#GUYS GUYS. GUYS. FUCK. GRABS YOUR SHOULDERS

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝐻𝑖𝑡

pairing: wanda maximoff x gn!reader

summary: You and Wanda hotbox a car, then fuck.

content warnings: reader has a penis, drinking, smoking weed, car sex, blowjob, handjob, unprotected sex, restraints, creampie, putting out a joint on skin

word count: 4.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A/N: shout out to Rae for helping me understand what it feels like to be high ily pooks @wndaswife ♡

“Hey.”

You look around, squinting against the flashing lights. The basement smells like old beer, and there’s something suspiciously sticky on the bottom of your shoe. Wanda is shouldering her way through the crowd, her eyes locked on you. 

“This frat is totally lame, babe,” you say, raising your voice slightly so she can hear you. You reach out, pulling her in by the waist, your back resting against the wall. It’s slightly cold, but you don’t mind. The air feels stale, the warmth from the multitude of bodies packed into the basement making your skin damp with sweat.

Wanda rolls her eyes, finishing the rest of her beer before chucking it into the crowd. You don’t see it land, distracted by her hands on your shoulders. She’s feeling you up, running her fingers over your muscles for a moment before leaning in, her chest pressing against yours while her lips tickle your ear. 

“Wanna get out of here and smoke?”

You chuckle, nodding as she pulls back, her eyes glinting under her thick eyeliner. One of her rings catches on the fabric of your shirt as she pulls away, your hand finding hers and leading her toward the exit. 

Wanda’s car isn’t hard to find, the slightly chipped red paint standing out as you open the door for her. It isn’t much, but it was her brother’s car before he went overseas in the Army, and Wanda takes good enough care of it. She never lets you drive it, though. 

“The usual spot?” You ask, pulling out some rolling paper and your bag of weed. You double-check your pockets, finding two lighters and pulling them out. 

“Yeah,” Wanda says, her hand resting on the back of your headrest before she pulls out of the parking spot. It’s hot, and you make sure to return her smirk, adjusting how you’re sitting when her hand drops to your thigh. 

“And, you’re good to drive?”

Wanda rolls her eyes, giving you a look. “I had like, half a beer. Don’t worry so much. I saw the way you shotgunned with that one blonde guy, if anyone should be worried about how much alcohol they’ve drank, it’s you.”

Holding up your hands in mock surrender, you shake your head. “I don’t even know who that was, but who am I to pass up a free beer?”

You would start rolling a joint, but Wanda isn’t the calmest driver. She has one foot up on the seat, her fingers cranking up the music, metal blaring and reverberating around your skull. You lurch forward as she slams on the brakes, swearing under her breath as a car cuts her off, merging at the last second to exit the highway. 

“Fuckin idiot,” she glares, one hand running through her hair as the road stretches out. It’s late, with barely any other cars in sight. 

The hand on your thigh moves slightly, dragging up further as Wanda drives. You can feel your head pounding slightly, the alcohol making its way through your system, and your ears still ringing from the loud music that had bounced around the walls of the basement. 

Gravel sounds out under the tires, a sign that you’re close to the usual smoke spot. It’s secluded, with a great view of the city. Thick trees tower around you, and when Wanda kills the engine, the only sound is the occasional cricket or bird call. 

“Give me one,” Wanda says, her fingers grabbing a rolling paper before you can respond. 

“Damn,” You mutter, opening the baggie full of weed. The scent hits you, and you breathe in deeply. “You’re needy tonight.”

“Fuck off,” Wanda rolls her eyes, glancing at your crotch. “If anyone’s needy, it’s you.”

Smirking, you roll your hips for a moment, your bulge noticeable. “Guilty as charged, can you blame me? Your ass and legs look great in those jeans.”

Wanda scoffs, but you see the pleased blush she wears. You shake some weed out on your rolling paper before handing her the baggie, your gaze lingering on her focused expression as she does the same. Your fingers move, muscle memory taking over as you roll the joint, stuffing some more weed into it with the end of a pen. You offer it to Wanda, and don’t try to hide the way your bulge grows when her fingers brush yours. 

“Lighter, baby?”

You hand it over, licking the end of your paper as you finish rolling your joint. Wanda lights the end of hers, sucking in deeply before turning to you and exhaling, a lazy grin spreading on her face. 

“That good, huh?” You ask, taking the lighter and lighting your own joint. You suck in a breath, loving the slight burn at the back of your throat.

Wanda hums, dropping her head back until it hits the headrest of her seat, blowing smoke toward the ceiling slowly. You watch her do a couple of tricks, her grin spreading wider with each minute that passes. You adjust your hips again, spreading your legs further and getting comfortable, watching Wanda grow hazier as more smoke fills the car. 

“Are you feeling anything?” You ask, inhaling deeply as Wanda lets out a satisfied sigh. 

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t take long,” she responds, flicking ash into the metal tin that sits between you two. “We’re gonna be stoned soon with the way we’re hotboxing this shit.”

You don’t respond to that, feeling a warm fuzziness grow within your chest. Your limbs begin to relax, your lips tingling slightly. Catching a glimpse of yourself through the haze, you stare at your reflection in the side mirror. Part of you is aware of your hair loosely hanging over your forehead, Wanda’s hand resting on your thigh as she stretches out, and the joint feeling warm between your fingers. 

“Take another hit, baby,” Wanda murmurs, her voice low and soothing, her fingers finding the knob of the CD player and turning the volume lower until the music is no longer jarring. Your eyes roam around the car briefly, your chest feeling warm as you smile lazily. Wanda’s fingers are cool as they touch your hand, bringing the joint to your lips. 

The bass flowing through the car fills you, your heart thumping to the beat as you take another hit. Wanda fiddles with her phone, her auburn hair glowing slightly before she turns her screen brightness down. 

You can’t quite remember how you got in the car, or what you were doing earlier that night. It doesn’t matter. Wanda is here, and her green eyes are warm and big and looking right at you, her fingers reaching for your lap as low jazz fills the space. Your reflection is back in the side mirror, your face flushed as Wanda’s fingers brush your bulge again while grabbing a rolling paper. 

“Baby, where’s the weed?”

You chuckle. Wanda is asking where the weed is. It’s right here, silly. It’s… it’s-

Wait. Where is the weed?

“Fuck, um,” you mumble, your body weightless as you lean forward. When did your seat recline? You search around, your fingers brushing Wanda’s as she leans toward you. She’s giggling, her hair smelling like vanilla as she leans into you. Her breath is warm, her lips are soft, and her hands are all over you. They wrap around your waist and skate over your thighs, your fingers finally feeling the plastic baggie on the floor near your boots as her lips suck gently on your neck. 

“Found it.”

“Hm?” Wanda’s voice is all around you, her body practically on top of yours as she leans further into your space. She smells delicious, your skin aflame where her fingertips drag over it, lifting your shirt slightly to stroke your hips. 

“The weed,” you say, your voice somehow sounding both miles away and eerily omnipresent. You hold up the bag, smiling at Wanda’s hand quickly grabbing it. 

You pull out two more rolling papers, Wanda having dropped hers somewhere on the floor, and the silence stretches comfortably as you both focus on the task in front of you. It’s soothing to roll the joint, your fingers moving with practiced ease before you twist the end, your hand moving to Wanda’s thigh where the lighter rests. 

Smoke swirls lazily around you, the car reeking of weed. You find it comforting, the layers of jazz music blending and mixing together into a single endless stream as it flows through your consciousness. 

Wanda hums slightly as she finishes her joint, letting you take the lighter from her lap before she looks over at you. Moving slowly, she somehow manages to move from the driver's seat to your lap, straddling you and pulling the lever to recline the seat fully back.

“Get comfortable,” Wanda murmurs, stealing the lighter from your slack fingers and chuckling at your open-mouthed expression. 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. It’s not a giggle, it’s a laugh. Definitely not a giggle. God, it’s just so funny, the way she- wait. What was funny?

Wanda is inhaling, her lips wrapped around the end of her lit joint, the flame casting sharp shadows on her face. Her irises glow for a brief moment as the reflection dances in her glassy eyes before she flicks the lighter off with a practiced motion of her thumb. You think it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

Smoke is blown softly into your face, and you eagerly sit up, your muscles flexing as you grab her around the waist. “Do it again,” you beg, and part your lips. 

You long to feel her soft lips on yours, and you feel your cock throb hotly when Wanda grips your jaw with one hand, the other bringing the joint to her smirking lips. Everything else fades, the jazz music dulling and the city view out the window dimming as you focus on her. You breathe in when she does, releasing your breath quickly in anticipation. 

Those wonderful lips meet yours, and it feels like absolute heaven. Wanda breathes out, smoke and vanilla mixing as they fill your mouth and nostrils, every single sense of yours surrounded by her. You inhale carefully, breathing in her very essence as you feel your lungs burn slightly, the weed making your head spin pleasantly. 

“Good job, pet,” Wanda murmurs, kissing you fiercely. She bites into your lip, and you moan lowly as you exhale, smoke expelling from your lungs and joining the swirling mist in the air of her car.

She moves her hips, subtly grinding down on your lap. You feel yourself ache, your hips moving up to meet hers as you moan into her mouth. It’s over far too soon, the pressure building as she continues to move her hips, her lips detaching from yours as she leans back, arching her back and grinding harder. 

“Want something, baby?” Wanda asks, one hand bringing the joint to her lips while the other tangles with your hair and shoves your head back into the seat. 

“More,” you say, your voice breathy and echoing. Your head is fuzzy, your limbs weightless as your thumbs stroke her hips. 

Wanda leans down, the change in position pressing her hips firmly against your cock as it strains in your boxers. It feels trapped beneath your pants, but you make no move to release yourself. That’s Wanda’s decision. 

More smoke is inhaled directly into your mouth, and you eagerly suck it in. Wanda’s lips are all over you, sealed around your lips as she exhales fully, her fingers closing your mouth and forcing you to inhale. She kisses down your neck as you do, your throat bobbing as you fight a cough. Her lips feel like fire, her tongue dragging over your skin for a moment before she sucks gently near your collarbone.

“Fuck,” you whisper, watching the smoke escape from your lips as you speak, curling around Wanda’s hair when she sits back up. The joint is pressed into your fingers, the lit end casting shadows on Wanda’s face as she watches you place it between your lips. 

“Take a deep breath, baby,” Wanda whispers, her eyes intent. She looks almost hungry, and her hips shift on top of you when you nod obediently, filling your lungs with smoke. Strong fingers pinch your nose, Wanda licking her lips before speaking. “Hold it.”

You feel lightheaded, your limbs heavy and your chest warm. The warm tingly feeling spreads up to your shoulders and down your arms, your head fully relaxing on the seat as you lean back. Everything is comfortable, Wanda’s vanilla perfume mixing with the heavenly scent of weed, her figure slightly fuzzy as you peer through the haze of smoke. 

Wanda moves again, taking the joint from between your lips and letting go of your nose. “Breathe it out,” she murmurs, holding the burning joint away from her hair as she leans down to kiss you, eagerly inhaling the smoke you expel from your lungs. 

Time turns a bit fluid after that, the sensation of overwhelming warmth taking over you as Wanda sits on your lap, her hands mindlessly running over your torso. Her fingernails scrape down your chest, her palms warm as she feels your abs, one hand holding the joint to her lips. 

You find the joint pressed between your lips, the faint taste of Wanda’s vanilla lip gloss coating your tongue as you suck in. The smoke tastes more burnt than usual, the heat hitting your face as you realize the joint is almost out. 

“Another?” You look up at Wanda with wide eyes, feeling the muscles beneath your eyes contracting slightly as you squint against your will. She chuckles, the sound reverberating around the car before she grinds the end of the joint against the metal ashtray.

“No baby,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss you. “I want to suck on something else.”

“What-” You’re cut off when Wanda grinds her hips down harshly, reminding you of the aching hardness between your thighs. “Oh,” you say, a bit stupidly. 

The words feel weird on your tongue, your mouth not moving properly. So, you decide to do something else with your mouth instead, attaching it to Wanda’s neck and sucking. Her moans sound out, adding to the layers of fuzz building in your head while the blood in your body rushes down to your throbbing cock, her hips providing delicious friction as she grinds on your lap. 

You hear metal clinking, the sound cutting through the soft jazz and smoke, but you don’t have time to think about it before Wanda is grabbing your hands and wrapping something around them. The material bites into your skin slightly, and you let out a chuckle when Wanda finishes restraining you. 

“The seatbelt, really?”

Wanda smirks at you, pulling your hands above your head and attaching your seatbelt-wrapped wrists to the headrest. You’re not sure how she’s managed to effectively restrain you with the seatbelt strap, but when you test the restraints, you’re surprised at the limited movements you can make. 

The weight on your lap disappears, Wanda’s body shifting. You lazily look down, your muscles loose and movements slow. Somehow, your seat is shifted back until Wanda is able to fit herself on the floor, kneeling while she leans over your lap. 

Sharp teeth bite at your stomach, each jolt of pain sending heat directly to the tip of your cock. You can see it visibly straining through your pants, but Wanda makes no move to undo your zipper, her lips turned up into a smirk while she pulls your shirt up and begins leaving hickeys all over your hips and waist. 

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, throwing your head back and shifting your hips, rutting upward in search of any friction. Wanda carefully avoids your bulge, chuckling against your skin while her hands move to gently grab your chest. 

Your nipples stand at attention, pleasure blooming as the sensations cut through the haze in your mind. The only things you feel are Wanda’s teeth and hands, the rest of your body feeling disconnected as desperation fills you. 

“You’re so hot,” Wanda drawls, looking up at you with glassy eyes. Jazz fills your mind as blood rushes through your ears, your heartbeat loud as it pounds furiously in your chest. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

Her hands are warm, smoke shifting lazily through the air when she moves. Your pants are pulled down, a groan clawing its way out of your chest when you finally spring free, your cock pulsing at the thought of stimulation. You shift your hips again, seeing the dark look in Wanda’s eyes as she licks her lips before kissing your tip. 

“Fuck.”

You barely have any time to think before Wanda’s tongue is circling your tip, the stimulation teasing while you try to fuck further into her mouth. Hands grip your hips, pinning you to the seat, your face flushed as your head spins. 

Wanda loves how pathetic you look. Your head is thrown back, your eyes glassy and your pupils blown. You’re whining slightly, the sound wrapping around her head and sending pleasure shooting through her body. She loves how your body looks when you arch your back, your muscles trembling from the effort of chasing your pleasure. 

She wants you, her mouth feeling empty all of a sudden. With one last breath, Wanda seals her lips around the tip of your cock and sucks. 

You let out a loud moan, your hips jerking at the sensation. Wanda wastes no time, one hand gently fondling your balls while she takes you further in her mouth inch by inch. Her tongue works the underside of your shaft, licking your balls once she finally has your whole length in her mouth. 

Choking slightly as your tip hits the back of her throat, Wanda bobs back up, her tongue relentless as she licks the sensitive spot just under your tip. She bobs her head, taking your whole length in her mouth again, her cheeks hollowing while she sucks, swallowing around your length as it buries itself in her throat. 

“Yeah baby, just like that. Sucking my fucking dick so good.” You moan, pleasure filling you. Every sensation is heightened, the sound of Wanda sucking your cock filling the car as smoke swirls around her. You feel her moan, the vibrations causing your balls to tighten for a moment while your tip throbs at the back of her throat. 

Spit coats your length, smearing on her chin and dribbling out while she bobs her head up and down, your orgasm approaching. It’s filthy, her hand glistening when she wraps it around the base of your cock, stroking you slowly while she sucks. 

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Wanda growls, releasing the tip of your cock with a popping sound, panting as she takes you in. Her hand works your length, moving quicker while her other hand tightens around your balls. 

You whimper. “Baby, please.”

“I’m not done with you yet.” Wanda releases your cock, your length throbbing and twitching as it slaps onto your stomach. You can feel the combined juices of your precum and her spit as it smears over your lower stomach, your dick twitching every so often while you watch Wanda fumble with the clasp of her jeans. 

“Let’s smoke another joint while you fuck yourself with my cock,” you say, the idea popping into your mind. You speak the words quickly, your thoughts quieting again before you forget what you’ve spoken. Wanda’s eyes light up, and she leans over to kiss you solidly before grabbing the baggie of weed from the floor. 

Wanda moves quickly, her pants discarded as she straddles your hips, teasing the tip of your cock. She doesn’t move yet, just lets her juices run down the length of your shaft, your tip slightly pressing into her eager heat. 

A rolling paper is set out on your stomach, your abs flexing while you try to remain still. Wanda is focused, grinding on your tip with a teasing smile on her lips while her fingers move quickly. She rolls the joint in record speed, and before you know it she’s lighting the end and sucking in a full breath while sinking down on your length. 

You’re in heaven. 

Smoke fills the air again, the haze swirling about as Wanda lets out a low moan. She doesn’t move for a few seconds, her pussy walls clenching around you as she closes her eyes. Leaning back, she grabs one of your knees to support herself while bringing the joint to her lips again.

Then, she starts to move. 

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, your cock throbbing hotly as she lifts her hips only to sink back down. She grinds on you as she does so, her clit hitting the base of your cock perfectly with each movement of her hips. You can feel her arousal as she fucks herself, her juices coating your cock as she easily takes your whole length. 

Heat and pleasure fill you, Wanda’s hands grabbing your shoulders as she changes positions, fucking herself harder. It’s addicting, the sound of her moaning in your ear and the burn of smoke when she places the lit joint between your lips. Her fingers dig into your muscles, her hips trembling as she chases her orgasm. 

You can’t help but fuck up into her, loving the sound of your hips meeting hers while you thrust roughly. Her breaths are ragged, a low moan sounding out when you breathe in smoke, exhaling around the joint as you hold it between your lips. 

Everything is fuzzy. You feel a burning need in your stomach, warmth spreading throughout your whole body. Wanda is everywhere, her hands tangled in your hair, her lips on your skin and her pussy gripping you like she needs you to survive. One of her hands reaches down to rub her clit, and you take one last drag of the joint before she grabs it between nimble fingers and breathes deeply. 

“Gonna cum, baby,” she mutters, blowing smoke directly into your face. 

You nod, moaning low as her movements become erratic. She reaches down, her eyes glinting as she forces the joint between your lips. It’s almost out, the lit end flickering dimly as you breathe in, feeling your skin start to tingle. 

“Cum inside me,” Wanda whispers, smiling darkly at you as your cock throbs violently inside her at the words, her hand hovering over your chest. The lit end of the joint is hot and close to your skin, your heart racing as you begin to understand what her next move is.

“Hurt me,” you moan, your voice pleading as you continue to thrust up into her. Her hand moves quickly over her clit, her walls squeezing you as she begins to fall over the edge. Your skin burns, the lit end of the joint extinguishing on your chest as Wanda grinds it into you, her pupils blown while she moans. 

Her orgasm seems to last forever, a whispered command for you to cum sending you over the edge as pain and pleasure mix together. Your whole body seizes, your balls tightening as Wanda’s walls grip your cock, your hot cum spurting inside her. You feel nothing but warmth and pleasure, the slight burn on your chest amplifying every sensation as your head spins, Wanda’s tongue soothing the mark while she drops the joint in the ashtray.

“Good job, pet,” she murmurs, moving her hips as she fucks herself slowly on your length. Your cum seeps out of her, dripping onto you and smearing on your stomach. Wanda trembles, slowing completely before finally stopping, your cock buried deep inside her. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, every muscle in your body relaxing as your orgasm fades. You can feel your cock twitching, her warm walls gently squeezing you and keeping you hard. Your hands are released, Wanda’s lips kissing your wrists where the seatbelt dug into your skin. 

“I love seeing you like this,” she mumbles. 

You nod, knowing exactly what she means. Wanda loves control, and you love giving it to her. She craves being in charge of your pleasure, and you find it incredibly arousing to give your choice in the matter up to her. 

Wanda moves slowly, putting another rolling paper on your slightly damp stomach, your chest heaving from your orgasm. You don’t say anything, enjoying her presence as she prepares another joint. The smell wraps around you, vanilla mixing in the air as the haze lazily swirls about, jazz playing softly as you feel your cock start to harden again with each subtle shift of Wanda’s hips. It’s obscene, the way your cum and her arousal drip out of her, coating your length. 

You can’t focus on anything, your head fuzzy and warm as you feel your high pleasantly fill your body. Wanda lights the joint, the smell of freshly burning weed adding to the layers of sensations already present in the car. 

“Let’s finish this,” Wanda smirks, sucking more smoke into her lungs before placing the joint between your slack lips. You obey, taking a long, deep breath as her eyes darken at your submission. “I want you nice and pliant for me before we go again.”

Well, you certainly weren’t going to complain about that.

---

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[neeeooon]

Hi! Can I request Blue Lock boys with an S/O who is just as protective over them as they are? For example, defending them when someone is bitching about them or starting an argument w them for no reason. The boys deserve to be fought for too! Also I would like it if you write for the Itoshis, Isagi, Kaiser, Nagi, Barou and Zantetsu. I'm sorry if its a lot ㅠㅠ you can choose from these characters if its a lot. Thank you <33

YES ofc and i agree we need more defensive/protective y/n’s !! thank you for the request! <3

when you’re protective over them ;

bf bllk x protective gn!reader. cw: lots of cussing in isagi’s (by you), lowk harassment in barou’s, pet names (multiple in zantetsu’s)

itoshi sae

-> sae doesn’t care much for drama or defending himself. he’s blunt and he finds it pointless, since people will always find a way to entertain themselves one way or another

-> you are not like that

-> “oh my gosh, are you itoshi sae? can we get a picture with you?!” a group of high schoolers giggle and jump around your boyfriend in excitement, but you can see the tension in his shoulders as he raises a hand. “no.”

-> “aw, come on, please? we’re your biggest—“ “did he stutter?” that shuts them up pretty quick. “no? hm, me neither! now, kindly leave :)”

-> they do ask told, grumbling about how mean you are, but you ignore them and turn to sae. “why don’t you fight them off or something? your space gets invaded all the time.” “they would have left eventually.” “hmph. good thing you have me to fight your public battles!”

-> sae doesn’t care enough to fight any battles, but he finds your protectiveness cute, so he pats your head and says, “perfect. good job, y/n.” you may have blushed

itoshi rin

-> you want to fight his brother so bad when rin finally tells you his side of their disagreement, but you don’t because you know some battles don’t involve you

-> others do. like the wannabe interviewer who approached your boyfriend one day to hound him for answers about his relationship with sae

-> “i, uh… i-i—“ “what the hell do you think you’re doing? get away from him!” you barely have time to look both ways before running across the street and throwing yourself between your pale boyfriend and the pushy “interviewer”

-> he groans at your interruption and pops an annoyed hand on his hip. “excuse me, we’re in the middle of something—“ “rin, do you want to talk to this guy?” rin shakes his head, and you raise a brow at the interviewer. “he said he doesn’t want to talk to you. that means leave before i make you leave.”

-> “you can’t threaten me! you should respect your elders, young—“ “it wasn’t a threat. it was an option. you can either walk away now, or crawl away later. the choice is yours.”

-> he chooses the former, leaving you with your shaken boyfriend. “are you okay? that guy was totally insensitive and pushy and… are you okay?” “i’m okay. thank you, y/n.” “don’t thank me. i’m here to love and protect you!”

isagi yoichi

-> isagi was raised in such a loving home. where do you think his potty mouth came from?

-> “touch a hair on his head again, and i’ll make you watch as i fuck your mother,” you spat at the boy writhing on the floor after punching him in the face

-> blinking at the scene before him, isagi shakily wraps a hand around your shoulder and pulls you away from the guy who’d dared to grab his hair while he was in your sight

-> “you didn’t have to punch him—“ “i’m sorry, i just really hate when people think they can put their dirty, disgusting, shitty hands all over you without asking. it’s so icky!”

-> he’s about to say ‘i can defend myself,’ but isagi likes having someone love him enough to defend him like you do. it makes him feel special, and he hopes you know he’d do the same if anyone tried messing with you

-> “you’re awesome, y/n.” “i know. kidding, you’re really fucking awesome too, yoichi!”

michael kaiser

-> you were already protective over kaiser before he told you about his past. knowing why he’s so stiff around older men just adds fuel to you protective flames

-> you’re shopping for groceries with kaiser when an older gentleman wearing a pxg jersey approaches, and you’re immediately on high alert

-> “hey, you’re that kid from, uh, bltv!” he scoffs, and you can feel kaiser’s grip tightening around your hand. “yeah, it’s you, alright. your teammates play dirty. you’re all d—“

-> you’re in his face before he can get the words out. “finish that sentence. i dare you.” you smile sweetly, but you know he can see the threat in your eyes. “see what happens.”

-> flustered, the gentleman hesitates a moment before turning and continuing his shopping elsewhere. you turn to see kaiser staring at you with wide eyes, his fingers wrapped loosely around his throat. “you… defended me?”

-> “of course i did,” you keep your movement casual, trying not to alarm him as you carefully pull his hand from his neck and knot your fingers together. “you’re mine. no one will ever speak to or about you like that as long as i’m here.”

nagi seishiro

-> nagi is too lazy to defend himself. which is where you come in!

-> you’re at a gaming cafe, searching for seats, when someone shoves past your boyfriend, knocking him back slightly from the force of the push

-> nagi would have brushed it off, but the guy puffs his chest out and puts his finger in your boyfriend’s face. “you gonna apologize, dick?”

-> nagi tries to slink away, but the guy goes to grab his hoodie, and your hand is on his wrist. “what the fuck do you—?!” “you’re not going to touch him again. grow a pair and get the fuck out of our way.” “!!!”

-> but he must see how dark your stare is, because the guy shivers and pulls himself from your grip so he can leave

-> sighing, nagi drapes a loose arm around you shoulders and pulls you into his side. “what a hassle. you didn’t have to do that.” “yes, i did. someone’s gotta defend you, ya lazy boy.” “lame… i love you.” you kiss his cheek. “i love you, too.”

barou shouei

-> it’s not like barou needs your protection. that doesn’t mean you aren’t protective of him, anyway

-> with soccer comes fame, and with fame comes fans. some who think they have some sort of claim over your boyfriend and his body

-> barou is signing some autographs for the ubers when a little group of fans, a mix of energetic men and women who are a bit too old to be staring at your boyfriend the way they are, approach

-> you know barou isn’t allowed to reject or shove them when they invade his space, but when you see one of them give his bicep a squeeze, another reaching for his waist, you see red

-> “absolutely not,” you grab the back of the person’s collar and tug, causing them to flail and stumble away from your boyfriend. “you can take your signature and photo, but you do not have the right to put your hands on him.”

-> offended and embarrassed, the group leaves, and you feel barou slip a hand over the small of your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “that was sexy. who knew you’d get so protective over me?” “um, me. no one can run their hands over your body but me.” “mmm, deal.”

zantetsu tsurugi

-> you hate how people call your boyfriend dumb, and you hate that he believes them

-> he may not be the most intelligent guy around, but that doesn’t make him “stupid” or “useless”, and you will (and have) willingly throw hands with anyone who insults him

-> you’re waiting outside your boyfriend’s classroom when he emerges with two students following close behind, berating him over a problem he solved incorrectly in front of the class

-> “how have you not been held back, ya dummy?” “my baby sister could solve that problem, and she’s six!” “yeah! dumba—“ they freeze when they see you and visibly cower

-> cocking an amused brow, you’re glad to see that your reputation proceeds you. “you know who i am, don’t you?” they nod. “and you know who he is to me, hm?” they nod. you smile. “good. i’ll give you three seconds to apologize, or i’m taking your tongues and stapling them to your foreheads.”

-> they run off, leaving you alone with your pouty boyfriend. you instantly cup his face and scan his features with concern. “what’s wrong, sweet boy? did anyone else say something to you?”

-> zantetsu huffs, his cheeks puffed slightly between your hands. “won’t you get in trouble for yelling at them? it’s not like they were wrong…” “oh no, baby, not for that. bullies get what they deserve. and you’re not dumb! you’ll tell me if anyone else says anything mean, won’t you?” he nods. “i will :3” “good boy!”

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember 30: Exhibitionism

Welp, this is the final one. Momo is high and mighty as she commands everyone's attention.

Length: 2.2K

Momo X Mreader

“What you need is a change of scenery.” Your friend babbled on. “Sex is sex, but changing things can make it a whole lot better. Like, imagine a whole bunch of people watching you.”

“Or a whole lot worse.” You retort, ignoring the second part.

“Oh, come on. Let’s try something new. I know a place.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me-”

“Just once, I’m sure you’ll love it. Everyone can fuck everyone.” You look into your friend's eyes, knowing exactly what she was after. You had started this conversation to figure out your problems, and Sana had quickly found a way to try and get you to join her on something she wanted to do. “All I’m saying is you might be able to find someone who’ll get you off. There’s this woman there. She’s an absolute goddess; I hear that everyone watches her finger herself because she’s so choosy with her partners.”

“Is that supposed to entice me?” 

“...yes,” Sana eeps out. “Come on, just once. We go in, have some fun, get out, and then you’re back on track.”

“You just want to fuck as many people as possible, don’t you,” You know her goal. You know what Sana’s been dying to try. She just doesn’t have the gall to walk in alone.

“Okay, yes, but I’m sure you’ll, at the very least, get something that might help you out of it. Exhibitionism is fun, and this place is the best for it.” You sigh and reluctantly agree; you didn’t have much to lose. You let Sana do all the hard work of setting up your little trip and followed her along, snaking through the city and small side streets until you finally reached the place. 

Sana knocked on the door, and from the outside, it looked like an old warehouse. You couldn’t help but imagine what could possibly be inside that Sana was so excited about. Your attention was returned to Sana as she bounced from foot to foot. She grabbed your hand and dragged you through the door. “This is going to be great.” Sana chirped as you reached the end of the hall. “Okay, the guy said to strip here.”

“What?”

“Strip here; everyone is naked inside. Just go along with it.” You wanted to curse out Sana badly, but you let it go for the moment and undress with her doing the same. You place your clothes in a bag and hand them to an attendant who marks you both with a number. “This is so you can get your clothes when you're done,” Sana says before pushing forward and opening the door that led to the main room. 

Inside was something much more elaborate than you’d expected. The room had bars on either side of the room, small tables decorating the edges where people were talking, and fucking like it was normal to have sex in front of strangers. As your eyes moved toward the center, you noticed the different levels. Beds were placed on a platform where plenty of people were having their fun. At the center of it all was a single bed raised higher than the rest. As Sana had heard, there was a woman masturbating as she watched everyone else. Many tried to meet her gaze as she turned her head toward the entrance. “That’s her,” Sana whispers, nudging your shoulder. “Well, I hope you have fun. I’ll see you later.” Sana says with a giggle as she walks toward the bare, swaying her hips in hopes of attracting attention. As you turn from Sana back to the woman, you see her staring at you. She stops fingering herself and moves off her bed. Cocking her head to the side, she begins to grin and levels herself. She motions for you to come to her. You look around, unsure if she actually meant you, but when you look back, she nods her head. As you walk toward the center, you hear the other’s whispers. You gather from them that the woman’s name was Momo. You keep your eyes on her, looking over her full figure. She was undoubtedly beautiful, and her large mounds, small waist, and wide hips completed the package.

“C’mon here, big boy.” She says as you get closer, beckoning you. Momo’s finger slowly curls, licking her lips as she keeps her eyes on you. Her other hand moves gradually around her lower lips, tracing them as you approach her. You stare at the lustful woman before you; her legs are slick with her juices, almost gleaming under the room’s lights.  You slowly move up the steps to her bed, keeping your eyes on her at all times while she does the same to you. Momo already knew all eyes were on her; they always were, even when everyone else was having their fun. 

As you approached Momo, she took steps back, letting her legs touch the bed frame. Finally close enough to touch her, Momo extended her arm, running it down your chest. She kept you at that arm's length away. Her eyes going over your body, her smirk growing a little wider. “Oh, you’ll do just fine,” Momo said softly as she used her nails, running them over your stomach until she wrapped her hand around your cock. “I’ll get this thing nice and hard in just a second.” Momo took a step toward you, pressing her ample bust against your chest. You felt her nipples drag along your body as Momo pushed her chest out. You let out a small grunt as Momo rubs the tip of your cock with her thumb, moving it at an agonizingly slow pace. She would go back and forth over the center before circling the head. “Do you like that, baby?” She asks with an almost innocent look, but her smirk quickly returns. She feels your cock growing in her hands. She breaks her eye contact, glancing down to look at your cock before pulling you toward the bed. She lets you go briefly, laying herself on the bed. 

You stand there staring at the beautiful woman get comfortable, watching as Momo moves her legs outwards, a single hand moving along her wet pink slit. “Well? Are you going to make a move?” Momo asks, her other hand moving to her nipple. She pinches her nipple, sucking in a breath before repeating herself. “Are you going to fuck me or not?” She emphasizes her question by spreading her lips apart. You climb onto the bed, crawling over Momo, who smiles at you. She reaches out for you, bringing you in for a kiss, her soft lips melding with yours. “Too slow,” she whispers into your ear before rolling over so she’s on top.  “I’ll be the one in charge,” Momo says before playfully slapping your cheek. Shaking her head to let her dark hair move away from her face, Momo glances around the room, happy to see all eyes on her. She gives the people a small wave before returning her focus to you. 

Momo rises slowly, grabbing your cock and placing it between her folds. She rocks her hips back and forth, coating your cock with her nectar. You groan, feeling the heat from her cunt as she grinds against you. Momo moans softly, her signature smirk on her face as she massages her breasts, forcing you to watch as she flicks her nipples with her fingers. “Relax a little,” She says as she watches you squirm under her. Momo raises her hips once more, her own desires growing. She aligns your cock with her slit, rubbing the head between her folds before sinking onto it slowly. You throw your head back and moan as Momo’s wall wraps around you, gripping your shaft tightly.

Momo groans, still smiling, as she places her hands on your chest and begins to move. She rises slowly, leaving the head inside her before dropping back down on your cock. “Oh, fuck,” she moans, feeling the head of your cock hit her womb. “That’s it,” Momo says to herself as she moves along your shaft, slamming herself down so she can feel your cock impaling her. The lustful woman looks down at you, “I was right about you,” she says softly as she picks up the pace. Momo leans back, letting the people take in the sight of her body as she rides you. She lets them glimpse at her bouncing breasts for a moment before grabbing you by the wrist and bringing your hands to her chest. Your hands mold the soft flesh as you squeeze her tits. 

You can barely think as Momo bounces on your cock; moans flow out of you as the beautiful woman. She continues to drop her full weight on you, getting every inch inside her. Momo’s moans grow louder as time goes on. She reaches between her legs, playing with her clit as she stops to grind on your cock, swiveling her hips. You feel her walls tightening around you. “Oh, I’m going to cum,” Momo moans. She rides you again, bouncing herself on your cock at a slow pace, reveling in the pleasure flowing through her body. Feeling your cock begin to throb inside her, Momo leans over you. “You can let it all out inside me. I want to feel all that hot cum inside me.” Her sultry voice would push you over the edge, but there was more. Momo moves your hands from her tits down to her ass. “Go ahead, fuck me. I know you’re dying to fuck me like an animal.” Your hands dig into her flesh, and you begin to thrust into Momo’s tight cunt. You wouldn’t last long anyway, so you would take full advantage of her wishes. 

Momo throws her head back and rocks her hips as you drive your cock deep into her cunt, slamming yourself against her cervix. Momo’s moans grow louder, turning into cries of pleasure. It drew everyone’s attention, and that drove Momo over the edge; having all eyes on her as she came only made it hit her harder. She arched her back, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and tongue wagging as she came on your cock while you came inside her. Momo was on cloud nine as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. She felt all eyes on her; she felt your cum being pumped into her womb. Her entire body was tingling. The moment you came, you held her against your cock, keeping it inside her as you dropped every bit of cum inside her. Momo stayed in her position for what felt like forever. Slowly, she dragged her body forward. Placing her hands on either side of your head, she leaned down and kissed your forehead. 

“Oh, what a good boy. I knew you were the one.” Momo lifts your hands from her body and slowly rises, your cum dripping out of her cunt as she slowly backs away.  “You did such a good job; let me get you all cleaned up.” Between your legs, Momo drags her tongue along your shaft, collecting every drop of cum and tasting herself on your cock. Momo wraps her hand around your cock, pausing for a moment to consider something. After that second, Momo presses her lips against the head before swallowing it. Her lips form a tight seal around your shaft as she bobs her head, taking more in each time she goes down. She’s quickly at the base of your cock, lashing at it with her tongue as she gathers every drop of your baby batter. Momo smirks as she hears you moan her name. Inching back up to the tip, she keeps her hand on your shaft. Once you’re out of her mouth, she strokes your shaft. 

You watch as Momo moves closer, placing your cock between her breasts. With a slight chuckle, Momo jokes, “I have to leave it squeaky clean; this is going to be my favorite toy.” She presses her soft mounds together, trapping your cock between them as she moves them along your shaft. You squirm, the pleasure is greater than before, and you are still sensitive from your climax.

“Momo, I’m going to cum,” you groan, trying to warn her. 

“Go ahead and paint this pretty face. Someone here is bound to beg to clean me up.” Momo says as she continues to work over your cock. She goes as far as lapping at the tip when it peeks over her mounds. Soon enough, you cum, painting the young woman’s face and chest with your semen. Momo hums in approval as your cock goes limp between her tits. “Good boy. Now, get yourself home and come back any time you want me to take care of you.” You nod along, too tired to argue or think of doing anything else. 

Momo lets you go. She lies in her bed with a blissful smile, calling for someone to clean her. As you head to the entrance, you look over your shoulder to see a flock of women throwing themselves at the beautiful woman, each eager to clean her. 

Getting home, you lay in bed, thinking about Momo. Your phone buzzes with a text from Sana, “So the experience was good, right? Think you’ll want to go back?” You consider the question before replying that you think you would go back for Momo.

[punkshort]

I've been thinking about this idea of a no outbreak ex-boyfriend!joel miller and I wanted to shake the dust off, so I have some snapshots I wanted to share:

Warnings: pining/longing, smut, obsessive behavior, language, jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol consumption

He never could fully accept what you had is over, so he still casually talks about you from time to time like you're still his, then catches himself and his heart breaks all over again.

He replays fights the two of you had whenever he sees another couple out in public who reminds him of the two of you and he wonders what he could have said differently.

Begrudgingly, he goes on a blind date set up by one of his friends after they beg him to try and move on, but no matter how nice or pretty the girl is, she's not you.

Sometimes he goes the long way home from work and drives past your street, just to possibly catch a glimpse of your car or, if he's really lucky, you taking an afternoon stroll.

When he sees you out in public for the first time, it's at the grocery store. You don't notice him standing dumbstruck in the cereal aisle with his heart stuck in his goddamn throat. You get a text and you smile down at your phone while you move out of the way of others to answer. You look so beautiful, it makes his chest hurt.

He goes home that night and fucks his fist thinking about you — thinking about the way you used to whimper his name, the way your nails dug into his back, how perfect and warm your cunt felt wrapped around him. But the part he misses the most is how good it felt to have you curled up next to him, cheek pressed against his shoulder and arm slung over his stomach, when he woke up in the morning.

The second time he sees you out in public, you're with someone else. He's shooting pool with Tommy when you and some guy walk in and take a seat at the bar. He overhears you talking about some movie you had just seen together and he almost snaps the pool cue in half.

Tommy doesn't notice until it's too late. You've already locked eyes with him and you look like you may faint. Your date is tapping your shoulder, unaware that the two of you have been unable to so much as blink at each other from across the bar.

Before Joel can force his feet to move, to beg you to step outside with him so you could talk, you're grabbing your date's hand and dragging him towards the door.

To stop him from going after you, Tommy buys a few shots. Tells Joel he could do better, that he'll find someone someday. The more he drinks, the more unsteady he becomes on his feet. The louder he laughs. The more he spills on his black t-shirt. By the end of the night, he's convinced Tommy that he's fine. That he needed to see you with someone else to finally accept it's over.

He told Tommy everything he wanted to hear.

After Tommy drops him off at home, Joel waits about three minutes before ordering an Uber. He tries to fight the urge, but he can't. He's too weak and he needs to see you. And, yeah, maybe he needs to make sure you weren't fucking that guy from earlier.

The Uber drops him off a few doors down from your house. He walks the rest of the way and he's relieved when there isn't another car in the driveway. Only yours.

He paces anxiously for a few minutes in front of your door, his muddled brain trying desperately to think of the right words to say. What did you need to hear? What did he need to do or say for you to give him another chance? There had to be something.

When he rings the bell, he knocks at the same time. Overkill, probably, but he doesn't want to lose his nerve.

When you answer, you're pissed, but you're alone. You're in your ratty old pajamas, the ones with a hole at the collar and an ice cream stain on the leg. He feels something pull in his chest — fuck, he missed you so much. He missed how at ease you made him feel, how comfortable you were together, how happy you made him.

You argue with him in your doorway, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You tell him he needs to move on, that he's drunk, that it's not healthy to keep calling you and he has no right to show up at your door.

He begs, pleads with you to hear him out, to give him a second chance. You call him crazy, you remind him you gave him countless chances while you were together, that you spent years waiting for him to commit.

He says he's still in love with you. That he never stopped loving you, never will. He sees something flicker in your eyes and you stop breathing.

Then, somehow, he's stumbling into your house, whiskey soaked tongue pushing past your soft lips, your arms circling his neck, moaning into his mouth, pulling him deeper and deeper until the familiar scent of your perfume and detergent invade his senses and he knows you've led him into your bedroom.

Even with all the alcohol buzzing in his veins, he still manages to do everything he remembers that makes your back arch and your breath stutter. His mouth suctions around your breast, tip of his tongue teasing until your nipple hardens, then scrapes his teeth gently over your sensitive skin. Your hips buck and your head tips back into your pillow before he continues down. He slides his tongue through your pussy, soaked and aching for him. You taste just as good as he remembers and he's so hard it fucking hurts, but he keeps going. He eats at you like he's never going to have the chance again, lapping and moaning and nipping at your cunt until his lips pucker around your clit and he sucks, making you scream his name when you come all over his face.

His head swims from how intense it all is. He didn't expect you to answer your door, let alone be laying sprawled out in your bed, begging for his cock, coated in sweat.

When he first enters you, it's bliss. It's like heaven on earth, better than he ever remembered. You're warm and soft and wet — and he's too worked up, he can't go slow. He pounds into you hard, fists dipping into the mattress on either side of your head. His jaw is tight, his eyes a little glassy and wild. Your hands curl around his forearms, holding yourself in place so he doesn't fuck you into the headboard. You're whining and gasping and rolling your hips in rhythm with his, fucking each other like you're running out of time.

He grits out something along the lines of, you let that preppy dickhead fuck you like this? And you shake your head, wail out, no, just you, Joel. He growls and yanks up one of your legs, tosses it over his shoulder, and drives into you deeper, harder, faster, the loud slapping of skin on skin deafening in your otherwise quiet room. You're clawing at the sheets and gasping his name until your body goes rigid and you come with a broken sob, tears streaming down your cheeks.

It's all he needs — he comes a moment later, one rough hand grabbing at your hip, holding you still while he pumps you full of his cum. It feels like it lasts forever and he can't stop staring at your tired, beautiful face. Even when he's done, his hips occasionally jut forward, pushing every last drop of his release deep inside your cunt, claiming you as his until you shudder and tell him you can't take any more.

Afterwards, you lay together, staring blankly at the ceiling, catching your breath and coming to terms with what you just did. You eventually clear your throat and tell him he can stay the night, but this can't happen again. He agrees, but only because he knows. He knows you to your very core, knows what makes you tick, knows what you're thinking sometimes before you even do. But most of all, he knows when you're lying. What he saw in your eyes that night told him everything he needed to know — he was going to win you back.

[strangersteddierthings]

Jealousy Looks Different On You

Title wonderfully suggested by @shoujo-wizard! Thanks so much because I was struggling to title this.

[Part One] ✨ [Part Two] ✨ [You Are Here]

It is not often in Eddie's life that he's left without words. So rare it is that Eddie can remember them all and tally them on one hand.

The first was when his mom died. He was so at a loss for words that he didn't speak for over a month, too lost in grief. And looking back on it older and wiser, a little bit was him knowing that it wouldn't have mattered if he'd spoke, his dad wasn't around to answer.

The second was when Wayne got The Call from his dad, when Wayne had to tell Eddie that he was going to be moving in with him permanently. That his dad wasn't coming back 'round for a long time.

The third was the first time a guy kissed him. Eddie was eighteen and had just learned he wasn't going to graduate the first time. He'd gone to Indy, ending up in gay bar that clocked his fake ID and wouldn't sell him alcohol but did let him in so he could be surrounded by other queers for the first time in his life. Eddie'd ended up in conversation with a guy old enough to drink and when he'd kissed Eddie there were no words, just a surprised gasp and then more kissing.

The fourth time (and this one is arguable due to him being in shock) was when Steve, Dustin, Robin, and Max had found him in the boathouse. It had taken him a while to find his voice before he could answer Dustin and learn that monsters are real.

So, Eddie is not left speechless often. Eddie's usual response is to get defensive, loud, or angry. Sometimes (most times) all three. He'd been rapidly approaching loud and angry until Steve shut him up with a quick list of how exactly Eddie fucked up.

Fucked up before he'd even had a real chance.

God damn him and his stupid fucking mouth! If he could go back and slap 21-year-old him in the back of the head, he would. He'd smack him good and then grab his shoulders and shaking him while screaming for him to shut up shut up shut up you are ruining your chances with Steve, and you don't even know it!

He can't go back, though. He can't unsay and unsay and unsay all the stupid, useless bullshit he's spewed over the years trying to throw Steve off course. Because that's what he was doing. Time and time again, finding guys who looked nothing like Steve to get his rocks off with, waxing lyrical about the ideal partner for him being as far from Steve as possible.

Eddie knows that's what he was doing because he stopped talking about it all so much when Steve, quiet and hesitant and shy for the first time ever since Eddie's known him, had come out to him. He wouldn't make eye contact, instead telling the wall behind Eddie 'I, uh, I've been learning new things every day, living here with you and Robin, and I. I, uh, I've learned new things about myself, too. Things that I think were... were always there but I was scared to look at for too long. But, um, because of you and Robin, I don't think I'm scared anymore,' and then Steve looked him right in the eye and said, 'I'm queer, too. I like girls, still, but also guys.'

God. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, that should have given it away! That Steve, nervous and fucking shy had made eye contact with him to come out. Like it was important that Eddie hear it and know it. And Eddie...

Jesus fuck, all his stupid, idiot, dumb-as-fuck past self had done was nod and say 'cool' before promptly changing the subject. At the time, Eddie had written off the look on Steve's face as Eddie bombing the Supportive Friend Response but now he sees it clearly for what it was.

Is.

Eddie breaking Steve's heart for the first time. Instead of giving any indication of liking Steve, Eddie'd all but solidified to him how disinterested Steve already thought Eddie was. Steve had said 'I like girls, still, but also guys' and only now can Eddie see that Steve meant 'I like girls, still, but also you.'

Eddie can see it all with this new knowledge adding perspective. Eddie had dug his own grave trying to hide how in love with Steve he was that he dug too far. So far that it worked. Why would Steve bother to tell Eddie he loved him when all Eddie had done was tattoo a clear and plain 'You aren't what I want and never will be' right across Steve's heart.

And now...

Now Eddie's sitting on a couch that used to be theirs. Could still be theirs if Eddie wasn't such a fucking coward all those years ago.

Instead, what is really happening is he's sitting on Steve's couch, crying silently, as he mourns what they could have been, should have been. And Steve's still standing before him, looking all the more uncertain and worried the longer Eddie's silent.

It takes all of Eddie's willpower to open his mouth and force out words. "I'm so fucking sorry, Steve. I-I'm so sorry."

Steve's brows scrunch, the space between them furrowing, and Eddie is struck with the same desire he always has when Steve's face does that. He wants to reach out and sooth it with his thumb, kiss it away.

"I should have- should've been more honest," Eddie says and his words feel as hollow as the tone of his voice. "You're right. I should have said something. Shit, I've basically spent our entire friendship sprouting lies so you wouldn't see the truth and it's fucked it all up."

Steve frowns at him, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides but he doesn't speak. In fact, he hasn't said much at all. His one rant was short but succinct and even though Eddie wants to hear his voice, wants Steve to sooth his guilt by accepting Eddie's apology, he knows it's too soon.

How can he possibly expect Steve to tell him he's forgiven when he's been unintentionally hurting him for at least five years?

Eddie looks down to his shoes and finally finds the strength to lift his hands, to wipe away the tears that streak down his cheeks. He shoves the heel of his palms into his eyes, taking a deep breath in and letting his hands drop as he breaths out. Once he feels a bit more put together, he looks back up at Steve, who is still standing awkwardly in his own living room, looking unsure.

"Have I been... hurting you this whole time?" Eddie asks, even though he's sure of the answer and hates himself for it.

"Yes," Steve says slowly, "and no. It's not that simple. I knew I wasn't what you wanted, it's not like you... strung me along or promised me anything. I hurt myself wanting you, but I couldn't stop."

Eddie lets out a whimpering sound. "No! Don't you get it? That's not- Steve, you are the one I wanted, want, more than anything else."

Steve's face twists again, angry and hurt.

Eddie rushes to continue. "I know it doesn't seem like it. I know. Because I hid it, Steve. I hid it so well that you believed the lies. That you believe what I wanted was everything you," Eddie's throat fills thick and it's hard to speak but he has to say the words, even though he hates the thought; hates that Steve thought it, "was everything you weren't and that's a lie."

Steve scoffs, a quiet and angry thing. "I don't know if you remember but we lived in this apartment together for eight years. Eight years of having to hear just how much you wanted whatever the guy of the week was giving you. These walls are thin."

Eddie does remember. Of course he does. The glares Robin would shoot him for disrupting her sleep and how Steve would rib him about having a fun night. He also remembers the change that came once Steve had come out to them. How Robin's glares turned from annoyance to actual anger. How Steve stopped teasing him and never met his eye the mornings after.

"I do enjoy kink," Eddie clarifies, because it's true, "particularly BDSM. But Steve, please, you have to believe me. I'd give it all up if it meant having you."

Steve sighs, like Eddie's said the exact thing he thought he would and wishes he hadn't. "I believe that you believe that."

God, Eddie's really, really, fucked this up. "I do believe that! What is all of, of that," he waves his hand in the air, a need to move something but unable to stand from the couch that could have still been theirs, "compared to you? The person I trust more than anyone else in the world? The person I'll never have to hide the occasional nightmare from because you already understand? Who knows all there is to know about me and still-" he skips over his words here, fearful that the truth might have changed between the bar and here, "-still loves me anyway?"

He watches Steve' Adams apple bob as he swallows before speaking. "I'll always love you, Eddie. That will never be the issue. It's just... what if love's not enough?"

And now, Eddie pleads, "but what if it is?"

-

For the timeline here, since I know have decided on one is this: Season 4 happened but Eddie lived and was cleared of charges but still had to get outta Hawkins ASAP. Steve, Robin, and Eddie shared an apartment in Chicago while Robin when to college. Robin lived with them for the 4 years she was in college and then an additional two until she got a serious girlfriend and they moved in together. Steve and Eddie, now 26 and 27, continued to live together until Eddie and his new band finally got their break when Eddie was 29. Eddie moved to LA then at the request of the label and Steve's stayed in that original Chicago apartment since. Steve is currently 31 and Eddie is 32.

@xxbottlecapx @im-sam-fucking-winchester @novacorpsrecruit @thewickedkat @dreamy-jeans137 @everywherenothere @hangingupinthehallway @estrellami-1 @queenie-ofthe-void @dreamsteddie @acowardinmordor @steviesummer @kinryuuki @genderless-spoon @paperbackribs @steddiecameraroll @yesdangerpls @jackiethevampireslayer @skitchskatchbat @sani-86

[luvfae]

Hii can I reqyest a fic where reader and a random girl get into a fight at a bar and reader lowkey beats the shit out of her. Then the boyfriend of the girl the reader is fighting steps in and hits reader and thanos steps in. If it’s too much i get it.

BAR FIGHT

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader

warnings: violence, swearing, alcohol use

The bar was packed. Bodies crammed together, the air thick with sweat, spilled liquor, and the static of too-loud music. You were already a few drinks in, feeling loose, not quite drunk but definitely buzzed. It was a good night. Until—

“Bitch, are you fucking kidding me.”

You barely turned your head before someone grabbed your arm, nails digging into your skin.

A girl. Blonde, caked in makeup, some cheap bodycon dress that had ridden up her thighs. She was pissed.

You blinked at her. “Huh?”

Her lip curled. “You knocked my drink over, dumbass.”

You glanced at the ground. A shattered glass. Vodka seeping into the dirty floorboards.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “My bad.”

Blondie scoffed. “Your bad? That was a ten-dollar drink, you fucking skank.”

Okay. Now you were annoyed.

“It’s a bar,” you deadpanned. “Shit spills. Get over it.”

Wrong answer.

Blondie sneered, stepping closer, chest puffed up. She was smaller than you, but she had that manic, I’ll-swing-even-though-I’ll-lose energy.

“Fucking rude-ass bitch,” she spat. “Bet you think you’re cute or some shit.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “Listen. You’re drunk. I’m drunk. Let’s not do this.”

“Oh, now you’re scared?”

You frowned. “I said let’s not. Not I won’t.”

She didn’t get the hint.

She shoved you.

It wasn’t even a good shove. Just a weak, sloppy push against your shoulder.

You sighed.

“Alright.” You rolled your neck, loosening your arms. “Your funeral.”

And then you swung.

Your fist collided with her face, knuckles meeting cheekbone. She stumbled back, a shriek escaping her throat. People gasped, chairs scraped against the floor.

“Oh, shit!” someone yelled.

Blondie recovered quick. She lunged, nails swiping at your face.

You ducked, pivoted, and clocked her again—this time square in the jaw. She crumpled like a cheap tent, knees hitting the floor.

Blondie groaned, clutching her face.

“You done?” you asked, breathing a little heavier.

No answer.

Yeah. She was done.

You turned back to the bar, smoothing your hair down. “So anyway—”

And then a fist slammed into the side of your face.

BANG.

Your head snapped to the side.

White-hot pain shot through your jaw. Your vision blurred for half a second before your body caught up.

What the fuck—?

You blinked.

A guy. Tall. Broad. Angrier than hell.

“Don’t touch my girl, you fucking whore,” he growled.

Oh.

Oh, he hit you.

He hit you.

Your vision sharpened. Your hands curled into fists.

“Hey.”

A new voice. Deeper. Lazier.

You turned.

A man leaned against the bar, watching.

Tattoos. Tall. Dark, hooded eyes.

He was grinning.

Thanos.

You didn’t know him, but you knew of him. The type to run his mouth, make a mess, and still come out on top.

He pushed off the counter, stepping between you and Blondie’s boyfriend.

“You feel big?” he asked the guy, voice thick with amusement. “Hitting a girl like that?”

The dude squared his shoulders. “Mind your business, motherfucker.”

Thanos laughed. “Nah.”

His grin dropped.

And then he swung.

BANG.

The guy hit the floor, out cold.

Silence.

Thanos cracked his knuckles. “Oops.”

Blondie shrieked. “You fucking psycho!”

Thanos ignored her, turning to you. “You good?”

You wiped your mouth. “Been better.”

He scanned your face. “C’mon.”

He grabbed your wrist and tugged you outside.

The cold air hit like a slap. You hissed, touching your jaw.

Thanos leaned against the brick wall, pulling out a cigarette. “Damn. He got you good.”

“No shit,” you muttered.

He exhaled smoke. “You break anything?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t think so.”

Thanos took your chin between his fingers, tilting your head. His touch was rough, calloused. His eyes flicked over your face.

“Lemme see.”

You let him.

His thumb pressed gently along your jaw. “Not broken. Just gonna bruise like a bitch.”

You smirked. “You a doctor?”

He grinned. “Nah. Just get punched a lot.”

You chuckled, wincing when it pulled at your cheek.

Thanos tilted his head. “You fight a lot?”

You licked your split lip. “When I have to.”

His smirk widened.

“I like you,” he admitted, flicking ash off his cig.

You hummed. “You always punch dudes for girls you don’t know?”

He shrugged. “Only when they’re hot.”

You scoffed. “Smooth.”

Thanos pushed off the wall. “Ain’t gotta be smooth when I hit hard.”

You laughed.

He nodded toward the street. “C’mon. Lemme buy you a drink.”

You arched a brow. “You trying to hit on me?”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “I’m Thanos, by the way.”

You smirked.

“Y/N.”

[ankababy]

A Home (part 7)

Part 1 Part 6 Part 8

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

You couldn’t avoid this forever, could you Y/N?

(TW: murder, manipulation, vomiting and Y/N’s heart breaking)

Niragi dragged his feet into the living room, shoulders loose with sleep, hair a little messy from however he crashed last night. His eyes were half-lidded as he adjusted to the light, then flickered toward the kitchen.

There you were. Already awake, moving around, hands busy with something. He watched as you grabbed a plate, then shifted to the stove, fluid and soft in all your little movements. You were too fucking light on your feet, too gentle for this world. It was like watching a ghost move through a home that didn’t belong to them.

“You’re up early.” he muttered, voice still rough with sleep.

You turned to look at him, smiling—because of course you did, because you were you. “Wanted to make sure you guys wake up to breakfast.” you said. “Since you played yesterday.”

Niragi scoffed, padding into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes. “Played.” he repeated, mocking. “You say it like it’s a fucking card game or some shit.”

You shrugged, unbothered, returning to your task. “It is, isn’t it? A game.”

He exhaled sharply, like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t be bothered. “Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You hummed, grabbing something off the counter. “I don’t sleep well anyway.” you admitted easily. “You guys do, though. That’s good.”

Niragi leaned against the counter, eyeing you. “You’re fucking weird, you know that?”

You smiled again, unshaken. “I know.”

God, that annoyed him. The way you never reacted the way you were supposed to. The way you didn’t take the bait, didn’t flinch, didn’t get all stiff and quiet when he tried to be an asshole. He was an asshole. He knew that. He wanted people to hate him, to push back, to give him a reason to hate them back.

But you? You just stood there, making food like some housewife, treating him like a person even though he’d given you every reason not to.

He didn’t get it.

Didn’t get you.

And that made him want to push you more. Break you open, see what was underneath all that fucking warmth.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” he said, tilting his head at you.

You just blinked at him. “Do what?”

“This. Acting like you give a shit.”

Your expression didn’t change, didn’t waver. “I do give a shit, Niragi.”

Something in his jaw tensed. His fingers curled slightly against the counter.

You weren’t lying. He could tell. That was the worst part.

You turned back to what you were doing, calm as ever, as if Niragi’s words hadn’t just tried to scratch at something under your skin. Like always, they didn’t land.

“Sit down.” you told him lightly, motioning with your chin toward the table.

He just stood there, staring at you, like he was trying to figure out if he wanted to listen to you or not.

After a few seconds, he clicked his tongue and dropped himself into one of the chairs with a sigh, legs sprawled, posture lazy. He leaned back, watching you.

You set something to cook, then turned around, leaning your lower back against the counter and folding your arms loosely over your stomach.

“How’d you get along with Chishiya yesterday?”

Niragi’s expression immediately soured. “Get along?” He scoffed. “The fuck are you talking about? I tolerated him, if that’s what you mean.”

You smiled. “That bad?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing at his temple. “Fucking guy is annoying. Stares too much. Doesn’t fucking talk unless he’s got some smug little comment to throw at you.” He shook his head. “Like a little rat with a superiority complex.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of words for ‘we didn’t kill each other.’”

Niragi’s eyes flicked to yours, narrowing. “You want us to get along or something?”

You gave a soft shrug. “Not really. Just curious.”

He clicked his tongue again, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well. He’s an asshole.”

You didn’t argue with that. You knew that already. Knew both of them were, in their own ways.

Still, you watched him for a moment, noting the way he spoke about Chishiya—annoyed, sure, but not furious. Not hateful.

“You didn’t hate having him there, though.” you pointed out, eyes soft but knowing.

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You tilted your head, your expression thoughtful. “You’re talking like you hate his guts, but you don’t actually sound as mad as you should be if that were the case. Like, I don’t know… Maybe it wasn’t that bad, having him as backup.”

His face twisted in something like irritation, but you could see his mind turning behind his eyes. “Tch. Don’t be stupid. I would’ve done fine without him.”

“I’m sure.” you said easily. “But still. He was there.”

Niragi exhaled sharply, looking away like he was done with this conversation.

You smiled.

That was an answer in itself.

Silence settled between the two of you for a moment, the only sounds in the room being the quiet cooking noises from the stove. Niragi tapped his fingers on the table idly, eyes flicking toward you every now and then, like he was expecting you to say something.

And you did. But not about Chishiya.

“You didn’t have a lot of people watching your back before, did you?”

He stilled.

You didn’t push. Didn’t clarify. Just let the words hang there, weightless, giving him the space to take them however he wanted.

After a long moment, he leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to the side with a lazy sort of smirk. “You think you’re smart, don’t you?”

You smiled back, unbothered. “I am smart, Niragi.”

He didn’t answer your question. But he didn’t need to.

Because if he had people watching his back before, he wouldn’t be like this. Wouldn’t need to push people away first, just to make sure they couldn’t leave him behind. Wouldn’t have turned himself into something that nobody could get close to.

But here he was. Sitting at your table, eating your food, letting you talk to him like this.

And he hadn’t left.

You heard how Chishiya walked in, as quiet as ever, his presence only noticeable once he was there, lingering at the entrance like some kind of ghost. His hoodie was slightly rumpled, and his eyes immediately locked onto the scene in front of him.

You glanced over at Chishiya and smiled.

“Stop staring.” you teased, waving a hand at him. “Those pretty eyes are making me nervous. Just sit down already.”

Niragi’s expression immediately soured, his head snapping toward you like he just knew that you were going to say some shit that would piss him off.

And you did.

Because right as Niragi’s glare intensified, you hummed, tilting your head slightly and adding, “Your lips are pretty too, Niragi.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“What the fuck?” Niragi shot you a look of pure disgust, as if you had just committed some unspeakable crime right in front of him. “Don’t fucking say weird shit like that.”

Chishiya, meanwhile, just blinked. No real reaction, just a slow, measured look as he finally moved, stepping into the kitchen properly and taking a seat.

“Relax.” you said easily, looking at Niragi with a smile, putting his plate down in front of him. “I’m not hitting on either of you. Those were just the first things I noticed about you two, that’s all.”

Niragi still looked pissed, his brows furrowed like the very concept of you complimenting Chishiya in any way was personally offensive to him.

“Fucking bullshit.” he muttered, shaking his head and stabbing his fork into his food.

Chishiya, on the other hand, seemed mildly intrigued. He picked up the cup of tea you had placed in front of him, his gaze flicking to you as he lifted it to his lips. “The first things you noticed about us?” he echoed, his voice smooth and quiet, like he was picking apart your words just to see what was inside.

You hummed, nodding. “Mhm. First time I saw Niragi, I thought, wow, those are some really pretty lips for someone who runs his mouth so much.”

Niragi scowled. “Shut the fuck up.”

You ignored him, your attention shifting to Chishiya. “And you,” you continued, tilting your head slightly. “your eyes stood out to me first. They’re just… really nice to look at. And intense. Kind of like you could see through people.”

Chishiya didn’t respond right away. Just watched you.

You met his gaze without hesitation, soft and unbothered, because you meant it. None of this was flattery—just observations. Just things you had noticed about them right away, things that had stuck in your mind.

Chishiya’s lips curled slightly at the edges, the smallest hint of amusement flickering through his eyes. “And what about you?” he asked, setting his cup down. “What do you think people notice first about you?”

You blinked at the question, caught a little off guard. Then, after a moment, you shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably that I talk too much.”

Niragi snorted. “Yeah, no fucking shit.”

You gave him a look but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.

Still, you turned back to Chishiya, your voice softer now. “But if I had to guess?” You exhaled lightly, thinking. “Maybe that I’m… kind. Or at least, that’s what I hope people notice.”

Chishiya’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if considering something.

You didn’t press him.

Niragi, however, made a disgusted noise, shaking his head. “Ugh, fucking stop.” he muttered. “This shit is giving me a headache.”

You laughed, light and warm. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop.” you said, finally pushing off the counter and moving toward them, setting down more food. “Just eat, both of you. You need it.”

Niragi muttered something under his breath, but he did eat.

Chishiya, too, lifted his utensils without complaint.

And you? You just smiled to yourself, watching them for a moment before settling down with your tea.

But then you scoffed, shaking your head as you watched Chishiya eat.

“Don’t eat like that.” you said, voice light, your eyes fixed on him.

Chishiya barely reacted, just flicked his gaze up to you, swallowing his bite of food before speaking. “Like what?”

“Like you can’t fucking see.” you shot back. “Your hair’s all in your face.”

And without hesitation, without overthinking it, you leaned over—close, warm—and gently tucked his hair behind his ears.

It was effortless. Natural. Like you would’ve done it for anyone.

Because you would’ve.

For a stranger on the street, for a friend, for someone you’d only just met. You weren’t selective with your kindness—it wasn’t calculated, wasn’t something you gave out only to people you deemed worthy.

You just were.

And that was what made it so strange.

Chishiya sat still beneath your touch, but he was aware of it, of the way your fingers brushed against his skin so easily, like it didn’t mean anything. And maybe to you, it really didn’t. Maybe you would do this for a homeless man, for someone bleeding out on the pavement, for a person who could offer you nothing in return.

That was the thing about you.

You were open. Too open.

Niragi made a disgusted noise, shoving another bite of food into his mouth. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is this? Babysitting?” he grumbled through a mouthful, chewing loudly just to be an ass. “If he can’t see his fucking food, he can deal with it himself.”

You barely spared Niragi a glance. “You’re just mad nobody’s tucking your hair back.” you said, smirking slightly before refocusing on Chishiya. “There. Now you don’t look like you’re eating through a curtain.”

Chishiya didn’t move right away. Didn’t blink, didn’t react. Just… existed there, watching you. “Hmph.”

That was it. No sharp retort, no sarcasm, no witty comeback. Just a small, noncommittal sound before he went right back to eating.

But Niragi? Oh, he hated this.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Niragi shot at Chishiya, eyebrows knitting together in irritation. “Say something, you weirdo.”

Chishiya didn’t even look at him. “What do you want me to say?”

“That was weird as shit.” Niragi spat. “Fucking act like a person.”

Chishiya did look at him then, lips twitching at the edges like he was mildly entertained by Niragi’s outburst. “Why?” he asked simply. “So you can sleep better at night?”

Niragi clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re fucking insufferable.”

You only laughed, leaning back. “You’re both ridiculous.”

And yet, they were still here. Still sitting with you, still listening, still reacting.

And you? You were just sweet enough to make them stay.

You exhaled, stretching your arms above your head. “I’m playing today.”

Niragi barely paused mid-chew before scoffing, looking at you like you’d just told him the dumbest thing imaginable. “Are you fucking stupid?”

Chishiya, ever so observant, simply leaned back in his chair, stirring his tea, watching.

You tilted your head at Niragi. “I haven’t played in a while.” you said, tone light, as if that was all the explanation needed. “I should go before my visa gets too low.”

Niragi licked his teeth, clearly unimpressed. “And you’re going alone?”

You shrugged. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, my ass.” he shot back immediately. “You didn’t take me last time, so you’re not going without me this time.”

Ah.

There it was.

It wasn’t about you. Not really. It was about him—about his pride, about how you left without him before, how you chose to go alone instead of letting him come with you.

You bit back a knowing smile, tilting your head playfully. “Oh? Now you want to play with me?”

“I don’t fucking want to,” he corrected sharply “but if you’re going, then yeah, I am too.”

Well. That was easy.

So you turned to Chishiya. “What about you?”

He blinked slowly. “What about me?”

“Are you coming?” you asked, tone soft.

He wasn’t obligated to. You weren’t asking because you expected him to—this was different. Niragi had his own reasons, his own stubborn pride. But Chishiya?

You genuinely didn’t know why he would.

And yet—

“I suppose I could.”

That was all he said. No reasoning, no explanation. Just… an agreement.

You frowned slightly, leaning in with curiosity. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know.”

You studied him. “Then why?”

Chishiya didn’t answer immediately. He just watched you, like he was calculating something in that pretty head of his, before he finally offered, “Maybe I’m interested.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Interested?”

“In seeing how you do.” he clarified, though something in his tone suggested that wasn’t the full truth.

Still, it was something.

“Hah!” Niragi let out a sharp sound. “You’re so fucking weird, man.”

Chishiya didn’t look at him. “You’re still sitting here.”

Niragi sneered, biting into his food. “Whatever.”

You smiled to yourself, warmth spreading through your chest. “Well, then I guess we’re all going.”

Niragi clicked his tongue. “Guess so.”

Chishiya simply took another sip of tea.

~

The three of you were waiting, leaning against a cold, concrete wall, the looming neon game arena lights flickering overhead. You were between them naturally—Niragi to your right, arms crossed, chewing on his lip impatiently, and Chishiya to your left, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Excuse me.”

A voice.

A man, maybe around your age, stepping hesitantly toward you, awkward and nervous, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey.” he said, voice a little shaky, clearly unsure of himself. “I, uh, I just— I just wanted to say you’re really pretty, and I was wondering if, maybe, after the game, you’d wanna—”

You blinked, a little taken aback by the sudden confession, but before you could even register your reaction, you felt both Niragi and Chishiya shift.

Not toward him—no, just around you, subtle movements that felt like the equivalent of a pair of guard dogs raising their heads.

You could feel Niragi’s glare like a heatwave, practically burning a hole through the poor guy’s skull. Chishiya, on the other hand, didn’t move much—he didn’t have to. His presence was quiet, but it was there, his steady gaze landing on the guy with a look.

You, however, remained calm.

You smiled, soft and kind, tilting your head slightly. “That’s really sweet of you.”

The guy visibly perked up, looking a little hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you assured him, sincerity dripping from every word. “But I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. There’s just… a lot going on right now.”

His face fell slightly, but you reached out, giving his arm a gentle pat. “You’re sweet, though. I’m sure someone will say yes.”

That little bit of hope you gave him made him soften, a little more at ease despite the rejection. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, anyway.”

And then he walked off, still awkward, but not crushed.

You had a way of doing that—letting people down without breaking them. Leaving them with a little bit of light, rather than just shutting the door completely.

It was kind.

It was you.

And it pissed Niragi off.

“The fuck was that?” he snapped, turning his glare onto you now, irritated. “Why didn’t you just tell him to fuck off?”

You blinked at him, confused. “Why would I do that?”

“Because,” he scoffed. “he was wasting your time. That was pathetic.”

“He wasn’t hurting anyone.” you said simply, shrugging. “Why would I be mean to him?”

“Because he deserved it.” Niragi muttered, sneering. “You let him walk away thinking he had a fucking chance.”

You sighed, giving him a look. “And why is that a bad thing?”

Niragi opened his mouth, then shut it, clicking his tongue in frustration, before scoffing and looking away, muttering something under his breath.

You turned to Chishiya instead, tilting your head. “Do you think I should’ve been meaner?”

Chishiya blinked at you, then offered a lazy shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to Niragi.” you mused. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because he’s a fucking asshole.” Niragi snapped, irritated that you were analyzing him now. “Obviously.”

Chishiya smirked slightly. “Obviously.”

Niragi scowled. “Shut up.”

You just smiled, folding your arms as you leaned back against the wall again, between them like you belonged there.

Niragi liked to pretend he was untouchable. He built himself up as someone who didn’t care, someone above the rules, above consequences, above people. He wanted to be seen as violent, erratic, unpredictable—because fear kept people at a distance. It kept them in check. It made him untouchable.

And yet, underneath all that fire, all that psychotic bravado, all the teeth-baring and gun-slinging and joy he took in chaos—was something much uglier.

Insecurity.

It gnawed at him constantly.

He hated that he cared. He hated that he needed.

Because needing was weak.

Because the last time he needed, the last time he wanted, it got him nothing but pain.

The world never handed him anything freely, never offered him kindness without a price. If he wanted something, he had to take it. Steal it. Destroy for it. Kill for it. That was how life worked.

But then there was you.

You, with your sweet voice and your warm hands and your ability to smile at him like he was human. You, who saw everyone as something soft, someone worth protecting.

It made him feel stupid.

It made him feel small.

Because every time you touched him, every time you spoke to him in that voice, with that tone, so full of care, he wanted to melt into it.

That was weakness.

And Niragi hated weakness.

So he tried to push it down, mask it with cruelty, mask it with laughter, mask it with insults. He made fun of you, made fun of the people you were nice to, made fun of the way you let that guy down so gently instead of ripping him apart.

Because deep down, he knew—if that had been him, if he had been the one to walk up to you, all awkward and hopeful, if he had tried to ask you out back when he was nobody, back when he had no power, no confidence, no ability to strike fear into people—

You would have let him down gently, too.

You would have pitied him.

And he couldn’t stand that thought.

So he lashed out.

Because you made him feel like something less. Like something breakable. Like someone who could hurt.

And Niragi didn’t want to hurt.

He wanted to be above that.

But every time you looked at him like that, with all that sweetness, all that love, he remembered something deep inside of him, something he tried so desperately to kill—

That once, a long time ago—

Before he learned how to set the world on fire—

Before he learned how to hurt first—

He just wanted to be loved.

The screens lit up.

There were maybe fifteen people total—not a large group, but big enough for things to get messy if the game forced them to turn on each other.

The screen flickered, then displayed the familiar, clinical text in bold letters.

GAME: WARDEN’S ESCAPE

DIFFICULTY: 6 OF SPADES

Spades. Not a surprise. Niragi clicked his tongue, stuffing his hands into his pockets, while Chishiya barely reacted, his head tilted as he examined the screen.

A voice began to explain.

RULES:

Players have 60 minutes to reach the exit.

The "Warden" will attempt to stop you.

The exit will only open if a keycard is scanned.

A keycard can be only used once for one person.

Keycards are hidden throughout the area

You may take a keycard from another player by any means.

When time is up, the building will lock down, and all remaining players will be eliminated.

Your stomach twisted slightly at that last part.

No immediate death penalty—no bombs strapped to your neck, no instant game-over if you broke the rules. But there was an implied death sentence. If you failed, if youtook too long, you would die.

"Tch." Niragi scoffed, rolling his shoulders. "They should've made this harder."

You shot him a look. "It's a six. That's high."

“Not for me.”

You sighed, but before you could reply, the screen flashed again.

GAME START.

The moment the words appeared, the heavy metal doors at the front of the lot groaned, then began to slide open.

Inside, dim lights flickered in a massive industrial warehouse, rows of old machinery and storage units creating an uneven, winding path forward.

You could already hear people muttering, debating whether to run inside first or hang back.

Then—

A loud, echoing bang. The unmistakable sound of a shotgun firing.

Screams erupted, and you snapped your head toward the source.

At the top of a metal catwalk, partially hidden by shadows, a figure stood—tall, clad in armor, a full-face helmet obscuring their features.

The Warden.

They pumped their shotgun slowly, casually, before raising it again.

“Move.” Chishiya said, already stepping forward.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

People scattered, some sprinting inside while others dove for cover. The Warden didn’t seem interested in killing anyone just yet—just herding them.

You stayed close to the boys as the three of you entered the warehouse, quickly taking in your surroundings. It was huge. Dark corners, looming machinery, multiple levels.

A death trap.

And somewhere inside, the keycards you needed to escape.

Niragi turned to you with a grin that was nothing short of wicked, his rifle already slung off his shoulder, finger twitching near the trigger.

“Can I shoot him?”

The question was almost casual, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t really asking. He was just waiting for an excuse. A reason to unleash whatever violent itch he always seemed to have crawling under his skin.

You didn’t even flinch at the way he spoke about it so easily. You just glanced up at the armored figure above, still watching the players scramble.

“…I doubt it’d work.” you murmured.

That was the truth. If the game allowed the Warden to be shot and killed so easily, what would be the point? There had to be a catch.

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah? You wanna test that theory?”

He raised the rifle just slightly, as if already prepared to aim.

You reached over and grabbed his arm, just a gentle touch on his wrist, but his movements halted anyway. “Don’t.”

Chishiya, who had been scanning the area, finally cut in. “She’s right. He’s probably bulletproof.”

Niragi clicked his tongue, but he lowered the gun again, though you could tell he didn’t want to. “Fucking boring.”

His lack of concern for the situation almost made you laugh. It was such a Niragi thing to be disappointed that the game wasn’t letting him kill the guy.

You turned your attention back to the rest of the warehouse. The layout was a mess—rows of towering metal shelves, abandoned machinery, rusted pipes. It looked like an old industrial facility, the kind of place that was full of hidden nooks and blind corners.

Somewhere in here, those keycards were scattered.

And time was ticking.

“Alright.” you breathed, glancing at the boys. “Let’s find one of those cards before that asshole decides to stop playing around.”

Chishiya hummed in agreement. Niragi just shrugged, adjusting his grip on his rifle.

Then, you moved.

It didn’t take long before you realized just how ruthless this game was.

Not because of the Warden, though he was definitely a looming threat, stalking the catwalks, occasionally firing off rounds that sent players sprinting.

No—the real problem was the players themselves.

People weren’t just searching for the keycards.

They were fighting for them.

You’d barely made it past the first few aisles before you saw a guy get tackled, shoved hard against a metal beam as another player yanked a card from his hands.

Another group was already ganging up on a girl, three against one.

The rule had said it clearly: you can take a keycard from another player by any means.

And that meant they would.

Chishiya barely looked surprised. Niragi? He just smirked. You, however, were starting to feel that familiar knot in your stomach.

You’d been in enough games to know how quickly people turned into animals in situations like this. And you also knew that while you weren’t willing to hurt someone over a damn keycard—these two definitely were.

Well. Niragi was. Chishiya would just watch.

Still, you had to be careful.

Because the more chaos that unfolded, the more Niragi thrived.

At one point, a guy lunged at you, probably thinking you had a card.

You barely had time to react before Niragi was already stepping in. He caught the man by the collar, yanking him back so violently that he slammed into the nearest wall.

The guy groaned, dazed, and Niragi leaned down, his grin sharp.

“Wrong fucking choice, dumbass.”

The man scrambled to get away, tripping over himself.

You shot Niragi a look. “Was that necessary?”

He just snorted. “What, you wanted to handle him yourself?”

Before you could answer, Chishiya finally spoke. “There.”

You followed his gaze—and saw it.

A keycard.

Sitting on the edge of a high metal shelf, partially wedged between two rusted boxes.

Niragi laughed. “Well, that’s easy.”

You, however, frowned. “…It’s too obvious.”

Chishiya hummed. “Probably a trap.”

The three of you stood there for a moment, assessing the situation.

Behind you, the Warden fired again, another warning shot that sent players scattering.

Before either you or Chishiya could say another word, Niragi was already moving. He didn’t give a shit about whether it was a trap or not. If anything, the idea of it being dangerous probably made it more appealing.

He reached up and snatched the keycard from its spot.

You braced yourself, half-expecting something to go off—maybe an alarm, maybe another shot from the Warden—but nothing happened.

Just the sound of Niragi flicking the card between his fingers like it was nothing.

“Hah.” he scoffed. “You two worry too much.”

You exhaled, trying not to roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s keep moving.”

You weren’t even annoyed, really. It was just so Niragi to pull shit like that.

The three of you continued through the warehouse, stepping over rusted pipes and empty crates. The space smelled like dust and old metal, the air thick with tension.

You could hear the violence unfolding around you. People shouting. Footsteps pounding against the concrete. And the occasional gunshot.

Not from the Warden.

From the players.

Because of course some of them had weapons.

Somewhere to your left, two guys were fighting over a keycard, one of them already bloody from a deep gash across his arm. Further down, a woman was on the ground, unmoving, while someone else rifled through her pockets.

And Niragi— Niragi was eating it up.

You could see it in him.

That twitch in his fingers, the way his grip flexed around his rifle.

He ached to use it.

It was almost funny, really.

The guy had been holding back all night. You weren’t sure if it was because of you or because the rules of the game weren’t clear enough for him to start shooting, but either way—he was itching for an excuse.

Chishiya noticed it too. He flicked his gaze toward Niragi, unimpressed. “Don’t get trigger happy just because you’re bored.”

Niragi let out a low, amused laugh. “Bored? Are you kidding me?” He gestured toward the nearest body. “This is entertaining.”

You sighed. “We’re not here to kill people, Niragi.”

He turned to you, grinning. “You’re not. I don’t see the problem.”

You frowned. “You don’t even need to shoot anyone.”

He tilted his head, still smirking. “Doesn’t mean I can’t.”

You knew that tone. That taunting tone. The one that meant he was daring you to try and stop him.

But before you could say anything else, a figure moved in your periphery.

Fast.

Coming straight for you.

A man, eyes wild, face streaked with sweat and dirt. You barely caught a glimpse of the knife in his hand before he lunged.

You reacted fast—moving just in time to dodge, stumbling a step back—but Niragi was faster.

The crack of the gunshot was deafening.

The man barely made it another step before he crumpled.

You stared.

Not in shock. Not even in fear.

Just… annoyance.

Because of course Niragi took the first opportunity to shoot someone.

He huffed out a laugh, lowering the rifle. “What? He was coming at you.”

You gave him a look. “You could’ve just kicked him.”

He grinned, sharp and shameless. “Yeah, but this was more fun.”

Chishiya sighed, already looking disinterested. “Wonderful. Now we have to keep moving before his friends show up.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temple.

This game was a mess.

And Niragi? Niragi was having fun.

You moved quickly, eyes scanning the ground, the edges of crates, anywhere that might hide another keycard.

Time was running out.

It wasn’t immediate panic—not yet—but the last thing you wanted was to cut it close.

Your fingers brushed against something smooth, something just barely poking out from beneath a stack of old wooden pallets.

A keycard.

Without a second thought, you grabbed it and shoved it into Chishiya’s hands.

“Here.”

He blinked at you, fingers curling around the card. He hummed, slipping it into his pocket like it was nothing.

Everywhere you turned, you caught glimpses of movement. Some players were still searching, scrambling in desperation.

Others were… already dead.

Then you saw him.

The guy from earlier. The one who had been so sweet, so shy when he asked you out.

He was standing near an overturned forklift, chest heaving, a keycard clenched tightly in his fist.

Not smart enough to hide it. Not nearly paranoid enough to be holding it like that.

He turned his head, and his eyes met yours.

You both froze.

You weren’t sure what was going through his mind, but he had to know.

Had to realize he was fucked.

Because it wasn’t just you staring at him.

It was Niragi.

It was Chishiya.

Niragi moved.

Slow. Casual. Almost too relaxed as he turned toward you, smirk curling at the edges of his lips.

And then he lifted his rifle—and slid it into your hands.

Your breath hitched.

Oh.

Oh.

You curled your fingers around it instinctively, feeling the weight settle against your palms, the coolness of the metal pressing against your skin.

The guy was still staring at you, wide-eyed, frozen in place.

Niragi leaned in, voice just for you.

“Go on.” he murmured, almost sweetly. “Take your shot.”

The words slithered down your spine like a dare.

Like temptation.

You didn’t move. Didn’t raise the rifle. Didn’t even blink.

Because, honestly? You weren’t even looking at the guy anymore.

You were looking at Niragi.

At his expression. At the way his dark eyes gleamed with something hungry.

He was watching you. Not just watching—studying. As if this was some kind of test. As if he wanted to see what you’d do. As if he liked this.

The weight of the rifle in your hands felt wrong.

Not because you’d never held one before.

Not because you were scared.

But because this?

This was exactly what Niragi wanted.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t raise the rifle.

Didn’t look away from Niragi, either.

You weren’t sure what unsettled you more—the fact that he had handed it to you, the fact that he was watching so intently, or the fact that part of you could hear what he wanted before he even said it.

Go on. Take your shot.

Kill for me.

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening against the metal.

The guy—god, you didn’t even know his name—was still frozen, wide-eyed and waiting. Waiting for you to lower the gun. Waiting for you to raise it. Waiting for something.

“Oh, come on.” Niragi scoffed, stepping just close enough that you could feel his presence behind you. He tilted his head, eyes flicking lazily toward the poor guy standing there, helpless, keycard clutched in his fist.

“What’s the problem?” Niragi drawled, voice syrupy-sweet. “You think he wouldn’t kill you if he had the chance?”

The guy sucked in a sharp breath. “I wouldn’t—”

“You would.” Niragi cut him off so smoothly, it was brutal. “Because you’re desperate. And desperate people do anything to survive.”

The guy clenched his jaw.

“I’m not like that.” he muttered, shaky.

“You will be.” Niragi murmured, tilting his head. “That’s the fun part.”

His hand—big, warm, solid—came up behind you, wrapping loosely around your wrist.

Not forcing.

Not yanking.

Just pressing.

Guiding.

“Just pull the trigger, sweetheart.” he murmured. “It’s easy.”

Your stomach twisted.

“You’re insane.” the guy whispered.

Niragi grinned.

“No shit.”

Fuck.

“Well.” Chishiya’s voice broke through, flat. “He has a point.”

You turned your head just enough to see him, leaned against a crate, arms crossed. He looked utterly unimpressed.

Indifferent.

Like this wasn’t a thing to him. Like none of it mattered.

And then he raised a brow at you, ever so slight, ever so mocking.

“You do want to live, don’t you?” he asked.

Your lips parted. “Of course—”

“Then kill him.”

A cold sensation slid down your spine.

Chishiya didn’t move. Didn’t force anything. He just watched you, head tilted, eyes scanning your face like he was reading something there. Like you were an experiment.

“I mean,” he continued casually. “you do understand how this works, don’t you?”

You knew what he was doing.

He was so good at it.

Not yelling, not forcing, not pushing—just speaking.

“Even if you don’t kill him, someone else will.” he said simply. “Because there aren’t enough cards for everyone. There never are.”

You swallowed hard.

“But—”

“And say we let him go.” He shrugged. “What happens next time?”

You said nothing.

“If he makes it to another game,” Chishiya continued. “he’ll remember this. He’ll remember that you let him live.” A pause. “And he might assume you’ll be just as kind next time.”

Your stomach twisted. “That’s—”

“That’s dangerous.” He held your gaze, perfectly calm. Like he knew he was winning. Like he knew that somewhere, in some part of your mind, you were listening.

Understanding.

“You can’t afford to be soft.” Chishiya murmured. “Not here.”

You felt Niragi smile against your hair.

“C’mon, angel.” he murmured, voice dripping with something too sweet. “Just one little squeeze.”

He tapped your wrist lightly, still guiding the gun in your hands.

“So easy.”

The guy took a half-step back, hands tightening around his keycard. He knew he was fucked.

And you—god. You were shaking.

Because what if they were right?

What if next time, he wasn’t some helpless, wide-eyed kid?

What if next time, you were the one standing there with nothing?

“You can do it.” Niragi crooned.

You weren’t sure if he meant that.

Or if he just wanted to see if you would.

Your ears were ringing.

Your hands shook, the weight of the gun suddenly unbearable.

The guy was on the ground.

Still.

You couldn’t even hear if he made a sound.

You just saw the blood blooming beneath him, the way his body twitched before going slack, the way his fingers—his fingers that had been wrapped around the keycard, holding it so tightly—slowly unfurled, limp.

He was dead.

You killed him.

Fuck.

You killed him.

A shaky breath clawed its way out of your throat.

You barely registered Niragi shifting behind you, leaning in close, the heat of his body pressed against your back.

“See?” His voice was warm, wrapping around you like something deadly. “Told you it was easy.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your chest rose and fell too fast, too uneven, heart hammering against your ribs, trying—failing—to make sense of what you’d just done.

Chishiya walked over, crouched, pried the card from the dead man’s fingers, and straightened.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate. He just turned, stepping back toward you, pressing the keycard into your palm.

Like he was handing you change after buying something.

Like this was just another transaction.

“You did well.” he murmured.

Your stomach twisted.

You couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

But you felt Niragi’s grin against your hair, his breath warm as he leaned in closer.

“You got a taste now, angel.” he murmured, voice laced with something dangerous. “Bet it wasn’t as bad as you thought, huh?”

You swallowed.

You wanted to say no.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to undo it.

But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t bring him back.

Couldn’t change what you’d done.

And they—they wouldn’t let you. Because Niragi was still so close, still guiding your hand, still treating this like it was some kind of victory.

And Chishiya—Chishiya, who barely even blinked at your shaking hands, who just straightened, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“You should keep moving.” he said.

As if that was that. As if there was nothing else to be said.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until Niragi’s fingers curled, tilting your chin up.

“Don’t freak out on me now, sweetheart.” he murmured.

You swallowed hard, breath shuddering, pulse hammering in your throat.

And Niragi—Niragi just smiled, his voice dipping into something low and sweet.

“C’mon, angel.” he crooned. “One step at a time.”

And you—you stepped. Because what else could you do? You could still feel the gun in your hands. Even though Niragi had taken it back, even though your fingers were empty now, they still twitched, still ached with the weight of it.

Still remembered.

Your vision blurred as you walked, the world turning into nothing but smears of color and light, the edges of your mind closing in like a vice.

You killed someone.

Not because you had to.

Not because you were cornered, not because you were threatened, not because you were fighting for your own survival.

But because they told you to.

Because they pushed you.

Because Niragi whispered in your ear like the devil himself, because Chishiya stood by and let it happen, because they both knew what they were doing—what buttons to press, what words to say, what weight to put on your shoulders until the only choice you had left was the one they wanted.

Niragi’s arm slung lazily over your shoulders, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your skin. His touch was warm, grounding, suffocating.

“You won, angel.” he murmured, voice dipped in honey, in poison, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Look at you.”

Your stomach twisted. Your steps faltered.

But his grip on you was firm, tugging you closer, keeping you moving.

Chishiya, walking on your other side, glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“You did what you had to.” he said simply, like that was enough to justify it.

Like he didn’t care whether it was true or not.

And maybe he didn’t.

Maybe all he cared about was you, unraveling before him.

Maybe that was what made you interesting.

Your breath shuddered out of you. Your vision swam again, and you realized—fuck, you were about to cry.

Not here.

Not now.

Not in front of them.

But Niragi must have felt the way you tensed, the way your breath hitched, because he cooed, low and sweet.

“Oh, angel.” he murmured, fingers curling into your waist, squeezing. “Getting all emotional on me?”

Your throat clenched tight.

“Let me guess.” he continued, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your skin. “Feeling guilty?” A dark chuckle, something indulgent, almost affectionate. “That’s cute.”

You winced. Physically.

Chishiya saw it. You knew he did. And yet, he didn’t comment. He didn’t intervene. Of course he didn’t. Because why would he? This was his test, wasn’t it? Watching you, watching how far you’d break before you snapped entirely.

And Niragi—Niragi was reveling in it, dragging his fingertips down your spine, all soft and slow.

“Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.” he said. “No point crying over someone who would’ve died anyway.”

That—that wasn’t true.

That wasn’t fucking true.

He wouldn’t have died.

He wasn’t fighting anyone.

He was just playing. Just trying to win, just trying to live, just trying to get through the same fucked-up world you all were stuck in.

And now he was dead because you pulled the trigger.

Your breath came out uneven, sharp and shallow, but Niragi just sighed, dramatic, pressing more of his weight onto you.

“You’re really gonna cry about it, huh?” he mused, his voice dipping into something lower, something almost sickly sweet. “Poor baby.”

Something inside you twisted, something ugly, something that wanted to cry but refused to, something that wanted to break but couldn’t—not with both of them here, watching.

So instead, you swallowed it down. Forced it back. Took a slow, shaking breath. And kept walking. Because what else could you do?

They wouldn’t let you stop.

Wouldn’t let you dwell.

Wouldn’t let you fucking feel anything about it.

Because they didn’t care.

They never cared.

You were breaking.

And they were just watching you fall.

The doors clicked open as the keycards were scanned, the heavy metal giving way as the lock released, and the three of you stepped out into the night air.

Cool, fresh, crisp against your skin.

You sucked in a deep breath, shaky, uneven, trying to ground yourself in it. Trying to make it settle something inside you. But it didn’t.

It couldn’t.

Because nothing could take away what you just did.

Nothing could erase the fact that someone was lying dead in that building because of you, while it was unnecessary. It would’ve been fine, if you had to kill him. But you didn’t.

You stumbled slightly as you stepped down onto the pavement, your legs weaker than you expected, your body suddenly so much heavier. The world felt wrong, the air too thin, your chest too tight.

The first tear slipped down your cheek.

And once it started, it didn’t stop.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You couldn’t keep it inside, couldn’t keep swallowing it down, couldn’t pretend you were okay, because you weren’t.

A choked sob forced its way out of your throat, your hands shaking, your whole body trembling under the weight of everything that had just happened.

Niragi sighed.

Dramatic.

“Aw, baby.”

His voice was so sweet, so syrupy, so thick with indulgence. His fingers brushed against your cheek, slow, wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

Like he cared.

Like he wasn’t the one who did this to you.

“That bad, huh?” he murmured, his voice low, soothing, soft in a way that felt so fucking wrong. His other hand found your waist, fingers curling into your side, warm and steady. “Poor thing.”

You let out a broken breath, something caught between a sob and a gasp, your vision blurred, your throat tight.

You stepped into him.

Into his warmth.

Into his arms.

Into him.

Your forehead pressed into his chest, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as your body trembled against his.

And Niragi—Niragi smiled. Over your head, he lifted his gaze to Chishiya, smirking, something smug and victorious curling at the corners of his mouth.

Chishiya smiled back. Small. Knowing. Dark.

Because you—you had just proven something to both of them. That no matter how much you tried to fight it, no matter how much you thought you wouldn’t fall—you still ran to the thing that hurt you.

Still sought comfort from the very hands that broke you.

Still let yourself be pulled under, be swallowed whole, be owned by them.

Niragi pressed his nose into your hair, inhaling, sighing against you like this was nothing.

Like you weren’t breaking in his arms.

“You did so good, sweetheart.” he murmured, his voice soft, dripping with something thick and intoxicating. “I’m proud of you.”

A sharp breath shuddered out of you. Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt.

And Niragi—Niragi just kept smiling.

~

Chishiya pulled the door open, stepping inside first, but he didn’t bother waiting. He just walked ahead like he hadn’t just been there to witness it all. Like he hadn’t watched you crack, hadn’t watched you fold, hadn’t watched you melt into Niragi’s touch like you needed it.

Like you were made for this.

Like it was inevitable.

And maybe it was.

Niragi guided you inside with an arm draped over your shoulders, heavy and firm, warm in a way that you should’ve hated.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t hate it at all.

You leaned into him, the weight of his hold pressing you close, grounding you in a way that made your skin prickle. You should’ve pulled away, should’ve stepped back, should’ve done something—but instead, you let him steer you deeper into the apartment, let him touch you, let him own you in that moment.

“You tired, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice low, sweet, laced with something that you couldn’t quite name.

You nodded, sluggish, your body still running on the adrenaline crash, on the aftershocks of everything that had happened.

His fingers curled into your arm, a slow squeeze, and then he leaned down, close enough that you felt his breath against the shell of your ear.

“You were real cute back there, you know.” he hummed, the smirk obvious in his voice. “All shaky, all teary-eyed… fuck, you’re just the softest little thing, huh?”

You inhaled sharply, something catching in your throat.

He liked that.

He liked you like this.

Weak.

Folded.

His.

But you didn’t pull away. Didn’t even want to. And that was the worst part. Because this—this warmth, this safety, this sick, cruel comfort—was what you needed right now.

And he knew it.

Chishiya’s footsteps were quiet as he passed by, heading straight for the kitchen, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. He didn’t have to say anything.

He had seen.

He had won.

Niragi hummed, shifting his grip, sliding his hand down your arm until his fingers curled around your wrist, leading you toward the couch.

“Come sit with me.” he murmured, like you had a choice. Like you wouldn’t just follow if he told you to.

And you did.

Because you wanted to.

And because they had made you that way.

You barely even realized you were sitting until you felt the couch cushion dip beneath you, Niragi pressing close, his arm still slung over your shoulders, his body warm, solid, unyielding. He was the one holding now. Touching.

And you let him.

You barely even knew how to exist in this moment—head spinning, ears still ringing from the gunshot, from the way his voice had cooed so sweetly in your ear, from the way Chishiya had shoved the keycard into your hand without a second glance.

You had killed someone.

And they had been so proud of you for it.

Your body still felt shaky, unsteady, like you weren’t really here, like if you let yourself sink too deep, you’d just slip away entirely. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe—

Something was placed in Niragi’s hand.

Chishiya.

You looked up at him, blinking slow, the exhaustion in your bones so thick you could barely lift your head. He was standing there, looking down at you both.

And then you saw what he was holding.

Biscuits.

Your biscuits. The ones he must’ve seen you eat a few times, the ones he knew you liked.

Chishiya didn’t say a word as he handed them to Niragi, barely even acknowledging you as he turned away and walked back toward the kitchen.

But Niragi grinned.

And that was worse.

“Aw, look at that.” he teased, holding up the biscuit between two fingers. “Chishiya being all thoughtful. That’s new.”

Chishiya didn’t respond, didn’t even look back, and Niragi only laughed before shifting beside you, turning slightly, pressing even closer.

And then he held the biscuit up to your lips.

“Open.” he murmured.

Your stomach clenched.

Something in you knew this was wrong, knew this was twisted, knew this wasn’t how this should feel. But the moment his fingers brushed your mouth, the moment his tone dipped into something soft, something sweet, something that made your skin feel too tight—

You obeyed.

Your lips parted, and he slipped the biscuit inside, watching you so intently, so fucking pleased with himself, like he had just won something important.

And he had.

Because you let him.

You chewed slowly, your jaw stiff, your stomach knotting, but you swallowed it down anyway.

“…Thank you.”

His grin stretched wider.

“Good girl.”

Your chest ached.

They had broken you.

You didn’t even care anymore.

Niragi shifted beside you, stretching with a quiet groan before getting to his feet. The absence of his warmth was immediate, the weight of his arm slipping away leaving you cold in a way that made your stomach turn.

He reached out, fingers brushing through your hair, gentle, too gentle, and you barely managed to keep yourself still as he pushed strands back from your face, thumb tracing along the edge of your jaw, pressing lightly into your cheek.

Soft.

So, so soft.

You almost flinched.

His lips curled, head tilting as he looked down at you like he was taking in his favorite thing, and for some reason, that made your chest ache even more.

“I’m going to bed.” he murmured, his voice light, casual, easy—like none of this mattered, like what happened tonight was just another night, another game, another kill. Nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to you.

“You can come with me if you want.” he added, thumb still lazily dragging over your cheekbone, his nails barely scraping over your skin. “Door’s open.”

The weight of the words settled into you, deep, curling around your ribs like barbed wire.

It was an invitation.

A choice.

But you knew what it really was.

He was so sure of you now. He knew you’d cave, knew you’d follow, knew you needed him—needed them, because they had made sure of it.

And that made you want to scream.

But you just nodded. Didn’t agree, didn’t refuse. Just let him think you might.

He grinned. Then, he pulled away, fingers slipping from your face as he turned and padded toward the hall, disappearing into the darkness without another word.

The room felt too big without him in it. Too empty.

You exhaled shakily, staring blankly at the space he had just been, at the air he had just occupied, and—

You did this.

You killed a man.

Not because you had to. Not because it was survival. Not because there was no other choice.

But because they wanted you to.

Because they told you to.

Your stomach twisted violently, nausea curling up your throat, thick and suffocating, and you shot up from the couch so fast your legs nearly gave out beneath you.

You stumbled toward your room, feet unsteady, vision blurring at the edges, chest tightening with every breath.

Bathroom.

You barely made it before you dropped to your knees, hands gripping the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl as your stomach turned, your body rejecting everything—every part of tonight, every part of them, every part of you.

It burned coming up, acid clawing at your throat, choking you between gasping sobs, and you couldn’t stop it, couldn’t slow it down, couldn’t breathe.

Tears dripped from your chin, slipping into the water below, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hard, trying to will it away, trying to make it stop, but—

You had killed someone.

And you couldn’t take it back.

Couldn’t fix it.

Couldn’t do anything but cry.

Fingers slipped into your hair, threading through the tangled strands and pulling them back, careful, almost like he cared.

Almost.

You hiccuped between ragged breaths, shoulders trembling as you gripped the toilet bowl, knuckles white, trying to ground yourself—trying to breathe.

“Careful.” Chishiya murmured, voice quiet, close, almost gentle. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

A sharp, wet laugh broke from you, bitter, empty.

You were sick.

Sick with guilt, sick with horror.

You did this.

You let them make you do this.

And now, Chishiya was kneeling beside you, soothing you, hands in your hair, voice soft, like he wasn’t the one who had forced that card into your hands, like he wasn’t the one who had let this happen. Like he wasn’t just another reason you were here, shaking on the floor, your stomach convulsing with guilt.

“You really did good today.” he said, his tone almost sweet—a voice meant for comfort, for reassurance, for manipulation.

Your breath hitched, eyes squeezing shut.

Don’t listen.

He was doing it again, weaving his words into you, curling them around the pieces of you that were already cracking, twisting his voice into something safe, something soft, something you needed.

And that made you feel even sicker.

Chishiya’s fingers continued to move slowly through your hair, nails grazing lightly against your scalp, almost absentmindedly, like this was second nature to him, like he had done this a thousand times before.

He hadn’t.

Not for anyone.

But now?

Now he was here, taking care of you.

Because you weren’t just useful anymore.

You were his.

“I know you don’t think so.” he continued, as if reading your thoughts, as if he knew exactly how your mind was spiraling. “But you made the right choice.”

You swallowed, throat raw, chest heaving.

No, you didn’t.

You had a choice.

And you failed.

“Do you know what would’ve happened if you didn’t?” he mused, tone shifting, threading in something heavier, something just barely condescending. “He would’ve turned on you the second he had the chance. He was weak. People like him don’t survive long, and if you hadn’t done it, someone else would have.”

You bit down on your lip, hard enough to sting, hard enough to keep the sob rising in your throat from slipping out.

“He wouldn’t have spared you.” he murmured, voice tilting into something softer, dipping into something that almost sounded kind. “But you? You did it so nicely.”

A shuddering breath broke from you, chest clenching.

Because he was right.

And that was the worst part.

That voice in the back of your mind, the one that still belonged to you, the one that wasn’t his or Niragi’s, whispered, no, no, no—

But the rest of you?

The part that had listened to them, that had let them win, let them warp you into something they could mold—that part wasn’t so sure anymore.

And Chishiya knew it.

His fingers in your hair, his words curling around you like a blanket, shielding you from the cold, from the truth—

You wanted to believe him.

Chishiya moved slowly, deliberately, shifting so that he was no longer just kneeling beside you but instead sitting down properly, his back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. And without even thinking, without hesitating, you let him pull you into him.

Your body fit too easily against his, back pressed into his chest, his arms draping loosely around you, the heat of him soaking into your trembling frame.

You let him hold you.

You wanted him to hold you.

And that made something ugly curdle in your stomach, because you knew, somewhere deep down, that this wasn’t safe, wasn’t right.

Chishiya wasn’t safe.

But he was warm.

And you needed that warmth more than anything.

“I didn’t want to.” you whispered, voice small, shaking. “I didn’t want to do this.”

His arms around you shifted slightly, almost as if he were adjusting, settling in, but his hands never left you. One rested over your stomach, the other near your wrist, fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin.

Comforting.

False.

“I know.” he murmured.

And maybe that was what broke you.

Because he didn’t know. He couldn’t. He would never know what it felt like to do something like this and feel it, to carry it with you, to ache over it.

Because he didn’t feel anything.

And yet, somehow, the way he said it, soft and low against your ear, made you believe him.

Tears welled up again, spilling fresh and hot down your face, and your hands curled into the fabric of your own clothes, gripping at yourself like you were trying to hold yourself together, trying to stop from unraveling completely. “I don’t—I don’t want to be this person.”

Chishiya hummed, something slow, something thoughtful. “You don’t have to be.”

You let out a broken laugh, a pathetic, shaking thing. “I already am.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, his fingers skimmed along your wrist, up to your elbow, a slow touch. “You’re only doing what you have to.”

You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut. “No.”

“Yes.”

You sniffled, pressing the heel of your palm against your face, trying to wipe away the tears, the weakness, the everything. But it wasn’t working. It wouldn’t work.

“It wasn’t necessary.” you said, voice cracking. “I—I didn’t have to do it.”

“You would’ve died.” Chishiya murmured, like he was speaking to a child, to someone naive, someone who didn’t understand.

It should have sounded condescending. It should have made you feel small, should have made you angry. But instead, it just made you want to believe him.

You were breaking apart, and he was so solid. So unwavering.

So certain.

“You think people survive in this world by hesitating?” he continued, voice so steady, so sure. “By giving other people the benefit of the doubt?”

You swallowed hard.

You wanted to say yes.

But you couldn’t.

Because you knew. You knew what this world was, what it had turned people into, what it had turned you into.

And Chishiya was still talking, still curling his words around you like a vice, still getting into your head.

“He would’ve done it to you if he had the chance.” he murmured, and his arms tightened ever so slightly, just a fraction. “You know that.”

You shuddered.

“He wouldn’t have.”

“He would have.” Chishiya corrected. “Maybe not then, maybe not tonight. But if he had to choose between you or himself, he wouldn’t have hesitated.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Because maybe—maybe he was right.

And if he was right, then maybe—maybe you didn’t do the wrong thing.

Your breath hitched, and you turned your head just slightly, forehead pressing against the fabric of his hoodie. He smelled like something neutral, like clean clothes and cool air and a faint, lingering trace of something you couldn’t quite place.

It was comforting.

It made you believe him.

“I don’t—I don’t want to think about it anymore.” you whispered.

Chishiya hummed, his fingers pressing lightly against your wrist again, like a heartbeat, like a rhythm, like something designed to lull you into a state of calm.

“Then don’t.”

You exhaled shakily, a slow, trembling breath.

And you listened.

Because Chishiya purred his words like a lullaby, wrapping around your tired, aching mind like a soft, warm fog. His voice was a drug, intoxicating and numbing all at once, slipping under your skin, settling in your veins, filling the spaces inside of you that were breaking apart.

He was dangerous.

You knew he was dangerous.

And yet, you listened.

Because it was easier to believe him than to believe the ugly truth weighing heavy in your chest. It was easier to sink into the lie than to face the reality of what you had done.

And that’s what they wanted.

What he wanted.

He didn’t comfort people. That wasn’t something he did. Because what was the point? Why waste time and energy on something so useless?

But this?

You?

You were something else entirely. You were soft in a way that people in this world weren’t supposed to be. You were light in a way that should’ve burned people like them alive.

But instead, they took it.

They twisted it, shaped it, owned it.

And now, look at you.

Falling apart in his arms, hands still trembling, breathing still uneven, but no longer shaking quite as violently as before.

Because you were believing him.

Because he was making you feel safe.

And safety?

Safety meant control.

Safety meant they had you right where they wanted you.

The cruel truth of it all was that you weren’t breaking them down. You weren’t making them better, weren’t softening them into something kinder, weren’t saving them from the monsters they were.

No.

You were taming them.

And that was so much worse.

Because taming them meant making them yours.

Which meant you were theirs.

Their girl.

Their soft, sweet, breakable little thing, so easy to twist and mold and shape into exactly what they wanted.

And you let them.

Because you needed them now.

You needed them to tell you that what you did was right.

You needed them to make you feel like this wasn’t wrong.

You needed them like they needed you.

And that wasn’t cruelty, no.

That was just their love showing.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango

[chrissv4mp]

♱ here with me

it was so beautiful out tonight—the sun slowly but surely setting behind the mountains, waves crashing gently against the shore, and the occasional gust of wind that had billie clinging onto you for warmth.

your shoes and socks were discarded on a rock somewhere along the beach, allowing you and billie to step into the ocean and feel how cool the water was and how firm the sand was beneath your feet.

the sky was painted in shades of amber and lavender, each breeze carrying the scent of salt from the ocean. you felt billie's fingers curling into the sides of the jacket you stole from her early on in your relationship, pulling you flush against her chest and resting her chin on your shoulder.

"we needa' come here more often, bil," you suggest, eyes focused on the way the waves moved, the water clearer than you'd ever seen it.

billie hums in agreement, tilting her head to press a kiss to your neck before she pulls away from you. her hand finds yours before she can fully part from you, lacing your fingers into hers and spinning you around gently.

she can't help the smile that breaks out onto her face when she sees your own, her blue eyes lighting up with adoration and love. she grabs your other hand and laces your fingers together again, stepping closer and leaning forward until your foreheads are touching.

her breath fans across your lips, eyes closing as she feels your hands relax further into hers. your smiles only widen, minds on nothing else but each other and the sweet moment.

you step closer this time, nose brushing against billie's and eyes fluttering open for only a moment before you feel her full lips press onto yours, kissing you softly. sweetly. like the first time you two met.

which was, in fact, on the same beach.

billie is the first one to pull back, her thumbs running across the tops of your hands and her eyes fluttering open to look into your own. she smiles softly, a strand of hair falling loosely in front of her face.

"so, next album is definitely about me?" you joke, breaking the silence with a small laugh that makes billie crack an even bigger smile.

she shrugs with a giggle, "possibly."

"it better be. we're locked in for life." you add, blushing hard whenever you see the look of pure admiration on billie's face.

billie pulls away after a moment, hands slipping away from yours as she steps back with a smile that is more mischievous than before.

you cock an eyebrow, squinting your eyes in confusion as you watch billie take a few more steps back.

in one swift motion, billie kicks her foot in the shallow water, splashing onto your legs and the hem of your shorts. you gasp loudly, shivering at the cold and jumping back in shock.

"what the fuck?" you laugh, furrowing your brows and looking at your girlfriend who was simply laughing at your reaction.

"c'mon, let's have a little fun before we leave, yeah?" billie asks, stepping deeper into the water in preparation for her next splash.

you take her words as a challenge, pulling her hoodie over your head and tossing it onto the sand before running into the ocean and scooping up water in the palm of your hands.

billie gasps sharply whenever you finally splash her back, the water dripping down her neck and soaking the graphic t-shirt she was wearing. her head turns to you again, and without a second thought, she slaps the water and splashes it right onto your face.

"come at me," billie giggles, watching as you recover from the splash and start slowly running towards her in the water.

LETTERS. hope you guys enjoyed this onee!!!!! just been trying to get out little blurbs so i don't go fully down into writers block 🙏

TAGS. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @karaeilishh @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia @moralesluvr @justtr @greenbttrflyy @natbelovasblog @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @meliciousmel13 @bambifemme

[bbina]

i need something fluff for jaemin... bff!jaemin who have a huge crush on you... i... i need jaemin fluff... 😔🥴

or bff!jisung (can you tell how much i love f2l?) who so down bad that he lets you do anything to him (in a fluff sense and not in a smut sense)... anything... anything...

- 🦞

bff!jisung... 🤤 he's so cute!! i love <3 reqs r open for the meantime for 7dream!! + this is an old ass wip i had on one of my previous blogs so i just rewrote it because why not

"are you wearing makeup right now?"

"... no"

"you are! i can literally see you wearing eyeliner!" chenle exclaims, leaning in a little closer to jisung as he inspects his face

jisung sighs, shoulders slumping. "fine. you caught me. i am wearing makeup"

chenle laughs, plopping down on the couch next to jisung who was fidgeting with his hands

"let me take a wild guess.. y/n did it?" chenle teases jisung who instantly turns red at the mention of your name. there's not much hiding from whatever the guys are speculating about your relationship with the tall man. hell, everyone believes that you two are dating but think that jisung is keeping it a secret to avoid questions but who really knows

with jisung's silence, chenle lets out a loud, knowing laugh— he knows damn well that jisung can't say no to you nor has the balls to do so. he's just so whipped

"i'm telling you dude.. you like her" chenle points out after laughing his ass out. jisung swats him away as he continues to be embarrassed about this whole conversation that revolved you because chenle was right

jisung does like you

"can i put make up on you?" you ask out of the blue after sitting in silence with jisung, startling him in the process

"why?"

"because i'm bored?" you say like it was obvious, getting up from your bed to get your makeup kit from your vanity

jisung has no choice anyway because whatever you do or ask him, he follows with no questions asked

the next thing he knew, jisung was seated on your vanity, his bangs held up with your hamster headband to keep them away from his face as you start to paint his face

"hold still for me" you murmur, holding jisung's head in place as you work on his eyeliner

"it tickles!" jisung squirms at the touch of your felt tip eyeliner gliding across his eyelids. he was moving around too much that he accidentally jerked his head to the side causing you to involuntarily draw a line across the side of his face

"JWI!" you scream, rushing to get some makeup wipes just before the eyeliner sets

"i'm sorry!" jisung apologizes profusely

"i told you hold still!" you grumbled, wiping the excess eyeliner from the side of his face. jisung swallows hard at your pouting face. he doesn't know how much longer he can hold it in. that stupid crush he has on you for a long time now

but he's not too sure how to break it to you. afraid that it will either make or break your relationship

"let's try this again" you shake your thoughts away by grabbing jisung's head again

jisung simply nods and lets you do what you need to do although this time he has a different tactic to keep himself in place

he then wraps an arm around your waist to keep himself still. the sudden action caught you off guard that you freeze for a moment before you accidentally meet his eyes

then it hits you— the current position you two are in. the way your faces were inches apart, the close proximity of it

all of a sudden you were hyperaware about everything. since when did his hand feel warm wrapped around your waist? did he always look at you like you were the only person in the world? was he always this handsome up close?

your heart flips and suddenly the room feels small. the same room that jisung has been to more times than you can count

neither of you move. like you two were stuck in place

what the fuck

[dog-bimbo]

tw dark content, fem!reader, àbusive behaviour—physical and verbal, manipulation, dubcon(?), dumbification, humiliation, age gap (legal), explicit language 18+ only minors dni ! part.1 !!!!

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu isn't emotionally available for you. he doesn't need anyone to lean on and he'd never sincerely provide a shoulder for you to lean on either... unless there's a catch. everytime you cry, he can't help the hard on. he knows it's sick and heartless but he promises that he'd make you feel better with his mouth and his cock. he can't reel it in because you look so, so cute crying in his arms with your glistening eyes and that sweet, sweet pout. he's a businessman first, boyfriend second. he knows how to talk you into it. as he's running his big hands all over your delicate skin while rutting into your poor cunt endlessly, he coos sweet words of comfort like he actually means it :( "that's it sugar, let it allllll out..." he hisses while holding you tight against his chest. he swears cumming in you feels much better when you're soft and extra pliant and vulnerable.

for nasty, 1cky bf!shiu, it's all about leverage. older men do it better, way better than the boys you've been with and shiu knows that all too well. the standards they've set (or the lack there of) is so low that it makes him look like the boyfriend of the year. he buys you flowers, always insists on paying during dates, he could do the bare minimum and you'd still be whipped. and he's well aware of it. after all, your innocent doe eyes give it all away and that's when he pounces on the opportunity to fuck you mean. you kinda owe him, don't you?

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu loves buying you the shortest of dresses. he doesn't really care about how uncomfortable the tight fabric clinging agains your skin makes you feel. he just wants to grab your ass or sneak a hand under your panties or rub his grimy hands all over your flesh under the fabric. it's the thrill of it all, really. and he always presses himself against you just to make you realise how hard he's been... as he rubs his crotch against the swell of your ass, he murmurs, "y'r feeling what you've done to me?" and when your breath hitches, it sometimes makes some heads turn which he's absolutely pissed at. he "keep it down, you dumb fuckin' slut." he grits his teeth at huh before covering it up smoothly.

nasty, 1cky bf!shiu is just a cunt at the end of the day. he has stubbed his cigarettes on you, has smacked and choked you way too hard at times, constantly makes you feel dumb and stupid and empty and yet, you simply can't live without him. shiu is the kind of guy who'd look at you and go like "'m probably old enough to be your dad, ain't i?" out of nowhere. it's such a touchy topic too and shiu is not afraid to go there... like at all. you were never your daddy's girl and he's willing to let you work your daddy issues out... only when he's pussy drunk. and you always fall for it.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞) 𝐚𝐜𝐭

Todd has a stupid idea after breaking up with you and Dave's obviously helping his best friend. Even if it looks messed up. tags n warnings: todd haynes x reader, language, suggestive ending, desperate ex bf core. word count: 1.3k masterlist

“Alright, Todd. Here it goes.” Dave took a deep breath before wrapping his arms around Todd’s bareback, frowning at the sensation of his friend’s warm skin against his face. Ignoring the discomfort, he rested his head on Todd’s chest, huffing softly.

“Hold me tighter, idiot.” Todd complained, squeezing Dave’s arms against his waist as if to fit them better. “Are you afraid of contact? Hold me.”

Dave cringed. “No… man. This is so weird.” He grumbled, trying to pull away. “Look at my nails! They’re fucking pink. I even shaved my arms and fingers.”

“No. This has to work. C’mere. You said you’re helping me. You’re my best friend.” Todd insisted, pulling Dave back and adjusting the camera so that the mirror captured the exact loving corny pose. “Now make a heart with your hand.”

Dave blinked a few times, stunned. “What? A heart?”

“Yeah, a heart, man! Is it hard?”

Dave sighed, raising his hands and trying to form the requested shape. “Like this?”

Todd looked at his phone screen and his face immediately contorted in disgust. “No, man. Get out of here.” He shoved Dave lightly, turning the phone toward him. “See this? Your hands are huge, you idiot.” 

Dave arched an eyebrow and spread his arms wide, as if to highlight his own height and athletic physique. “Have you seen how big I am, idiot?” 

Todd huffed and slapped his hand against his forehead. “Damn, this isn’t going to work, Dave!” He turned to the wall and leaned his forehead against it, muttering. Dave crossed his arms impatiently. 

“Why don’t you just ask her to get back together?” 

Todd turned his head to glare at him, eyes narrowed. “Oh, great plan. I’ll just casually knock on her door and say, ‘Hey, doll. Wanna get back together and forget how stupid i am?’” He threw his hands up in the air before returning to his self-flagellation session against the wall. 

Dave rolled his eyes and grabbed the phone from his hand. “Better than being with your best friend pretending you’re making out with someone else.” He grumbled. “She knows it’s me here, man. Can’t hide those big ass hands.” 

Todd sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His face contorted in genuine pain before he mumbled, his voice cracking, “She was everything to me, Dave.” Tears began to roll silently down his skin, and Dave felt the real weight of the moment. His friend was truly devastated. “I messed up everything between us. And here I am, trying to make this loser shit to look better. I’m so fucking stupid. I don’t deserve her.”

“Hey… hey, Todd. Come here.” Dave’s voice softened, and he pulled Todd into a firm hug, letting him cry against his shoulder. Todd clung to him, none of the usual jokes, just feeling the pain of the breakup. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m here for you. Let’s try again.”

The sound of something hitting the floor made them freeze. 

“Oh my God.” 

Your voice echoed behind them. Todd’s eyes widened, his heart racing. He quickly shoved Dave against the wall and grabbed your hands tightly, holding them as if that would somehow explain the situation.

“Babe?” His voice was broken, his eyes glazed over you. “Babe, is that really you?”

“Fuck, Todd!” Dave grumbled, rubbing his back after the impact. “I thought we were getting along after all. Shit. Oh… my back.”

You blinked a few times, confused, looking from one to the other. “You broke up with me… because of Dave?”

Todd opened his mouth to deny it, then did he realize what the scene looked like. Two guys, best friends, shirtless, alone in the bathroom. He was crying on Dave’s shoulder, who, to make matters worse, was all blushed and still had his nails painted for the photo.

“Oh my God. No, fuck. No.” Todd fumbled, laughing nervously. “Me and Dave. We never. Jesus.” He ran his hand over his face, trying to think of an explanation. “And who said I broke up with you?”

You crossed your arms. “You just came to my house after the movies, mad, and told me never to talk to you again.”

Todd blinked, remembering the day. “You lied to me, saying my favorite seat in the movies was taken! I’ve been sitting there since I was 9!”

You ran your hand through your hair, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Because I wanted to kiss you, and that chair isn’t good enough!”

Todd froze.

You looked away, mumbling, “I look all crooked in there, Todd.”

His mouth opened slightly, as if he was processing the information. “So… why didn’t you tell me that?” His voice was lower now, carrying an almost hurt tone.

“Because I was embarrassed to ask to do it at the movies.” Your confession came out in a softer tone, his shoulders slightly hunched. Todd felt something warm and tight in his chest. Slowly, he took a step forward, raising a hesitant hand to his hair, grabbing a strand and tucking it delicately behind his ear.

“Damn,” he whispered, looking into your eyes. “I’d have changed for you. You know that. Talk to me.”

Your throat tightened, regret mixed with the realization of how stupid you had been for something so silly. Without thinking twice, you threw yourself into Todd’s arms, crashing your lips into his urgently, as if you wanted to make up for every kiss you had missed at the movies. He took a deep breath, as if finally releasing a weight from his chest, his hands sliding possessively to your waist, squeezing firmly, pulling you even closer.

“Guys, I’m here.”

Dave’s voice broke the moment like a bucket of cold water. He waved his hand in the air, hoping that one of the two would remember his existence.

Todd froze for a second before letting out an awkward smile. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Dave clicked his tongue, throwing a thumbs up in the air as if giving permission for them to continue. He started putting on his shirt, walking to the door. “By the way, do you have anything to remove this pink thing from my nails?”

“Second drawer in the bedroom.” You answered automatically. Todd turned to you, his eyes shining with amusement. His lips curling into a small, shy smile, watching how you knew every corner of that house that was practically yours from all the time you’ve been together.

Dave raised his thumb. “Thanks.” And then he disappeared into the hallway, finally leaving you alone. Todd let out a theatrical sigh before leaning against the sink, crossing his arms as he impatiently waited for Dave to get out. 

“So, what were you doing with Dave?” You asked, arching an eyebrow. He just took his phone out of his pocket and turned the screen to you. You stared at the image and blinked a few times in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.”

“Dumb idea.” Todd laughed, putting his phone away. He walked over again, his fingers lightly touching your arm as his expression softened. “Since you and I are both here…”

“I’m still here.” Dave’s voice echoed through the house as he opened the front door.

Todd threw his head back, laughing. “Damn, Dave. Go away, dude. Don’t you see I’m trying to fight for my relationship?”

“I’m leaving, don’t worry.”Dave just waved casually. “Enjoy it. Glad you’re back, Todd’s wife!”

“Thanks, Dave.” You grinned, hearing him laugh from outside, mumbling a playful you’re welcome.

As soon as the door closed, Todd turned his full attention to you again, his eyes darkening with something more intense. “Now that we’re finally alone and in this intense scenario… shower sex?” he suggested looking at you with a mischievous grin.

“Now that’s what i’m talking about.” You smiled, sliding your hands over his shoulders before wrapping them around the back of his neck. “You know you’re my favorite seat, right?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna end me before we even started. I’m needy.” He groaned in a raspy voice, stealing a small peck from your lips. “No more movies. We have netflix at home.”

[star-byeoli]

I Don't Need Your Help - HongJoong Oneshot

[Minors Do Not Interact] - [18+]

Genre: Friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluffy smut.

Pairing: idol!Hongjoong x KQemployee!fembodied!reader (y/n)

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: Swearing, porn with a bit of plot, protected sex, morning sex, riding, no major kinks/power dynamics, they're just desperate for each other, Hongjoong is a little bit toxic.

A/N: My first smut, I really hope it's okay >.<

Having known Hongjoong for years, you should’ve known better.

He was a sweet guy, but had a poorly masked sensitive streak. He has never reacted well to what most would call constructive criticism, always having a snarky answer to unwanted feedback. Working at KQ as a social media manager for a few years had brought you closer to Hongjoong over time. You admired his tenacity and talent; he admired your creativity and candidness. Your mutual fondness had bloomed for a time, having settled into a steady friendship which neither of you dared to ruin.

Having worked hours of overtime yourself, you finally dragged yourself away from you desk at almost 11pm. With your eyes closing on themselves, you dragged yourself along the hall towards the elevator. A little light coming from one studio caught your attention, however. After knocking gently on his door, you push it ajar slightly to peak your head inside.

The room is dark, apart from a small lamp and the glow of computer screens. A discarded leather jacket and rucksack sit haphazardly on the arm of the couch. The trash can in the corner is begging to be emptied - overflowing with empty coffee cups and old take-out boxes. The office’s occupier sits slumped over at his desk; headphones on, hood up, shoes kicked to the side. He rests his head against one hand whilst the other furiously clicks at the files open on his screen. He doesn’t notice your appearance.

“Joong?” You try to catch his attention gently, but he is too absorbed in the task at hand. He frowns dejectedly, his scrunched nose causing his glasses to slip down his nose slightly. Still wanting to grab his attention, you lean slightly forward to nudge his shoulder.

“Joong?”

“Shit!-“ He jumps out of his chair with a shout. “What the fuck, y/n?”

You try to hold back your laugh, but his cute expression makes it hard to contain your giggles.

“Sorry Joong, I just wanted to say hi before I left.” You manage to choke out as he sits back down in his seat. He nods his head sceptically before turning back to his computer, not saying another word. Suddenly feeling awkward, you try to fill the silence.

“Rough day, huh? Me too, I had to re-shoot one of th-“

“I accidentally deleted part of the melody I’ve been working on. I’m not really in the mood to chat right now, y/n.” He interrupts, never looking away from his screen.

“Oh- okay.” You mumble out, feeling dejected. You begin to head towards the door before reconsidering your setting. His studio is a mess – there’s rubbish everywhere, Hongjoong’s clothes are strewn about, the overhead light is turned off and the computer screens are screaming eye strain. Taking a deep breath, you turn back to face him.

“Joong, don’t you think you’d feel a bit better if y-“ Hongjoong whips around in his chair before you can finish your sentence.

“Y/n, just leave it. I don’t want your help.” Hongjoong spits out, glaring angrily before resuming his work. Your breath catches in your throat, and you back out of the studio before running down the hall, embarrassed. You’d certainly known about this side of Hongjoong, even seeing him snappy occasionally. But he’d never directed his anger at you before. You make it out of the building, down the street and onto the bus before you slump into a seat and tears start rolling down your face.

Pounding on your front door makes you jolt awake. Squinting your eyes in the darkness, it takes you a second to realize that you’re on your sofa, not your bed. You stretch a little before another powerful knock pulls you back to reality. Flicking on a lamp, you begin to stumble towards the door, still exhausted. The third knock begins to piss you off - it’s clearly still night by the lack of light coming in the window, and the last thing you need is a noise complaint from your entitled neighbours.

You swing the door open with a scowl, prepared to scold the person on the other side. Hongjoong’s deflated figure is not what you were expecting. He’s dressed in the same clothes from earlier, grasping his jacket desperately with one hand. His hood had fallen down at some point, revealing his dishevelled black hair. Most striking are his reddened eyes desperately searching for your own. He’s panting hard like he’s just run a marathon.

“I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know why- I can explain, I just fe-“ he starts to stammer out, panicked and desperate. Grabbing his arm gently you pull him inside, not without noticing the awestruck expression plastering his face. You close the door behind you with a sigh, the man still gasping from exertion and holding back tears.  

“Hongjoong, I have neighbours. What time is it?” He fumbles around for his phone before presenting it to you – 3.37am. His breath begins to settle a bit, but his expression is still pained. As upset as you still are, it’s distressing to watch him suffer. “I’ll get you some water.”

He follows you into the kitchen like a lost puppy, frantically conflicted between trying to calm himself down and explain himself. By the time you give him a glass of water, he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye.

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve all that. I- I have just had so many people on my back recently and I just exploded. I needed to tell you I was sorry, and you weren’t replying to my texts, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Hongjoong. I was asleep. Y’know, that thing that normal people do at night time?” You smile timidly at him, understanding his frustrations but not completely forgiving him. He chuffs under his breath. “I wasn’t trying to be overbearing. I was just concerned about you. If you don’t want me to come by your stu-“

“No!-” Hongjoong blurts out, finally looking back at you. He sighs deeply, collecting his racing thoughts for a second. “I really don’t want you to feel like this is your fault. Nothing’s going right at the moment. I’m pretty sure Seonghwa’s mad at me too. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me, Joong. I’m not going to stop being your friend because of one shitty evening.” You try to joke, although the atmosphere in your kitchen seems to stay slightly tense.

“Friend?” Hongjoong echoes back, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah Joong. You’re too hard on yourself. I’m not going to stop being your friend just because of your little attitude problem.” You smirk at him before turning to the fridge. “So did you want something to eat or-“

A hand on your upper arm grabs your attention back. Hongjoong’s grip is a bit too firm, uncomfortable. You look over your shoulder only to be greeted with his longing face.

“I want more than that.” He says seriously, his voice and grip starting to shake lightly. “I want to be more than just a friend to you.”

Your breath sticks in your throat. His reddened eyes bore into your own anxiously. You can almost feel his heart pounding. You’re pretty sure he can feel yours too. Hesitantly you place your hands over his cheeks and step closer. God, he’s beautiful. Slowly the two of you lean in, lips ghosting over one another.

You both let go of the shaky breaths you were holding, giggling lightly as Hongjoong’s hands fall to your waist. He finally firmly presses his lips to yours, humming contently and gripping your waist tighter. His lips work slowly but confidently, taking his time in savouring the moment. Just when you think to pull him closer, he pulls away and nuzzles his head into your shoulder. His hair messy, lips wettened, cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry, but I’m really fucking tired.” He admits timidly, knowing exactly whose fault it was. You run a hand comfortingly up his back and into his fluffy hair.

“Do you wanna stay over? It’s almost dawn anyway.”

He leans back and smiles softly. “God yeah.”

You manage to get a few hours of sleep in, this time in your bed and snuggled up to Hongjoong’s side. With no pyjamas he opted to strip out of his hoody and jeans, sleeping in just his boxers and a t-shirt. A rosy dawn light begins to filter in thought the window, casting a pinkish hue over Hongjoong’s peaceful face. Distractedly, you begin to stroke your fingers over his collarbones, drinking in the warm, serene moment. Hongjoong eventually begins to stir, crinkling his nose and stretching out like a cat.

“Good morning, Joong.”

“Morning.” He manages to yawn out, still not opening his eyes. “I hope you’re not supposed to be working today.”

“Nope. I’m all yours.”

“All mine?” He cracks an eye open and quirks an eyebrow. You smack his shoulder gently.

“Didn’t know you’d be this cheesy.”

“Can’t help it. Can a guy not just be happy that he’s in his crush’s bed?” He begins to stroke your hair, humming lightly under his breath.

“Crush? Is this middle school?” Hongjoong half snorts and rolls his eyes.

“You seriously didn’t notice how obsessed I am with you? I’ve been pining hopelessly for months. I just didn’t know how to cross that line until I thought you really wouldn’t want me anymore. I just can’t think about my life without you.”

“Really?” His gaze softens.

“Really, darling.” It takes less than a second for your resolve to snap. You lean over him, pressing your lips to his with sudden vigor. His fingers instantly tangle into your hair, pulling you even closer. The kisses you share are rougher and faster than last night – hungrier. One of Hongjoong’s hands dips down to grab a handful of your ass, pulling you fully over his lap to straddle him. You pull away slightly in shock, panting from exertion, nonetheless. He begins to panic, misreading your response.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?”

“No, Joong. That was fucking hot.” You dip down again, this time attaching your lips to his jaw. He instantly releases a guttural moan, palming your ass to ground himself.

“Fuck darling. Don’t leave marks, we’ll get in trouble.” In retaliation you drag your hips along his, feeling him hardening in his boxers. You are equally affected in your panties. He let’s out another breathy “fuck” before pulling desperately at the hem of your sleep shirt. “Please?”

He looks a sweet mess when you whip the shirt over your head and throw it somewhere onto your bedroom floor. His hands automatically reach up to cup your tits, thumbs rubbing slowly over your nipples. You continue grinding against him, lifting his t-shirt enough to expose his toned navel. You moan in unison, groping and kissing for a while. Suddenly Hongjoong grabs your hips and sits bolt upright with a start.

“Are you okay, Joong?” His eyes are blown and his face flushed and warm. He gathers his breath for a second, still holding you tight.

“I almost came.” He pants out before letting out a small giggle.

“Shit, Joong. I thought I hurt you.” You climb off his lap, pulling his shirt fully off him in the process. Hongjoong takes the initiative and lies you down, hovering over you. He dips down to reunite your lips as his hand ghosts over the band of your panties. He hesitates just a second too long. Impatient, you grab his wrist and guide his hand to your covered clit.

“Please, Joong. I really need this.” Hongjoong almost collapses at your whining. Twelve hours earlier he had nearly convinced himself that you would never want to speak to him again. Now he’s pulling your panties to the side and tentatively caressing your wet cunt. A garbled moan gets stuck in you throat when his thumb flicks against your clit and fingertips circle your soaked hole.

“Fuck darling, your really do need me, huh?” Hongjoong voice drops by an octave, giving away his own desire. Repaying his favour you reach for his clothed cock. He’s already half-hard, a little short but pleasantly thick. You swallow each other’s moans, tongues dancing against one another and noses clashing in your eagerness. His fingers get bolder, dipping inside up to the knuckle and stroking deliciously against your sweet spot.

“Does that feel good?” He asks breathily as he leans back on his haunches to take in the sight of your whole body. You nod desperately, losing track of your words. Feeling the need to ground yourself, you reach one hand to his wrist and one to his knee. He smirks down at you warmly, enjoying his time toying with you. “God, you look so pretty right now.”

Your blush is uncontrollable. Moans and whines tumble out of you as Hongjoong’s fingers work tirelessly. He continues to stare affectionately at you whilst you lose all ability to look him in the eye, rapidly descending towards your climax. Enjoying the show, Hongjoong begins to press down on your lower stomach, sending you hurtling over the edge with a shriek. Your vision goes white, but you can still hear Hongjoong’s smug giggle as your body begins to spasm with pleasure.

Taking a second to collect yourself, you stare at the ceiling, allowing Hongjoong to massage your thighs as you calm down. Slowly you peel yourself up off of the sheets and look an eager Hongjoong in the eye. “Holy shit, Joong.” He bites his lip as he pulls you back onto his lap.

“You look so beautiful when you cum, darling.” He muses, pushing your now sweaty and tangled hair out of your face. Despite feeling a little sensitive, he looks too good to miss.

“I have some condoms if you wan-“

“Please darling, shit.” He immediately begins shuffling out of his boxers as you lean over to the bed side table. His idle hands reach back towards your ass, slowly pulling down your soaked panties and discarding them onto the growing pile of dirty clothes on the floor. You finally settle back down over his lap and fiddle with the condom packet as he begins to press gentle kisses over your temple and cheek.

“You’re distracting me.”

“You’ve been distracting me for years, this is payback.” Hongjoong fires back, taking a firm hold of your backside. You finally manage to open the packet and give him a few quick pumps before rolling it down his length. He hisses in a breath and lets his head roll back against the headboard. He’s not usually this sensitive, but his need for you is overtaking his normal self-control.

With a quick kiss to his jaw, you start to sink down onto his cock. He immediately opens his mouth with a soundless gasp, instantly overwhelmed. His hands desperately grab at your hips and ass, trying to guide your movement. You rock your hips feverishly, the added stimulation on your sensitive clit becoming overwhelming quickly. Hongjoong’s head finally rocks forward again and his gaze locks onto your hips gyrating, gaping mouth beginning to salivate.

“Shit darling, I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay Joong, I want you to cum, yeah?“ You whine back, trying to push past your overstimulation to get him over the edge. His eyes roll shut in response, grip tightening on your waist as his hips begin to thrust upwards to meet your movements. Even with his lip caught in his teeth his moans continuously slip out.

“Fuck- Fuck- I’m gon-” Hongjoong’s mouth hangs open, panting heavily as his hips shudder through a few final thrusts. He wraps his arms tightly around your middle, nuzzling his nose into your neck as he comes down from his high. You collapse on top of him, fatigued, sticky and overstimulated. You settle into each other’s breath and heartbeats for a few minutes before saying a word.

“Mmh darling, thank you.” Hongjoong mutters into your neck. You giggle in response, running your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“That’s okay, Joong. I’ve had a fun morning.”

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Buy me dinner first.” He rolls his eyes as you slowly detach yourself from him. He stands up, discarding the condom and searching for his discarded underwear. “You can take a shower if you want”

“Yeah, I may need to head into work for a bit. I technically still need to fix that song I messed up last night. Got a bit distracted after you left.”

“Well, we can clean ourselves up, have a little breakfast and then head into work. You can finish your song, and I can clean up that hell hole of a studio.”

Hongjoong scoffs and launches your dirty t-shirt at your head.

“You’re so lucky you’re cute, darling.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! <3

[f4xrocket]

ALL A GAME ๋࣭ ⭑r. suna

chapter 2: bet

m.list

Suna sees her from across the room, she’s wearing a dark denim embroidered jean skirt and a black long halter top. He notes how there’s a red solo cup in her hand, but she isn’t swaying too much and from what he can see, isn’t slurring her words.

He took a final swig of his drink before setting it down on the counter behind him, wiping his mouth before he started to make his way over to the girl.

She was with one person, a taller blonde girl, and earlier she was standing with a guy with brown hair he couldn’t quite see the face of. He quietly hoped that wasn’t her boyfriend, that would make this a little awkward.

He finally got to the end of room where she was, standing right behind her and rose a hand to tap her on shoulder, her blonde friend raised a suspicious eyebrow but never said anything, letting the scene play out in front of her.

Suna tapped her on the shoulder, and she immediately turned around, like she thought someone dangerous was behind her. She quickly un-tensed her shoulders after seeing the person looked mostly harmless, but her eyebrows scrunched together while she looked at him, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.

Suna was a little taken-aback by this behavior, he’s used to girls being a little more open to conversation with him. But he shook it off.

“Hey, I’m Suna.” He said with a slight smirk on his face. “What’s your name?”

“Why the fuck do you wanna know?” She said with a scowl. You can imagine his surprise after seeing her ‘hostile’ behavior towards him.

“No need to be rude man, just thought you looked good and wanted to talk to you.” He used to wall next to him to lean on, putting his arm a little closer to her than he needed to, trying to tower over her more than he already did.

She looked him up and down, and Suna felt like she was undressing him with her eyes, but not in a sexy, mysterious way, more in a judgmental way that made him feel self conscious and wondered if he wore the wrong outfit tonight.

She didn’t even say another word, just rolled her eyes and grabbed her friend’s wrist as she dragged her slightly (insanely) intoxicated friend behind her, away from Suna. “Yn nooooo!” He heard her friend say as she got pulled away.

He stood there for a good minute trying to process that. Did he just get rejected? He convinced himself that the brunette guy must’ve been her boyfriend, otherwise she wouldn’t have acted like that.

He walked away from that spot, feeling slightly embarrassed but he knew he had nothing to worry about, and found a new girl to talk to, this one much more welcome to the conversation he started up with her. He made the mistake to look up towards the front door of the house, and saw the girls leaving, the brunette boy behind them.

He got a clearer look at the boy this time, and after a long hard stare with his eyes widened and his eyes brows up high on his forehead, he realized it was Oikawa.

Was Oikawa bi? Gay? He couldn’t remember from when they used to player together. All he’s thinking is that he couldn’t tell whether he hopes they aren’t dating, because how did HE pull HER, or that they are dating so it would be reasonable for his rejection.

notes:

- and the bet begins

- Suna doesn’t usually get drunk, just tipsy most of the time

- but after that rejection he started drinking without even thinking about it

- his confidence and ego has gotten a lot bigger after he took notice of a lot of girls being interested in him

- it’s definitely not one of his best new traits

- yn doesn’t mean to be intentionally rude to guys who come up to her at parties, it’s just like a natural defense mechanism towards them

- she actually felt bad after she walked away from Suna and was gonna go back and talk to him

- but she told Oikawa that Suna talked to and he advised her that he sleeps around

- so she went back to not feeling bad and stayed with Alisa the whole night

- Sakusa hates when the guys get drunk and go back home

- ESPECIALLY suna bc he’s a big vomiter and they share a bathroom

- astumus just crazy

- he’s also a crier

- yn was lowk mad she didn’t get drunk

- I kind of don’t love the writing part but I physically cannot re write it

- I actually just don’t like anything about this chapter idk

- also I promise the chapters will get longer these first few ones might just be a little short

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Thirty

TW: nsfw, angst (lots of it)

The party goes on, and Tom keeps his arm around your shoulders, your waist, helps you stumble to the car and carries your shoes because you’ve had just a little too much to drink.

“Tom,” you say, before he can even start the engine. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Did you really hurt that guy?” You can’t look at him, so you’re picking at your nail polish. 

“He was a bad man, y/n. I did what I had to do to get him off the streets.” He tries to take your hand, but you pull away. 

“Do you hurt people…a lot?” It’s with this question you look at him, but you wish you hadn’t. There is a steely set to his features, indicating that he will not be very receptive to what you’re about to say. He’s no doubt figured out your MO by now, great detective that he is.

“I do what I have to do,” he reiterates. “No, that guy didn’t hurt kids or traffic women. But we had been after him for a long time, y/n. A long, long time. He needed to go to jail.”

“Did he need his jaw broken?” You ask quietly, shrinking back against the door, away from his stubborn tone and hard eyes. 

There is a long, tight pause between you. 

“No,” he murmurs. 

Tom Ludlow, as you’ve come to learn, is about as stubborn as they come. He compromises seldomly, and backs down never. This soft underbelly he shows you now, as he submits and sighs, it’s reserved for only the people he holds in the highest regards.

You’re not sure what the goal was here, in discussing his chronic use of excessive force, but you immediately feel terrible, when he concedes to you. Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re changing who he is, who he’s always been? You’re taking this tenacious man and softening him...for what? To let more criminals run free all in the name of giving yourself some meager comfort? 

“You’re right,” he tells you, reaching over to tilt your chin, “it was fucked up. It was out of line. It’s not gonna happen anymore.” 

He’s not just saying this shit to say it, unlike any other man would, to appease their needy girlfriend. You know he’s dead serious—because he’s Tom, and that’s how Tom is. 

You’re not sure how you end up halfway across the console, into his lap, with your hands in his hair, trying to pull him into your mouth. 

He holds you back, panting down at you with a shiny smudge of your lip gloss glistening on his face. “Baby?” 

You growl like an angry little animal, squirming in his grip, vying to get back to that beautiful mouth that he keeps just out of reach. “You said you were gonna fuck me in the car, Tom.” You grab his collar to tug his bulky shoulders down to your level, get him nose to nose. “So, fuck me in your car.” 

The smile he pays you is only dampered a little at the edges. The gleam in his eye though? Is three-hundred percent wolf. “Ok, but not here,” he tells you, no doubt thinking of the comers and goers walking down the street in this swanky neighborhood. The feral sound of protest that escapes your throat does win you a genuine grin. 

“Oh honey. You are in for it now.” He kisses you hard enough to make your brain pause all function, your fingers gripping his shirt like claws and your bare toes curling on the floorboard. “Buckle up,” he orders, starting the Charger and roaring away from the curb. 

You, however, have other ideas in mind as he guides the fast machine expertly around the hairpin curves of the mountainside. You reach for his belt, and you can tell he is equal parts into it and worried about your safety. Who is this man, who apologizes to you for doing his job the way he’s always done it, and who would turn down a blowjob to make sure you arrive at your destination in one piece?

It makes you want him in your mouth even more. 

“Hold on, baby,” he tells you with his big hand over yours, both halting your fumbling attempts, and pressing your fingers into his quickly growing erection. Why does the feeling of that hard cock under his pants for you make you dizzy? He still seems like a dream that’s too good to be true. 

In full gremlin mode after this much alcohol, you push out your lip in a ridiculous pout. “I just want a taste?”

He groans like a man in agony. 

“You play dirty,” he accuses with a smirk, his obsidian eyes sparkling in the shadows of the car. 

“I’m trying to,” you insist, going for his belt again. This time he doesn’t stop you, fighting to keep his eyes on the road while you free his velvety length into your eager hands. He groans as you squeeze him, drifting a little in the lane. 

“Keep it on the road, Officer,” you tease him before ducking down to lick him into your mouth. Giving head was such a chore before you met Tom Ludlow. Now it’s a joy, and you savor his throaty moans as you take him as deeply into the back of your throat as you can. You love everything about this. The sweet, saltiness of his beads of precum on your tongue, to the musky smell of him filling your nostrils as you bob up and down. You are vaguely aware of the change of surface beneath the tires, from tarmac to gravel, but you have zero intentions of stopping. Only when the car brakes and Tom desperately throws it into park, his fingers tangled in your hair pulling you up into a ferocious kiss, does it even register that you’ve arrived…somewhere. 

“You…fucking…beautiful…minx…” he growls as he hauls you over into the driver’s seat, depositing you into straddling his lap. It never ceases to amaze you, how this man can just throw you around. He is quick to tilt the seat back, so you don’t break your spine against the steering wheel. His hands on your thighs, gripping your hips, are exquisitely merciless. Somewhere in the back of your lizard brain, it occurs to you that it could be a good thing, for him to mark you up. As cover for the fucked up thing you’re going to have to do tomorrow, and…you can flaunt them proudly, rub them in Julian’s face, wear them like a knight wears the token of a beloved’s favor as they ride headlong into battle. 

I love you. 

You don’t say it aloud, but you think it with all your heart as Tom kisses you like he means to devour you, sucking on the base of your neck, leaving a constellation of hickeys down your chest. 

“I’m--I’m gonna have to stop wearing panties when we're together,” you giggle, as he tugs at the bodice of your dress with his teeth. “At least until the honeymoon phase is over.”

He snorts, then gives an appreciative groan, reaching down to cup the soaked fabric in question. “It’s funny that you think I’m ever going to stop fucking you like this—keeping you all sore and full of my cum.” He thumbs past the line of your underwear just in time to catch your clenching reaction to those words, and chuckles around an open mouthful of your tits. 

He presses his fingers inside to test your stretch, and you love the feeling of his hands, but right now it’s just not enough, and you reach between your soft and his hard to grip his cock. You’re not very graceful to begin with, and he has to steady you as you line yourself up to take him inside. Luckily, he gives no protest against your frantic need, and helps you sheath him to the hilt with a low hum of ecstasy, his head tipped back against the seat, throat bobbing and glistening with sweat, an Adonis amongst men. 

You really don’t deserve him. 

You should end this before you hurt him, just like his wife did. 

Those thoughts are short lived, when he nudges your hips in that way that makes your breath uneven, catches your hesitancy, grips your chin. “I have to fuck these little worries away, honey?”

Fucking detectives. 

“Uh huh,” you nod, lip bitten between your teeth, grinding him against your cervix.

In his sticky front seat, with the windows fogged and the doors locked, you lose yourself in Tom Ludlow, in the way he moves and breathes, in the way he fills you up. 

You love it when he’s beneath you, pistoning his hips, gritting his teeth, digging bruises into your thighs, looking up at you like you are his Goddess and your cunt is his altar.

You don’t have much room to chase an orgasm, but you are granted one anyway, when he somehow wriggles his way to your clit. 

Everything outside of his big black car fades away, and it is just the two of you, and you are safely impaled on his cock, and nothing else really matters at all. 

***

“Oh Jesus, we made a mess,” you gasp, looking around him at the scene of the crime as he steps out of the vehicle after you in the hotel garage. “I’m sorry. I’ll help you clean it.”

He wraps you up in his arms, and kisses your giggling mouth. “And you’ll be wearing…a scanty little maid outfit.”

“Halloween is not for a few months, Thomas.” You reach up to pat his cheek, but he grabs your hand and nibbles his teeth into your palm with a little growl. 

“What are you doing?!” You laugh—because it tickles—and squirm in his hold. 

“I’m hungry,” he pouts, laying his cheek against your open hand—your big, needy doberman. 

“It’s not my fault your coworkers think wine and cheese is a balanced meal,” you tease. 

“It isn’t your fault,” he agrees, with the sharpening hilt of a wicked grin, “but it’s about to be your problem.”

“Huh—Tom! Tom! Get your teeth—“

You leave a squeal of raucous laughter in your wake, as you run away from his gentle bite and squeezing fingers; sliding through the hotel lobby, booking it for the elevator. The silver doors open a split second before he has you gripped up and is herding you inside the little box with his canines nuzzling your throat. 

You must look like two insane idiots, making a scene like this in front of the other guests. Boy, you sure hope nobody calls the cops...

You’re certain Tom is actually scary, when he’s on the prowl for a perp. You can truly imagine how he could intimidate a bad guy, as he chases you into the hotel room and pounces on you, pinning you into the bed, absolutely wrecking your hair as he rubs his face into the nest of it. You, however, are zero percent afraid...except of the fact this fiasco is just making you adore him that much more…even if you are screeching like a banshee while he wrestles you around, and fighting with all your playful might against him. 

“Okay!” You bellow, getting tugged back by the ankle, digging your nails into the edge of the soft mattress for useless purchase. “Okay! I’ll order pizza!”

But it seems he has already found his dinner, as he grabs a mouthful of your left glute. These dining plans become even more apparent, when he nudges your panties to the side with his nose and tastes the gooey mess underneath. 

“Tommmm,” you whine. “We just had sex, y’know.”

He pins your lower back, suckling your labia into his mouth. “Can’t help it honey, you taste fucking divine.”

Well, that’s hard to argue with. His mouth is hard to argue with period, especially when he knows how to use it like a weapon of pussy destruction. He hugs your clit in the hollow of his tongue while thick fingers curl inside that tender upper wall, and it takes seconds before you’re immolating, shaking and sobbing, ruining the fucking clean sheets. Again.

“Better than pizza,” he tells your clit, sealing the praise with a kiss that has you clawing the bed to get away from the stimulation. 

“Okay, okay, easy honey.” He slips your underwear back into place, smooths the bottom of your dress over the swell of your ass. “Still want that pizza?”

You make a kittenish sound into the comforter that vaguely resembles a yes. 

***

When you wake up the next afternoon, it is with a heavy ball of dread in your belly, like something dead and rotten inside you. 

Today is the day, and Tom’s strong arm is wrapped around your waist, and all you want to do is pull up the covers and hide away with him.

That won't get you that damning evidence though. That won't keep your man out of prison, a terrible place made worse by all the criminals he helped put in there. It's the only way to save him. 

Grateful you're facing away from him, your eyes fill with tears, running down to soak the pillow. You're good at crying, without making a sound. One might even call it an art, and you've had a lot of fucking practice. 

When you finally get your shit together you slide out of bed, trying to go take your shower without disturbing Tom. But when you see he's already watching you through slitted eyes you start, like you've been caught at something. 

“You ok, baby?”

You sigh, and nod. “Yeah,” you lie, right through your teeth. 

He narrows his eyes, and it's almost like watching him flip a switch. Detective Mode Engaged.

“I don't think you are. How bout you call in tonight, huh? You've more than earned it.”   

Wouldn't that be nice? You could just stay in bed with Tom all day and all night. Honestly, nothing sounds better. You can't do it though. You have to get him to take you to “work”, or you'll never be able to get away to your sordid rendez-vous. 

His life depends on it. 

It makes you so mad, deep down, that you have to lie. And of course, the universe would conspire to make him offer you this out, this day. The one day you absolutely can't. 

“I can’t, Tom.” You try to soften the blow by smoothing over his cheekbone and leaning down to peck his lips. “We’re already short staffed as it is.”

He leans up on his elbows, the sheet falling over his bare beautiful torso, like the universe is just rubbing salt in your fucking wounds at this point. 

“Come back to bed.” He says it with this come hither smile that melts your heart–and somehow, you feel even worse. 

Instead of having to look into those big brown eyes and deny him again, you shake your head with a little smile and turn on your heel. How stupid of you, to forget that the word no is not in his vocabulary. 

He tugs you back down and swaddles you up, first in the sheet and then in those unbreakable trunks he calls arms. You do try to fight, like a mouse wrapped up in a boa’s coils. 

“Tom, I’m serious, I have to go to work.” You love it when he manhandles you, but in this circumstance it’s just become really grating—only succeeding at making your shitty mood worse. He can’t just…keep you here all night. 

“I can keep you here all night,” he corrects, reading your scrunched thinking face. 

It spikes your annoyance, that he seems to find amusement in your predicament that he himself is causing, with his big lopsided grin. “I know you think you’re being cute–” 

“Honey, I know I’m cute.”

“Let me up now.” There is zero fun and games left in your tone. You know he hears it–of course, he would have to take it as a challenge. 

“Nope.” He has the nerve to pop that last p, and you start to remember why you sided with the crackhead the first night he came to your ER. 

“Tom!”

“Look.” You know from the sound of his voice that he’s done playing too. “You are tired and stressed out. I see it all over your face, I see it in the way you move. Maybe you can pretend for your coworkers, but you can’t fool me. I see you, y/n, and you need a break.”

“That is not your call to make for me,” you growl, still wrapped up like an angry little eggroll in the sheets with his arms around you. It doesn’t matter that he’s right. It doesn’t matter that you feel like you could really sleep for a week and maybe still not feel rested. There is nothing you hate more than being held down by a man who is bigger and stronger than you when you have something you have to do. It flips the switches and turns the keys in your brain, and suddenly all that’s left is the big red button–you are an atom bomb ready to blow.  

“No? So you get to make suggestions for how I do my job, but I don’t get to for yours?”

“It’s different,” you insist through gritted teeth. 

“Why?” 

“Because I save people and you hurt them.” 

The very second it leaves your mouth you know you’ve gone too far. He freezes behind you, still as stone, and just as hard. You count the seconds going by in heartbeats thundering in your ears. 

Fuck. 

“Wow. If that’s how you really feel…” The moment he releases you all you want is to be locked up in his unmoveable grasp again. 

“Tom…” 

He waves you off. 

“Tom, I’m sorry.” He pulls on his pants in silence, though by the hurt in his expression–you’ve never felt like a bigger piece of shit in your life. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you try again, your throat tight with tears. 

“It’s ok, y/n,” he says quietly. “You’re not wrong. Take your shower. I’m going to find some coffee.” 

He does not look at you as he exits the hotel room, and all you want to do is scream at the top of your lungs. How can you be so good at putting people together again in your job, but in your personal life…no one can break a relationship faster? 

[lesservillain]

vii. and you'll begin to wonder why you came

summary: things go south very quickly cw: VERY HEAVY TOPICS (gun violence, real threats against reader and Eddie, suicide) , ANGST (like so much of it) a/n: if any of the mentioned topic may be too much for you, please let me know and i will write a brief chapter summary and link it back here to be read.

“Did you hear that, too?” Eddie whispered to you. There was no way this was happening. No way.

Another knock.

“Hey, open up! I know you’re there!” A voice called from the other side of the door. More knocking had you jumping in your seat.

“What the hell? That doesn’t sound like any of the guys,” Eddie says looking to you.

“No, it sounds like…”

You get up from the couch and walk over to the door. You’re just about to open it when Eddie shouts, “What are you doing?! You’re not supposed to open the door!”

“It’s not Vecna,” you say, grabbing the door handle and opening it.

Sure enough, when you open the door you find the last person you expected to see right now standing on the other side.

“Sam, what are you doing here?”

“I knew that was your car,” he says angrily, “Just like I knew you’d be here.”

“Sam, I don’t understand--”

“What I don’t understand is why the hell you’re fucking some cripple!”

“Sam!” You weren’t about to deal with this right now. “You can’t just show up here and act like an ass. You need to leave.”

“No, I came all the way here to…to…” His words trailed off. He shook his head and looked at you straight. “I came here to confront you about cheating on me.”

“Cheat on you? What the hell are you talking about?”

“What’s going on here?” Eddie says as he rolls up to the door. “Who the hell is this?”

“You son of a bitch.” Sam goes to lunge at Eddie, but you jump between them to stop him.

“Sam, stop it!”

“You fucker! You took her from me!”

“Sam, no one took anything from you! We were not together. Yes, we went on a few dates, but I never agreed to be your girlfriend!”

“So you’re not even denying it? You have been sleeping with him?”

“No, Sam, I--”

“With that freak?”

“Dude, you need to go before I call the cops. She’s not interested in you, and you just need to accept that.” Eddie says sternly, wheeling to the door and starting to close it.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Sam says, putting a hand firmly on the door to keep it from shutting. Eddie is too weak to resist, and the door stays ajar with Sam practically forcing his way in. Sam shifts his weight so the door stays open with his shoulder and he reached toward you. You try and move, but he’s able to grab you by the wrist and hold on to you, his grip like a vice.

“Hey, get off of her!” Eddie moves to go for his hand but is stopped when the end of a gun is raised to his head.

Everyone freezes as the tides of the situation turn. Your blood runs cold at the sight before you.

“Don’t move. Just stay where you are and no one gets hurt,” Sam says to Eddie, whose wide eyes are locked on you. 

After a moment, Sam pulls on your arm and you fall into him. Wrapping his arm around you, he suddenly pulls the gun from Eddie and points it at your instead. Flashbacks flood your mind from a situation you had been in once before and you fight the urge to scream.

“Come on,” Sam says as he pulls you out of the house and into the cold January night. Eddie is left to watch as you’re dragged off the porch and to Sam’s car. You can only imagine how he must be feeling right now.

Sam opens the car door and starts to push you inside. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot him,” he says as he slams the car door shut. Your body is shaking, you don’t know if it’s from the cold or from the nerves in your body. But you don’t dare move.

The driver side door opens and Sam moves like he’s about to enter, when he suddenly freezes. You look at him as confusion covers his face. His body shakes like he’s trying to move, but he just seems stuck in place.

And then you watch as his body lifts in the air. He lets out a scream, and then he’s slammed against the hood of his car, his body rolling off of it and onto the ground.

What the fuck?

“Get out! Get out!” You barely heard Eddie’s voice from outside of the car. It felt like you were in another world, your ears buzzing from the disorientation setting in. Your vision started to go fuzzy and you felt your head hitting the back of the car’s seat. Suddenly everything went black, your body feeling like it was floating in water all around you.

Then, you were standing. Everything was dark except for the streetlights that shown through the windows. There was a thick fog flowing in the room you were in, making it hard to decipher where you were at.

But the blade at your throat throttled you into the situation in an earth shattering way.

“This doesn’t have to be like this, ya know?” The familiar, yet haunting voice says from behind you. “We could have been together. It would have been us against the world.”

You gulp, taking a sharp breath in so that your throat wouldn’t push into the knife any more than it already was. Even though you’ve had this nightmare a million times over, this time felt different. The blade felt like it did the day it happened. But there’s no way this was real.

“Oh, it’s real.” An otherworldly voice speaks to you directly in your head, but your eyes still scan the room to find it. 

“Say something, anything!” David speaks from behind you again, pressing the knife in more.

“I don’t know what to say.” The words come out but you didn’t say them. Well, you did that day, but you weren’t making the conscious effort to say them now. 

“How does it feel to be in this situation again? Where you’re life hangs in the balance, unknowing of the outcome,” the voice speaks again.

But you weren’t in danger. You knew how all of this ended. Any moment you’d hear her voice and then the shot. You just had to wait it out.

“But what if it didn’t happen? What if he really killed you?” 

“Then say nothing ever again!”

You waited to hear her voice. But it never came. Only the slice of the knife. And then…nothing.

“Wake up, wake up!”

You felt light slaps against your cheek as you started to come to. Your vision was still blurry, but as you opened them you started to make out a figure above you.

“Oh, thank fuck.” You hear Eddie’s relief is his words, starting to piece together his form as your vision clears. There’s a ton of commotion going on around you as your hearing comes back to you as well. You try and look around, but Eddie just pulls you into him. 

“Just keep your head down, they’re handling it.”

Who’s handling it? Handling what? Sam? You don’t hear any gunshots, so it must not be him. You try and peer around Eddie’s shoulder to see if you can see Sam’s body on the ground.

“He’s just unconscious. I grabbed his gun but we should still keep an eye on him if he wakes up.”

Nothing Eddie says was making sense, but you felt like you didn’t have any choice but to listen to him.

“Max! Please, it’s us!”

You hear the kids behind you and instinctively try and turn to see what’s going on. But Eddie doesn’t let you, holding you tight.

“What’s happening?” You ask into his chest

“Vecna has Max. They’re trying to get her to snap out of it, but she won’t budge. Lucas tried singing to her but even that’s not working.”

“And they can’t attack her?”

“Nope, so it’s just them against Vecna right now. El is doing her best to try and--”

“NOW, NOW!”

You hear the boys roar from the other side of the car, all of them joining in to sing a song you don’t recognize. 

“Come on, Max!” That sounded like Joyce.

“Max, wake up!” A familiar voice that you think might be Steve.

The singing continues as their voices get louder. You can only imagine what it must look like to see them all singing right now. 

Then it suddenly goes quiet. 

“Max? Max!” An unfamiliar voice calls to the girl.

Eddie loosens his grip on you a bit, so you take the moment to move your body around. The front yard is filled with people; all the boys, Jane, Hopper, Joyce, Robin, Steve, Rick, and two people you don’t recognize.

“Lucas?” You hear the girls voice crack.

“Max!” Lucas takes Max in his arms and hold her tightly. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, Jane leaning down to hug the girl.

“Thank fuck,” Eddie says behind you.

“So he showed up here with a gun?”

“Why is no one answering me!” Sam is screaming out the window, cuffed by Hopper in his police cruiser. “I was in the air and--and…why are you all ignoring me?!”

“Will you quiet down,” Hopper says before turning back to you. You stand there watching Sam, worried he might get out of his cuffs and hurt Eddie.

“Yeah, he pointed it at my head, then at her and tried to drag her out to his car. That’s why we were outside when you got here.” Eddie says, his hand in yours squeezing slightly.

“Alright, I’ll take him to the station, but we’ll have to have you guys come in tomorrow and give an official statement, assuming you want to press charges.”

“Yes,” you say without second thought. There was no way you were letting him get near Eddie ever again.

“Alright, well, let me take care of him, you guys probably need to tend to what’s going on inside. I’ll try and come back later tonight to see how everyone is doing. One of you needs to call Mrs. Mayfield and let her know Max is here.”

“Got it,” Eddie says, giving Hopper a nod. Getting in the cruiser, you stand and watch as Hopper takes Sam down the drive way and out of sight. Only then do you get to breathe your sigh of relief.

“Let’s go inside, you must be freezing,” Eddie says, pulling on your hand. You only respond by ducking down to embrace him, squeezing him tightly in your arms.

“I was so afraid, Eddie,” you say as you drop down to your knees. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Eddie coos, rubbing his hand up and down the back of your head. “Nothing’s gonna happen to us now.” But the sobs still come. Eddie just lets you get it out of your system, placing kisses on the top of your head as you cry into his chest. Finally, after getting all the tears out, you look up at him. He smiles at you, letting a hand rest on your cheek before placing a soft kiss against your lips. 

Passing Rick as he smokes a cigarette out on the porch, the two of you go back inside and it’s pure pandemonium. They’ve got Max on the couch with Lucas by her side, the boys are all arguing about something, Steve and Robin are checking on Jane, and Joyce is in the kitchen on the phone while the two people you don’t recognize stand by her side. You push Eddie inside and Steve and Robin walk over to you two.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” Steve asks, looking between you and Eddie.

“Okay now,” Eddie says looking back at you. “We had a bit of trouble before you guys got here.”

“Yeah, who was that guy that Hopper took away?” Robin asks.

“It’s a long story, but what matters is everyone is okay.” You pause. “Everyone is okay, right?”

“Yeah, Max says she’s sore, but we got her comfortable on the couch. She can’t see anything, though,” Robin says, looking to Eddie when she says the last part.

“Her eyes…” You remember Eddie saying that Vecna had taken his victims eyes when he killed them.

“They’re still there, but she said everything is blurry.”

“Is that Eddie?” Max says from the couch and the room goes silent.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Eddie says after a beat.

“Are you okay? Vecna told me he was going to come for you since you escaped.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and he sets his hand on top of it.

“So tell us the last thing you remember again,” Dustin asks Max. She shifts on the couch so she’s leaning forward.

“I remember levitating off the ground, all my limbs being broken, and then everything went black. That’s all I got.”

“But you’ve been having visions while you were in the coma?” Will asks, moving to sit next to her.

“Yes, he has something planned, but he’s weak. I think he over estimated himself this time. The last thing I remember before waking up was him saying he would be back for me.”

The boys collectively groan, clearly upset they still hadn’t defeated the monster lurking in the shadows.

“So we’re still not safe,” Mike says throwing up his hands.

“At least we have Max back,” Jane says in response.

“Yeah, but she’s a ticking time bomb. Who knows when he’s going to try and use her to do that again.”

“Let’s try and stay positive here,” Steve says with his hands on his hips. 

“Steve’s right,” Dustin says, nodding his head, “We didn’t have any casualties tonight, and we got a party member back. We should be happy about that much. I call it a win.”

“Very well said, Dustin,” Joyce says with a tone of approval.

“Thank you, Mrs.Byers,” Dustin says with a nod. “Now I think all of us are tired right now, so why don’t we call it a night and circle back to come up with a game plan. Someone should probably be with Max at all times, just in case.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Max says crossing her arms.

“Max, please--” Lucas pleads, grabbing for her hand, but Max doesn’t give in.

“I don’t need babysitters again. Just let me spend some time with my mom…tell her what’s going on and…and just try and live a normal life for a little bit.”

The tone in her voice broke your heart. It sounded like she’s been going through a grueling time while in her coma and you want nothing more than to tell her she’s okay now. But she doesn’t even know you, so you know it’s not your place to say.

“Speaking of, I called your mother and let her know you were here. She was worried sick about you,” Joyce says.

“Thanks,” Max says softly. The tension in the air dissipated as she leaned into Lucas, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Eddie, do I need to call Wayne?” Joyce asks, looking between you two.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to stay the night. We need to go to the station tomorrow anyway,” you say, rubbing your thumb on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Who was that?” Max suddenly asks, her head perking up as she looks around the room.

Dustin tells her your name and smiles, “Eddie’s girlfriend.”

“We’re not--”

“I’m not his--”

The two of you go to defend yourselves in unison. Even with everything you’d done, there was still no official stamp on what the two of you are. Not that you’d deny it if Eddie didn’t.

“Oh, they’re totally dating,” Max says with a smile.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no,” you say, the words spilling out of your mouth like vomit. Eddie looks back at you dumfounded. But it only lasts for a moment before a somber look adorns his beautiful features.

“We’re not dating.” His tone is stern, and it takes you back a bit. Did what you say upset him? Maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“Whatever you say,” Max says with a shrug.

Suddenly, the front door opens and Rick steps inside and the tense air starts to dissipate. 

“Did I miss anything important?” He says stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and looking around the room.

“Who’s that guy?” Max asks, hands going up with annoyance.

After a bit of talking, eventually everybody goes home, leaving just you and Eddie by yourselves. He’s been quiet most of the night, hardly saying a word even when directly addressed. You assumed he was probably a little shaken up from the events of the night and decided not to press him much on the subject.

“Ready for bed?” You ask as you close the front door, cutting off the cold chill that was infiltrating the house.

“Yes,” is all he says. You turn to look at him and he looks absolutely defeated.

“Come on, let’s go,” you say as you grab his wheelchair. You push him back to his room and grab some night clothes for him to change into.

“Do you want something to wear?” He asks, not looking at you.

“Oh, sure,” you say, trying to hid how giddy you were at the thought of wearing Eddie’s clothes. You had your bag out in your car, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Pick whatever you want,” he says, pulling his shirt off to replace with the clean one. You take a peak at his shirtless form, but quickly recover as his curls pop through the hole and fly everywhere. You grab another shirt and some pajama pants and go to the bathroom to change, laying your now dirty clothes on the sink. You could wash yours and Eddie’s clothes tomorrow.

When you came out of the bathroom, Eddie was already in bed with the blanket pulled up almost over his head. It made you laugh, reminding you about his old self when you first started coming around. Making your way to his bed, you sit on the edge and lift your legs so that you’re laying next to him. His head pops out, a look of surprise on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep?” You say, looking at him quizzically.

“Here?”

“Is that okay?”

Eddie thinks for a moment and you watch the way the gears are turning behind his eyes.

“I…I guess that’s okay,” he finally says, lifting the blanket up so you can slide under it. His hesitancy had you concerned, but you weren’t going to question it tonight. Maybe the two of you needed to have a talk in the car tomorrow.

Eddie pulls a pillow out from under him and moves it for you to lay on. When you do, you immediately sigh at the smell of him entering your nose. It smelled like his shampoo and honestly like a little bit of sweat, but that didn’t bother you. You smiled contently as you snuggled it.

“Well…goodnight,” Eddie says softly, before turning over and facing the complete opposite direction in the bed. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little hurt. It didn’t have to be all lovey dovey, but you were at least hoping for a little bit of cuddling. Maybe he just wasn’t used to all of this yet. He said he’d never been with someone before, so maybe he was the one in need of affection.

You moved closer to him. Enough for you to wrap your arm around him, sliding it up under his arm. He stiffened at the sudden embrace, and you could only imagine the look on his face right now. Placing a soft peck against his back, you snuggle into him, letting his hair tickle your face in the process.

“Goodnight Eddie,” you say into his skin, and slowly feel yourself drifting off into sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, the first thing you noticed immediately was how hot you were. It was like you were sleeping next to a space heater from how much heat was coming off of Eddie’s body. His body, which was now completely entangled in yours. At some point in the night he flipped over and had gotten both arms around you, and his thigh rested on top of yours. 

The second thing you noticed was his snoring. Right in your ear. You giggled when you looked up at him, his mouth hanging wide open with a little line of drool threatening to spill onto your forehead if you didn’t move soon. He looked so at peace in his slumber.

You stayed there for a while, until the eventual need to pee took over and you had to get up. You did your best to remove yourself slowly from Eddie’s grasp, not wanting to wake him up. Once you were able to escape, you ran to the bathroom and did your business, finding Eddie still asleep when you came out. You decided then to go ahead and make breakfast, letting Eddie get the extra sleep after everything he’s been through.

Walking out to the kitchen, you let out a big yawn, closing your eyes as you do.

“Mornin.”

The voice scares you, and you jump. Hand on your chest, you breath heavily as you try to calm yourself back down.

“Jeez, didn’t mean ta scare ya,” Wayne says with a bit of a laugh. You spin around to find him sitting in the recliner, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Oh my god, Wayne,” you say with a breath. “Sorry, I’m just a little on edge.”

“I’d imagine so. I’m guessing somethin’ went down last night.”

You blink, recollecting the events from the night prior.

“You could say that.”

Wayne joined you in the kitchen as you made breakfast. Recounting what happened the night before, sans what you and Eddie did, Wayne simply sits and nods as you talk. It dawned at you at one point that Eddie never said he told Wayne the whole truth about what happened, but if Wayne was confused about anything he didn’t let it be known.

There’s a quiet moment between you two once you finish. Wayne seems to be processing the information, but his silence still makes you nervous. You didn’t want him to think you were going to cause them trouble after telling him about Sam.

“Well,” he finally says, “At least the two of you are okay. You are okay, right?”

His question has you thinking. Were you alright? You just went through some pretty traumatic shit once again in your life, but being a glutton for trouble you’ve come to terms with about yourself. You were more worried about Eddie than anything. Especially with how closed off he seemed to be after everything happened. But, regardless of what happened to you, you were going to stick by his side and help him through everything from now on.

“Yeah, I think I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says, slapping his hands on his knees before standing up. “I think I’m gonna go have me a quick smoke after hearing all of that. Need me to wake Eddie up before I go?”

“No, I’ll wake him,” you say as you finish plating all the food. Wayne nods and heads for the front door, closing it softly behind him.

Making your way back to Eddie’s room, you see that he’s gotten himself spread out like a starfish in the middle of the bed. You wonder if he was reaching out looking for you in his sleep and it makes you melt. You almost don’t want to wake him, but you know the two of you have a big day ahead of you and you want to make sure he has time to get ready before making the trip into town.

You walk over to the bed and lean down. With a gentle touch, you rub Eddie’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. “Eddie,” you say softly so not to startle him. After a moment he starts to stir, ripping a loud snort before his eyes go fluttering open. His eyes take a moment to focus before they’re landing on you, a dopey grin spreading over his face.

“You’re still here,” he says in a raspy tone that should not still be affecting you. You nod and lean in to give him a quick peck on the forehead. He hums in response, still trying to get his barrings before sitting up in the bed. His hand comes to rub his eyes a bit, running through his wild mane before landing back on the bed.

“Did you make food?” He asks, sniffing the air.

“Yep, it’s ready for you in the kitchen,” you say, turning around to grab his wheelchair. He throws the covers off of himself and turns to sit on the side of the bed. Locking the wheels, he grabs the armrests and swings himself down into the seat, adjusting himself until he’s comfortable.

“Ready?” You ask as you grab the handles of his chair.

“Lemme piss first. I’ll meet you out there.”

You give him a quick okay and head back to the kitchen. Wayne is already back inside, and he’s already sat your plates in your respective spots at the table.

“He awake?” He asks, taking a bite out of his eggs.

“Yeah, he’s coming. Had to pee.”

After a few minutes, Eddie joins to two of you in the kitchen, wheeling his chair up to the table. He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly starts to eat his food.

“Well, mornin’ sunshine,” Wayne says to Eddie.

“Morning,” Eddie says with a mouth full of food.

“Must’ve worked up quite an appetite after everything, huh?”

Eddie stops, looking up at Wayne and then to you.

“You told him?”

You nod, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Everything?”

You nod again.

Eddie sighs, placing his fork down and sitting back in his chair.

“Well,” he says throwing his hands up, “what do you have to say about it?”

“Not much,” Wayne says taking a sip from his coffee. “Just that I’m glad everything worked out.”

“That’s it? No lecture? No telling me we need to jump ship and find another place to live? No telling me that I should’ve just stayed out of the mess this time, as if I had a choice? Just you’re happy we’re okay?” You were taken aback by Eddie’s sudden outburst. 

“Yep,” is all Wayne says before digging back into his food again. Eddie just stares at him, dumbfounded at his lack of response. The tension in the air still lingers, but when Eddie goes back to eating again, you feel your shoulders start to relax. The rest of breakfast is eaten wordlessly, and you take Eddie’s plate with yours as he finishes. 

“Are you done?” You ask Wayne, whose eyes are glued to the paper he picked up on the way home from work.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Thank ya, darling,” he says when you take his plate. You head for the sink and take your time to wash them. Eddie wheels past in his chair, presumably heading to his room.

“Thank you.” Wayne’s voice calls from the other side of the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” you say over the running water. “Better to go ahead and clean them than let them sit in the sink.”

“No, I mean thank you for being here.” There’s a serious tone to his voice that makes you stop what you’re doing.

“But…but if I hadn’t been here…He might not have…”

“Eddie would have been on his own, and God knows what could have happened. So…just, thank you.”

Though you knew he meant his words, it still felt as if they weren’t true. If you hadn’t been there, Sam more than likely would have just left, right? No reason to harass Eddie if you weren’t around. It gave you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realize you could have been the reason Eddie died last night. That if you had just minded your own business and left him alone, maybe Rick or Dustin would have answered the door instead of you, deterring Sam from doing anything stupid.

“...Yeah, of course.” The words don’t feel right leaving your mouth. Like you shouldn’t accept Wayne’s sentiment with so little fight. He should hate you because you put his nephew in harms way. You might as well have put the gun to his head.

Eddie rolls back into the kitchen a few minutes later with some clothes folded up in his lap. He clears his throat and you slowly turn to look at him. “Can I take a shower before we go in to town?” You give him a nod and set the last of the dishes in the drying rack before wiping your hands on the stove towel. Quietly, you follow him back to his room, trailing behind his chair as he makes his way into the bathroom. He takes his shirt off and lays it on the counter, putting all his scars on display for you to see. It reminds you that this man has already been through so much pain in his life, and here you are causing more.

“You ready?” He asks, turning back to look at you. You walk into the bathroom and stand in front of him, taking your hands and wrapping them around his torso. You give a countdown from three and the two of you stand. Eddie makes quick work of his pants, letting them drop on the floor. You keep your eyes at a respectable height despite the way you were intimately close to him the night before, just in case. With a quick spin, you set him down on his shower chair, letting him get adjusted as you grab his washcloths from the drawer.

“Hey, are you okay?” Eddie’s words make you jump. Your eyes meet his to see his brows pinched together with concern. 

“Yeah, just tired,” is all you can muster to him, not wanting to upset him more with the thoughts that were currently flooding your mind. Why make him feel worse than he probably already does?

“Do you want to shower with me?” Another surprise question to rock you. 

“Eddie…”

“No, you’re right. Sorry I asked.” His tone bites at you, only making you feel worse.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t think it’s a good idea because, you know, Wayne and all.” It wasn’t a lie. Wayne had no idea what had transpired between you and Eddie, and he never needed to as far as you were concerned. But the two of you suddenly showering together might tip him off to your affairs. You wondered if he would be upset if he knew you and Eddie had slept together. Would he think it was inappropriate? Maybe he’d think you’d taken advantage of Eddie in his current state. Had you?

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Eddie said dejectedly. You fought the urge to kiss away his sadness, but settled for keeping to yourself in case the sudden affection was more than Eddie needed right now. You didn’t deserve to be selfish after everything you’d caused him.

“I’ll be listening for the water to turn off,” you say before making your leave, leaving the bathroom door cracked. 

While Eddie showers, you decide you need to clean any evidence of what the two of you did the night before. Stripping Eddies bed, you bunch up the fabric into a ball and carry it out to the kitchen, dropping them into the washing machine and starting it. You knew Eddie had clothes that needed to be washed, but they could wait for later.

Looking around, you notice Wayne is missing from the table and presume that he must have gone to bed. It makes you think that you could have slipped into the shower with Eddie, wanting desperately to wash the night before off of your skin, but it was still probably for the best. You could wash yourself in the safety of your own bathroom later tonight.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your own thoughts, you made Eddie’s bed and put away some clean clothes that were still sitting out on top of his dresser from the last load someone had done for him. At least there was an attempt to keep this house orderly while you were gone, assuming that Rick didn’t do half the things around here that you did. You wondered if he’d been with Eddie the whole time or if when Vecna decided to make an appearance in Eddie’s life again that Wayne decided to take some time off of work. Surely he needed a break with how hard working he was, but not with the thoughts of his nephew’s life being on the line.

Once everything is made and put away, you sit on the edge of Eddie’s bed and just think. Nothing good, unfortunately. Mostly just replaying the night over in your head, sans the good parts. You didn’t feel like you deserved to think about the good parts right now. The sound of the water shutting off was the only thing to save you from the spiral that was starting to come on.

Making your way to the bathroom, you find Eddie already drying himself off. Walking over to him, you take your position, hands up under his arms to help him stand. You notice that he doesn’t have anything draped over his lap, but don’t spend much time lingering on it. Why make a big deal out of something like that now? If anything it made you feel that Eddie was more comfortable with you now than he was before. Maybe he felt like what happened between you was enough to get rid of some of the boundaries between you. Once you settled him in his chair, you rolled him over to the sink and started to do his hair, combing out the tangles and massaging hair cream into it.

“Had to do this myself while you weren’t around,” he says, motioning to his hair.

“Well, you didn’t do half bad. It’s not as tangled as I expected it to be,” you say as you pull the comb through his curls.

“Learned from the best,” he says, smiling at you in the mirror. You returned it, giving a small on in return.

“I’m definitely not the best,” you say with a shake of your head.

“You are to me.”

You pause your movements, staring down at the back of his head. It takes everything in you not to embrace him. To not just throw caution to the wind and spin him around and kiss him over and over. You want nothing more than to say you’re sorry and beg him to forgive you for all the grief you’ve caused him. But, you don’t. Instead, you lean down, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. You could do that much.

The Hawkins police department was more lack luster than you anticipated. It was a small station, much like the one back in your home town. Hopper apparently wasn’t even in yet, so you had the option to interview with the deputy or wait until Hopper arrived. You didn’t mind talking with the deputy and getting this whole thing over with, but Eddie insisted that the two of you needed to speak with Hopper. So the two of you waited for about 45 minutes in almost complete silence.

“Sorry, I had to stop at the Mayfield residence on my way in,” Hopper explained as he rushed into the station.

“Call next time,” the receptionist says without looking up from her paperwork. “These two have been waiting for you.” She points her pen towards you and Eddie. Hopper spins on his heal and sighs when he sees the two of you.

“Hey, sorry, come on back,” Hopper says, motioning for the two of you to follow him. You push Eddie’s chair behind him until you reach his office. Hopper closes the door behind you, locking it.

“How are you guys doing today?” What a loaded question.

“We’re okay for the most part,” you say as you you take a seat in the available chair in front of the desk.

“Hopefully you could get some sleep last night. It was a little rough for me with everything that happened,” Hopper says as he takes his own seat across from you and Eddie.

“Did everyone get home okay?” Eddie asks.

“Jonathan is dropping everyone off now,” Hopper says with a nod. Eddie sighs with relief, settling in his chair.

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night or do you want to get the stuff with this Sam guy taken care of first?” Hopper asks, leaning forward in his chair. You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Better to rip the bandaid off and deal with the pain first.

“We should probably talk about Sam,” you say, looking over at Eddie. He nods with stoney expression, not looking in your direction.

“Alright, I know I already asked, but I’m just clarifying that you want to press charges?”

“Yes. Definitely.” You say without hesitation. 

“Well I can definitely press him with some felony charges, but the two of you will have to go to court. Is that something you think you can handle again?” Hopper asks Eddie.

Shit, you hadn’t even thought about that. Would Eddie be okay with going back to court after everything that happened to him last year?

“I can handle it,” Eddie says plainly. “I don’t want that fucker to see the light of day again.” 

Hopper chuckles before looking over to you. “Well, I’ll need a statement from the both of you then. Doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner the better.”

“We can give them today. I’d like to make this go as quickly as possible,” you say, just wishing none of this had even happened. 

Hopper pulls on one of his desk drawers and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. He asks you to start from the beginning and the two of you give a retelling of the events of the previous night. It wasn’t as hard as you expected it to be, maybe because of your own experiences in the past, but listening to Eddie give his own spin on the events made your chest tighten. You wanted to take him out of the equation completely. You could handle this on your own, you’ve done it before. But Eddie didn’t need any of this.

You get to the point where you pass out and pause, letting Hopper get caught up with his writing. You hadn’t said anything about the weird dream you had, not really thinking about it until now. You weren’t even sure if it was worth mentioning.

“Then what happened?” He says looking between the two of you.

“I rolled out when I saw him hit the ground. I tried calling for her, but when I got to the car, that’s when she had passed out. I pulled her out of the car and tried to pull her away, but I couldn’t get us too far.” Eddie was getting upset the more he progressed with the story, his fists clenching, knuckles white with anger. “Then I heard his voice in my head. He said he was coming for me. I started to panic, but that’s when you all showed up and the voice went away.”

Hopper had stopped writing, probably omitting the end of that from the report for obvious reasons. You reached out, taking Eddie’s hand in yours. He gripped you tightly for a moment before loosening his grip. His eyes stayed forward, even though you wished he would just look at you.

“Well,” Hopper starts, setting his pen down and looking over the paper, “for the sake of the report, I just put that you fought back against him and knocked him out. That’ll hold up better in court, so just remember that for when they have you testify.”

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

“As for what happened after…I’d wouldn’t be surprised if some suits don’t show up at your door by the end of the day today. They’re gonna want to talk to her, too, so I would just hang out at your place until they get there.”

“Right,” Eddie huffs.

“Suits?” You ask, confused.

“The government.” Hopper says. What the hell had you gotten yourself into? “They’re involved in all of this stuff now that some people are gone. They want to keep this stuff under wraps so I’m sure you’ll be signing an NDA.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a paper saying you wont discuss what happened.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you say, shaking your head.

“I know, but the big wigs want to be sure of it. Don’t let it scare you. They wont do anything to you as long as you keep to yourself.”

“Welcome to the club,” Eddie says with a faux enthusiasm.

The government did in fact show up to Eddie’s house later that day. They separated you and Eddie and interrogated you about what happened. The lady you spoke with was nice, but it still had you feeling nervous. You hadn’t really seen much, so it didn’t take long for you to tell them what you knew. It made you wonder if Eddie knew this would happen, and that’s why he shielded you away from what was going on.

After a few hours, they finally left with an NDA signed by you and a stern reminder to Eddie and Wayne. It left you feeling mentally exhausted, and you plopped down on the couch with a long exhale that you felt like you’d been holding since they arrived.

“Stuffy bastards,” Wayne says as he grabs his jacket and throws it on. “I’m goin’ out fer a smoke after alla that.”

“Count me in, too,” Eddie says, rolling over to grab his own jacket from the coat rack.

“Ya need one too, darlin?” Wayne asks, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Maybe,” you say with an airy chuckle. Standing up from the couch, you grab your jacket and follow the Munson men outside into the cold. You know the metal from the chair would instantly freeze your ass, so you opt to stand next to Eddie instead, not bothered by the smoke that comes from his cigarette. The three of you stand in a comfortable silence after talking for hours on end, none of you wanting to speak another word for as long as possible. But someone needed to break the ice.

“It’s getting late, I should probably go soon.” 

“Do ya want to stay for dinner? Just about that time,” Wayne asks.

“I’m sure the two of you have seen enough of me today. Plus, I’m dying for a 

shower.”

“You could’a showered here.”

“I know, but I want to put some clean clothes on,” you say, not wanting to sound

rude. “Plus, I’m sure Tonya is getting worried about me. I didn’t tell her I was staying the night last night.”

“Oh, well, yeah, it’s probably good of you to let ‘er know you’re alright after being gone for so long,” Wayne says, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“But,” you start, turning to face the both of them. “If I leave here, you guys have to promise me that you’re not going to shut me out again. That I’m going to come back here Monday and things will go back to normal. Or as normal as they can be now. Promise me.”

Wayne chuckles. “Promise, darlin’.” You look at Eddie and wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He’s staring out into the woods with a blank look on his face. You wonder if he even heard you.

“Eddie?”

He’s silent for a beat.

“Yeah, promise.”

Things return to a somewhat normal come Monday. By somewhat, you mean that things are how they used to be, just a used to be that’s similar to your time with Eddie when you first came around. You don’t know what happened in the day and a half you were gone, but Eddie seemed like he was reverting back to his old self. He barely talked to you while you were there, didn’t ring his bell once during the night. He just generally kept to himself. 

It hurt. A lot.

And it wasn’t just like this the first night. No, this had been going on for weeks now. Any time you tried to talk to him, he would give you the cold shoulder or his answers would be short. It was killing you, only making you feel worse than you had before. You’d hoped he would lighten up after some time passed, but as the cold weather began to change, melting the snow with it, you still felt frozen in time to that night.

It didn’t help that clinicals were mentally exhausting you, too. It was your final semester in college and you had so much going on that you didn’t have it in you to fight with him. If you could just get through this semester, then maybe you’d have the energy to talk to him and figure out what was going on in his head.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Eddie says as he rolls behind the couch.

“Okay,” is all you say, a mountain of school work laid out in front of you on the coffee table. You hear the door open and close, not thinking much of it as Eddie was able to get around better now. He’d unfortunately stopped going to physical therapy a few weeks ago, his reasoning unknown to you. But you’d hoped it was just because he was feeling strong enough to be able to continue it on his own.

As you continued your school work, you’d sort of lost track of time. Looking up at the clock, you noticed it was getting close to nine. You figured you’d better take a break and get Eddie in the shower, hopping up from your spot and heading back to his room. You called for him, but there was no answer. That wasn’t atypical as of late, so you just knocked on his door before pushing it open. What you weren’t expecting was to find his room empty.

You do a quick check of the bathroom, but find that empty, too. Weird. You do a check of the rest of the house and find he isn’t anywhere to be found. Did he not come back inside from taking a smoke? The weather was getting nicer, so maybe he was just enjoying sitting out on the porch. Walking to the front door, you open it and look around outside. Nothing.

Panic begins to set in as you call out his name. You rush around the house again, checking extra carefully in case he managed to fall and get himself stuck somewhere, but you were the only person in this house. You’re breathing heavily as you try and think straight. Where the hell did he go? You rush outside again and circle around the premises, making sure he wasn’t in the back yard or out by the cars, but turned up nothing there, too.

“Eddie? Eddie!” You called out for him but get no answer. Bile rose in your throat and you started to feel dizzy. You rush to the edge of the tree line and try calling out for him more, but get nothing in return. Did he go into the woods? Surely not. But where else could he have gone?

You start into the brush, trying your best to see with only the moonlight to guide you through the thicket. You continued to call his name, praying that he wasn’t passed out somewhere in the woods where you wouldn’t be able to find him. Should you turn back and call Hopper? They could get some dogs out here to look for him. But what if you turning back only led him to a worse fate? 

“Eddie, please!” You scream, tears streaming down your face. You can barely see through them, not even sure where you’re going anymore. You stumble, almost hitting the ground as you lose your footing. It hits you how hard your breathing now, barely able to get a breath in in your current state. You continue through the woods until you noticed the trees started to clear just up ahead. You walked through them, stopping and doing your best to look around.

That’s when you caught a glimpse of him in the distance. His chair was illuminated by the moon and you couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through you. He was sitting close to the edge, looking down over it. 

Thank fuck, he was alive. 

You started towards him, unable to call out anymore due to your ragged breathes that you were still trying to catch up on. Your eyes never left him as you ran, finally feeling relieved as you were almost to him. But then he started moving. His wheels were dangerously close to the edge. You tried calling out to him, but it only came out as a harsh wheeze. What was he doing?

And then he wheeled forward.

It happened so fast. You were able to grab a hold of his chair just as he started to go over, doing everything you could to pull him back. A hand landed on his shoulder and with everything in you, you pulled him in his chair back from the edge. It was like slow motion as you watched him land back on top of the cliff, his body jerking harshly from the impact.

But as he flew back, you continued forward, nothing to stop your body’s momentum as you hurtled towards the edge. You got one last good look at Eddie’s shocked face before your foot went over the edge.

And you were gone. Falling, for what felt like forever. 

Until you felt a sharp pain all over your body.

And then, there was nothing.

thank you for reading!

[possessedmen]

Smoke and Shadows

The city’s pulse thrummed through the humid day, a symphony of distant traffic, as I wandered past a graffiti-scrawled building. My heart skipped when I saw him—Jake—perched on the edge of a crumbling concrete ledge. He wore a tight black shirt and blue shorts that hugged his thighs, his sneakers pristine white against the faded blue paint and scrawled tags behind him. A cigarette dangled from his lips, smoke curling lazily into the air, and I froze. Jake didn’t smoke. Never had. But there he was, exhaling a plume with a smirk that wasn’t his.

“Hey, man, what’re you doing out here?” I called, stopping a few feet away, my voice tight with confusion.

He didn’t even glance up at first, just smirked like he owned the damn street. “Who the fuck’re you, huh?” His voice was rougher than usual, laced with a lazy sneer. He fished a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, tapped one out, and lit it with a flick of a cheap lighter. The flame danced across his face, and I froze. Jake didn’t smoke. Never had. The sight of that thin trail of smoke curling from his lips hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Uh… Jake, you okay?” I stammered, my brows knitting together. “Since when do you start smo—”

“Name’s not Jake, dipshit,” he cut me off, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke right in my direction. His eyes—those familiar hazel eyes—finally flicked up to meet mine, but they were cold, sharp, nothing like the warm, quiet guy I’d known since high school. “You got the wrong guy, Remy.”

“My name’s not Remy,” I snapped, irritation flaring. “It’s Ryan. What’s going on with you?”

He chuckled, low and throaty, leaning his head back against the glass. “Oh, Ryan, huh? Cute. Whatever, man, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Another drag, another smirk. The cigarette dangled between his fingers like he’d been smoking for years, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the strangeness of it. My chest tightened, a mix of confusion and something else I couldn’t quite name.

“Look, Jake, if you’re screwing with me—”

“Fuck’s sake, you’re dense,” he snapped, tossing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. He pushed off the ledge, stepping closer, his frame towering over me in a way that felt… wrong. Too bold. Too aggressive. “I ain’t your precious little Jake, alright? I’m just borrowing your friend's skin for a bit. Cops are on my ass, and this—” he gestured down at himself, “—is a damn good hiding spot. He’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll ditch him when the heat’s off.”

I blinked, my mind reeling. “Possessed? You’re saying you’re not him?”

“Bingo, genius.” He grinned, all teeth and menace, but there was a glint in his eyes—playful, seductive, like he knew exactly how to unravel me. He stepped closer, his scent mixing with the lingering smoke, and I couldn’t look away. This wasn’t Jake, but it was his body—those broad shoulders, his beard, the way his shorts clung to his muscular thighs. And yet, the way Dax moved in it, all cocky swagger and flirtatious edge, was lighting up parts of me I didn’t expect. My jeans tightened, and I shifted uncomfortably.

His gaze dropped, lingering on the bulge in my pants, and that grin widened into something filthy. “Well, shit, Ryan. Looks like you’re enjoyin’ the show.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a husky drawl. “You’re not so bad lookin’, you know. Quite the opposite, actually. I bet Jake’s straight as an arrow, but with me in here…” He leaned in, his breath hot against my face, laced with the sharp tang of cigarettes. “We could have some real fun.”

Before I could protest, he grabbed me by the shirt, pulling me into a kiss. His lips crashed against mine, rough and demanding, the taste of smoke and something darker flooding my senses. My hands instinctively gripped his arms, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. God, it was wrong—Jake would never—but it was so fucking hot, the way Dax moved, the way he owned Jake’s body with that cocky, irresistible aura.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes sparkled with mischief. “See? Told you we could enjoy this.” He smirked, leaning back against the ledge, one leg propped up to show off the bulge straining against his blue shorts, inviting me in with every inch of his provocative stance.

My heart raced, torn between shock and raw desire. Jake’s body, Dax’s boldness—it was a dangerous, intoxicating mix, and I couldn’t deny how much it turned me on.