason behind it.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he says as he dips his head slightly in thanks. You feel like this might be the best compliment you could have given him.

“You were all really good. I even forgot about my headache while I was watching you play,” you try not to sound too excited and make it weird but you want him to know how good his band is, “Do you perform here a lot?”

“Yeah,” he leans sideways against the wall next to you, “At least twice a month.” You're starting to notice that, although his face doesn't show too much emotion, his eyes are a little more expressive. His band seems to be a topic he likes talking about. You can understand why.

“Isn't that a big deal? I heard this bar is really popular nowadays, there has to be a lot of bands trying to perform here.” The blush seems to be back but it could also be because of the cold you're subjecting him to.

“We always try to do our best but we've been playing here for a long time. That helps too.”

“You know that's not it,” you point to the entrance of the bar, where some people are smoking, “The bar was packed. I don't know if that's how it always is but I'm pretty sure it was mostly people wanting to watch you perform.”

“You've never been here before?” It looks like he's getting a bit embarrassed by the praise so you let him change the subject.

You shake your head. “Need to come more often though. When are you performing again?”

“We don't always have a schedule,” he looks down at your phone in your hands then back up at you, “But I can text you the details.”

“Oh.” He wants your number. The thought makes warmth rush to your cheeks. “Alright.” You unlock your phone and hand it to him. While he's typing his number, you can't help but notice the scars on his hand. They completely cover his hands, the skin completely marred. It looks as if they were burned. You look away from them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring. He hands you your phone back and you see he saved his number under his name.

“Azriel,” you say the name out loud, tasting it in your mouth. He's watching you a little more intensely than before and you have to break eye contact to stop yourself from blushing. You quickly send him a text so he can save your number as well.

“I'll need yours too.” You give him your name and he repeats it, just as you had done. He makes it sound beautiful in his warm timbre and you can't help the flutter in your stomach. “I'll text you as soon as I find out when we're coming here next.”

“Okay.” You lock eyes and don't look away, just enjoying the moment, until you see a car pass by and realize it's yours.

You think you could have stayed there in the cold talking to him all night. You're not sure why but talking to him is effortless, it's like you've been friends for years. It just feels right and you find yourself wishing that he texts you soon with the concert information and anything else he comes up with. You wouldn't need much of an excuse to talk to him.

“That's my ride,” You say as you hop down from the wall. He looks at the car and when his eyes meet yours again you think you can see a hint of disappointment, hopefully at having to cut the moment short. “Thank you for waiting with me,” you smile at him again, “You didn't have to do that.”

“No problem.” He gives you a smile too, the biggest one you've seen on him. “I'll see you next time.”

“Of course.” You'd be an idiot to not want to see him again. You linger for as long as you can, suddenly not feeling like going home at all.

You wave at him again before getting in the car and something beats faster in your chest when he waves back and watches the car speed off down the street, it's almost like your heart is telling you to stay with him. You're not exactly sure what just happened but you hope you don't regret not staying with him for the rest of the night.

You keep thinking about him during the whole car ride and he's the last thing on your mind when you're laying down to sleep. And when he texts you the next day you know you'll have many more opportunities to spend the night talking to him.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #divider by saradika #band au

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rinniessance · 10 months

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BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE ༊*·˚ - leon kennedy x fem!reader x satoru gojo

leon kennedy has been announced mia after 24 hours of no contact. high brass doesn't care that you only came back from a mission a day prior, injured no less. when you're dispatched to spain, the last thing you expect is to get a special kind of rescue mission.

this is my entry for @rinhaler's gaming collab - MASTERLIST 🎮

꒰ warnings: nsfw - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ resident evil au. kind of following the plot of resident evil 4. aphrodysiac sex, unprotected sex, pet names (it's my staple <3), oral sex (f receiving), slight dacraphyllia, squirting, two dicks in one hole, cream pie. forgive me if i forgot any tags ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.8k ꒱ ꒰ notes: we love pure self-indulgence in this house .ᐟ.ᐟ tagging @mymegumi and @lilacliliess because they support my delusions about fucking two blue eyed men:3 ꒱

it’s been uneasy 24 hours in the D.O.S headquarters – ever since leon kennedy stopped responding to any attempts at communication, he’s been announced MIA this morning. given the sensitive mission of retrieving president’s daughter, the urgency to dispatch someone for another rescue is being pushed by the high brass, sending everyone on a search to find an agent capable enough of handling the job. as it turns out, out of dozens of people working in this forsaken organization, you’re the only one qualified.

“are you shitting me, hunnigan? i just came back from the mission last night. did you not see the stabbing wound?” for dramatic effect, you raise your t-shirt, showing freshly bandaged area where the deep cut resides. coming into the work this morning, the most stressful part of your day was expected to be the tons of paperwork you would’ve had to go through – yet as soon as you stepped into your office, you were greeted by leon’s handler, bearing the news from your superiors.

“sorry, you know it’s not up to me. whatever the president says goes.”

“are there literally no one else in this entire building who can be ordered to go instead?”

slumping over your desk, you put your head on top of your folded arms – it takes everything in you not to scream. your own mission was already problematic enough: bioweapon developers have become exceptional in making new B.O.Ws deadlier and deadlier, and knowing leon’s resume, there is a very high chance he was sent to deal with the worst of it.

“you’re one of the few partners kennedy has had while working for D.O.S. you know how he operates; it makes sense they are sending you.”

you know there is no point in arguing – if it’s been decided by the president, you have no choice but to go. it doesn’t mean, however, you can’t be irritated by the whole situation.

“do i at least get paid overtime?” you sign with exasperation, sulking deeper into your chair, hearing hunnigan let out a breathy chuckle.

“maybe if you bring golden boy’s ass back in one piece.”

“great. can i at least go home and make sure i didn’t leave the kettle on or something.”

“you’re not getting out of it, agent,” she says with a smile, and you can only groan. leon will be paying for all your meals for the next 6 months. “the helicopter is already waiting, actually, so you better gear your ass up and head to the helipad.”

“more amazing news.”

hunnigan only pats you on the shoulder – nothing she can say will make this situation suck any less – and leaves the room, letting you wallow in your misery.

“can you just fucking die already?” you yell in pure annoyance, trying to shoot the same person for the third time (you aren’t sure you can call these things human anymore). when the creature finally goes down, hopefully once and for all this time, the view in front of you is grotesque: hideous tentacle sprang out of the poor man’s head when you shot him between the eyes; it keeps moving, taunting you to waste more of your ammo. still holding onto your gun, you cautiously approach the body, slightly poking it with your boot – it doesn’t stir anymore. a sigh of relief escapes your lungs.

“just what the fuck is going on here,” you quietly mumble to yourself, looting any useful items nearby.

you arrived in spain this morning. surprisingly, leon made it easy enough to retrace his steps – he stopped by the local law enforcement which in turned let you know two of their men also went missing after they escorted kennedy to the area of interest. no one volunteered to come with you once you acquired the location of the small village somewhere north of here – apparently people have been going missing in the mountains for a while now – which was fine by you. everything you needed was the car you could use, and you were on your merry way.

in your 5 year long career as a government agent, the kind working in anti-bioweapon divisions, you’ve seen a multitude of… monsters, for lack of a better word. nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’ve witnessed when you arrived at your destination though: villagers turned into something sinister, creatures with no will of their own. you noticed it right away: their bulging veins pulsing with black viscous liquid, eyes shadowed with madness. what a surprise it was that when you finally started shooting them (hey, they started it), mandible-like limbs, shape closer to tentacles, with eyes growing out of them, erupted from their dead bodies, as if a swarm of crazy cultists wasn’t already enough.

you quickly glance at the still convulsing body on the ground, parasitic tendrils clinging onto their last living seconds; just looking at it makes you want to vomit. the smell of puss, heavy in the air, doesn’t help your desire to empty the insides of your stomach. you do not know what causes them to mutate, and you make a note to avoid any unknown substances – you also log a mental check not to get bitten by one of them (just in case).

after escaping a village, getting access to this stupid castle trying to find stupid stupid leon kennedy (you’re sure that what s. in leon s. kennedy stands for), you overheard some of the cultists talking about two prisoners on the basement level. leon and ashley? the goal now is to figure out how to get to the basement (and why does it always have to be the basement).

with careful precision, you finish analyzing the room you found yourself in – it’s a storage space of some kind, and nothing about it is particularly helpful to you. letting out a deep sigh, you sit down to re-collect your thoughts. wandering around this castle with no purpose will only stall you further – and time is something you do not have luxury of wasting.

just as you were about to get up from the chair, you knee bumps into something underneath the table. bingo. you quickly try to search for a keyhole or a puzzle piece to fit in to open the hidden compartment. but the gods are smiling down on you today – it only takes a simple click of a lock for the secret drawer to unlatch. before opening it, you stand to the side (the gunshot wound would mean deaths of all parties you’re trying to get out of here), and slowly push it forward with the knife.

“no way.”

the gods are smiling down on you– inside the drawer you don’t find a loaded shotgun, a poisonous smoke or anything else aimed at taking you out. instead, you find yourself looking at the map. something akin to relief makes your hands tremble as you unfold the treasured piece of paper, looking at the building blueprints, as fresh as if this was drawn yesterday.

tracing the way down to the basement level, you try to decide the easiest and shortest way. some of the rooms might require a key, deducting it’d be smarter to stick to the main rooms which are less likely to be locked. shoving the map back into your side bag, you reload the gun and slowly leave the room, looking for any signs of being followed. making sure the coast is clear, you start your way down.

leon, you better be still fucking alive.

leon wakes up from another torturous nap. he doesn’t know how long it’s been: could be 2 days, could be a week. to keep his sanity, he keeps trying to count the meals they bring them, figuring out the passage of time. why is salazar even feeding them? they’d worth more to him dead.

“good morning, sunshine.”

leon groans as soon as he hears the voice coming from his side. he doesn’t need to turn his head to know that satoru gojo is, despite the circumstances they found themselves in, still smiling.

“god, do you ever stop talking? they should starve you,” leon sighs heavily, and leans against the wall. his arms hurt – they have been cuffed to the ceiling this whole time, and the constant chatting from his unwanted companion makes this situation ten times worse.

“oh, common, don’t you have faith in your government? or you’re not important enough to rescue?”

“i might not be but the girl definitely is.”

it seems to shut satoru up, even if for a moment. his comments did make leon wonder if the headquarters organized the search party yet – more time they spent here means more time for the cult leaders to complete whatever it is they want with ashley. him and satoru have been infected with las plagas parasite too, their time is running short.

sighing deeply, gojo also slumps against the wall. both men can feel… whatever they were infected with moving inside their bodies, crawling their way into their brains. satoru is not sure what makes him and leon so special, but no signs of any infection have been visible yet. he wonders if it is a waiting game now: waiting for the moment they start losing their minds. what a sight that would be.

just as he was going to make another comment about their current predicament, both agents hear gunshots coming from the hallway, just outside the prison cells. blood curling screaming follows, rippling through the air, the unknown person emptying their clip into the guards until the room is engulfed in the oppressive silence.

to leon’s great surprise, and a great relief he must admit, it’s not a crazed guard running through the doors this time around – instead, two locked-up agents are met by your face. you hold your gun out, hand outstretched in front of you, ready to shoot the last remnants of the infected. it’s only when your gaze meets leon’s and you don’t identify any immediate danger, the gun is lowered, and you are rushing towards the cell.

“holy shit, it’s nice to see a familiar face,” leon cannot help but smile at the sight of you standing outside the cell bars, trying to break the lock.

“you won’t believe but the feeling is mutual. one too many mutated cultists, and even i started missing your ugly mug,” you throw back, returning his smile. your eyes move to gojo. “who’s that?”

“his partner.”

“no one.”

two men say that in unison, exchanging a heated glance afterwards.

“okaaaay,” you drawl out, “i don’t really care, you can bicker later. what we need to do it we need to get the fuck outta here like right now.”

you rush to uncuff the men with the keys you stole form the guards you shot earlier, and wait until they are able to push themselves on their feet.

“i am satoru gojo,” mysterious blond introduces himself properly, and extends his arm. you shake his hand and mumble your name back. you don’t know why but he makes you nervous.

“okay, all formalities for later. both of us are infected with that new plaga parasite, we need to extract it immediately,” leon interrupts the intense staring contest you entered with satoru, making you snap your attention back to him.

“well, then you’re in luck. i passed something that looked like a laboratory on the way here. it’s not too far either, only one floor up.”

“okay, great, no time to waste.”

kennedy steps out the room first, you and gojo following close behind. you’re on full alert – it doesn’t matter that you just took half of the castle down, somehow, new infected keep popping out like bunnies out of woodwork. it doesn’t take long the three of you to reach the desired destination, lab laying just behind the door straight off the stairs.

you cautiously look inside – no one seems to be here. after entering the room, you stand on guard while satoru and leon are looking for anything that might look like the cure. it seems that gods are smiling once again on you today because leon is able to find the last two vials of the vaccine sample. you have never seen him grinning so widely – it would’ve been almost heartwarming if not for the grim circumstances all of you ended up in.

before they can inject themselves with the medicine, the door swings opened and you’re thrown into the shelf, located on the opposite side of the entrance. multiple bottles with unknown substances fall on top of you, one of them breaking and infusing the air with a white powder. before you realize what happened, you inhale the mysterious concoction, immediately bursting into a coughing fit.

“fuck, are you okay?” leon yells your name somewhere from the side, and you try to wave him off. gojo is distracting whoever rammed through the doors, shooting the gun you presented him back in the prison cell. it takes exactly three more headshots for the mutated cultist to drop dead, and you’re pushing yourself off the ground and back on your feet. satoru is eyeing you suspiciously – you’re too busy brushing off your clothes and getting your breathing in order to notice.

“common, jab yourselves with the vaccine and let’s go, we have no time to lose,” you say with coarse voice. leon is also looking at you with worry but decides not to mention anything. both men inject themselves with the medicine, hoping and praying it’ll work, before rushing out of the doors and back on track to find ashley.

running through the corridors of the castle, you can feel yourself getting weaker – there is a sheer layer of sweat covering your spine, goosebumps are dancing on your skin, and a very familiar heat is pooling between your legs. your head feels heavy, you’re barely able to string two coherent thoughts together so you resort to slowly trailing after two men who haven’t stopped arguing about the next course of action.

“i don’t care what you came here for, satoru. i have my rescue mission that still needs to be completed,” leon sighs heavily as he pushes through the heavy doors into the next room.

“sure,” the other blond man quickly agrees, “but don’t you think you government would say ‘thank you’ if you helped securing the source of this outbreak?” gojo questions as he follows leon through the doors. you want to weigh your opinion in but before you can open your mouth, as you cross the threshold of the room, you trip on your own feets and send yourself flying towards the floor. the loud bang makes both men turn their attention back to you.

“god, are you okay?” leon’s by your side in mere seconds, supporting you by the elbow so you can get up. the waves of his body heat wash over you, and you want nothing more but to curl into his body and kiss the spot underneath his jaw. has he always been so handsome? you’re so concentrated looking at leon, you don’t notice satoru standing near you now. he touches your forehead, and it takes all of your willpower not to moan. fuck, his cold hands feel so nice on your feverish skin.

“shit, she’s burning up.”

“you think it’s because of whatever substance she inhaled back in the lab?”

“i don’t know, everything’s possible.”

two agents move you to sit on the table in the corner of the room – they can clearly see how foggy your eyes are, a layer of milky mist dancing across your vision – and leon’s fingers find your pulse point. this time, you are not fast enough to stifle the low whine that escapes your lips. at any other time, you’d be dying of embarrassment but now your body is begging for release, and you’re ready to do anything to get it. anything to soothe the ache building up in your throbbing clit.

“’m so hot…” you mumble as you start taking off tactical t-shirt, baring your sports bra to the two men in the room. “and it really hurts.”

satoru and leon look at each other before they look at you – kennedy will have to work with you in the future so he’s really trying not to look at your perky nipple, shape visible through the fabric, unlike gojo, who’s taking in your current condition with almost sick satisfaction.

“where does it hurt?” satoru asks before leon is able to butt in. as if wanting to confirm his suspicion, you take his hand and guide it to your sex, cupping it.

“here.”

leon is not even able to react before gojo is lunging forward and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, making your head bang slightly against the wall. you let yourself moan into his mouth, satoru greedily claiming all the sounds to himself. it’s not nearly enough to pacify your accelerated heartbeat, but it’s still making you shudder. you’re spreading your legs to accommodate gojo’s tall frame – but before he is able to move any closer, he is thrown back by leon; loss of his warmth makes you whine.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kennedy hisses through his teeth, moving away from you and towards gojo.

“what does it look like? don’t pretend like you don’t know this is exactly what she needs right now,” satoru spits back. you think they continue arguing but their voices are being drowned out by the ringing in your ears. heat spreading through you sets everything on fire, and your pants join your t-shirt somewhere on the floor in your desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this scorching feeling. your partner notices it and sharply turns to face you.

“what the hell are you doi-” before leon can finish his sentence, you wrap you legs around him and press your body into his.

“leon, please…” you sob, hot tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, beads of salty water wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision. hearing your pathetic plea, voice thick with lust and desire, looking at your tears-stained face, mouth slightly agape, and watching your lips, red and messy from satoru’s kiss, glistening in the moonlight – everything about you now screams ruin me and leon is not a strong enough man to resist it.

“what are you asking me to do, sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips in a teasing tone. his switch is almost jarring but you don’t have the brain capacity to mull over his sudden mood change. he moves his hand between your legs now, touching your pussy through your panties. leon’s fleeting touch is sending shivers down your spine, and you culr yourself into him more, whining and panting against his mouth. “jesus, she’s so fucking wet already.”

“i told you, didn’t i? she needs someone to stuff her full of cum,” satoru’s dirty talk comes somewhere from the side. too distracted by leon’s deep blue eyes, gojo’s touch makes you tremble in surprise and turn your head towards him. looking at his face, you’re met by baby blues – it felt like being thrown from the ocean into the endless skies. you think men with blue eyes will be the death of you.

gojo leans down to capture your lips again, re-exploring the sacred geometry of your kiss, while leon is planting wet kisses along your jawline. you mewl in euphoric pleasure, their touches soothing to your burning skin, and you’re completely giving yourself away to the bliss rolling over you in waves. leon’s digits are teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand, making him chuckle into your neck.

“she’s dripping, gojo. i bet she can take both of us unprepped,” leon says to the other agent, still busy with sucking on your lips, invading your mouth with his tongue. at his words, you shiver under men’s bodies, tingling sensation rushing through you.

“i want you in my lap, pretty girl,” satoru whispers against your lips, and you jump off into leon’s arms so the other man can sit on the table first. you move to climb on top of gojo, legs on either side of his thighs, ready to ride him, but your partner’s strong arm stops you from turning around.

“nah-ah, let him hold you spread open for me, i want to taste you first,” leon breathes against your ear, teasing the sensitive spot, making you quiver in his hold. you turn yourself towards gojo and see him grinning as he beckons you with two fingers to come closer. when you end up in his arms, he spins you around, his chest to your back, and makes you sit between his legs on the table, opening you up.

satoru’s masterful fingers unclasp your bra with ease while leon makes a quick work of your panties, shoving them into his pocket, unbeknownst to you. who knows how your relationship will work out after this – he needs something to remember this moment by. you are now sprawled completely naked for the two men’s hungry gazes: your cheeks are flushed, mouth shaped into a perfect “o”, short breaths escaping your lungs – you are truly a sight to behold. gojo wastes no time in cupping your breasts with his hands, trailing his lips on the side of your neck, sucking in hickeys as part of his claim.

kennedy gets on his knees in front of you, looking up into your eyes. gojo’s fingers are playing with your hardened nipple, making your hips buck upwards – right into leon’s mouth. his first languid swipe of the tongue comes just as satoru pinches your sensitive nubs, and you cannot help the pornographic moan escaping your lips.

“jesus, doll, who knew you’d sound so pretty,” it’s gojo’s voice against the shell of your ear, making you shudder. one of his hands keeps massaging your boob, twisting the nipple between his digits, while his other hand goes all the way down and spreads your folds for leon’s easy access. he hums in appreciation, and starts flicking his tongue up and down, drawing tight circles on your clit, sucking on it when he feels your legs tighten around his head.

agent’s movements make you squirm in satoru’s hold, dropping your head against his shoulder as leon continues eating you out. you’re absolutely incoherent now – your fever never dropped so your muscles are aching, toes curling in anticipation of the long awaited release, as you continue moaning through quick breaths.

“finger her.”

leon follows gojo’s command immediately, shoving his middle digit inside, while still lapping at your pussy. your walls clench against him almost instinctively, intrusion sudden but not unwelcome – he groans feeling the embracing heat of your cunt.

“fuck, she’s so fucking tight.”

gojo keeps your legs spread, you trying to close them around leon’s head as he keeps up his assault with his tongue. he’s nibbling on your clit, putting extra pressure with the tip of his tongue, licking it back and forth in quick succession, before flatting it to lick between your sticky folds, all the way down to the drooling hole. leon adds a second finger now, setting up a merciless pace – he is curling his digits in a heavenly way, able to hit the soft, spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and your pussy throb; you gasp loudly.

“i wish we had a phone to record this. you look so divine.”

you clench at gojo’s words, making leon groan. he’s now playing with your tits, rolling your nipple, tugging at them to add the painful sensation to the lit-up nerves. your desperate moans are bouncing among the walls, and gojo decides he wants to hear the squelching sounds of your pussy around leon’s fingers and his tongue’s wet sounds as he sloppily eats you out so he shuts you up with a kiss.

you feel your tummy begins tensing up as two men continue their ministrations: it’s satoru’s hot mouth on yours and his hands squeezing your tits, fingers playing with erect nipples; it’s leon’s tongue lapping at your pussy, precise circles on your clit and his digits scissoring you at a perfect speed, hitting the nerve bundle that rushes to send you over the end. your legs start shaking and you grab onto satoru’s arm around you to ground yourself.

“nnggh-…” you whimper into gojo’s mouth, and he finally lets you catch a breath. “’m so close,” you sob again, “’m gonna cum.”

“yeah, you want to cream all over agent kennedy’s face?” satoru taunts you from behind. “that’s so unprofessional,” he makes a tsk sound with his mouth and squeezes your cheeks to look at him.

“we’re feeling generous today, i think,” he quickly throws a glance down at leon, who only smirks as his tongue keeps licking and sucking at your clit. satoru looks you straight in the eyes as he slowly drawls his next words, “you may cum.”

the orgasm washed over you in glorious waves, rattling your entire existence. you’re scrunching your eyebrows, mouth agape with a sinful moan, as your thighs clasp around leon’s head. you’re quivering in gojo’s hold, his hands forcing your hips down, pressing them more against kennedy’s face. the latter doesn’t stop his onslaught, lips suctioning around the throbbing pearl, fingers still curled at earth-shattering angle. you try to move away but neither man lets you.

“uh-uh, where are you trying to run away? let him drink everything.”

and everything does leon kennedy drink – agent is lapping at your juices like a kitten at a fresh bowl of milk, now substituting his digits with his tongue as he keeps fucking in and out of your needy cunt. ministrations don’t stop, not even when your moans turn into little sobs as your body starts feeling overstimulated. your puffy clit is now ruined from satoru’s finger pads playing with it.

both men can feel your form shaking almost violently, gojo’s gathering your falling tears with his tongue. leon’s finally pulling his face away from your sex, standing up to look at your ruined state.

“god, i only ate her out and she already looks fucked out,” he chuckles to the other blond man, and moves to stand between your legs.

“let me taste her,” before you can react, gojo’s grabbing leon by the back of his head and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. trapped between a rock and a hard place, you can do nothing but observe the most passionate display of carnage you’ve ever witnessed – they were slobbering over each other’s faces, and it made your pussy clench around nothing. god, you can’t wait to fuck them both.

“she’s sweet, just how i like them,” satoru smirks against leon’s lips, turning his attention back to you immediately. “common, princess, you’re going to have to ride me if you want both of us.”

you’re quickly climbing on the table, straddling him. kennedy situates himself right behind you, warmth radiating off him like in suffocating waves. you’re trying to unbuckle satoru’s jeans to free his heavy cock, still trapped in confines of his boxer briefs, but leon smacks your ass, sending you forward into gojo’s embrace. it stings, the outline of his hand already forming a bruise, and you’d be mad if you pussy lips didn’t flutter at the slap.

“you’re taking too long, sweetheart,” you hear satoru, both men undoing their belts and zippers before you can, pulling out their leaking cocks. from your position you could only see satoru’s hard dick as he stroked himself near your aching hole, but what you’ve seen was enough to make you almost scared – gojo’s dick was long and blessed with a perfect curve, just upwards, one thick vein running prominently from the bottom of his shaft ending just before his mushroom head. you’re sure leon’s looked just as pretty.

“you haven’t said a word. you wanna ask nicely for what you want?” you hear leon behind you as he’s pushing you forward again, right into satoru’s chest, and teasing your waiting cunt with his thick tip – the mixture of his spit, your slick and his precum is dripping down satoru’s cock from where he’s positioned just underneath you, and the messiness of it all makes leon groan.

“please, i want your cocks inside me… please,” you sob out again, vocal cords heavy with tears.

“i think this will be our reward for saving us, how about that, huh?” there is a teasing tilt in satoru’s voice, and you grab at his shoulders, mewling like a needy animal in heat.

“yes, yes, anything,” you’re blabbering with teary voice, making men hard at the mere image of you: a capable agent reduced to a cock-drunk slut, an image that makes their cocks twitch.

leon grabs gojo’s member, giving it a couple strokes, surprising the white-haired man but hearing no complaints. his thumb is playing with the drooling slit of his tip, beads of pre-cum decorating the entrance to his flushed dick, and kennedy can’t help but smirk at how blissed out satoru looks. he’s guiding his heavy and red cock inside you, while his other hand rests on your waist. gojo’s forcing your hips down while bucking his up, and he fills you up in one long thrust.

“ah!” you cry out, biting your lip to the blood, metallic taste in your mouth almost overwhelming on top of the mix of pain and pleasure burning through your body. you’re whimpering into satoru’s mouth, while his hand is running soothing circles on your back.

“here you go, such a good fucking girl. taking me in so well, huh? all it took is one thrust, so perfect,” he’s blabbering against your skin as he starts sinking in and out of your sloppy hole. looking down, you can see the bulge in your tummy, and it makes you purr – you not only feel him splitting you in two, you are able to witness it. his reddened tip is meeting your cervix in a bruising kiss, and god, he’s making you fell so good.

you’re so lost in the rapturous sensation of gojo’s huge cock pushing against your gummy walls, you don’t notice leon’s presence behind you – he is grabbing your hips with one hand while his other is jerking his dick, prepping himself to enter you. his tip is near your whole when you finally realize what’s he’s trying to do.

“no! no, it’s too mu- ah!” he doesn’t let you finish before he start pushing himself inside, sliding alongside satoru’s heavy member, making the man grunt.

“fuck, feels so tight and warm,” you hear behind you as kennedy sets a punishing pace, sheathing himself into your abused hole. they are stretching you out to heavens, leon looking at your gaping cunt with pride. it’s fluttering and clenching around their huge cocks, your walls spasming in pleasure as their lengths are grinding against your soft spots. you can hear your pussy queefing, and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin add to the dirty symphony.

“ngg, ngg- feels so, so goo-” you’re unable to finish your sentence as they keep bouncing you on their cocks, manhandling your body however they seem fit. you’ve never felt so full – both men keep drilling into you, like you’re no more than their little personal toy to play with. satoru grabs you by the back of your neck, biting at your lips, sloppily making out with you, while leon grabs your hair, forcing you back on his dick.

you can feel both cocks twitching inside you, approaching climax evident by their shallow breathing, moans hitching at every thrust of the hips. your walls are tightening around their cocks, and men’s whimpering and groaning is sinful to listen to, yet they are determined to make you climax first.

“common, gorgeous, cum around our cocks,” gojo hoaxes from underneath you. leon pushes your hips even closer into satoru’s body, your clit now grinding against his pubic bone, and it’s making you teeter on the edge of your bliss.

your bladder feels pressure you’ve never experienced before as gojo’s cock pressing against it from a perfect angle. leon is digging his fingers into the plush skin of your ass, rutting in and out of you, pushing against your back walls. all of your nerves are on fire, exploding fireworks in your brain, sending all your pleasure receptors into the overdrive. as your second orgasm washes over you, you’re left trembling in the men’s arms, leon’s chest against your back, your sweaty tits against satoru’s broad front.

“that’s a good girl, look at how cock-drunk you are,” you can hear them chuckle between themselves, not slowing down for a second. leon can see the white creamy ring enveloping the base of his cock in a soft embrace – it’s making him lose last of his slipping composure as he starts thrusting extra hard, thus speeding gojo up.

you bounce like a rag doll on top of gojo, having no semblance of control, being completely used by two agents. the pressure in your bladder comes back, and you throw your head back – your body continues quivering uncontrollably as you start sobbing again, tears drawing salty rivers on your cheeks, result of your body riding into stimulation. before you know it, something warm and so fucking wet starts gushing out of you. you want to look down, but men react first by groaning, voice impossibly thick with lust and awe.

“fuck, baby, didn’t expect you to squirt this much. so fucking filthy, i bet you waited to do this the whole time,” gojo grunts from underneath you, and you can only purr in response. it only takes couple more thrusts before leon and satoru synchronize their orgasms, shooting the ribbons of cum inside your womb, painting it pearly white, fucking it in warm and cozy. the squelching sounds ricocheting among the walls are nothing but sinful, and your cheeks flush red from the realization of what just transpired.

as both men pull out of your abused, stretched out hole, the combined mixture of all the fluids trickle down your thighs, making you groan in disgust. now that aphrodisiac has been fucked out from your system, you can’t even bring yourself to look them in the eyes. you hurry to pick up your clothes, but your legs give out underneath you – you’d end up flat on your ass, if not for leon who caught you mid fall.

tension in the air is palpable, electricity dancing on your skin is able to set everything on fire again. you’re ready to break the silence when satoru speaks first.

“you know, kennedy, next time you want to touch my cock, you don’t need to bring a woman between us.”

he leaves the room before either of you are able to force a reaction, and you wish you’d left both of them for dead instead.

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wroteclassicaly · 4 months

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A/N: I’ve missed this man. I hope you like? Next part will have some saucy little smut. Just trying this out first, also for self-indulgence.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, language, mentions of injuries, self-esteem issues, mentions depression and body image.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Plus size!Reader

Eddie Munson loves his new band of misfit friends, an extended family that has welcomed him and Wayne in with open arms. Hell, he’s even getting along with Harrington, Wheeler is tutoring him, and everyone else just understands. And then, well… Then there is you. He’s never seen someone so in tune with the needs of others without ever considering herself. Someone who purposely pushes herself on the world’s hottest back burner to avoid opening up and letting anyone truly see what’s going on… Behind incredibly beautiful eyes, if Eddie does say so himself.

It’s been over a year since shit unfolded with Vecna. They lost, he died for a little while, the apocalypse reigned down on the town and then he wasn’t dead anymore. Memories are vague, but most things he does remember. And when he wakes up tangled in his bedsheets, scars aching with prickles of phantom pains - you are the only person that he calls. A lot of times he ends up singing you to sleep, but it’s not without you always making sure he’s calmed and okay first.

It was a bond that grew since you began caring for him when he came back with memories. He’s lost track of days spent together, lunches shared, a graduation a long time coming, complete with a party he never expected to have. He isn’t sure when it became a deeper feeling than he’s ever known, one that scared him so damn bad he avoided you for days and began physically ill because of it. If Eddie Munson has to pick one moment, it was probably that day you walked into his Uncle’s living room, (a cookout happening in his yard with Steve and Wayne at the grill outside) your beautiful curves on display, a cherry sundress hitting you in all the right places, and some strappy red sandals adorning your feet. You wore a glowing smile beneath your bright red lipstick, energy matching with Henderson’s as you entertained his enthusiasm for Hellfire’s next campaign.

You didn’t have a clue of what you were talking about, but it didn’t deter you in the slightest. You were passionate about writing, you enjoyed Sci-Fi and fantasy, which meant you had to be the one who helped Dustin create new characters. He knew the game, you had some extra creativity to lend. You’d high fived Dustin, stealing his pen to jot down your scribbled suggestions on his spiral sheet. Eddie was a goner.

And now… Here you are, at his house, on a Friday night. You didn’t have plans, you didn’t make a date - nothing. You did what you normally do and called him up, accepting his invite to hang out all evening. He’d made sure to be off work by a steady time, picking up your favorite bakery cookies at the store on the way home, lingering over flowers that he was sure he should get, but knew it would probably cross a line if he did so. Eddie doesn’t want you to feel spooked, or even anything remotely close to uncomfortable around him.

You’re sitting above him, cross-legged on his bed as he rests with bent knees at the foot, your overalls bagging out at the sides to show your crop top with little lemons and daisies printed all over it, and the most delicious, overflowing curves Edward Munson has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He’s got a pair of your maroon sweats tied down, extremely loose on his narrow hips, and one of your decorative character shirts with a picture of Eeyore plastered front and center, hanging across his torso. You might not be able to wear his clothes, but he can wear yours, and Eddie would be stupid to say he doesn’t notice your eyes crossing a little whenever he steps into some of your ensembles. You’ve been chattering away at the TV, giving your input on Friday the 13th part 2, whilst being blissfully unaware of sending Eddie to heaven with your pink brush running through his freshly washed curls, your neon yellow painted nails scratching at his scalp. He’s like a mother fucking purring cat in your grasp.

“So, anyways… I can’t figure out if Muffin survived or if that was her in the woods. And did Paul really make it out too, or was Jenny imagining shit?”

Eddie smirks, tilting his head back to look at the curvature of your physique, the contours of your face - upside down (no pun intended). “Haven’t you seen this movie, like, a thousand times before?”

You have a mock look of offense. “Hmph.” He doesn’t like what it brings, because you can tease, but please - for the love of all things unholy - don’t stop brushing his hair.

“Hey, hey. Why’d you quit?” He’s pouting, it’s rather cute. One tattooed arm, decorated with scars - elongates, ring clad hand seeking out your wrist. Anything to get you into motion again.

“You know that you can brush your own hair, Eddie.” You’re melting at those fluttering lashes draped over an enriching, smooth chocolate pair of irises. And his mouth… Fuck.

“But it’s so much better when you do it, sweetheart. Pleaseeeee? Forgive me for questioning your brilliant questions!?”

You make a good show of it, tossing the brush out of your hand, it landing a pile of Eddie’s clothes in an unpacked hamper. They’re clean, but he’d rather wear yours. He gasps, shifting positions so quick that you think Steve must’ve Ninja-fied him. He’s got you by your wrists, the cool of his rings tracking across your arms as they follow warm palms, and dip under your pits to gain leverage - easing you forward into a heap onto the carpeting with him. “Freak attack!” He’s gleeful, tickling your denim clad sides (well, at least where he pretends he can’t see the overspilling flesh more closely now).

He smells good, like that familiar Old Spice wash and whatever shampoo he’s lathered his curls with. He’s hovering, he’s incredibly warm, he’s safe, he’s Eddie. Someone you didn’t know you needed until he appeared and retrieved his piece of your heart, snapping it into the place where all the people you love have their own shards. Hmm, not entirely though. If you could describe it, it’s as if they make up the outside lining, keeping the inside of your heart reserved for a more… Different, private type of love, that only Eddie Munson seems to have found.

“Should spank your ass with that thing for stoppin’,” he starts, interrupting your reverie, moving to shut his mouth when he realizes he crossed a line. Maybe? It’s there, your eyes flicker over his lips, your hidden reaction dancing behind your pretty little temple - he sees, giving him a fraction of hope. He isn’t used to this…

You jolt, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, “Like that would be a punishment,” you finish, effectively crossing that line for him.

Both of you remain silent, your sweet perfume making him lose focus. What he thinks he should do and what he wants to do, those are two very different battles raging inside.

// Eat me paragraph //

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spaloonbabooguuscooties · 1 year

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You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

#ive spent months on thsi stupid lesbian toxic yuri slow burn relationship so you all better clap or im blowing this building up #psychonauts #elka doom #franke athens #ill paint the town red

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year

Text

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part two)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski

+ Some Poly! Farah x Reader x Alex Headcanons

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone. I also have content for TLOU and Resident Evil, so please specify.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! It's me again Lia, currently working on this one while I haven't even posted the other yet because I wanna post early and I love Valeria. Y'all don't got shit on me, I'm writing this shit while I'm in class AHAHAHA. Btw more Resident Evil content soon...

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

Valeria Garza

ꕥ (Just saying, I'd let her step all over me)

ꕥ The El Sinombre falling in love? No shit she's... semi-normal??

ꕥ Black cat/Doberman girlfriend for sure. She's extremely protective and extremely terrifying when she wants to be. Scary dog privilege if you get it. (Occasionally it's funny to imagine her as a Chihuahua)

ꕥ Dates all kinds of women, body type and other things don't matter to her because she doesn't have a type. If you catch her attention then that's that.

ꕥ Loves spoiling you in everyway possible, just sit pretty for her and she'll take care of everything. Doesn't give a shit on the amount of money she spends on you, you want it? You got it.

ꕥ Loves it when you need her, it's one of the ways she feels loved and appreciated. Would never say it out loud but loves it whenever you show her your appreciation by doing manual labor.

ꕥ The idea of you being her pretty little housewife is sending her to heaven.

ꕥ Spanish pet names galore, culture is something of importance to her so will definitely teach you Spanish if she had the time.

ꕥ Would be interested learning about your culture as well because if you're gonna know about hers then she ought to know what to call you in your language. (Definitely not self-indulgent because I'm Filipina and I know she'd pronounce it somewhat correctly)

ꕥ Doesn't ever let you know about her cartel business. You can never know and she will never allow you to get ever get involved. You're too precious to her and god forbid anything will happen to you, she will destroy the world if she had to.

ꕥ She's more of a masc lesbian, she's the type who likes to be in charge in a "I'm the one who wears the pants in the relationship" way. She's very dominant.

ꕥ Doesn't ever even consider to be submissive, with the amount of shit she's been through. She can be vulnerable with you but in no way, shape or form could you ever top.

ꕥ You're an escape from the life she knew, it was peaceful with you. At first she wasn't used to it, definitely has reoccurring thoughts of something going wrong. You dying, getting kidnapped, falling into the hands of her enemies so constant reassurance.

ꕥ Would absolutely kill for you, no hesitation. The literally definitely of "I would burn this world for you", would absolutely deny it but you know otherwise.

Farah Karim

ꕥ Tabby cat coded girlfriend, she's down to earth and chill. She's that one neutral person everyone adores, she puts her best efforts into a relationship for sure.

ꕥ Has and will help you do your make-up all the time, doesn't matter whether you asked. She'll observe the specific way you do it and do it perfectly.

ꕥ Sweetest girlfriend ever, she has dominance tendencies but it's mainly because she's quite assertive and often makes the decisions. Can't help it, after all her field of work requires her to one up egotistic men.

ꕥ That being said, I think she's had some mild PTSD about how they treated her. Sure it made her tough and she didn't like to be bossed around (unlike angry Mexican man) but I like to think she keeps you out of it as much as possible.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader headcanon is that she literally would adore you, compliment anything and everything. Insecure? Not on her watch, she just makes you feel so loved.

ꕥ Most definitely has introduced you to Price (I feel like he's everyone's father figure except los vaqueros and characters he hasn't interacted with) and don't worry he's already looking after you as well.

ꕥ Poly! Farah x reader x Alex headcanons:

ꕥ You guys following whatever Farah says, towards relationship decisions anyway because you and Alex tend to be indecisive.

ꕥ Lot's of communication between the three of you even if it's just a small thing, consent is always key.

ꕥ Alex following his two wives around a lot, he's mostly behind you guys all the time.

ꕥ Farah is patient when it comes to a lot of things but especially you and Alex.

ꕥ You get head pats from both of them, Farah is in a more praising manner while Alex tends to be in a comforting manner.

ꕥ You cannot tell me these two won't be down to cuddle in any position because I know damn well they would be. More often it's just Alex wanting to be a little spoon.

Alex Keller

ꕥ Golden Retriever boyfriend FOR REAL. This man is the type of man to kneel down and clasp the strap of your shoe or heel when he notices it.

ꕥ You know when you pick up something near a corner of a table or underneath it? He's the type of boyfriend to subconsciously cover the edge or corner of that table so that if your head bumps into it then it wouldn't be as painful or even at all.

ꕥ Having said the first one, he also guides your head whenever getting into a vehicle because god forbid you actually hurt yourself. Not on his watch.

ꕥ Understands why you're insecure and definitely offers a lot of verbal reassurance.

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to say "Yes Ma'am" when you ask him to do something, doesn't matter whether it's a small thing or labor intensive. It's kinda become your guys' thing now since people take notice on it.

ꕥ Pouty kind of jealous? Not necessarily whiny but makes this sad upset face at you when jealous instead of something like Ghost or Valeria would do where they'd be glaring the person down jealous.

ꕥ Very thoughtful, he pays attention to what you want and what you need and knows the right timing.

ꕥ Forehead kiss giver, you cannot convince me this man doesn't love doing it. Especially when you're shorter than him, loves resting his chin on top of your head or burying his head in your neck.

ꕥ HATES seeing you uncomfortable, absolutely despises it. That's the last thing he wants you to feel when you're around him. Would understand if there's imminent danger around but it would literally being him back to life if you felt safe enough around him even if there was danger because you're confident in his capabilities to keep you safe.

Kate Laswell

ꕥ (LOVE THIS WOMAN, SHE'S FOR THE GIRLS BECAUSE IT'S CANON. ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

ꕥ She only ever let the TF141 and Nikolai meet you because of course she trusts them enough.

ꕥ They were like "So you're the infamous wife of Laswell huh?"

ꕥ Even before you were married, Kate called you her wife because she was ✨manifesting✨.

ꕥ She loves using it though, sometimes she'd be with coworkers and they'd invited her to go out to pub and drink but she'll refuse saying "Can't, my wife is waiting for me". She'd really rather just spend time with you anyway.

ꕥ Congrats, you made her quit smoking or at least she's trying to. She still does every once and a while when shit gets really bad but never around you because she knows that secondhand smoke is just as bad for you.

ꕥ She doesn't have a type when it comes to people so body is out of the question, if she feels a connection then she feels it.

ꕥ Anything and everything to keep you safe, if something were to happen to you, trust that she'll either get it down herself or if she can't then she'll turn to Price and Belinski for help.

ꕥ As much as possible, she keeps you away from everything. The job she has is just too dangerous and she can't risk you, not when you're one of the only good things in her life that keeps her happy.

ꕥ Definitely a workaholic, something as simple as asking her to eat or rest, maybe take a break. She'll do it, for you and because she knows you care for her.

ꕥ Doesn't half-ass anything, full effort when it comes to you especially when there's a special occasion between you two like holidays, birthdays and anniversaries.

ꕥ Also she loves making you laugh, more often with stories of her experiences with Price and also about how they met.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

ꕥ (I CANNOT FIND A DECENT GIF OF THIS MAN FOR THE LIFE OF ME... Here's the credits to where I found the photo)

ꕥ Get this man a makeshift antenna, he would adore it. You made it for him because of his call sign.

ꕥ He sometimes wears it on missions but mostly keeps it so that it doesn't get damage because this man is definitely a horder, not in a bad way just anything you give to him is something worth keeping in his eyes.

ꕥ Gary definitely gives you handmade gifts back, when he knows you'll like something or even if it's at a random, he loves making them for you and he cried when he found out you kept those all in it's own box labeling it your treasures.

ꕥ Very shy and reluctant at first but once he's comfortable, he is tackling you for a hug when he gets the chance.

ꕥ Doesn't talk a lot, (it took me to Google when I saw that many people hc him communicating through BSL) but I like to think he does talk. It's just really selective, like a few words.

ꕥ The first time you heard his voice, you looked at him like "???". He looked at you confused at your reaction and he only realized it when you told him.

ꕥ Think that he'll try to learn sign language within your mother tongue you know, it's too cute not to think about.

ꕥ He gives off soft lover vibes, definitely far more on the gentle side compared to his comrades.

ꕥ Something in me tells me this man rambles but only and I mean only when he's already extremely comfortable around you, not used to using his voice much so expect a bit of stutter. Which by the way, he does this without knowing he's rambling and will profusely apologize with his tone of voice slowly getting more quiet. (This is your sign, comfort this man)

ꕥ Likes to crawl around and climb things for fun, another one of the reasons his call sign was formed. The first time Ghost genuinely screamed was when Roach was stuck on the side of the wall and Ghost saw him there. Kinda like when you see a roach climbing up a wall and it flies straight for you in your direction. (Happened to me by experience when I was taking a shower)

ꕥ He also likes crawling around, like this I mean. Hacker!Reader seeing this on the enemy's security camera while she tries to shut them off is just funny to me idk why.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? Sign him the fuck up. You once sat down near him and he saw how you thought spread a bit and it was so close to his that he was just resisting the urge to touch. The voice in his head shamelessly thinking of what it would be like if you suffocated him with them.

ꕥ He loves peppering kisses, doesn't matter whether it's receiving or giving this man would straight up take your hands and use them to cup his face, his hands still being over yours and would with wait for you to kiss him or kiss you himself.

Nikolai Belinski

ꕥ (I have no clue how to write for nik but I'll try my best)

ꕥ We all know him and his jokes about his "wives" which by the way is not true and you know it.

ꕥ He's husband material however he is quite busy, not that he'd barely spend time with you but he is away a lot. There's an upside to this, he constantly calls you (Let's be real, he prefers calls over texts) just to check on how you're doing and he tells you when he's going to come home.

ꕥ Despite all his jokes, he'd never actually make fun of you. Sure he's sarcastic and talks to himself a lot but he'd never go as low as actually making an offensive joke to his lover.

ꕥ Speaking of joking, your laugh is music to this man's ears. Don't matter if you sound like a dying cat, he's still gonna make you laugh.

ꕥ Surprisingly really sweet, people are often surprised to see that man with a lover. He's very thoughtful in a sense that he's observant, sure he's quite absentminded when around you because that's the only space he's comfortable enough to do so but also because he likes listening to you.

ꕥ Does every safety measure in a helicopter possible if he knew you or Gaz would be in that helicopter, he also makes improvements to it and calls it Gaz-proofing because we all know how Garrick fell off a damn helicopter TWICE. (Idk how he does it, Gaz has some serious plot armor)

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #valeria garza x reader #farah karim x reader #alex geller x reader #kate laswell x reader #gary roach sanderson #roach x reader #gary sanderson x reader #Nikolai Belinski x reader #nikolai cod x reader #farah x alex #cod x female reader #cod headcanons #Aethelwyne Lia writes

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bitchlessdino · 2 years

Note

OMFG!!! i just read that chan smut and omg. THE DUALITY!! i literally love all the smuts that you write. also my birthday is february 6th so, if you don’t mind, could you write me a smut with my bias/biases. as you know i have a daddy kink. my biases are chan, seungcheol, and hoshi. you don’t have to. love you and thank you for the dino smut i absolutely loved it!-🎧

Pairing: Fem!reader x seungcheol x chan x soonyoung

Genre: smutty smut smut

Word count: 4.7K

Tags: poly, reader wearing a dress, exhibitionism, voyeurism, pet names (princess), degradation, praise kink, brief choking, fingering, oral (rec. And giving), unprotected sex (please assume everyone is clean, don't do this w/o prepping IRL), pussy slapping, ass play, triple penetration (i know), daddy kink, mean chan, sweet Cheol

Summary: it was just a dumb little party game, gets taken too seriously in teh best way possible. Happy fucking birthday to you.

Author note: first off, happy birthday! You’re always active here and sending me ideas and I appreciate you so much. Second off the fact that your list is my exact top three made this very self-indulging. I thank you for that. Please enjoy me writing out of of my darkest fantasies 😭

“Fuck. Marry. Kill. Seungcheol, Chan, Soonyoung. Go.”

You scorn up at Mingyu, “Didn't know we were still in middle school?”

You were celebrating your birthday with a couple of close friends having some drinks and good quality takeout at your place. Somewhat small for others but what you preferred it. Having all the attention on you in a public place was not your scene. These small intimate gatherings were more your speed. Then again, it prompted dumb shit like this.

Mingyu was not many shots in, but he looked like a toddler that learned to walk for the first time, so it was fair to say he drunk out of his mind. “Don’t cop out, answer the-hic-damn question.”

Your gaze shifted from the three men, all equally waiting for a response. You take a moment to linger in each thought of each man, internally listing out any and all of their redeeming qualities.

Seungcheol, who pretended to not care about your answer, peeks at you through his peripheral. He was the impossibly attractive guy next door, figuratively and literally. It was easy to tell he does everything with purpose and excluded this natural confidence and charisma. Not to mention he was a guy you could rely on like most people already do.

Then we have Soonyoung, the man full of life. If you could describe him in one word, it’d be ‘crazy’. This was the same guy that commits to being a tiger but calling it his ‘brand, and let’s not forget his astrology chart, which you’re not gonna get into. He’s fucking hot, don’t get it wrong, but also the strangest man you’ve ever met on planet Earth.

Now finally Chan, the cute man sitting next to you, eyes coated in nectar-like sweetness with a soft smile on his face. He’s always has been a sweet guy since you met him. He’s amicable and seemingly harmless, which made people feel comfortable around him. You can’t go wrong with Chan.

You visibly ponder, licking your lips, before answering.

“Fuck…Soonyoung, marry…Seungcheol, and I guess kill Chan? But I can’t kill him,” you look to the man mentioned and interlock arms, “so, I’ll just have to kiss him.”

You press your lips against his cheek, laughing emitting from onlookers. A warm blush spreads across his cheeks and he looks down at his feet. His smile turns bittersweet. “Great. Nice.”

“You’ll always be my favorite buddy, Chan. I could never kill you,” you coo, a finger lightly stroking at his red cheeks before he lightly shoves you away, rolling his eyes, and grabs another beer.

You initially don’t think much of it, it was only a dumb ice breaker after all. However, that event had his friends teasing him the rest of the night (but what’s new) and Chan was being the joke of the night, while Seungcheol was poking fun at you instead. Every chance he got, he’s saying things like he’s ‘waiting on that proposal,’ or ‘should I get started on the wedding planning?’ And Soonyoung seems to be a step behind the older gentleman, playfully suggesting what things he does make him ‘fuckable.’ He could be only cutting up limes for shots, or posing on the back of a wall asking, ‘this do anything for you?’ Attention was on you mainly, as expected, but that didn’t warrant the number of times you had gotten flustered.

Nonetheless, everything that night seemed all in good fun, a birthday worth having. At some point in the night, Soonyoung passed out on the couch, while everyone else was preparing to leave. Seungcheol offers to help clean up, it was very neighborly of him, which you always welcome. Chan, in the midst of all this, was nowhere to be found and it caused you to worry, calling his phone with no answer. You weren’t apart from him long typically in these social situations.

“Thanks for helping out, Cheol.”

“Anything for my betrothed,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you lightly elbow, “It’s late, I’m gonna wash up to sleep. Just make sure to lock the door when you leave, okay.”

He nods off your request and lets you venture off to your room. He pays it no mind, finishing off some dishes, unable to hear anything underneath the sound of the sink’s running water.

On the other end of your closed bedroom door, you make a startled expression once you realize what, or should you say who was behind it. “Chan? I was wondering where you were.”

He softly scoffs from the mattress, slouching in his spot, looking as if he waited for your return. “Really? Didn’t seem to think you had a second thought about me.”

“Of course I did.” You walk up towards him and pull him up from the mattress by the arm, smiling at him. “I can’t help but think about you all the time.”

“But you’d kill me, hmm?” He tears his wrist away from your touch, drawing his face closer to yours, “That’s not what you said last week up against my bedroom window.”

You purse your lips in amusement, remembering that day all too clearly. It was moving day for him and out of all people, he called you. He mentioned needing a few boxes brought in and everyone else seemed busy, little did you know, he had other plans that night with you. Those plans are how many times he can get you to cum within an hour, or how pretty you look pressed up against a clean glass window.

“But they don’t know that.” You retort.

“You embarrassed me out there, you know,” His eyes narrow at you, ignoring your attempts of pandering as you flirtatiously tease up his arm, “The friend-zoning, the familial kiss, the rejection, and in front of all our friends. I didn’t like it.”

You softly laugh, fingering through his pretty brown hair, “I’m sorry, but it'd be obvious if I said one of the other two. Could you find in your heart to forgive me?”

He turns away his eyes, feigning thought. “Well, since it’s your birthday, I could…doesn't mean I will.”

He tugs on you similarly the way you did to kiss him, only this time his lips locked on lips, and his skin was noticeably flushed from alcohol and lust. Your eyes naturally flutter shut, arms instinctively reach up for his face, cupping his warm cheeks. You melt in his touch, brazen and ruthless, your arousal basically dripping a hot stain in your underwear as his teeth pull at your bottom lip deliciously.

He strokes your sides, hands drawing the curve of your posterior and clutching in a hearty squeeze, a whimper leaving your lips. You feel the corner of his lips quirk up, eyes pressing into you with a smug expression. “Are you like this with all your ‘buddies’?”

You shake your head with a cheeky smile on your face, “No.”

He hums amused, lips drawing close to your ear, his decadent voice pricking your ear. “I want you to fall apart for me. Can you do that, hmm? Can you do that for Daddy?”

Your abdomen tenses up, a sultry moan escaping you, “Yes, daddy.”

“Such a good girl,” He draws out.

He pulls the zipper down from your dress, pulling off the straps from your shoulders, chuckling against your skin, as your outfit hits the floor. You giggle as he hoists you up, your legs locking around his waist, meeting his lips again more feverishly than the last. He runs you on top of your dresser, parting your legs to stand between them.

“Your turn,” You reach for the hem of his hoodie, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side of the room, “That’s better. Happy birthday to me…”

Hand trailing over Chan’s chest, down his torso, tracing over every dent of his abs, making you lightheaded and giddy. You pull on the top of his jeans, meeting him in a kiss, they become the next article of clothing to come off, following his boxer briefs and grasp his length. His nose nuzzles your cheek, hot breath on your skin, and his digits press up against the fabric of your panties to dip in the wet spot and plunge into your clothed arousal. You pleasantly gasp, hips jerking in his direction, one hand combing through his hair.

“Oh, daddy…”

His smile grows wide. “You’re so wet already, sweet girl.”

He allows himself a taste, humming at the familiar flavor, and pushes past your underwear to gradually thrust them inside, watching uneven breaths escape your lips. He revels in your whimpers, pushing them deeper inside you. The airiness of your voice was additive, but what was more addictive in the look on your face when he sees you close. “That feels good, huh? You like my fingers fucking you like this?”

You were practically vibrating in your seat, and your back arches in distress, gripping the edge of the dresser, “God, yes…You’re so good to me, daddy.”

It was a matter of time before his cock would replace his fingers, swiping your taste on your tongue for you to sample. Moaning, your lips wrap around their slender length, your arousal coating the surface of your tongue and inside your mouth. You hold him by the wrist, his knuckles swallow inside you before his very eyes, sucking your neck dry from his hands as he fucks his fingers into your burning hot entrance.

You whimper into his palm before he decides to pull it away and wrap it around your throat, meanwhile, his cock finds entry in your warmth, your fluttering walls welcoming him. Your hips falling slightly below the dresser's flat surface, you gasp for air. Your vision blurs as much as your abdomen clenches, submitting to Chan’s rough touch. He leverages you by holding you up the back of your knee while your other leg hung over his shoulder, snapping his hips back into you with such ferocity, a throaty moan falling short of every thrust. He sounded scrumptious, like fresh honey oozing out of its comb, you wanted to lick every part of him.

“What do we have here?”

Your helping hand for the party has finally found your helping hand in bed (or this case the dresser), rutting in you like two rabbits in mating season. Chan doesn’t stop his pace, only a smile growing wider on his face. “I guess the jig is up.”

“You’re just gonna keep fucking her while I’m here, kid?”

Chan only grows cockier when you show no sign of change, still moaning his name, “Why shouldn’t I, she sure likes it. Don’t you, filthy birthday girl?”

You nod, “Y-yes, daddy.”

Seungcheol looks impressed, crossing his arms together, he can’t help but enjoy the view. The times he imagined you looking a mess in front of him went on but no image in his head could do justice to the real thing, even if it was Chan’s dick inside you. Your sweat made your beautiful body glisten under the lamp lights, your pretty little pants endearing as they steadily leave your lips, and your messy hair so damn pullable that made his dick twitch.

“Need some help?” He offers nonchalantly.

Chan looks back at the older man for the first time, almost barking back a no, but instead takes a moment to consider and turns to you. His eyes flit back to you, holding you by your face, hips unbearably enthusiastic. “What do you say, huh, you want two cocks in you? Hmm, is that what you want?”

You choke up on your drool, tears already running down your faces as you respond in a hard nod, then proceed to be thrown back on the mattress to have Seungcheol witness your lewd form in its entirety. His hands go to the tent in his pants, palming himself anxiously. He knew you were beautiful beyond words, but there was no other beauty than the way you were almost naked. Your arms come up to your chest, shielding your stiff peaks but at the same time emphasizing the roundness of your breasts.

“W-what?” You ponder up at him, your pretty eyes looking back in a way that made Seungcheol want to scream. “I’m a mess, a-aren’t I?”

“A very pretty mess,” Seungcheol reiterates.

“Of course she is.” Chan sits beside you on the bed, pushing hair away from your face and pressing his lips to your ear, “How about you get his dick wet first, birthday girl?”

“Okay,” you answer back eagerly, trudging forward and pulling Seungcheol by his belt and carefully removing it from him.

Seungcheol gives a look of astonishment, a quick glance thrown to see pride written all over the younger man’s face before turning back to you, already pulling down his pants and exposing his cock slapping on your face.

“Wow.” You gasp, wrapping your hand around his girth, feeling his weight.

“Think you can take it, princess?”

Your heart pitter-patters at the name Seungcheol gives you and you let out a hearty ‘yes.’ Chan stays behind you, hands cupping your breasts, fondling your flesh, he becomes a little devil in your ear. “What are you waiting for then?”

You inch closer to Seungcheol, his angry tip on the center of your tongue. You drag your pink muscle over his shaft, tracing over every bulging vein, hearing him suck in his breath. Your other hand cradles his balls, kneading them lightly in your palm. When you push your head over his length, your mouth coats its surface area, feeling like a new, yet familiar world to him.

“S-shit.” His hips twitch forward, hands against his hips.

You bob down to the base, filling your cheeks and stretching your lips. He feels your saliva dribbling down his thigh, seeing the same scene happen over your chin, while your throat takes him with a gutty grit, taking all of him. When you gag slightly, having him almost pulls away in concern, but Chan takes initiative and combs through your hair, slamming you down on Seungcheol’s crotch, a shit-eating grin on his face. The older man almost doubles over, hand firmly planted on your shoulder in anguish.

“Mmh…god…that–”

“Look at you taking his dick like a perfect little slut,” Chan exclaims before mouthing over your neck, love bites adorning your soft skin, “you can’t wait to be fucking filled with cock, can’t you?”

You lacked the ability to be verbal, only vibrating a confirmation around Seungcheol’s cock, the man shuddering in the process. “Princess…”

Chan's hands snake around to your clit, rubbing it with his digits, his firm chest pressing into your sweaty back, the shaking in your body evident. “Take it deeper, slut.”

Tears burn your eyes, hands lifting to press behind Seungcheol, warming his cock in your mouth until you can’t breathe. The said man lets out his share of obscenities, his hands on either side of your head, fucking your mouth at a desperate man’s pace until he feels it swells well past its limit, “Fuck. Fuck!”

He cums hard, long, and deep. The trail of ivory slides down your throat with no warning, Seungcheol fills you to the brim, even overflowing to the corner of your lips. “So…good…”

“Shit, you lasted a lot shorter than I expected, old man.” Chan smugly grins.

The older man tries catching his breath, but not without letting the other man hear it. “Shut up…Chan.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

The voice resonates from the doorway, a barely awake Soonyoung blinks at the scene in front of him in confusion, adjusting to the change of lighting from the pitch-black living room. “Huh, what are you eating, y/n? A hoagie?”

“Oh, god.” Chan groans, bowing his head.

Seungcheol couldn’t pull out of you soon enough, the remainder of his cum swallowed up by you in the process. You picked up the courage to be the first one to ask, “How long have you been standing there, Soonie?”

“Not sure…wait. Are you guys having sex?”

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly cringing. “Yes, Soonyoung.”

“Do you want to join,” you suggest, exchanging looks with both men already involved.

Their eyes initially express reluctance but eventually, they nod in agreement. Chan whispers an “alright,” in your ear before kissing the side of your face. Seungcheol being still very fresh to their current situation had no complaints, nor was he in the place to. They all redirect back to the intruder, and you ask him again. “Do you want to join us, Soonyoung?”

A pink tinge on his cheeks as your naked body slips from the bed gracefully, sliding down your underwear to the ground. “Join? Can I do that?”

His eyes locked on your prowess, your soft laughter sending off butterflies in his stomach as your hands crawls up to his face, stroking it endeared, “Yes, you can. Will you?”

“P-please…”

You guide him by the hand and bring him over to the bed, joining the rest. You slip the worn-out muscle tee over his head to toss it aside. Once you meet his lips, your hands run through his slept-in hair and melt against you like a dream. You were like taffy, sweet yet salty, no doubt from what he witnessed earlier, but he didn’t care. Forgetting the others around him, he pulls you in his lap, your wet cunt rubbing into his denim jeans as his hands take care of your body, collecting its warmth.

Seungcheol simply watches, running his hand down his body and stroking himself, feeling the tension build back up in cock. Chan joins him from across the bed. Licking his lips, he locks on the way your hips grind against Soonyoung’s, blood rushing towards his cheeks, wondering whether he was turned on imagining it was him or that it was genuinely fun watching.

Your bare skin meshes against Soonyoung, inhaling the stretch of alcohol and his expensive cologne etched into his skin, “Mmh…Soonie…”

“Shit,” the man moans, holding your bare ass in his hands, “I really wanted to do this. You have no idea.”

“You came at a good time too, Soonyoung. We were just about to fuck her together,” Chan doesn’t forget to mention, “She was ready to be filled up with two cocks, what’s one more?”

Soonyoung grins against your lips. “Three cocks in our pretty baby huh…I’m certainly glad I woke up.”

The men strip down to their birthday suits. Chan, taking less time than the others, utilizes this opportunity to retrieve the lube you kept in the drawer of your bedside table. Seungcheol kisses you for the first time that night, sensually stroking your back and parting your hair, while Soonyoung lips attach to your breasts, feeling your nipples grow hard on his tongue as he cradles them. It really hits you what’s happening when Chan squirts the cold lube on the center of your folds, rubbing it between his fingers, up in your warmth, before sliding down to prep your other entrance.

His middle finger carefully tests the entryway, teasing the outer edge, before the lube lets him slide in and adjusts to your grip. Your moans were hard to suppress when he playfully slid them in and out and shot them deeper inside when you ask for more, to which he can’t help but laugh. “Cute little slut, taking it up your ass so well for us.”

He tucks in another digit, curling it inside you, ramming it, and preparing you for every opportunity.

You flex your fingers and toes, “Please Chan, I’m r-ready.”

“Are you sure?” He teases.

“Yes, please…”

Chan obliges, letting you go with a gentle thumb to the opening. They all position themselves, having discussed it moments ahead of time. Soonyoung has his back on the bed with your back hovering inches above his chest. He fingers the hole Chan had gotten ready and made sure it was adjusted to his liking, squeegeeing the excess lube. You twitch on top of him, finally feeling the tip of his cock circle at your entrance and slowly make its way inside you. Your jaw drops open, his member suffocates between your walls.

“Christ…” Soonyoung gasps, “You feel heavenly, Y/n.”

He holds you up from the back of your knees, spreading you wide and pretty, and taking a slow, deep stroke inside you. You let out a low growl, throwing your head back, and reveling in Soonyoung’s gentle pace. “Thats…so…good…”

Chan takes care of himself with aid of the scene, spitting in his hand, and his cock grows to his touch. “You look so fucking good stretched out.”

He approaches you, falling to his knees, and buries his face in your vacant warmth, still stroking himself. He licks stripes up your core, moistening his lips, as the tip of his nose brushes against your clit. Your stomach sucks in, ecstasy enflaming your core. “Fuck, daddy…”

Chan grows only harder and devours you faster, his tenor voices aches inside you, feeding his everlasting lust. Soonyoung takes his time with you still, hands now falling to your thighs, spreading you apart for Chan’s convenience, his hips gradually ramping up the speed.

Seungcheol is respectful in watching, only inching forward when you beckon him closer with moans on your tongue, mouth still wide and welcoming. He takes advantage of your invite, knees meeting the bed, reuniting his length with your mouth, and seeing you take him just as hard (if not harder) as before. Hands land in your hair, straining your neck but filling out of your throat, that glorious sensation coming back to Seungcheol almost immediately. “Pretty mouth…Princess…take me good, hmm..”

“That’s so hot, fuck, what the fuck?” Soonyoung was being overwhelmed in the best way possible, bouncing you harder in his lap, leaving the man with his mouth full smiling with less work to do.

Chan smacks your center fold with the tip of his fingers, feeling you flinch under his touch, and he does it again and again.

“Daddy hurtss…but…feels good…” You can’t help you mumble with Seungcheol’s cock pressing to your lips.

“S-shit, you’re gonna make me cum in my hand,” Chan shutters, honest to his word, “bad girl, but I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

He picks himself off the ground, his cock visibly furious. He rubs your slit with the tip, landing a lash to your clit, your sound of ache music to his ears, before he parts your folds and slides inside you, joining Soonyoung. He presses your legs back, Chan rocks in you in a steady rhythm opposite to Soonyoung. “Mm, daddy’s cock with Soonie’s, l-love so…m-much…”

“Such a—ah—cockslut. T-that good, hmm? You like me fucking you with Soonyoung inside you, hmm?”

“Y-y—Mmh..”

“Say it, fucking tell me you love our cocks splitting you open.”

“I-I love your c-cocks split-t-ting me o-open.”

You clench your body in anxiously, taking both cocks the best you can, but your body can only hold back so much cum.

“Look, who’s desperate to cum?” Chan observes, “Well, you can cum all you want, we’re not stopping.”

Chan is a man of his word. Even when your hips shake sporadically in front of them all, no one's pace falters. You were filled in all ends, an eternal loop of euphoria, the pleasant ache of your muscles easily manageable as long as you don’t lose this sensation.

Seungcheol ruts your mouth with his eyes shut, only hearing the work your mouth puts in and pulls out when feels you’ve had enough. Your slobber prints your cheeks, a tired look in your eyes, but a manic smile on your face. He wipes some saliva away with his thumb, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’ll be sure to be slow at first, okay?”

Heart racing, you nod at his message, eyes drifting to see him place himself between you and Chan. Knees planted in the mattress beside either side of Soonyoung, he eases his length in your entrance on top of Chan’s, and unearthly sound follows coming from all around. Not a dry eye in the room, Seungcheol takes your calves and pressed them against his shoulders, squeezing with Chan in an uneven rhythm.

“FUCK!” He bites into your leg, muffling his groans, filling you deep, “take me too, you can handle it. I believe in you.”

You scream in pleasure, your holes being fucked and filled, nodding your head forth and back. “Fuck, yes, like that, please…so full…”

The way it feels like everything at once, you can help but be overfilled with pride. You couldn’t describe in words how it felt, only process the event enough to scream and moan.

“That’s it, take us. Never have three cocks fuck your hole like this,” Chan points out through his sweaty pants.

Soonyoung simply groans deeply in your ear, snaking his hand over your clit, pinching the slick skin, your moans only growing louder and louder, and he then sticks his digits in your moisture, as if you were full enough. “You’re so talented, Y/n. Should’ve fucked you sooner…”

The sounds echoing in the room were like a broken record, waves of euphoria played over and over. It didn’t matter how long it took or how many positions were involved, you felt your heart rate taking ups and downs up they eventually grew tired.

“I’m gonna cum in you, that okay,” Seungcheol requests.

“Y-yes, d-daddy…” A blush deepens the surface of Seungcheol’s cheeks upon hearing that.

On the other hand, hearing his title being misused, Chan gets ticked off. He fuck harder with remorse, reminding you only one person can hold such a title, all while Seungcheol drops his load inside, coating you in snow white, grunting in you as his full length pushed the cum deep inside you until he finally pulls away. You open your mouth again, nonverbally asking to finish him off where he has before and he lets you, stroking what's left against your tongue.

Soonyoung follows soon after, his hips losing patience, “C-cum, in your ass, baby?”

“Yes, please, Soonyoung…” You answer sweetly and he wastes no time, holding his cum deep in your ass after shooting hot cum in your backside until it’s dripping out of the edge.

“Good little cumslut, should I give you my gift too?”

Chan doesn’t even let you answer, encouraged by your startled, shrieks. Finally, his cum spurts from his cock, mixing itself with Seungcheol remnants and pulling out to spray on your torso and fall against your flushed skin, showing you once again he never planned on giving you any mercy. You fall limp against the mattress, ivory honey trailing on your chest, stomach, cunt, and ass. The two of the older men lay beside you, fatigued as you were. Chan tears away from the scene at the moment to come back with wet towels. He tosses one to each of the men before coming to sit at the edge of your feet, wiping away the mess like he always does.

“Should’ve let you lick it up, but fuck it. It’s your birthday,” Chan jesters with a soft grin.

“I would’ve enjoyed it though,” you butt in.

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, but I like taking care of you.”

Soonyoung and Seungcheol grin upon hearing that, finding their younger friend endearing even after such an unfathomable event, both glancing to see you smile at his words. The intimacy piques both men’s curiosity, erupting all kinds of questions.

Seungcheol shifts his gaze from both you and Chan, smiling knowingly, “You two do this a lot?”

“And you've been hiding this from us for how long?” Soonyoung chimes in with a cheeky grin, ready to tease you both.

“How did this even happen?”

“Chan’s meaner than I thought, Y/n, did you know that? Is that what you like about him?”

“Chan? Chan? When I lived next door?”

“Seriously, how long was I asleep?”

“I’ve never cummed so much in my life. How the fucked did you do that?”

“Can you guys call me about the next orgy?”

The opposing duo laughs, finding the situation amusing already. Chan squeezes himself between you and Seungcheol, nuzzling his face in your neck as he cuddles you, “Well, ‘buddy’ are you gonna answer their questions?”

You roll your eyes and clear your throat, taking your time in answering, still breathless, “I’m definitely calling you both over again.”

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thelittlestoflives · 7 months

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The Cook and the Chronicler

just another lil instalment in my sanji x chronicler!reader series!! in which the rest of the crew finds out about the two of them hehe

tell me what you guys think!! the love you've shown for my other two silly fics has brought me more joy than you know

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

sanji x strawhat!reader

no warnings unless you don't like swearing lolll, couple uses of YN, just self indulgent fluff

wc: 2k

“I don’t get it,” the swordsman grunted as the two of you sparred on deck.

“You’re gonna have to narrow that down for me,” you say through panting breaths, Zoro never was one for taking it easy on you. “I’m sure there’s lots you don’t get.”

He barked out a laugh, narrowing his eyes and sweeping your feet out from under you. You landed with a soft oof.

“You and that damn chef. That’s what I don’t get.”

You lay on your back trying to catch your breath. “What’s to get?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. He’s just so annoying I don’t know how you can stand to spend time with him.”

You sat up with a small groan and looked at your crewmate with a frown. “Who says I spend time with him?”

Zoro rolled his eyes but held out his hand to help you, which you gratefully accepted, taking a sip of water once you were standing.

“Oh, come off it, Chronicler. Do you think I’m stupid?” And upon seeing the smirk on your face followed up with: “Don’t answer that, you little shit.”

You crossed your arms and looked up at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

At this stage, you and Sanji didn’t exactly have a label for what you were. Sure, you spent most (all) of your nights curled up beside him and sure, your eyes always looked for him no matter the situation you and your crew found yourselves in, but like… It wasn’t anything of concern for anyone else.

“It’s not like I care or anything,” Zoro countered, copying your stance. “But we’ve all noticed that curly brows is less…”

“Flamboyantly flirty?” You offer.

“Irritating, annoying, insufferable, enough that I could gouge my other eye out. But not by much.”

It was true that Sanji had become a more subdued version of himself. No longer did he feel any desire to flirt shamelessly with Robin, Nami, or any beautiful women they came across on various islands. That’s because he had you. Why on earth would his attentions divert anywhere else?

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “For someone who never shuts up, you’ve gone very quiet.”

“Well, ever thought maybe you’ve just gone soft and you actually might like the guy?”

He snorted. “No.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Don’t see what business of yours it is anyway.”

He had a complete shit-eating grin on his face. “Struck a nerve, have I?”

“Shut up!”

“You’re in love with the waiter!”

You glare at him, but all witty comebacks die on your tongue. After all, he wasn’t wrong. You stuck your tongue out at him and flipped him off which he scoffed at, and made your way to the bathroom to wash your sweaty, post-training body.

Before you could step out of the bathroom, however, your way was blocked by an arm. “So, were you ever gonna tell me or did I have to find out from Usopp?!” Nami looked at you half-glaring, half-smirking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feign innocence, drying your hair with your towel.

“Hey! I thought we were friends!” She actually looked kind of hurt, and a pang of guilt jolted you. “I wish you came to me at the start!”

“Nami, you know I adore you, right?”

She nods.

“And if I had come to you and said I was seeing Sanji, would you or would you not have tried to talk me out of it?”

She paused, thinking. “Okay, yeah. I probably would’ve. So?!”

“What do you mean ‘so’?!”

Nami sighed. “Fair enough, I guess. But… Urgh, why him? Of all people! I love him like I love all of the crew but… Him? And besides, I thought you said you had sworn off of romance!”

You at least had the decency to look bashful. “Yeah, I did say that. Trust me, I didn’t plan for this. We just... I dunno, we see each other. Like, really see each other.”

“Ugh.” She pinched her nose and sighed. “Well, if nothing else, you both do seem happier. And he’s not as… Sanji-esque anymore, so I suppose that’s something.”

“See!” You said brightly, hugging her despite her protests that your hair was too wet. “Only good things can come of this, right? Now, if you excuse me, I think I need to have a little word with Usopp…”

“He’s up on deck with Chopper. Don’t go easy on him,” she grins, everything forgiven. “He’s telling everyone.”

Hair still wet, you march above deck to have a word with Mr Shit-Stirrer himself.

“Usopp!” You yell. There’s the sound of feet scrambling. “You can’t hide, you know.”

He steps out looking shameful. “Oh, hi YN. I wasn’t hiding at all, I promise! If I wanted to hide you’d never find me.”

Chopper came out behind him, looking confused. “Then why did you say ‘quick, I gotta hide’?”

Usopp laughed nervously. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”

“But, you did! Is it because you’re telling everyone you saw Sanji and-”

Usopp swiftly pushes Chopper away, much to the little reindeer’s dismay.

You groan and cross your arms. “What are you telling everyone?”

He crossed his arms defiantly too. “Nothing.”

“Usopp…” You warn.

“I’m not telling anyone anything that isn’t true!”

Chopper came back over and hid behind your legs. “He says he saw you two kissing in the kitchen last night,” he giggled.

Your face flushed red. “Did he now? Thank you, Chopper.” You pat his head and he looks gleefully at Usopp who is glaring daggers at him.

He probably did see you kissing in the kitchen last night. It had been a few months since the two of you had started having your little midnight rendezvous, and you were definitely being less careful. It was kind of impressive how the others had only now started to notice.

“Well, I did!” Usopp protests.

“And you had to tell everyone?!” You hiss.

He cowers at your tone, beginning to look guilty. “I’m sorry YN! Forgive me!”

“We’ll see,” you say before heading back to the girls’ quarters. You can hear Chopper and Usopp bickering behind you.

You enter the room with a sigh, leaning against the door. Robin sits on her bed reading a book.

“YN?” She asks with concern. “What’s wrong? Is it because Usopp is telling everyone about you and Sanji?”

You bang your head against the door. “So he told you too then?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’ve known for a while.”

You gape at her. “Uh… What?”

“I heard you creeping out at night and saw Sanji bringing you back to bed one morning. Plus, he’s been slightly, hmm, less…”

“Less Sanji, so I’ve heard,” you sigh again.

“Why does it matter if everyone knows?” she asks as she closes her book.

You sit down on your bed and face her. “It doesn’t. I don’t know. It just felt very… Special. Secret. It only belonged to us, and now it belongs to everyone.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I see. So it feels less sacred now? Like you’re sharing it with everyone else?”

“I guess so.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

You shake your head.

“Well, I suggest you go to the kitchen and talk about it with him. He might make you feel better.”

“You’re right, as usual,” you stand up and check yourself in the mirror. “I can’t believe you’ve known this whole time and didn’t say a word.”

She smiles slyly. “You’d be amazed at the things I know and don’t tell.”

“You’re scary, I love that.”

For whatever reason, you were nervous on that walk to the kitchen. You could hear the sound of knives chopping and Sanji humming to himself as you stood at the door, trying to build the courage to enter. With a breath, you push the door open.

The blonde chef turned around, ready to yell at Luffy for trying to come in before dinner was ready, his face softening exponentially as he saw it was you.

“Mon amour!” he said in a hushed voice, moving towards you to press a kiss to your head. His sleeves were rolled up at the elbow and he looked the way he did when he got lost in his cooking.

“Hey, Sanj,” you greet him, nerves dissipating as you look up into his face.

“Come, you have to try this!” He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the stove, lifting a spoon up to your mouth. As always, it was delicious and you made sure he knew.

His face brightened so much you thought he might burst. “So, sweetheart, what’s on your mind?” He asks, brushing your hair off your face. He could read you so well now.

“Well… Usopp saw us in the kitchen last night and told everyone so now they all know about us,” you say, inwardly cringing. “And I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Sanji’s face fell slightly. “I see. Are you…” He cleared his throat. “Embarrassed? Of… Me?”

Your face twisted into one of horror. “Oh god, no! No! Not at all!” You reach up to hold his face, looking into his eyes. “I could never be embarrassed of you. Don’t be silly, Sanj!”

You could’ve cried at the look of relief on his face.

“I don’t know how I feel about it because it was so special and uniquely ours, and now it’s some bit of gossip. I just feel like… What we have is so… It transcends anything, and it feels a disservice for it to be spoken about by anyone else.” You’re still holding his face gently, rubbing small circles with your thumb, his hands settled on your waist.

His face blossomed into a lovesick expression, and he looked like he might swoon. “I never tire of hearing how you feel about me,” he murmurs. “It blows me away every time.” His hands creep from your waist to your back as he peppers your face with kisses. “You really feel so strongly for me that the thought of others knowing hurts you. Mon cherie, I will never understand why you chose me, but will forever be grateful.”

All your concerns floated away like dandelions in the wind. Why would you ever be worried that others knowing would take away from what you had with this man?

“Let them know,” he proclaimed softly into your hair as he pressed another kiss. “Let them all know! Let every damn pirate crew know of the Strawhat Cook and Chronicler. Let them sing songs about our love for generations to come. In fact, I want everyone in this shitty world to know!” He picked you up and twirled you around as you laughed. He raised his voice. “Hear that, everyone? Me and YN are together!”

He put you down and put his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“My darling YN… No one else matters to me, but you. That said,” he kissed your nose softly. “God, I’m glad everyone knows you’re mine.”

His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, hot and desperate. His mouth was greedy, time slowed down around you both, as it always did. Your hands tangled in his hair and he groaned into your mouth,

“Sanjiiii, I’m hungry!” Came a whine behind the two of you as you both whipped around. “Oh, hey YN. Anyway, when’s dinner? I think I’m going to die of hunger.”

“GET OUT!” Sanji yelled, reaching behind him and throwing an empty pot in Luffy’s direction. “It’s ready when it’s ready!”

Luffy pouts and leaves the room. You and Sanji turn to look at each other, faces flushed both from the kiss and being caught. Then you both burst into laughter, and once again he pulled you to him.

“I love you, Sanj,” you whisper.

His eyes well with tears of joy, your sweet, lovesick cook.

“I love you more, darling YN.”

#one piece #sanji #blackleg sanji x reader #sanji x reader #sanji fluff #sanji drabble #sanji oneshot #sanji x you #sanji x yn #sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #blackleg sanji x yn #blackleg sanji x you #one piece x you #op x you #strawhats x you #my writing

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bitterbutblue · 1 month

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loser zhu yuan thoughts..

but that's illegal-! ☆ zhu yuan headcanons

~ guys shes so loser coded please hear me out please peaselapelapslepfkgsfjhkld i need her to hug me rn it would fix me methinks ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⤷ if ANYONE fucking quotes her fucking pubsec ad to her she will immediately turn red and start screaming internally. if it is a good friend and they are in a private setting she will start screaming OUT LOUD.

⤷ genuinely a massive loser. secretly adores all sorts of stupid cop movies where they seem so badass and cool...

⤷ huge fan of action movies and picked up all sorts of martial arts when she was younger because she thought they were so cool

⤷ hates cats for the dumbest reasons but she secretly has an axolotl in her house that she cares for a lot beacuse she thinks they are silly little creatures

⤷ has a consensual workplace relationship with qingyi probably. qingyi is the 'excuse me she asked for no pickles' and zhu yuan is hiding behind her with a goofy, shy smile on her face

⤷ qingyi and her had the most awkward relationship at first because qingyi doesn't know how to emote and zhu yuan is a LAME LOSER who LOSES (doesn't know how to initiate anything)

⤷ every time there is a cat case she tries to push it to qingyi but qingyi is insistent on her getting over her hatred of cats and their fur..

⤷ she is that officer that everyone admires because she's so put together can do almost anything but god that entire extroverted, socially aware self collapses sthe second she gets embarrassed or shy

⤷ she gets embarrassed so easily... also turns red really easily. first time qingyi held her hand in public she turned so red qingyi thought she was having a fever

⤷ don't even get me started on their first kiss. she started giggling to herself and then got so mortified she tried to run away and qingyi just laughed at her (while falling more in love)

⤷ insanely good chef. cooks with the vegetables she grows in her own garden and loves to feed the community! is that person who invites random neighbours over to eat meals!

⤷ insecure about her body but we all know she is probably toned as shit with a solid six pack abs that qingyi has qingyi malfunctioning. she doesn't get what's so attractive about her body and often puts herself down but qingyi is straight up overheating and blue screening at the sight of zhu yuan.

⤷ can ramble on forever about stuff she likes. indulges in fan theories about her favourite movies and is secretly a fanfiction reader. will stay up to 2 in the morning on weekend nights to read fanfiction instead of going out for drinks or stuff

⤷ a super sheltered kid growing up so... she really doesn't know much about romance or sex. like that time she accidentally watched porn with belle... didn't think it was odd to watch it with a friend, rather thought it was odd people would watch that stuff PERIOD.

⤷ the most loving person anyone will ever meet. once they get past her initial officer facade, they're greeted with this dorky loser officer who just wants to talk to you about your day.

#zhu yuan #zenless zone zero #zzz #zzzero #qingyi x zhu yuan #zzz thoughts #zzz headcanons #zenless zone zero headcanons #zenless zone zero fic #my favourite character.. wish i didnt miss her banner omg #but harumasa ur COMING HOME

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tokoyamisstuff · 1 year

Text

You get them a cat HC's

Featuring Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy and Kuro!

Warnings: None.

Notes: GN! Reader

A/N: I just needed to get this silly little idea out of my head!

"Oh? Well, I guess another one won't hurt."

Turns out his castle is a refuge for all kinds of animals. He's taking care of injured or abandoned beings of all sort.

Let's be honest, his personality has a lot of a feral cat as well. You find the similarities hilarious, while he still can't see it.

One time you walked in on him petting it - one of the rare occasions you ever saw him smile.

Loves when the cat sits on his lap while he's in his armchair by the fire, sipping on a glass of wine. An adorable image, and his favourite kind of self-care.

It will rub itself against his beard all the time. Who can blame it?

Needs at least one new outfit a week since the cat will always wreck the feather of his hat or scratch his leather clothes.

Talks to it with a way higher voice than usually, and yes, he does babytalk.

-><--><--><--><-

"Great idea! I actually thought about getting a mascot for the crew anyways."

This man is like a Disney Princess. Just gives off a vibe that makes an animal automatically love him.

Is pretty chill about standard annoying cat behavior. This pet will be misbehaving a lot since he just takes everything with a smile. Can't really be mad at all.

It will probably have a standard seat on his shoulder and loves hiding under his cape.

Always buys snacks when he's on land and even shares his meal with it.

Talks about the cat as if it's an actual person, and talks a lot. Literally his new bestie, you're almost jealous.

This animal has seen some shit. He'll definetly not go anywhere without it and do some weird party tricks when drunk.

Would protect it with his life, certainly.

Poor guy is actually a lil' bit allergic, but endures for your and it's sake.

-><--><--><--><-

"...fine. But if it goes anywhere near my stuff I'll throw it overboard!"

Will have a full blown rant about how cats are ungrateful and illoyal little shits.

Isn't actually an animal person in general. Especially cats and dogs are a little too fascinated with his nose for his liking - it looks like a toy, after all.

It follows him around despite his best efforts not to. He gets used to it quickly however and starts talking to it. It helps him get his thoughts in order, actually.

Lets you keep it in the end because this man just can't say no to any of your wishes. Won't admit it though, probably says it's because they're useful to catch mice on the ship or something.

Throws a tantrum at least once a day, especially when the cat got anywhere near his maps.

Unsuccessfully tries to teach it any tricks for them to participate in the circus.

Is often caught juggling for it and acts like the cat just happened to be there while he was practicing.

It's an open secret that he adores this animal. It's also the only one allowed to sit on his throne besides him.

-><--><--><--><-

"...what an astonishing creature, indeed."

It takes everything in this man to not drop the facade.

Wants to keep it so badly but hesistantly talks about hygiene and how the cat's presence may negatively affect Kaya's health.

He's actually the most skilled when it comes to properly train those stubborn creatures.

Anyways, he still will get scratched and hissed at. It breaks his heart.

Indulges it as good as he can. Only the best food, it's own room in the mansion and always new toys.

Always nerds out some biological or historical facts about those animals.

Loves to absentmindedly stroke it's fur whenever it sits on his lap. Looks like a Bond villain when doing so.

#one piece #buggy x reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #kuro x reader #headcanons #writing #self insert #dracule mihawk #buggy d clown #shanks #captain kuro

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moni-logues · 1 year

Text

Kintsugi 8

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 9.4k

Content: Yoongi POV!!, death (Yoongi's granddad), yet more talk about suicide

A/N: un-beta'd!! honestly wanted to call this 'Nostalgia' (based entirely on the Greek, nostos, return, algia, pain) but like, nostalgia is an actual English word now that doesn't really mean that so I couldn't, but them's the vibes!!!

Chapter Seven | Masterlist | Chapter Nine

Chapter Eight – Nostos

You liked Friday nights at Yoongi’s. For one thing, he was, by far and away, a better cook than you were and food always tasted better when you didn’t have to cook it. There was also the cat (though she did spend most of her time curled up on his bed, ignoring everyone and everything). Somewhere around third was Yoongi himself.

He cleared his throat and put his spoon down.

“I think I have to cancel dinners, by the way.”

“Oh-” you clutched your invisible pearls with a fake gasp and a mouth full of rice, “are you friend-breaking up with me?”

It was a joke as you said it, but as soon as you heard the words and paired them with Yoongi’s quietness—different from his usual kind—and the way he was fidgeting, you felt a prick of anxiety.

“I’m going back to Daegu.”

“Like, moving?”

You quickly swallowed your mouthful before all the food turned to ash. Yoongi couldn’t leave Seoul; he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. No-

He shook his head.

“My grandfather had a fall. My dad called. Said I should go back there.”

“Oh shit.”

He shrugged. You reached out and placed your hand over his; he looked at them, your hand and his, for a moment, then he shrugged again and shook his head.

“It’s alright. I haven’t been back for a while so it’s probably overdue anyway.”

“How long will you be there for?”

Yet another shrug.

“Not sure yet. Depends what happens to my grandfather, I suppose. My dad didn’t say much – never does – so I’m not entirely sure what I’ll be greeted with when I get down there but I’ll stay until he’s back on his feet. No idea how long that will be.”

You said nothing. You said nothing because you were not going to actually say any of the things that you were thinking; things like ‘do you have to go?’, ‘can’t you just stay?’, and ‘please don’t leave’. You knew he had to go; you knew that you wouldn’t really have wanted him to stay because who stays when their father calls and tells them that his father is in hospital and they need your help? No one good. You knew, also, that you could survive without him, that you didn’t need him to keep you afloat or anything like that. You just wanted him around. And that wasn’t enough to make you ask him to stay when he had to go.

“Well, I hope he’s ok,” you offered instead. “Do you have to take time off work?”

“No, I can work from home. For a while at least. I don’t know if they’ll put a time limit on it or just let me keep going.”

You didn’t like this. All this uncertainty, the indefiniteness of his absence. Some things take a long time to recover from; he could be gone for months. You shivered, even in the warmth of Yoongi’s apartment, with a stomach full of hot stew.

“What about Cherry?”

Yoongi was already eating again, the disquiet that had hung over him dispelled now that he’d spat it out, said the thing he had obviously been harbouring uncomfortably all evening.

“Oh, Namjoon’s going to look after her,” he answered. “She has an automatic feeder and water bowl, so she’ll mostly be taken care of anyway but he said he’ll come over and hang out with her.”

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I come and hang out with Cherry, too?”

Yoongi looked surprised, then amused, and then he got that smile on his face that said he was going to indulge you in whatever stupid thing you were talking about now.

“Yeah, if you want. I can hardly stop you; you know the codes.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can change them?”

He rolled his eyes with a grin.

“Yeah but then I’d have to tell everyone else the new ones... It’s too much bother.”

“Hear that, Cherry?” you called to the bedroom. “You and I are going to be best fucking friends! Just you wait!”

“Are you threatening my cat?”

You threw a napkin at him.

You stared at your phone. Your still, silent phone.

“You know a watched pot never boils, princess. Your boyfriend isn’t going to call if you just stare at it.”

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend,” you snapped back, more viciously than you’d intended. “I thought you’d stopped making those jokes.”

Taehyung just shrugged.

“You seem very het up about not hearing from him, that’s all. You certainly never miss my contact that much.”

“As if I would ever go that long without your contact. I can barely get away from you.”

“As if you would have it any other way.”

You were crabby. Out of sorts. Yoongi wasn’t great at keeping in touch over the phone—not even at the best of times and this was certainly not that. You had exercised what you thought was extreme restraint, waiting until he had replied before texting him again (most of the time...), not wanting to bug him while he was with his family, going through something.

You weren’t one hundred percent sure what exactly it was they were going through because Yoongi’s updates were sparse on detail (like father, like son, apparently), but it was looking likely that you wouldn’t be seeing him again before the end of the year so it couldn’t have been good. It made you sad, that you wouldn’t see him over Christmas, that he had disappeared as the winter had arrived. Did the cold suit Yoongi? Did his cheeks get flushed and his nose turn pink? Did he like the cold weather? The dark and cosy nights?

You supposed that that was it. That was what was making you miss him all the more: the cosiness of winter is a lot less cosy when you are spending it by yourself. Taehyung was there, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Yoongi was yours. You and he had your own little club; you were dark and twisty. Now you had to be dark and twisty all on your own. And so did he, miles and miles away. You hoped he wasn’t getting too dark and twisty, that things weren’t getting capital-B Bad down there, that his family were supporting him.

You still didn’t know much about them, about his relationship with them. Yoongi played all his cards close to his chest, but these were on lockdown. You hadn’t known his grandparents were still alive. You weren’t sure exactly how many of them were. You hadn’t pushed him on it. It hadn't seemed to matter much before, though it certainly did now and you wished you had asked when you’d had the chance.

It was less than 200 miles—not far, not really. You could easily get there and back in a day. But it stretched out long in front of you, this distance. Maybe it was healthy. Or rather, maybe it was unhealthy, your attachment to him. Maybe this would do you good, do your friendship good. It was just a break. Not even really a break—he was still at the other end of a phone. You’d spent so much time and effort getting to a place where you felt self-sufficient, independent, capable; if you couldn’t be those things without holding Yoongi’s hand, were you those things at all?

You sighed and put your phone in your bag; it was easier not to think about it if it were out of sight. If only the same could be said of people.

It was weeks before you made your first visit to Yoongi’s almost empty apartment. Regardless of what you had said, it didn’t feel right to go there without him, to be in his space unsupervised. The thought of it made you miss him more, at first, but then he was away for longer and longer and you could no longer remember what his apartment smelt like. So you went.

You opened the door and shucked off your shoes and jumped half a mile in the air when you looked up to see a tall, dark, and handsome stranger, looking at you with confusion writ large across his face.

You laughed nervously, a relieved, breathy chuckle and you knew who it was immediately. You pointed at him.

“Namjoon?”

“Uh, yeah?” More confused than before. “You... are?”

“Oh!”

You introduced yourself, surprised that Yoongi hadn’t let him know you might be coming over (or maybe he just hadn’t believed that you would go). Namjoon responded to your name with a long, knowing ‘ah’.

“What is ‘ahhh’? What does ‘ahhh’ mean?”

Namjoon’s dimples made craters in his cheeks as he grinned widely.

“Nothing! Honestly, nothing; Yoongi has told me about you, obviously. Wasn’t expecting to see you.”

You didn’t believe him, but you did believe he meant well. He had a kind face, you thought, and he was looking after Yoongi’s cat on a potentially indefinite basis, so that gained him marks, too.

At the sound of voices, Cherry had skittered, yowling, towards you, stopping with a skid in front of you and meowing plaintively. You crouched down and held out a hand to you, but she merely continued meowing.

“Wow, she must like you; for me, she usually just disappears,” Namjoon said. “I think she hears people and thinks it might be Yoongi and she’s disappointed when it’s not. I think she misses him.”

You looked up at Namjoon, aghast.

“How can you just say that?! You’re going to break my whole, entire heart! Oh god, I’m going to cry!”

You really almost were. You turned back to Cherry, who was sitting looking sadly at you, and scratched her head lightly. Namjoon chuckled.

“Sorry.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I guess you miss him, too, huh?”

“Well, yeah, of course. But I do accept that Cherry has the greater claim to grief.”

You stood and smoothed your trousers out with lightly sweaty palms. You didn’t usually feel this awkward around new people, but this was Yoongi’s person and you were in Yoongi’s place and he wasn’t there. You followed after Namjoon as he padded back into the living room, Cherry slinking softly behind. He offered you a drink and you hadn’t really intended to stay that long but it felt rude refusing. You made polite small talk and drank your drink quickly.

“Well,” you began, putting your empty glass on the coffee table. “I came to hang out with Cherry and she has spent the whole time lying on Yoongi’s bed, so I guess I might as well go.”

Namjoon chuckled and moved to stand in view of Yoongi’s bedroom.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Yoongi left some laundry and I’ve been switching it out for her, so she always has something that smells like him, but I’m a little worried I’ll run out at this rate.”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Namjoon! What did I say about making me cry?!”

You carried on until you, too, could see into his bedroom and there she was, curled up on a black T-shirt. Coming here was supposed to be comforting, a Yoongi booster, something to tide you over until he could come back, but now you missed him more than ever.

Namjoon flung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you off-balance.

“He’ll be back!”

You couldn’t help falling into his side, letting your head drop.

“Yeah, not soon enough.”

[09:27] You: Merry christmas, bambino!!!

[09:27] You: I hope you are able to have a nice day

[09:28] You: Remember to eat, drink, and BE MERRY!!!

[09:28] You: I miss you!!!

[10:48] Yoongi: Merry Christmas :) I hope you have a good day, too.

[21:20] Yoongi: I miss you, too

You were in the supermarket with your mum and sister; they had sent you to find potato starch but instead, you found yourself staring blindly at a wall of breakfast cereals. Your mind was elsewhere and when you first heard your name being called, you assumed it was your family, about to chastise you for not being able to get even one thing right. Upon turning around, however, you saw a different familiar face. Chanmi, whom you met in your cooking classes, who also took the baking classes just like you did. She was newly married and wanted to stop her mother-in-law despairing over her lack of skill in the kitchen. If that hadn’t worked, you thought, the promise of a grandchild certainly would.

“Hi!” she cried, stopping her trolley nexct to you. “How have you been?! It’s been so long!”

“Yeah, it really has! Nine months, by the looks of it?”

You laughed; she had barely been showing at the end of the classes and now, there was absolutely no hiding that she was very great with child.

“Ugh, I know, I’m huge! She was due on Christmas day, actually; thank god that didn’t happen. I would not have wanted to spend all of Christmas in labour.”

“Well, sure, but I’m not sure I’d want to spend all of any day in labour, to be honest. I don’t envy you.”

“I’m in denial,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I know it has to happen but I’m just not thinking about it. I’m hoping she will hold out until New Year’s Eve, that way, when all the fireworks go off, I can scream as much as I like and no one will hear me.”

You laughed again; you hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from the classes (except Yoongi) but it was nice to see her and nice to see that her life was working out, that she was happy, that things were going just as they were planned.

“Well, you look amazing,” you told her. “Pregnancy suits you.”

“That’s so sweet of you. But how are you? How are you and, I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten his name, your boyfriend?”

“Uh, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh no, you broke up? I’m so sorry!”

You were confused. You didn’t know who she could be talking about. It wasn’t San. Might she have meant Sungbin? Had you told her about that? You were frowning, trying to puzzle it out in your head and Chanmi spoke again.

“I’m sorry; have I put my foot in it? I meant the guy in the baking classes with you? Is t-”

“Yoongi?!” you exclaimed with more volume than was entirely necessary.

“Yes! Yoongi, that was his name!-”

“Oh my god, no, he is not my boyfriend!”

“No?”

“No! We met in the baking class!”

It was Chanmi’s turn to lose control of her volume.

“WHAT?” Her mouth gaped in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

You shook your head.

“You met in the baking classes? We all thought you were a couple!”

“‘We all’? All of you thought we were together? Why?”

“I don’t know, you just seemed so close. You had chemistry. Then there were the couple of times he didn’t show up and you seemed so upset, we assumed you must have had a fight or something. I don’t know; you just... looked like a couple. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you replied, distracted now. “I just had no idea we looked like that.”

She had blown your mind. You were sure you had told people when you started the classes that you had just been broken up with – you couldn’t shut up about it! You told anyone who would listen and some people who wouldn’t. She must have known. So how did Yoongi fit into that? Did she just forget?

You and Yoongi? Taehyung had been making the same comments, albeit as jokes, for as long as you had known Yoongi and you hadn’t taken a single one of them seriously. And yeah, ok, you did sleep together, but that was a one-time thing, an aberration. Did you really look like a couple? Seem like a couple? Behave like a couple?

The thought plagued you for the rest of the day and into the next day, too. Your friendship with Yoongi was special, yes. It was different from your friendship with Taehyung, or any of the friendships you’d had before, yes. But it was still a friendship, wasn’t it? Just a friendship. You played films in your head, imagining the two of you in baking class, what you might have looked like to others. You played them again and again, from different angles, trying to see through different eyes.

All of Taehyung’s jokes rattled around in your brain; he had just been being stupid and annoying. He wasn’t making a point. You didn’t think he was making a point anyway. He hadn’t been serious, at least. He didn’t actually think Yoongi should be your boyfriend. You were sure. You opened your phone and thought about texting him. Then you thought twice. You thought about texting Yoongi, almost as a test to prove that you were just friends. Then you thought twice because he had bigger issues to deal with. You scrolled your short list of contacts and found one that might help.

[13:45] You: Hey Taem! You remember Yoongi who I brought to Teddy’s Halloween party?

[13:49] Taem: sure, what about him?

[13:50] You: Did you think we were a couple?

[13:51] Taem: when I first saw you and you introduced me, yeah, I thought you might be. Why?

[13:51] You: do you think we COULD be a couple?

[13:53] Taem: why not? if that’s what you want

[13:57] You: no, I mean... did we seem like a couple? Like, do you think we like each other? If I’d said he was my boyfriend, would you have believed me?

[13:58] Taem: I don’t know, I mean.. Sure? I’d have believed you if you said he was your boyfriend, why wouldn’t I? What’s going on?

[14:02] You: nothing, sorry, it’s nothing.

[14:02] You: thank you

[14:09] You: I’m just confused I think

With Yoongi away, you decided the best thing for it was to just shove all of that into a bag and shove that bag to the very back of your mind. You were friends. That’s all. If that ever changed, well, then you could get the bag back out and have a look at it and see what you thought. If.

[00:00] You: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

[00:00] You: STILL MISS YOU!!!! I HOPE YOU ARE HAING FUN!!

[00:01] You: HavE A DRINK OR LOTS N MEEE1!

[00:53] Yoongi: my grandfather died

[00:54] You: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCckkkkkkkk

[04:51] You: are you ok? Shit, babe, I’m so sorry

[04:51] You: what a fucking terrible way to start the year

[04:53] Yoongi: yeah

[04:53] Yoongi: not exactly unexpected but not the best timing

[04:53] Yoongi: I guess it never is though

[04:54] You: 🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

[04:55] You: let me know if I can do anything

[04:56] Yoongi: actually I would really like a hug

[04:56] You: 🏃🏃🏃 on my way

Your mother had always taught you not to make decisions after 9pm or on an empty stomach. You hadn’t eaten since 8pm the previous night, nor had you slept, so 5am technically counted as after 9pm. Nevertheless, you were making a decision.

You rolled into a taxi and stumbled into your apartment. You grabbed an overnight bag and threw in all the necessary items and then a random selection of clothing (whatever was closest and whatever was clean). The you taxi’d to the intercity bus station and got on the first bus to Daegu.

It was a three-hour ride and you slept through the whole thing, which was just as well because, if you’d been conscious, you might have had time to second-guess this decision, to think better of it, to think it through at all. The driver politely nudged you awake at the Daegu bus terminal and you blinked, bleary-eyed and hungover, dry-mouthed and dry-eyed. You shuffled off the bus with your bag over your shoulder and headed straight to A Twosome Place where you downed one coffee and then another and ate three pastries.

It didn’t feel right to just show up at Yoongi’s parents’ house in your present state (not to mention that you also had no idea where it was). You brushed your hair and your teeth in the terminal bathroom and washed your face, changed out of your New Year’s party outfit. There was then nothing else to do without getting in touch with Yoongi; you stood in the concourse, feeling a little foolish.

Yoongi sat heavily in the chair at his parents’ dining table and sighed. It was littered with documents: letters, insurance paperwork, hospital paperwork, bank statements, pension statements, certificates for home ownership, car ownership, some appliance manuals for god knew what reason. Somehow, it had become his job to sort through them. To sort through everything. To organise a funeral, as if he had even the faintest idea how to do that. He couldn’t blame his father- he wasn’t blaming anyone; he just didn’t know how it ended up at his door.

He rubbed his eyes and picked up a piece of paper; he didn’t expect any government offices to be open on new year’s day so he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be achieving, but he could try.

He dropped his head into his hands. It wasn’t as if he didn’t ever think about death, but it was different when it wasn’t his own, when it wasn’t hypothetical, when it was his own family falling apart around him because of it. He looked down at the bank statements in front of him, the pension claimed, the savings dwindling. It made him feel sick. It churned in his guts, this feeling like tar in his blood. He knew he hadn’t slept; he was overtired; he was emotional; it was a difficult time; but he also looked at all this paperwork and thought about how much better off his family would be if he were dead.

He could sort all this out beforehand, get everything in order. Then he could die and everything would come to his parents. They would be set. No need to wait on him sending money each month; no need to work; they’d be taken care of. His sister, too, of course he’d provide for her. But then that would be it. There would be no obligation, no guilt, no awkwardness between him and his family.

He took a deep breath. He had to take a break, but how, when he was the only person who would get this stuff done?

His phone vibrated on the table next to him and he almost ignored it, but then he saw your name on the notification and it was in his hand in an instant.

[11:02] You: I'm here

Yoongi rubbed his eyes. He looked back at previous messages and still didn’t understand what you were saying. He couldn’t believe you were here, as in, in Daegu. You were joking when you’d said you were on your way. He knew that, even though he hadn’t been joking when he said he wanted a hug. You must have meant that message for someone else.

He put his phone back on the table, content to leave your message unanswered, but then he thought that you might not notice you sent it to the wrong person. He should reply. He looked at the blinking cursor and his mind was blank. He should ask something like, ‘did you mean to send that to me?’ or tell you that ‘I think you meant to send this to someone else’, but he didn’t have it in him. He didn’t want to know what you were doing, who you were meeting. His cup already overflowed with misery, loneliness, a dash of despair; he couldn’t miss you. Rather, he couldn’t engage with the fact that he did.

There was guilt there, too. He knew he’d been a little quiet, a little distant with you. It was only half intentional. He didn’t want to know what he was missing, didn’t want to acknowledge his life back in Seoul; it made it so much harder to be here, amongst this, being thrown back in time only to find you no longer belonged—though part of him felt like he never did.

His absence was all around him: in this house he bought but had never visited, in this neighbourhood he had never lived in, these streets he had never driven down. Daegu was a different place now; his family home wasn’t his family home anymore because it had been falling down around them until he bought them a new one, this one, new and bigger with all the mod-cons they could have asked for. He was sleeping in the spare bedroom – a spare bedroom. When he had last lived in this city, there weren’t enough bedrooms to go around and now they had extras.

All Yoongi could see was the places where he should have fit in but didn’t. The world was so much bigger now than it had been but there still wasn’t a place for him here.

He kept you, the thought of you, like a secret, and then he let it eat at him at night, when he lay in the spare bed and couldn’t sleep. He looked at his phone, the screen lighting up his face in the dark, and waited for you to message. Occasionally you did. Mostly you didn’t. He knew that was his fault, too; he hadn’t replied so why would you? But he looked all the same; he felt sad and pathetic when he checked your instagram again, unable to decide if he wanted you to have posted or if he wanted you not to have; the twist in his guts was sharp and long-lasting.

Right at that moment, he knew you’d be better off without him, too. But first he at least had to text you back.

[11:14] Yoongi: what?

[11:14] You:

Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He knew that view; he knew that building; he knew where that was but you weren’t serious. This was a weird joke; it had to be.

[11:17] Yoongi: you’re in Daegu?

[11:17] You: new year’s day special: one hug, same day delivery for the low price of Nothing, It’s Absolutely Free

With his phone in both hands, he knocked his forehead against it, his eyes squeezed shut against the sting of tears, his jaw clenched. His heart was hiccuping in his chest. So you had come. You had come to Daegu. Because he had said he wanted a hug. You had come almost 200 miles. To see him.

He took in a deep breath, the biggest lungful he could manage, and then he blew it sharply out again.

[11:25] Yoongi: I’ll come and pick you up. Give me twenty minutes or so

[11:25] You: no need!

[11:25] You: I can get a taxi!

[11:25] You: I just need your address

Yoongi didn’t reply. He didn’t read your messages because he was already putting his phone in his pocket and walking towards the door.

He took a moment, once he was sitting in his car, to take another deep breath. This felt complicated and confusing and he was overwhelmed. He wanted to sit in a dark, quiet room. He wanted to get in his car, pick you up, and just keep driving. All the way to the coast maybe.

Then he thought about the beach and that day and he changed his mind. To the north-east perhaps. The forested hills of the Taebaek mountains could hide you both for a while. That might be nice. Everything here felt like too much but the trees and the hills and the coastline, that he thought he could manage.

He sighed and turned on the ignition, pulling smoothly into the road on his way to you.

You tapped your phone nervously. Yoongi hadn’t responded at all. You couldn’t go anywhere without some kind of confirmation from him: that he was coming or that he wasn’t. Your messages were unread. There was nothing you could do but wait. Wait and feel a little bit sicker with every minute that passed; your nerves were starting to get the better of you. Your stomach sank lower and your heart fell with it. You should not have come, you saw that now. What Yoongi didn’t need right now was a house guest. What Yoongi didn’t need was someone else to consider, to take into account; what Yoongi didn’t need was you, once again, inserting yourself into his (someone else’s) business. Like you always did.

It wasn’t about you. It shouldn’t have been about you, but there you were, hungover and probably still stinking of booze, making Yoongi leave his grieving family to come and pick you up. Making it about you. You groaned and put your head in your hands, in half a mind to just get on the next bus back to Seoul.

And all that was not to mention the bag of feelings you had shoved to the back of your mind. You didn’t know what to expect when you saw Yoongi again. It felt mad to expect that anything would be different just because someone had confused the two of you for a couple; you didn’t know how that could have changed anything but you were scared that it had. Scared that this was a mistake and that you were going to make more, that you were going to ruin this, even without knowing how.

Your phone buzzed.

[11:57] Yoongi: I’m here. There’s a pick-up zone; I’m parked there.

The relief almost made you cry.

You jogged to the car park and spotted him immediately. You knocked on his window and made him get out of the car so you could hug him properly. Your chest felt tight and you closed your eyes, praying you wouldn’t cry, holding on to him as tightly as you possibly could. He held you just the same. Your heart swelled and broke at the same time. It was so good to be back with him and so bad for it to be in these circumstances.

“Are you ok?” you asked, your voice muffled in his scarf.

You felt him nod.

It was you who eventually pulled back and then an awkward silence fell between you.

“One hug!” you said. “Delivered as promised.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi attempted a chuckle and rubbed his neck. “I guess you can go back to Seoul now.”

“Oh, I- yeah, I mean, I can go back, if you want me to go back-”

“No. I mean, you don’t have to stay, if you don’t want.”

“Well I can stay, but I don’t want to be a nuisance-”

“You’re not.”

“Ok... Uh, so... I’ll stay then?”

Yoongi nodded and ducked back into the car.

You looked at him as he drove; he looked pale and tired and skinnier than he had been. He hadn’t been taking care of himself and you knew it was because he was too busy trying to take care of everyone else; that was who he was. But you were there now. You could be a care-taker, too. You might not have had the experience, but you wanted it. You were capable now. You didn’t have to be taken care of anymore, not like before, so it was time to pass it forward properly. That was your task here, that was all. This wasn’t about you, you repeated to yourself. Everything else can go back to the corner you shoved it in for now. It was so not the time.

Yoongi pulled up to a large house and parked on the road. There were three cars in the driveway. He took your bag and led you up to the door. He opened it silently and slipped off his shoes, not announcing his return or your arrival, but his mother called from somewhere else in the house.

“Yoongi! Where have you been?” Her voice was getting closer and she soon appeared in the hallway from a room to the left. “Oh, who’s this? Is this your girlfriend?”

Yoongi took a steeling breath.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You don’t? I thought she was a model?”

“No, we broke up months ago. I told you.”

“Oh, well who’s this?”

Yoongi introduced you and you put your best foot forward.

“It’s nice to meet you; I’m so sorry it’s under such circumstances. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m here to help in any way I can—put me to work!”

His mother was already distracted, looking to her right; you weren’t sure if she was listening.

“Could you put some tea on?” she asked, turning sharply to you.

Yoongi frowned and you could see him open his mouth, so you jumped in.

“Yeah of course! I’m sure Yoongi can help me find everything, right?”

You grabbed hold of his sleeve and gave it a light tug. He moved forward and led you to the kitchen.

It was expansive, with chrome fittings and granite worktops and a double-sink the size of your coffee table. It was bright and modern and so different from what you had expected. You realised that your expectations had been coloured by Yoongi’s childhood, that you were expecting them to still be poor, but of course, they weren’t. Yoongi had seen to that.

This was a beautiful house, with a large entry way and tiled floors and both a breakfast bar and a dining table. It was the sort of house you fantasised about growing up in as a kid. You wondered how Yoongi felt about it. All this comfort and convenience that he had bought his family. You hoped it made him proud, made him happy that he could do things like this for his family. He should be proud; this house was nothing short of a show-home. Nothing looked out of place, even now, with everything going on. There were no dishes in the sink, no plates or cups left on the sides, nothing lying around waiting to be put away.

Yoongi indicated which cupboards held what you needed and he filled the kettle. There wasn’t awkwardness between you anymore but there was something. He felt far away. You didn’t know how people dealt with grief, or even death—is it grief when it’s still so close?—and were lucky that you had never had to, but you felt ill-equipped now. Ill-equipped and self-conscious. Of course he wasn’t going to be alone; it wasn’t going to just be the two of you. That was obvious, but you had managed to forget it and you felt inhibited by the presence of his family, everywhere in this house, despite the almost clinical neatness of it. There was no Yoongi there. It wasn’t like his apartment at all.

You busied yourself with the tea and pushed him out of the way as he tried to do it for you.

“You don’t have to make tea, you know,” he said, quietly.

“I said I was here to help and if making tea helps, then I’ll make tea. It’s ok.”

The next few days were confusing and draining. You had put your foot down and insisted you would stay in a hotel, so as not to put them out; Yoongi had retaliated by putting his foot down and paying for a room in a far fancier hotel than any you would have picked. You tried to be of use, and if not of use, then at least out of the way. This meant you spent most of your time entertaining Yoongi’s niece and nephew; this was easier on the third day, when it snowed, and you made snow animals in the garden and pushed them on taboggans down the hill.

You didn’t see all that much of Yoongi; the only times you were alone was when he picked you up in the morning and dropped you back at night. You didn’t talk much—he didn’t. You, on the other hand, found that you couldn’t stop.

“Sorry, I can’t stop talking,” you said on Tuesday as he stopped at a traffic light. “I know I’m being annoying. I just can’t shut up; I feel like I haven’t spoken to you forever.”

“No, it's ok. I’m sorry I’m not talking more; I’m just tired.”

“As long as I’m not bothering you.”

“No. I like listening to you talk.”

“Ok, then. Good.”

The funeral took place on Friday; Yoongi explained that it might be more traditional than you were used to. You had never been to any funerals so you had no expectations anyway. You had been tasked with making all the food, for an undetermined number of guests that Yoongi couldn’t guess at and no one else would tell you. You cobbled together an outfit with things borrowed from his sister. You felt out of place. You didn’t feel like you had any right to be there when you went with them to his grandparents’ house, when you watched him and his dad and his uncles carry his grandfather’s coffin out of the grounds, when his father trod on the earth above his father, when his uncle spoke eloquently about what his life had been and meant.

You hadn’t expected to be moved. You had rather hoped that you wouldn’t be. You were there to be a pillar of strength and support but there was weeping all around you and sadness and grey skies full of snow and you sniffled quietly to yourself, letting your tears fall as gently as you could. A hand snuck into yours, ice-cold fingers pressing into your palm. You turned to look at Yoongi as he continued to stare straight ahead. You squeezed back.

When he cut the engine outside your hotel that night, he slumped in his seat with his head tipped back. He sighed.

“Why don’t you come up for a drink or something?” you offered.

You were exhausted, so you had no idea how he was hanging on. He was already shaking his head but you cut him off.

“Come on, just a quick one. You look done in, my love. You look like you could use one.”

He gave in with no further fight and drove around the back of the building to the car park.

You kicked off your shoes and Yoongi followed you in, sitting heavily down on the bed, staring at his shoes.

“Come on,” you said, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and loosening his tie. He let you do it, let you lift his arms to get them out of the sleeves, let you slip the tie from under the shirt collar. He watched you, thoughtless, as you knelt down in front of the mini bar and picked a little bottle of whiskey. You dumped it into a glass and handed it to him.

“Do you want ice? I can get ice,” you offered.

He shook his head and then tipped it back, downing the drink in one. He didn’t need ice. He needed at least six more of these so he could pass the fuck out. That scraped-out feeling rang in him, hollow, resounding, all his surfaces scratched and sticky with guilt and misery.

He leant his whole body backwards, flopping onto his back.

“You know I haven’t been back here since I left?”

“What, Daegu?”

“Mm.”

“Since you left at 18?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“Not to see your sister’s kids?”

He closed his eyes. It brought a sour taste to his mouth, acidic and stringent and metallic.

“No,” he admitted. “I know. That makes me a horrible person.”

“No, it doesn’t. That’s a long time to be away, though.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you wish you’d come back earlier?”

“No.”

“I guess this isn’t the best time to come back, is it? Not a happy time. If you come back again later, it’ll be better.”

You joined him on the bed. You lay next to him and took his hand. It was warm. He could smell your perfume.

The sigh he heaved next could’ve rumbled the very earth. He knew you were giving him space, to breathe, to think, to gather his thoughts. You were a motor-mouth; that was the very first thing he had learnt about you. You talked all the time, but you always gave him time to think. You didn’t rush him or push him or even comment on his quietness, his hesitation.

He shook his head because he couldn’t think about you at this moment. He had just about managed to keep that door shut while you had been here because there was so much to do and so much to busy himself with, but now it was just the two of you and you were holding his hand and giving him space and he needed to fill it. With something.

With another sigh of resignation and an inhale to steel himself, he decided to say the other things he didn’t want to talk about.

“Coming back has reminded me why I left. I think the money was just an excuse; it gave me a legitimate reason to leave but I think I would have found a way out somehow. Any way. No matter what. Even in a body bag.”

“Babe...”

“We really had nothing, y’know? When I was growing up. We had nothing and I was so angry. I hated my parents so much because they couldn’t provide; they couldn’t be what parents were supposed to be. They didn’t do what parents were supposed to do. I was responsible for myself almost as soon as I started school. I was cooking dinner for the whole family every night before I was in high school. That’s not a kid’s role. Kids shouldn’t have to do that.

“On my drive down here, I felt it all again. The anger. The resentment. I had to pull over and stop for a while to calm down or else I’d have turned the car into oncoming traffic.”

He’d started so he had to finish but he needed another second. He wasn’t used to saying these things out loud. It made it easier that it was you. It made it harder that it was you.

“I suppose I'm a black sheep,” he said eventually. “I thought they would never forgive me for leaving, for doing what I wanted to do when they had no choices. I don’t know if they have. I’m not... I’m not really a part of it anymore and that’s my fault; I understand that I removed myself. I got away. I got out. I did what I wanted. Coming back here and facing that, facing them... I’ve been a coward. All this time I stayed away, it’s because I was scared to come back and see what they thought of me.”

“They love you.”

“No. I’m not sure they do.”

“Yoongi.”

You very rarely took that tone with him, the one that said you weren’t playing and he shouldn’t be either. He couldn’t even think of arguing with you at that moment. He changed the subject.

“Can I have another drink?” he asked.

You stood wordlessly and retrieved another little bottle, poured it again into his glass. He drank it in one as he had the first and you returned to his side. There was one thing he still really wanted to say, that was weighing heavily on his chest at that moment, but he knew you wouldn’t want to hear it, knew you would say he was wrong.

As he felt his eyelids droop and sleep begin to tug at him, he realised he had to get it out, before this moment passed and he wouldn’t be able to step into this territory again.

“I just really want to kill myself today.”

You turned on your side, curling into him, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I’m not going to let you,” you whispered.

“I know.”

Yoongi fell asleep quickly after that and you did not. You watched him sleep for a while, making sure he was still breathing, as if there were a chance he might just will himself dead. You, admittedly, didn’t know anything about his family but you couldn’t understand how he could suggest that they didn’t love him, that he was a black sheep, that he didn’t belong here. Their house, their cars, the things they had, the three jobs they didn’t have anymore... He hadn’t just given them things; he had given them freedom; he had given them security and stability. Not all people are good at showing gratitude or expressing themselves, but he had to know they were grateful. They had to be grateful, right?

The minutes ticked by and you were still watching him sleep. You resisted the urge to brush a strand of hair out of his face. You resisted the urge to trace his lips with your finger. You hadn’t had a chance to interrogate yourself, to notice what you were feeling until now. Now that he was asleep, his mouth just slightly ajar, his eyebrows pressed together, you could really look at him. You could really look inwards at yourself.

You didn’t want to ask yourself if you had overlooked him. You didn’t want to wonder what you might have been missing, not seeing, not noticing. It had been a tumultuous year and you were so proud of yourself for getting to where you were now; you didn’t want to find out you had still been getting something wrong.

Had you? Was it really wrong to think that you and Yoongi were just friends? What did he think?

It came back to you again, that thought. That thing that you had been trying to remind yourself of but also occasionally using as a weapon to beat yourself with: it’s not about you. All this time, it had been about you. You were recovering from a break-up, you were seeing someone, you were being broken-up with again, you you you you you. Where had Yoongi been in all this? Right by your side, of course, but where had he been in your consideration? He was recovering from a break-up, too. He had problems, too. He understood you and you had clung to that, sometimes for your very life. You felt your neediness begin to leak out your pores like oil, slick and staining and all over you. You could almost see it spill towards him, a contaminant, making you his problem, too, all your problems his, all your neediness his to carry.

You got off the bed and changed into your pyjamas; you washed your make-up off and brushed your teeth. You took your time so that you could be distracted and then you ran out of things to do. You looked at Yoongi, still passed out halfway down the bed, his shoes still on. You took them off for him; you undid his belt and pulled it through the loops; you considered him and wondered if you could pull him up the bed without waking him.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled, voice low and slurred with sleep as you grabbed him by the armpits and tried to pull him towards the head of the bed.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m just trying to make you comfortable?”

You were standing over him, crouched on the pillow on his side of the bed, doing your best to let your weight do all the moving for you. Yoongi sat up and turned around to frown at you, his eyes narrow and the hair at the back of his head mussed. You moved out of the way and he shuffled himself backwards, lying back down with his head properly on the pillow. You settled next to him and he was still frowning at you.

“Sorry,” you repeated, an embarrassed giggle let slip.

Yoongi shrugged and turned on his side to face you.

“Is it ok if I stay here?” he asked, already closing his eyes again and getting comfortable.

“Duh.”

You woke earlier than usual and were unable to get back to sleep. What you did not want was more time alone with your thoughts. Definitely not time alone with your thoughts in bed next to Yoongi who was sleeping with a sweet pout on his face and giving you all kinds of confused feelings.

You picked up your phone and started looking at bus times back to Seoul. You didn’t know if Yoongi would be returning now, or soon, but it felt like the right time for you to leave. ‘Family emergenices’ only get you so much time off work and yours was running out. And you felt like you had to be in Seoul to think things through; that was where you life was; that was where your friendship with Yoongi was; you couldn’t make any conclusions away from home. It didn’t make sense.

Yoongi slept for a long time. You let him, because he had looked so tired and clearly needed the rest, but you were starting to feel claustrophobic in the room, claustrophobic in your determination to not think about things. You hated the thought of him waking up and thinking you’d left him, but you had to get out.

You scribbled a note, left it on your pillow and got the fuck out of there. The air was cold and fresh; even the wind, bitter and stinging, felt good. You took deep breaths and tried to follow the map on your phone to a café.

You reached it but it wasn’t open for another twenty minutes, which meant twenty more minutes in which you had nothing to do but think your thoughts. Desperate to get them out of you somehow, you did something you were almost certain you would regret.

[10:38] You: Teddy

[10:38] You: what if I have feelings for Yoongi?

[10:39] You: Do NOT call me

[10:39] You: I CANNOT talk about this

[10:39] You: I just,..

[10:39] You: I don’t know

[10:39] You: what if I do?

[10:45] Teddy 🐻: I don’t know what I can say if you don’t want to talk about it

[10:45] Teddy 🐻: but babygirl you are a catch and he’d be lucky to have you

[10:45] Teddy 🐻: don’t have a crisis rn. Come home and then you can have one, ok?

[10:45] Teddy 🐻: 😚😚😚

You sighed. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, or wanted him to say, but somehow, it wasn’t that.

You trudged back to the hotel with coffees in hand (one iced for Yoongi; one hot, but rapidly cooling, for you). Yoongi was half-pushed-up when you walked in, having been woken by the sound of the door. It made your stomach flip how small and cute he looked: still pouty, his face a little smushed from the pillow, his hair messy and on-end. He looked at you, trying to place himself, and then you saw his eyes flick to the coffee in your hand and alight there.

“Yes, I got one for you.”

He flipped onto his back with a satisfied groan and a long stretch.

“Thank you.”

You placed the cup onto the bedside table next to him and he took it immediately, pushing himself into a sitting position and leaning against the headboard. He took a long drink.

“This is good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Um, do you need to let your family know where you are? Will they be worried?”

He shook his head, the quiet satisfaction slipping from it, a tight mask taking its place.

“No, they won’t. It’ll be fine.”

You didn’t want to argue with him. You changed the subject.

“How did you sleep?”

He nodded as he took another long draw of coffee through the straw.

“Good, actually.” Then he looked at his phone and grimaced. “Oh, late, too, haha.”

“I thought it would be better to let you sleep in, catch up a little. Should I have woken you?”

“No, no, it’s ok. The urgent work is done, I suppose.” He paused, still looking at his phone. “I guess this means I can leave?”

“I was planning to go back today, actually. I figured I’d get out of everyone’s hair-”

“You’re not in anyone’s hair.”

“Well, you know what I mean. I don’t want to overstay my welcome or make a nuisance of myself. I know I’m very good at inserting myself into other people’s business but even I have some sense of manners and propriety.”

There was a small pause as Yoongi continued to drink his coffee and stare straight ahead. Then he looked straight at you.

“I want you in my business. I like having you in my business.”

The nervous laugh that tried to bubble up from your throat got trapped there, and you choked, your cheeks flushing. You were the one who had to look away.

“Don’t encourage me, babe. You know I don’t need much!”

You forced your laugh, then, had to make it a joke. Yoongi’s sincerity was unpredictable and disarming at all times, but it was affecting you particularly strongly now.

“If you want to go, just let me know when and I’ll take you to the bus.”

You had opened your mouth to respond but he beat you to it.

“No, wait, you can come back with me. I’ll be driving anyway.”

“Today?”

He nodded.

“Are you sure? You don’t need to stay longer?”

He was resolute as he shook his head and drained the last of the coffee from his cup.

“That was quick.”

He grinned.

“Yeah, want to get another one? I have to go back to the house and clean up anyway, so we can stop on the way.”

“You go,” you answered. “I’ll pack and get sorted here. I’m sure you have stuff to sort out and want time to say your goodbyes and stuff.”

Yoongi shrugged and got out of bed.

He came back to pick you up later that afternoon. You were anxious at the prospect of three hours in the car with him; you were not skilled at keeping your thoughts and feelings to yourself, but he was the one person you really didn’t feel like you could talk to about this.

‘Hey, Yoongi, it’s possible that I’m discovering I have romantic feelings for you; what do you think about that?’

‘Hey, Yoongi, y’know how I said ages ago that I just wanted to be friends? What if I was wrong and I've actually changed my mind?’

‘Hey, Yoongi, quick question: do you think we should be together?’

Impossible.

“Are you ok?” he asked, somewhere around Chungju.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Are you ok?”

“Yeah. You’re just... quiet, that’s all.”

“Oh, no, uh, no I’m fine.”

“Sorry. I know it’s annoying to be told you’re being ‘quiet’; I get it all the time. Yeah, I am quiet sometimes, y’know? Leave me alone. But... You’re not quiet. Not usually.”

The weight of his words hit you because you knew what he meant, what he was referring to; you knew that you were at your quietest when you were at your worst. Or maybe that wasn’t what he was referring to, but it leapt into your mind all the same.

“I’m ok.”

You toyed with the idea of saying something, not the thing, but circling it, making the smallest inroads into that conversation. You thought about probing him about his family a little more, pushing him to say a bit more about it, to explain why he seemed to feel so bad about them. You wanted to know because you wanted to tell him he was wrong; you didn’t want him to feel excluded from his family, or unloved, or devalued, or unforgiven—even if it might possible be true. You would love, value, and forgive him enough for the lot of them.

“Do you think Cherry will be happy to see you?” you asked instead.

He smiled, a genuine, happy smile.

“She had better be.”

Chapter Seven | Masterlist | Chapter Nine tags: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings

#yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fic

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bambooshrimp · 9 months

Text

FNAF The Silver Eyes Adaption (WIP)

The main four: Carlton Burke, John Gorodetsky, Charlotte “Charlie” Emily, Jessica Riley

(Long comments under the cut!)

So update: I’ve been held back by college this year from making progress for this project. I’m in the process of sketching right now, and thankfully, I have a solid script to work with. I’m still debating whether I should make Charlie an Asian-American or not, but I’m loving their designs so far! I also made their colors more muted to fit on the vibes I’m going for with this comic.

As for the changes I made…

With Charlie:

As I said, she’s most likely going to become Asian-American in this comic. No specific reason for this change other than I just get bored of drawing characters of the same euro-centric ethnicity.

No, we’re not doing the robot thing.

Let’s give her trauma so bad, she had selective amnesia instead

Self-loathing club Member #1

She’s 18 in my adaption

With John:

The sweetest boy you’ll ever know. He just wants to be there for you, dude.

Russian-American

Also 18

With Jessica:

The baddest bitch on the block.

She’s more motherly-type now on top of being the leader, and the only active braincell in the group

Have an ever-lasting beef with Carlton (she still cares for him tho)

She’s 19, which is maybe the reason why she’s acting more mature than the others?

With Carlton:

Aw man, he legit became my favorite character in this iteration

Irish-Mexican

Self-loathing club Member #2

Beefs with Jessica for shits and giggles.

Has an even bigger beef with Dave (serious)

I gave him trauma so bad, the tea was BOILING with his family by the end of the series

The plot:

As I said, no cyborg Charlie concept! Definitely no Baby appearance too! I’ll add other characters from the games to substitute for Baby’s omission, can you guess who they were? 👀

Carlton plays a bigger role in my iteration, but I’ll make sure to give everyone a spotlight in the plot!

I tried not to cut as much from the original novel as I did, but I rearranged and added more dialogue into their interactions! I’ll be honest, I may have indulged myself a little too much with the (lowkey) found-family dynamic I gave them

Can I say how much of a babygirl Dave is in my script? No? Awww. Ok :(

My brain is too fried to think of what other changes I made in the plot but my ask box is open right now if you guys are curious about my fan-comic! I’m going to upload Dave, his assistant, and some plot-relevant info dump next (hopefully)!

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fancomic #fnaf fanart #fnaf the silver eyes #the silver eyes #charlie emily #fnaf john #carlton burke #fnaf jessica #illustration

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pedgito · 2 years

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 — 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: growing up together was hard enough, it didn’t help that you were hopelessly trapped by both of them, wondering which one would win you over in the end—because honestly, why couldn’t you have both?

cw: 18+ (minors dni), munson twins, eddie’s brother is nameless (up to your own interpretation), virgin!eddie, his brother is a whore (and proud about it), unrequited crushes/pining, degradation toward reader (slight, just a couple insults), protected/unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, this smut is literally polar opposite and purely self indulgence, a little manhandling on his brother’s part, eddie’s a natural blonde don’t attack me it’s my own person headcanon. if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 8.3k

Eddie had been a large part of your life, through childhood and then on, your friendship only strengthening into high school and when Eddie got held back, it made things easier somehow, despite how much it affected things for Eddie in the long run, he still tried to make the most of it—even if his twin brother made his life a living hell on a daily basis.

His brother wasn’t too bright either, as much as he tried. Eddie has trouble focusing and understanding, processing things slower than normal students—he had the capability, but Eddie needed the extra love and attention that no one wanted to show him. His brother on the other hand, it had to be lack of caring—if it weren’t for Eddie being so adamant about graduating he would’ve dropped out and settled for a GED and put all the stupid high school shit to rest. But the truth is, they did everything together—if Eddie wanted to tough it out, so was he.

There was a brief interim in your childhood when Eddie and his brother had come to live with you when their mother died and their dad disappeared soon after, but eventually they settled into the trailer with Wayne, their uncle, who was one of the sweetest men you’d had the opportunity to know.

It was a mystery how he put up with the Munson twins, because even you couldn’t handle it some days.

“You could just kick him out,” You suggest to Eddie, chair shoved as close as possible beside his, knees touching as you rested your feet on the edge of table, “I don’t think any of us would miss him.”

“And listen to him bitch for the rest of the year?” Eddie asks redundantly, “No fucking thank you.”

“He doesn’t even like Dungeons and Dragons.” You point out, not that Eddie wasn’t already aware, “It’s painful having to watch him play—like, claw your eyes out painful.”

“He says it helps with the ladies,” Eddie complains with a full eye roll, tossing the pencil he’d been twirling between his fingers on the table, “—like we’re a fetish or some shit.”

You laugh to yourself. It wasn’t that far-fetched, but his counterpart was a lot more liked than him. Eddie had his small group of friends within Hellfire Club and you, it was all he really needed. You couldn’t say the same for the carbon copy sitting across from you, his face scrunching up in the same way Eddie’s does when he’s concentrating—if it weren’t for his short cropped hair they’d be impossible to tell apart look-wise. Their personalities however couldn’t be more different.

“I think it’s him that’s fetishizing us.” You tell Eddie, catching his brother’s heated gaze across the room, a disgusting smirk gracing his face. “Not who he’s hooking up with.”

“I’m not talking to him,” Eddie shakes his head adamantly, “I live with the dumbass, that’s already painful enough.”

“You’re such a baby,” You tease Eddie, punching gently at his thigh, “—What, do you want me to talk to him?”

Eddie shrugs, but his answer is clear in his face, unable to meet your stare.

“Eddie, he hates me.” You remind him, eyes squinting in annoyance as you look up toward his brother, gaze still as intense as ever and you’re not sure he’s looked away at all in the past few minutes, like he can hear the conversation you’re having, smug look on his face as he raises his hand to flip you off playfully. You force a tight smile, returning the gesture.

“Scratch that—I think it’s just me that really hates him.”

“Understandable.” Eddie chirps quietly, but it doesn’t change his unspoken plea.

“Fuck, fine.” You sigh when Eddie’s pout refuses to fade, shoving your bag at him. “Wait for me in the van, crybaby.”

Eddie grins slightly, hugging the bag tight. He knew which angles of you to work, read you like a book, and you fell for it every goddamn time.

Eddie’s brother senses your approach before you can even make yourself known, turning on you in his chair with the same annoying grin he had earlier.

“Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t care.” You tell him firstly, holding your hand out to stop him, “Eddie wants you out.”

He ruffles a hand through his curls cooly, his hair fighting against the mountain of product he had in it—most of it was for show, shaping his hair away from his face to show off his features. He knew he was attractive, you knew it—it wasn’t lost on anyone. But, you’ve seen him outside of school on his worst days, just as less put together as Eddie was on most days. The difference was that Eddie wasn’t worried about everyone’s perception—his brother stressed over it everyday, even if he didn’t show it.

“Eddie,” He says slowly, like he’s testing the word out, “my own brother?”

“Well Eddie, and me, and every other person here.” You tell him admittedly, watching his grin grow wider. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He chuckles slightly, rolling the unsmoked joint in his fingers, your eyes widening at the sight of it. “I’m listening to you talk—isn’t that what you want?”

“You’re fucking insane,” You scold, snatching the joint from his hand, holding it up, “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

“It’s my weed, sweetheart.”

“In our club room, that we manage as a group—the last thing we need is you getting caught with drugs on campus.”

He snatches the joint back with ease, stuffing it into his jacks pocket. Your arms cross over your chest defiantly, frustration growing.

“Look—wear the fucking shirt or don’t, but stop showing up to meetings and campaigns, for the love of god—“

“What?” He asks teasingly, “Am I really that difficult to be around?”

“Yes.” You answer quickly, causing his face to fall slightly.

“Whatever.” He shrugs off, leaning forward to stand, towering above you slightly. “Figures my brother’s too much of a pussy to just tell me, he’s gotta send his little bitch to do his bidding—“

You make a loud ‘pfft’ in response, quickly reaching forward to snatch the joint from his pocket, holding it on display between your fingers.

“Good, because this little bitch is taking this as payment for thinking you can get away with calling me anything other than my name.”

He’s speechless for once, not even attempting to pull the joint away. You smile kindly, shoving the joint into your own pocket and turning on your heels.

“See you tonight,” You sing patronizingly over your shoulder, knowing he’d pop up at the trailer at some point, “maybe Eddie and I will save you some if there’s any left.”

You’re gone before he can respond, approaching Eddie in the parking lot a few short minutes later, passing the joint into his hands.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asks out of confusion, “Where did you get this?”

“Seems like he went digging into your stash,” You smile in amusement, “since Rick won’t sell to him.”

“Yeah, because he’d kill the product before he even had a chance to sell it, not that he has any capability for that.”

“Oh, burn.” You comment, holding Eddie’s hand up in front of his face, joint still tight between his thumb and forefinger. “As a celebration for successfully booting your brother out of Hellfire, we can smoke it in his honor.”

“Since when do you smoke?” Eddie asks with a soft laugh, pulling his hand away from your grip, eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you.

“It’s a special occasion,” You shrug, “besides, your brother really stresses me out.”

Eddie snorts at your obvious qualms, hands extending fancifully toward his trusty van, the only constant in his life besides you and and his brother.

“Well, it’s not going to smoke itself, so…” Eddie adds, watching as you quickly skittered around the passenger side, hoping in with a grin that spread across your entire face.

“I do think I hurt his feelings though,” You tell Eddie, the image flashing in your head again, “you two have a really pitiful sad face—“

Eddie frowns at that, mostly as a joke, but you jab your finger in his direction to prove a point.

“You look like sad little puppies, it’s infuriating.” You complain, shoving his face away gently as he started the ignition.

“Add it to the list, sweetheart,”

“Where is he anyways?” You ask curiously, joint held between your lips as you inhaled, tip burning a bright, amber red before you’re passing it back to Eddie carefully.

“Well, it’s Friday so—probably a date.” Eddie shrugs, taking a couple slow drags himself, laid flat on his back as he stares up at the ceiling. You glance over at the other empty bed shoved in the corner of the room. “Or in some girl's bed.”

You weren’t sure how they made it work, both of them living in such a small space—but if they could share a womb together, they could make anything work. Plus, they weren’t exactly swimming in cash. Wayne was still working overtime at the plant and Eddie was stowing away what he could from his drug sales—as for his brother, it was a mystery.

“You know, I’d take it as a compliment.” You can see the hard line of worry on his face, lost in his own thoughts. “He tries to act so much like you.”

“Yeah, but he parades it around like it’s a character.” Eddie replies, passing the joint over. You slip it between your lips, falling to your stomach beside him until your faces are nearly parallel to each other. “And it doesn’t help that half the school thinks I’m a fuckin’ freak while everyone is eating that shit up when he does it.”

You pull the joint from your own lips and slip it between his wordlessly, his eyes falling shut as he grabs for it, fingers grazing your own. His touch was nothing but comfort anymore—it didn’t surprise Wayne the first time he caught you two cuddled on the couch with your hands wrapped around each other, having fallen asleep halfway through a movie.

Besides, Eddie knows nothing will ever come of it.

“I see right through it.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you know him. You know us. He can’t pull that shit here, that’s why he acts the way he does at school.”

“He’s an attention whore.” You say, only half-joking.

Eddie laughs to himself, finishing off the last of the joint before stubbing it out, “Since the day he was born.”

You tilt your head slightly in question, wondering where he was taking the conversation.

“Born first, walked first, it never fails. Do you remember when I first came to live with you back in elementary?”

You make a skeptical face, nose scrunching up in amusement.

“Yeah, of course.”

“You kept confusing us, back before I grew my hair out long. I stopped trying to correct you after a while, but for a week when you thought you were talking to me, it was actually just him.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, disgust crossing your face.

“And you kept that to yourself for this long?” You ask.

“It’s just proof of how easily he can portray himself as me and get away with it. I’m always last to everything—and girls run the other direction when they see me.”

You’ve seen it firsthand, the grimace and turn to sneak away somewhere else, the blatant way people ignore Eddie even when he’s just trying to be friendly—despite it all, he still keeps a smile on his face, no matter how much it bothers him.

“I don’t,” You say pointedly, grabbing at the hand resting against his stomach to twist the jewelry adorning each finger, pressing the palm against your cheek to offer a warm smile, “I’m always here.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Eddie says, pulling his hand away gently to stuff it behind his head. “You’re different.”

You pull away slightly, a little dejected.

“No—shit, I don’t mean it like that.” Eddie quickly clears up, “I just—we don’t look at each other that way, right?”

“Are you asking me that? Or yourself?” You counter, knowing full well where this conversation could take you, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Don’t say that.” Eddie brow furrows in frustration, mouth downturned slightly. It wasn’t quite a frown, but a face of fear, unknowingness.

“Eddie, seriously.” You tell him monotone—no jokes, no stupid attempts to make him feel better. “Ask yourself that.”

“You always talk about how much my brother disgusts you.” Eddie defends weakly. “Doesn’t that kinda translate over or something, since we’re twins?”

“His personality disgusts me, yes.” You clarify, “But I’d be blind to not find you two attractive—I don’t think I’ve ever tried to hide that. I call you cute all the time.”

“Yeah, but—cute as in like “oh, cute”, that’s different.” Eddie tells you like he’s got it all figured out. But, he’s so stubbornly stuck in his own ways that he doesn’t even realize what you’re trying to hint at.

“Eddie.” You say his name with a little more urgency, face protesting a vulnerability that only felt safe with him. “You’re hot, is that what you want me to say?”

Eddie’s face turns a beet red, traveling up to the tips of his ears. He can’t form a single word in the English language without making a complete fool of himself, so he stays quiet.

“Dude, I will deflower you—if that’s what you want.” You tell him, skipping past the nuisance of hoping he’d catch on.

“I’m not a flower.” Eddie pouts, reminding you exactly what you liked him so much.

“God, Eddie—I want to have sex with you.”

Eddie sits up slightly, eyeing you carefully—it’s like he’s taking you in under a new light, “Won’t that make things weird?”

“Not unless you want it to.” You shrug, mimicking his actions and raising to your knees. “Casual sex is fun, you know?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Eddie reminds you softly, eyes wandering toward his lap aimlessly.

“Do you want to?”

Eddie eyes you hesitantly, scared that this might ruin everything. There was never a doubt in your mind that it would, but Eddie’s a constant worrier and you can see it bothering him already. You smile comfortingly, holding up your pinky to him.

“Only if you want to, Eddie.” You explain, eyes soft as you look at him, his own features softening in response, “It changes nothing, I promise.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching his pinky up to wrap around your own, signifying just how fast everything was about to change.

The giggles set in soon after, fumbling through the slow drag of clothes as you pull Eddie’s shirt over his head, his worn mattress creaking as you moved around to stand, pulling him up by his jeans and fumbling with his belt before shoving him back down, following as you fell to your knees on the floor between his spread legs.

“Oh! No, that’s—“ Eddie interjects quickly, hands held out midair and unsure of where to land, “we can skip to the good part if that’s easier.”

“You’ve never had your dick sucked before have you?” You ask, unzipping his pants in the same action, his chest heaving sharply as he took a breath. “That is the fun part—sex is fun but so is everything else.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like—“

“Eddie,” You pause, waiting for him to make eye contact with you, “I’m saying this was all the love I have for you—shut up.”

Eddie laughs weakly, “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

“Here, hips up—“ Eddie obeys, lifting his hips high enough for you to yank them down to his knees and off his legs, leaving him naked aside from his underwear, dick already tenting his boxers despite having not touched or even kissed you.

It’s endearing actually, teeth digging into your bottom lip as your finger pulls at his boxers testingly, waiting for him to give you the go ahead. He nods, face pinched together in concentration as you pull the piece of clothing away, eyes turned toward the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself.

Well, that and if he looks at you with his dick in your mouth he knows it won’t last long.

And admittedly, you didn’t have any expections—knowing Eddie for so long took out the intial awkwardness you would usually feel with sexual partners.

“Last chance to back out.” You joke, Eddie’s laugh getting caught in his throat.

“No—no, I’m good.” Eddie nods.

The first touch is careful, taking his cock in your hands gently, watching the hard ridge of his neck as swallows, eyes carefully calculated toward the ceiling. You’ve never really cared much for size or looks, dicks weren’t really there for show, but Eddie’s easily takes the cake. He’s perfect, girthy, and just the right length to not immediately scare you at the idea of taking him inside you—which is a very real fear in your case, your tongue swiping against the flushed tip teasingly, and Eddie releases a shaky breath.

“You okay?” You ask curiously, his hands white knuckling his sheets. They lessen slightly at your words, nodding his head silently.

It’s enough confirmation for you, taking half the length of him in your mouth in one go, tongue flattening against the bottom as back up, gathering a small bit of saliva to spit out over the head. The noise is enough to have him choking on air, his breath coming out in soft pants.

“Eddie,” You say melodically, eyes peering up at him as your tongue stretched across the underside of his shaft. Eddie looks down shyly, landing on you immediately, “you can look, I don’t care.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Eddie admits, “I don’t think I can, not if I want this to last.”

You shrug coolly, “Just tell me to stop if it gets too much or too close.”

You blame the boldness in your calmed nerves, laughing softly as you took him in your mouth again, his eyebrows melting into one as he groaned, plush lips parting slightly.

“Fuck, that’s—“ Eddie sighs, “holy shit.”

You giggle to yourself, leaning down to roll your tongue around the tight sack of his balls, pulling just the sound you expect out of him—a strangled gasp at the unexpected action, murmuring a soft, “You can’t—you can’t do that.”

“Too much?”

Eddie nods weakly, his hand hovering on his knee, wanting to touch but not knowing if he should. You do the work for him, burying his fingers around the curve of your head, squeezing until he grips a small portion of your hair.

“You lead, okay?” You instruct. Eddie offers a quiet acknowledgement, watching as you close your lips around the head of his cock, the pressure of his hand featherlight as he motioned you down, stammering out words that you couldn’t make out until he finds a manageable rhythm—it’s slow, but it works. Eventually you find yourself growing bored, pushing a little further than he’s expecting as he tips the back of your throat. He tugs at your hair involuntarily, shoving you deeper until you’re gagging around him, pulling away with rugged gasp.

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie quickly apologizes, pulling away as you caught your breath, eyes watering from the sudden intrusion.

You shake your head, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s okay—I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Eddie laughs in disbelief, resting back on the palms of his hands, feeling more comfortable with himself than earlier.

“Can I—“ The words linger, his eyes traveling to the jeans still on your body, “I’ve never—I mean I’m probably really bad but I wanna try.”

“Sure.” You answer with a giddy nod, it was often that men offered and you weren’t about to turn down the opportunity, even if it took a little coaching.

Eddie switches positions, waiting until you’re laid out underneath him to pull at your pants, catching onto the hem of your underwear and yanking them off in one go, tugging at where they get caught around your ankles. Eddie laughs, the clothes flying out of his hands comically at how roughly he tugs.

When he’s finally settled his eyes wander up towards yours curiously, waiting for instructions—he knows that you know how clueless he is and he’s accepting how embarrassing it may be. But, he’s a pleaser and eager as ever.

“There’s not much to it,” You tell him, “—here, let me see your hand.”

He’s not completely inept, his fingers spreading through your folds without being told, his middle finger dragging down the seam toward your entrance, barely breaching.

You giggle slightly, chest shaking at the motion, “Up here,” You tell him, dragging his finger up toward the small bundle of nerves, “that’s where it feels the best.”

His finger rubs experimentally at the sensitive nub, the nod you give in response is enough to lead him down the right path, he licks at his fingers instinctively to wet them before pressing them back against your clit—it’s enough to make your body run hot, knowing that he doesn’t even realize what he just did.

“Huh—okay, so basically just do the same thing with your tongue and you can use your fingers too—,” Eddie slips a finger inside of you gradually, a vivacious grin on his face as he eases inside, “yeah, that.”

He urges your legs over his shoulders until he can get a decent grip with one hand, palm wrapping around the top of your thigh to spread your legs open wider, his mouth settling against your cunt, hot breath trapped between your legs as pressed the flat of his tongue against you, dragging it up toward your clit and down again, his finger moving slowly inside of you until he’s knuckle deep, failing to separate his brain into two places as he gets a little too enthusiastic, lips closing around your clit as he flicks his tongue teasingly until it’s nearly unbearable.

“Shit, shit—okay.” You tap at his shoulder gently, “That’s good—just, slower.”

And despite how hard it is for Eddie to focus, he’s still a great listener. He does slow down, attempting to focus on pairing the two together before forgoing his fingers completely, hands wrapped around both your thighs to give his mouth full focus, squeezing at the tender part of your skin with every noise you make, a soft whine leaving your mouth as he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit, his eyes connected with you briefly—he looks ridiculous, given the circumstances.

Eyes strained red from the weed and half-lidded slightly, feeling triumphant in the way you moan openly at his actions, fingers dragging into his bangs and pulling them back, guiding his face in a subtle motion against your cunt, directing him at the speed you’re searching for and he rolls with it easily, his hips rutting against the sheets absentmindedly.

It isn’t unnoticed to you though, the soft curve of his ass on display as he planned to ruin his sheets further—truthfully, you can’t stand to see it happen.

You push him away gently, his mouth shining with slick wetness as he peers up at you through a haze of lust and being absolutely blazed out of his mind.

“Condoms?” You ask, “You have some, right?”

“Well, no. Obviously.” Eddie answers truthfully, causing you to sigh in response, falling against the bed in defeat, “Wait—actually…”

He leaves the bed briefly, traveling over to his brother’s side to yank open a door, rummaging through it messily. It takes a minute, but he eventually finds a small foil square stuffed in the back, holding it up between his fingers.

“Last one.” Eddie smiles, “Lucky us, I guess.”

“An even bigger fuck you now that he has to buy more.” You comment snidely, watching as Eddie fumbled with the package. “Do you need help?”

“I’m not that clueless, sweetheart.” Eddie says defensively, though his voice is just as endearing. He does get the package open eventually, slipping the condom on with ease—he’s practiced a few times, but it wasn’t something he needed to admit to.

“Do you want to—like this?” You ask him, watching as he positioned himself between your legs, feeling a little uncertain.

“Uh—“ Eddie blanks, searching your eyes briefly, “Maybe you could get on top?”

You grin, nodding eagerly. Eddie surprises you with a hand wrapping around your waist, an unnecessary shoe of strength as he heaves you onto his lap, hips hovering as you reposition yourself. He’s got a firm hand around his shaft, eyes narrowed in concentration as your fingers wrap around his own wrist, guiding him toward your entrance.

It’s slow, gradual, but an instant breath of relief as he sinks inside you, mouth parting with every inch that you took until he’s fully bottomed out and buried inside you to the hilt.

Eddie clears his throat, struggling to keep things normal and level and not completely lose his goddamn mind. He couldn’t even tell you how he ended up in this situation, even if it was staring him right in the face.

“—Eddie, are you with me?” Your voice fades in, Eddie’s attention snapping up to you. “Are you going to survive?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie assures you, his hand settling against your hips, exhaling a shaky breath. “I’m great.”

Your laugh is clipped, a little patronizing as you lift your hips slightly and shift down, “We’ll see about that.”

Eddie’s own laugh dies out on a forceful groan, your hips lifting again as quickly as they come down, just in an effort to tease him.

“That’s—that’s not funny.” Eddie pouts subtly. He could already tell this wasn’t going to last very long, but he wanted to make it worth it—knowing it would never happen again. “Your bra—can I take it off?”

You nod, leaning forward until Eddie can reach around, able to get it on the first try, much to your surprise.

“That’s pretty fucking impresive,” You tell him honestly, sliding the bra down your shoulders and tipping it off to the side, Eddie’s hand already roaming over the expanse of your tits, palming the flesh in his hands. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting enough to cause a tinge of pain as an effort to focus on something—anything other than how good you feel around him.

You guide his mouth toward your chest wordlessly, letting him along the dip between your breasts, across the soft mound of flesh, hips lifting synonymously with his movements—it feels easy, but with Eddie, everything always did.

He groans loudly against your skin, head tucked away into your chest as he squeezes at your thigh, blunt nails digging into the flesh. It’s a dull pain but it doesn’t bother you, letting him guide you over his cock in desperation as he opens himself up more and more, panting hotly against your skin.

“Gonna come,” He warns,”—fuck, want you to—to come with me.”

It’s not too much to ask—you would’ve been happy regardless, but the sentiment is noticed. You grab for his hand wordlessly, pressing his thumb over your clot until the pressure is just what you need, guiding him through the motions as his thrusts falter, becoming more and more erratic.

“Fuck, that’s it,” You sigh, the heat growing in your belly quickly, fingers threading into his hair, searching for something to keep you grounded, “—it’s good, keep going.”

Eddie pulls back abruptly, head bouncing harshly against the wall as he takes in the view, the visual of his dick disappearing inside you was the end all, eyes squeezing shut as he came with broken moan, load and punched out, his fingers teetering you over the edge just as quickly, letting out a soft sigh as you clamped around him, over-sensitivity kicking in as you swatted his hand away, hips rocking through the high of your orgasm as it fades quickly and leaves you aching for more.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asks out loud, not to anyone in particular as he sits in a state of disbelief, “That was—“

You chuckle, falling against his chest in a deep state of exhaustion. “It was good, Eddie.” You assure him.

“You’re lying.” He teases, pressing a finger into your side playfully.

“As far as first timers go, it was pretty fucking good.”

Eddie smiles slightly, bashful as his cheeks blush a deep red.

You pull at his ears adoringly, rubbing the red tips between your fingers. “You really are cute when you blush, you should know that.”

“It’s the only thing I have going for me, unfortunately.” Eddie jokes, but you know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know,” You tell him, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie doesn’t question you when you fall asleep in his bed after, hair still wet from your shower. The eye contact he makes with his brother is tense, smug in the way he knows just by looking at Eddie.

“Not a fucking word.” He bites at him, moving slightly as you turn in his arms, oblivious to the conversation happening above you.

“You owe me a box.” He remarks, knowing Eddie had used up the last condom he had, “And a fucking joint.”

“Fuck off.” Eddie says humorously. As much as the two were constantly at odds, Eddie knew that there wasn’t any real hate toward each other—but it didn’t satiate the fact that his brother still wanted you just as badly, and seeing you cuddled up next to Eddie, it was the kind of heartbreak he’s never felt before—and he buries it deep, deep down.

“And Rick needs you now?” You ask Eddie, tossing your bag on his bed. “It can’t wait?”

“I have to pay him his part,” Eddie explains, “it won’t take long.”

“You say that,” You bicker, Eddie’s eyes softening with the words—it was true, he couldn’t remember a time that it was ever just a ‘quick trip’ to Rick’s, “we need to plan the campaign, Eddie.”

“We will.” He stresses, fetching for the keys stuffed in his pocket. “Just—chill for a bit, eat something—I swear I’ll try to be quick, okay?”

It was an empty promise, but you shrug in response, waving him off—it wasn’t like you had planned this out weeks before, an elaborate campaign that both of you had been excited about, all of it drained from you the moment he leaves, shoving the bag off of the bed as you fall down with a groan, letting out your frustrations into the pillow as it grows in volume.

“Who pissed you off, princess?” It’s the same voice with a different edge, cockiness seeping through.

“Go away,” You moan, turning your face toward the wall, “you’re the last voice I want to hear right now.”

“Damn—Eddie really wound you up, didn’t he?” He asks, taking a seat on Eddie’s bed despite your obvious disdain.

“I’m begging you,” You plead, “fuck off.”

He laughs above you, taking the loose pillow lying on the ground and tossing it at your head gently, “Lighten up, sweetheart—you’re so much prettier when you’re not being mean to me.”

You snap back, turning onto your ass to glare at him.

“Mean?” You draw the word out, face growing hot out of anger.

He held himself much differently than Eddie, but the same in so many ways. His eyes were still just as soft, but the crinkle around the edges when he grinned held a darkness that even you couldn’t miss. In most aspects, he’d always acted as the bigger brother despite him and Eddie only being born a few minutes apart. He was always the first to shield Eddie from their father’s fists, his vile words, comforting Eddie as he cried into his arms—he’s always been more stoic, more detached, and you can see it in the way he looks at people; but not with you.

You know it’s all a front, the anger and snide comments he makes toward you—but it doesn’t snuff the frustration you feel for him.

“You mean I’m pretty when I’m not being a bitch, right?” You argue, “If you’re gonna use your big boy words you should probably stick to them.”

He makes a noise, a little dismissive as he finally relents and leaves without a word, disappearing into the bathroom—and when the shower faucet turns on you feel a breath of relief, having finally shut him up for once.

The wait drags on—and you really shouldn’t have held out hope, taking a seat on the counter as you dug through the half-eaten back of chips, stomach growling in protest as it hoped for something more filling.

“We’re low,” His voice startles you, appearing out of nowhere as he leans against the counter, towel wrapped snugly around his waist, “Wayne gets paid tomorrow, but we don’t have anything to eat.”

“Why are you still talking to me?” You ask desperately, crumbling the bag in your hand and tossing it to the side.

“You used to like me, you know?”

Keywords being used to.

Your eyes bore into him, attempting to ignore the pale slate of skin he dawned, the lack of tattoos only slightly jarring. He was slightly tanner than Eddie, a little leaner, but still held the same structure for the most part. He seems to notice your lingering gaze, pressing up with his palms on the counter to stand at full height.

“What is it about him?” He asks curiously, “My brother.”

“What about him?” You ask flippantly, pushing off the counter until your feet land on the floor with a hard thunk.

“You like him, right?” He questions, beating around the bush.

“To a degree.”

“Enough to have sex with him?” He asks with a low laugh.

“That’s none of your business.” You answer quickly.

He smiles with an edge, evil and full of intent.

“You devirginize my brother out of pity—or what?”

He rounds the counter slowly, menacingly, invading your space—you’ve never felt threatened by him, so the urge to flee never comes, gaze peering up at him in annoyance.

“Do you like him?” He asks, tone digging into your nerves and driving you crazy. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?”

“No,” You respond with a sturdiness, “I’m not falling in love with your brother, not that it’s any of your business, Munson.”

“Ouch,” He laughs deeply, hand resting against the counter as he leans forward, just as hair's breadth away from your ear, “but—you did tell him about your first kiss, right?”

It was a deep repressed memory that you had forced yourself to forget about, face heating up at the thought.

“Only seems fair since you took so many of his.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You warn, eyes darkening.

He leans back slightly, head tilted into your view as his tongue drags along his top row of teeth, “Or what? Your empty threats don’t scare me, princess.”

Your hand raises to shove into his chest, but it never makes it, being shot back down by his own as he reaches for your face, pinching it firmly between his fingers. He can admit he might’ve gone too far, his gaze hot and heavy as he stares down at you—you can’t even be bothered to move, hating the way your body is betraying every moral you had left, proving how easy it was to fall back into old habits.

“Tell me to let go,” He says, almost like a plea, “tell me you want me to let go.”

It feels wrong, like you’re going behind Eddie’s back—but you’re well aware that these are your own choices, you don't need to justify them for anyone.

“If I don’t?” You question, menacing as the answer never comes.

“You try to act like you’re so much better,” He spits, head shaking in dismay, “but you’re just like me.”

He tilts your head up slightly, your hands wrapping around his forearms as he pulls. It stings, the stretch, reaching up on your toes to meet him halfway, his face so close you can taste the mint and aftershave wafting off him, his facial hair only slightly more cleaned up than usual. The loose, wet curls fell over his face—a dark, dirty brown before they dried into their usual dark blonde.

You’ve helped Eddie box dye his hair every few months for the past several years, it’s the only secret he’ll take to the grave. He’s tried so hard to differentiate himself from his brother and it’s the only part of him that felt real, no matter how fake it actually was.

“You’ll fuck my brother, but you won’t fuck me—“ He pauses, trying to decipher the look on your face, seeing if it falters, but you’re as stoned-faced as possible, teeth gritting in annoyance, “seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?”

“You tell me,” You snark at him, venom in your tone, “since you want to fuck me so bad, right?”

“That’s a little much.” He retorts, “Don’t pride yourself too hard.”

You pull a face of deep want, mocking his voice despite how much softer you sound, it gets the message across either way.

“Let’s be each other’s first, okay?” You tell him, with the same intensity as he spoke to you those few years ago, curled up on his bed while Eddie was away with Wayne for the day, “I want you so bad.”

“Shut up.” He warns, jaw clenched. You smile devilishly, laughing through your teeth.

“You don’t fool me.” You tell him, his face falling in response, “You really want to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer, eyes squinting slightly at your question. It seems like a trick, it has to be.

You weren’t even sure why you were asking, but the silence he returns is dreadful.

“Say it.” You demand, attempting to shrink him down to the wallowing, shy man he used to be.

He grins darkly, releasing his hold on your face until both of his palms press against your cheek, holding you still in his hands as his fingers drag over the jut of your lips, the deep furrow in your brow—and for a moment, the hate dissipates and you see it. Him, underneath the act.

“Right here,” He instructs, stilling you where you stood, “I know that pretty little mind is so worried about my brother walking in on us—would ruin everything, wouldn’t it?”

He’s already got a hand against the button of your jeans, popping it open skillfully, “I do want to fuck you—but I’m not gonna be nice about, sweetheart.”

“I never asked you to.” You challenge, letting him shove you against the edge of the counter, the sharpness digging into your back as he forced your pants down, mouthing hot, wet open mouthed kisses against your thighs until the clothing disappeared behind him, towel sagging around his waist as it loosened. You kicked it away with your foot, earning a chuckle from below.

And he’s not shy, rubbing his fingers over your clothed pussy, forcing yourself to swallow the shaky breath in your throat as he peers up at you, mouth quirked up in amusement.

“Don’t think this is for my brother,” He rubs a finger over the soft patch of wetness, “is it?”

“Why do you care?” You ask harshly, letting him guide your thighs apart slightly, raising his mouth to meet his fingers, tongue flattening over the fabric. It makes you gasp, the boldness and lack of shame he had for wanting to taste you.

He moans lowly, but it’s amplified through the silence that grows around you, his teeth dragging up gently until the fabric snags and he pulls the waistband away, letting it snap back painfully.

“Just so we’re clear,” He clarifies, “so you can’t act like you don’t want this.”

“I’m great at faking it.” You insult him, but it doesn’t deter him in any sense, his hands yanking at the thin piece of fabric covering your cunt, throwing them to the side.

“Uh huh,” He nods, eyes locked on yours as he repeats his earlier actions, tongue flattened out over your folds and licking up soundly, groaning at the sweetness, “look at me.”

You do, anger be damned. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he hoists your knee over his shoulder, using the leverage to spread you wide, softness quickly fading as he squeezes harshly at your thigh, tongue circling over your clit with a forceful determination, the heat of his eyes still stuck to you, cemented into your mind. And you hate how easy it is to look back, mouth falling open wide as he makes it a mission to worship you in every way possible.

“Probably had to teach him how to eat pussy, right?” He laughs, pulling away for a brief moment to speak, mouth a shining mess as he licks at the remnants of slick on his lips, “You pity him, don’t you?”

“No—no,” His mouth latches back on with a ferocity you can’t handle, fingers digging into his hair for support, pulling until he’s groaning in pain, the moans leaving your mouth are loud and unashamed, cursing at him through clenched teeth, “I don’t pity him—don’t even pity you. I just—“

He rises then, much to your disappointment, “Just what?” He breathes against you, shirt rising as he lips dragged against your stomach until he was face to face with you, eyes wide and waiting for your response.

“Hate you.” You spit out.

“Likewise, princess.” He grins, “Doesn’t change the fact that I know you want to feel what my cock is like—acting like you haven’t been trying to sneak glances, like you haven’t pictured it.”

“Don’t pride yourself too much.” You say, lying through your teeth.

He laughs meanly, reaching for your hand and bringing it to the hard ridge of his dick, tip poking up toward his belly button.

He’s longer, a little thicker, and a lot more intimidating than Eddie—and he knows it. He smirks, dragging the softness of your open palm over his dick and wrapping your delicate fingers around him, “You’re fucking sick.” He insults and you squeeze harshly, forcing a strangled grunt from his chest.

You smile sweetly, the first break in your facade as you find some enjoyment out of watching him in pain, even if it’s brief.

“That’s too bad,” You chide, “I would’ve sucked your cock if you weren’t being so mean.”

“Save it, you might change your mind later,” He laughs harshly, hands squeezing at your hips, “turn around.”

His movements are quick, planned, adjusting you until your entrance is settled over the head of his dick, fistful of hand in his hair, arms held out in front of you to ease the uncomfortable dig of the counter.

“Condom, hello—are you fucking insane?”

He laughs softly, pulling your head back until his lips graze your ear, “I’ll pull out, don’t worry.”

And despite your better interest, you nod, gasping at how easily he slips inside of you.

“You know, he talks about you all the time.” He confesses—and you want to die, wishing he'd choose any other route of conversation, but it’s pointless. “He’s been obsessed with you since we were kids.”

You moan embarrassingly depraved, his hips snapping harshly as he guided your hips back against him just as forcefully.

“I always told him I’d fuck you first—I was wrong.” He adds, jealousy oozing from his tone. “Can’t have everything, I guess.”

“Do you ever—ever shut up?” You ask weakly, voice raw and struggling with every sound that’s punched out of you.

“Oh, don’t act so fucking innocent,” He retorts, “Like you haven’t fucked most of my friends—they talk, sweetheart.”

Eddie pulls harshly, neck bending back uncomfortably as he peers over your shoulder, barely in view as you force yourself to look at him.

“Pretty tits, perfect little pussy—the only reason I let you get away with insulting me so much is because we’re the same, babe.” He tells you, “I could tell you more but—where’s the fun in that?”

“At least—I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.” You bite back, whining as he hits a spot deep inside of you, thrust relentless as his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing harshly at the bundle of nerves. It’s enough to make you double over, falling slack against the counter.

“This is for you, sweetheart.” He admits, “Thought you might like it if I—if I dressed like my brother more.”

You can hear it in his voice that he’s struggling to keep himself together.

“Imagine how heartbroken I was when you wanted me out of the club,” He confesses, “not that I give a shit about that stupid game.”

“So you’re desperate?” You ask with an ire of judgment.

“You were fucking my brother two days ago and now my dick is inside you, I wouldn’t talk shit.”

Your retort is pointless, the words failing you as he builds up the rhythm of his hips until you can’t do anything but let your body fall privy to it, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach as he circles your clit swiftly, touching you in all the ways you’ve always wanted, too afraid to ask.

“Fucking take it,” He mumbles to himself, “calling me a whore? Look at you.”

It’s met with your helpless whimpers, the position giving you little choice to snark back, his breaths quickening with each desperate snap of his hips.

“Probably thinking about both of us fucking you together, aren’t you?” He teases, groaning as you clamped around him. “That’s fucking dirty, sweetheart—but it’ll be our little secret, alright?”

You shake your head in annoyance, despite how close you were to falling over the edge, eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell my brother about this,” He assures you, “or next time—or however many times it takes for you to realize you really don’t hate me as much as you think you do.”

“Fuck—shut up,” You growl, “just shut up and make me come.”

And he does, easily, like he’d been holding back until you said the words, moaning brokenly as he keeps his fingers in a constant motion even after you come back down, body shaking from the overstimulation until he’s pulling out abruptly.

“Fuck, turn around—“ He rushes out, “on your knees, open your mouth.”

You don’t even argue, dropping down without a fight. His face scrunches up similar to Eddie’s, looking just as endearingly soft when he comes, eyes never leaving you for a second as he spills over your tongue with a harsh gasp. His free hand reaches up to close your mouth, watching as you swallow him down obscenely—if it were anyone else, anyone, you would’ve spit it out in defiance. But with him, you couldn’t help it.

“Jesus, fuck—“ He groans, “You always this obedient?”

You shrug nonchalantly, poking your tongue out in a show that there was nothing left. “No.” You reply with a playful smirk, rising up to meet him.

“I don’t believe you.” He challenges, a careful step into your personal space. “Look at me.”

You do, feeling his scrutinizing gaze rack your entire body—he’s testing you, trying to find a way to break you down.

“Open your mouth,” He instructs softly, thumb pulling at your bottom lip until he’s got you where he likes, spitting into your mouth without warning—the moan you let slip is, well, embarrassing, “I fucking knew it—swallow it.”

Another simple request, following through on his demand.

“Good girl,” He comments hotly, leaning forward to press a messy kiss against your lips, lips parting immediately as his tongue sneaks inside, dragging against your own, “fuck—my brother would have no idea what to do with you.”

But the loud roar of an engine approaching is enough to make you both paralyzed with fear—because while he may be an asshole, he couldn’t openly break Eddie’s heart that easily.

“Not a fucking word,” You say, swearing him to secrecy, “Go.”

Your heart is in your throat for the entire thirty seconds it takes for you to reorganize your thoughts and redress yourself, quickly fleeing to the room to be met face to face with Eddie’s brother, already dressed and relaxed on his bed.

It was almost as if none of it ever happened.

You can hear Eddie calling your name from the front door, wondering if you had finally given up and gone home.

His brother smirks to himself, flipping through whatever ridiculous raunchy mag he had fetched out of his bedside table, acting as if he wasn’t buried inside you only a few minutes prior. But, that’s exactly what you wanted.

When Eddie finally bursts through the door, he’s already geared with a look of apology, hair a lot more messy than usual and windswept, checks flushed a bright red. He chances a glance at his twin brother, grimacing at the material in his hands.

“Seriously?” He asks, motioning toward you.

“What?” He asks, holding the mag up, “She doesn’t mind.”

They both glance over at you and it makes you want to melt into the earth and be literally anywhere but here, matching expectant expressions as they wait for your answer.

You shrug, “I don’t care.”

“Come on bro, stop being such a prude.” He teases, “You let her take your virginity and you turn into some puritan.”

You clear your throat loudly, eyes shifting pointedly toward Eddie’s brother, “Sorry, too soon?” He apologizes halfheartedly.

Considering the taste of his cum was still lingering heavy in your mouth, it was much too fucking soon.

“A little bit.” You respond crudely, eyes squinting narrowly at him before flicking up toward Eddie. “We still need to plan that campaign out, don’t think I forgot.”

“And there’s my cue.” His brother complains, bed springs squeaking in protest as he flees, but not before he catches your gaze on the way out.

If you only knew the trouble you were about to fall into.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

Special thanks to @jadequeen88 and @usedtobecooler for sending me down this horny ass rabbit hole of a concept.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #my writing

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