#My sillies my bff my everything

[asleep-kat]

"The great sage, equal to heaven!"

Bonus shitpost

[babymagi]

drawing stupid chibis of my magi brotps pt 2

[no romance included]

[soleadita]

my dad being a diego luna stan was not on my 2022 bingo card but holy SHIT it’s my favorite thing ever. (i had to tell him the new season ISN’T starting soon. he was sad about that.)

[cherubunie]

fucked silly ~ bff satoru gojo x inexperienced reader ౨ৎ ♡

satoru is your best friend, and he has been since the first grade. he's never trusted anybody the way he trusts you, apart from get of course. its also abundantly clear that you have the biggest crush on him, its written all over your face; especially when he takes you out somewhere expensive, whenever he compliments you, and especially when he teases you. in true gojo fashion, he want's to tease you until you're bursting out of your seams with pent up frustration, he can't help it when his cock hardens whenever you make that cute pouty face at him whenever he does so! , and today is his lucky day, when he teases you just enough for you to finally come undone. word count: 7000 (whoops) inexperienced! sub! reader x Dom! Gojo. Lots of sweet talking, praise, orgasm control, oral sex, gentle choking, very soft corruption. gagging very very gentle sex. beginning of a relationship tehe. mutual love, confessions.

"gojoooo, my feet are starting to hurt" your face flushes for the nth time as the man behind you pushes you into yet another clothing store. the two of you had been walking for 3 and a half hours around the local Shibuya shopping center since 12 pm. Gojo insisted the two of you go shopping as your birthday was next week, but he couldn't join you on the day because he was busy. so, to make it up to you he decided to take you on an unlimited shopping spree. 

"but we haven't gone in here yetttt, come on there are so many cute things in here" the white headed man squeals as he pushes you at lightning speed, almost causing you to trip over yourself one too many times. 

As you walk into the store, your eyes widen at all the cute articles of clothing the shop carries. you instantly throw all your bags full of other clothes and jewelry right into gojo's arms and he happily stumbles to grab them out of your hands with an amused chuckle, readjusting his blindfold. Suddenly, the pain in your feet disappears when you run around the store, looking at everything they have. 

After shopping around the store for another hour, your eyes land on a gorgeous pastel blue dress with white lace tracing the hem. you turn around, eyes landing on gojo who's walking around in the mens section of the store. 

suddenly, a sneaky idea pops into your head and before you can even second guess yourself, you grab the dress off the hanger and hide it in the pile of clothing you had already picked out around the store and walk towards satoru. 

"you ready?" he senses you before you even say anything, turning around so his body faces yours. with a cheeky smile on your face, you grab his arm and pull him towards the check out area without saying a word. 

"You are one expensive girl, you know that?" his legs spread apart slightly in the back of the bmw his private export is driving the two of you in. you feel your face heat up at his action and quickly punch his arm with a scowl.

"and you're the one who puts up with this expensive girl, you know that?" your snarky reply causes satoru to laugh, throwing one of your many plushies right into your face.

As you arrive back at your apartment, gojo directs the driver to pull into a parking spot and wait for him to return. Just like the man he is, gojo is whining the entire way to your apartment, complaining about how heavy all your bags are. 

"oh shut up, I know you can carry so much more than that so stop complaining" you jokingly snap at him, resulting in a whine coming from behind you. You grab your keys from your purse and unlock your door, setting your purse on its designated hook and walking into your humble abode. Gojo walks into your room and sets all your newly bought items on the bed, you following in his footsteps. 

"its around 5:30 now, what time did you say the reservation is at?" you ask the white headed man and walk towards your closet, looking at all the clothing you have yet to wear from your last shopping trip. 

"I set the reservation time to 8, but if you need more time to get ready I can call them and have a time change arranged" he says, turning around to face you. You hum to yourself, debating on if that's enough time to do the makeup and hair styles you want to do. 

"That should be enough time, that gives me 2 hours to get ready." you turn around to speak to him directly. 

"okay, I'll be back in a couple hours, dress nicely, I'm taking you to the best restaurant in Shibuya for my best girl" his flirting sends a dagger straight to your heart, not knowing he was being 100% serious. 

"get out of here, you're taking up my precious time" You spin him around and push him towards your front door, ushering the man out of your apartment. 

"UH, as if im not worth your time, why do you heart me so, y/n?" you roll your eyes at him for the millionth time today and push him out the door, locking it behind him. 

it takes you a second to regain yourself,,, especially after spending half the day with this stress case. before you're running into the bathroom to take a shower, shaving every nook and cranny of your body. 

Your makeup and hair take up most of the time you have, giving you only 15 minutes to get dressed and put on your perfume. You dig through all your freshly bought clothing before yanking out the beautiful blue and white dress. You set it on your bed, looking at it. You even have an internal debate with yourself on if you should even wear it or not. 

he doesn't see me like that, there is no point in trying to impress him. 

You begin to overthink, your mind racing a million miles per minute. The two of you have gone out to fancy restaurants together before, so how is this time any different? Suddenly, gojo's words ring through your head, reminding you that he told you to dress nicely. The dress is on you in an instant, hugging you in all the right places. Your curves are more prominent and your boobs sit so nicely. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, noticing how good the dress makes you look. the blue makes your face pop and your eyes shine, confidence radiates off of you like there is no tomorrow. 

Just as you are about to grab your shoes, you hear a knock at your bedroom door. You roll your eyes with a smile on your face before opening it. Satoru stands in the doorway, a smile on his face and a dozen of your favorite flowers in his hands. 

"thought I would let myself-" he cuts his sentence short. You tilt your head in wonder as the tall man in front of you raises his free hand from his pocket to grab the top of his blindfold, pulling it downwards so he can get a good look at you. 

His eyes trail up and down your body slowly, making your thighs clamp together and blush rise to your face.. and satoru notices your actions, but decides not to comment on it.

"give me a spin" a smile creeps onto his face as he brings his index finger into the air, signaling you to spin. You giggle to yourself before spinning around slowly, making sure gojo gets a good look at you. Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't help but smile up at him before shaking your head, another laugh forces its way out of your throat. 

"stop staring at me satoru, we're gonna be late" you walk towards him, grabbing the flowers out of his hands and walk past him and into the kitchen, placing the pretty flowers onto your kitchen table. you make a mental note to yourself to put them into water before you go to bed tonight. All gojo can do is clear his throat and brush a hand through his hair, trying not to mess it up too much before pulling his blindfold back over his eyes. 

suddenly, a realization hits him-

"hey wait, I don't remember buying that for you"

The restaurant is beautiful, it's one neither of you have gone to before. there is a big fish tank that compliments the side of the wall as you walk in. the lighting isn't too bright, which is nice since you don't normally like any sort of overhead lighting. The tables in the place are very nicely placed, and there are more private areas in some of the corners of the restaurant as well. Gojo does all the talking for the both of you as you look around at the place in awe. The smell in the building is phenomenal and your mouth waters at the sight of a waiter bringing out someone's dish. 

The hostess takes the two of you into one of the mentioned private corners, placing two menus onto the table before turning her body to gojo to talk to him. 

"im sorry, I'm aware this is very unprofessional of me but.. are you satoru gojo?" she asks and your ears perk up with interest. Gojo doesn't turn his head to face her as she speaks and answers the woman with a blunt

"yes I am" leaving no room for much small talk, but that doesn't seem to shake the hostess very much. 

"oh my god, I just wanna say you're so handsome... blah blah blah" you then decide to tune the two of them out, not wanting to accidentally upset yourself. You can tell by the way gojo moves that he's enjoying the attention, but isn't flirting back, which isn't really like him, but you don't complain. 

a minute goes by of the hostess rambling before gojo shuts down the conversation by asking for the waiter, leaving the hostess to shut her trap in embarrassment before walking off to grab the waiter, her cheeks red. Your ears turn back on as she walks away. 

"done flirting?" you ask, only half joking. He looks at you with a smirk before he responds, taking the fork out of the napkin and plays with it. 

"jealous?" you don't respond to him, all you do is roll your eyes and look down at the table. 

"don't be." it takes you a second to register the man's words before your head shoots up, your eyes widening in question. 

"what does that mean?" gojo laughs at your reaction and shrugs. truth be told, he's known of your little crush on him for a while now, and to say that he's flattered is an understatement. In true gojo fashion, he's been playing with you. not with your feelings, of course not! he cares way too much about you and would rather die than to hurt you in any way possible,,,, except when you're writhing underneath him as you scream his name. he's been letting the pent up frustration you have build over time until you're just about ready to burst. 

He wants you to be the one to confess first. 

"I'm just telling you that there is no need to be jealous!" his voice sounding hurt and his arms dramatically fall onto the table

"do you not trust me? im offended.. and I thought we were friends!" gojo over exaggeratedly look away from you, crossing his arms over his chest, causing you to laugh out loud, covering your mouth in the process. 

"oh stop it, we are! I was just wondering" you bring your hands out and reach over the table, grabbing one of gojo's arms and pulling it down, trying to stop him from making a scene. 

A little while later, the food the two of you had ordered is halfway gone and you're both talking each other's ear off. A comfortable silence clouds the table as you both stare at each other.. kind of, your head in your palms. Gojo doesn't want to ruin the comfortable atmosphere the two of you have created, but he has to tell you.

"y/n, I have to tell you something" his words instantly make your stomach drop and your palms sweat, your head tilts, signaling him to continue. 

"I'm leaving for a couple months on a mission, so I wont be able to see or talk to you for a little while" your smile falters and your palms move from your face to your lap. You look down, thinking of your next words to say. You understood that his job as a sorcerer was dangerous, which causes him to disappear for a long amounts of time, but with your growing feelings, it gets more and more difficult not being able to see him when he has to leave. 

"when will you be back?" your voice is small when you speak, signaling that you're somewhat upset. Gojo crosses his arms across his chest and leans back, getting more comfortable before breaking the news to you.

"this mission could last up to six months at the most, I leave in four days" the more you spend less and less time together the stronger he gets. you feel selfish for even thinking it, but you wish that he could spend more time with you instead of having to go out and exercising cursed spirits and saving people. of course you don't want him to quit saving people, but you just wish you could see him more than a couple times every 3-4 months. 

"just come back safe, that's all I care about" you say, looking back up with a smile, trying your best not to seem upset. an awkward silence looms over the table. 

"im fulllll I can't eat anything else ugh, we're gonna have to come back here some time" you say, trying to push aside the tense atmosphere. gojo completely ignores your sentence

"your dress, I got that for you today, right?" he says, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. You look down at your article of clothing as he mentions it. 

"yeah, you did! I thought it was a pretty color, so I just threw it in with everything else I got" you run your hands over the fabric of the dress, you look back up at the man across the table. 

"it is a very beautiful dress, but" his sentence is cut short. you tilt your head to the side in question as he grabs his glass of water, drawing it to his mouth. 

"hm?" you question in a hum. Before he can take a sip, he speaks. his words shifting the atmosphere in the entire building. 

"it would look better off of you" he says, proceeding to take a sip of his drink. all air was sucked from your lungs and your face instantly changes color into the deepest shade of red. your wide eyes stare at the man in front of you. up until now, he has never flirted with you, let alone anything remotely dirty, and his words have your thighs rubbing against each other within less than a second. 

there is absolutely no way he just said that to me

"stop messing with me," you tell him, completely trying to ignore what he just said to you, looking away from him, trying to focus on something else- anything else. 

"how much did everything come to anyways, I feel kind of bad for getting so much" you question, trying to get onto a different topic. 

"who says I was messing with you.. and as if I would tell you that. it wasn't even that much. even if it was, the price would be worth it" he finishes his drink, his voice making your head spin. 

after gojo pays the bill, the two of you head out of the restaurant, taking his private escort back to your apartment. the car ride consisted of the two of you singing karaoke at the top of your lungs with the windows rolled down. a few passer-bys saw you two going crazy singing TGIF by Katy Perry. 

after arriving back at your apartment, gojo decides to walk you inside, grabbing your purse from out of your hands and unlocking the door for you. You step inside the apartment, taking your shoes off and kicking them by the front door. 

"god, today was so much fun, thank you for taking me out satoru" you stretch your arms above your head, popping your back. the sound of the front door closes. turning around, you notice gojo's hands are in his pockets. he shrugs at you, a small smile adoring his face. 

"anything for you" the silence is awkward again, the clock ticking a quarter passed 10. you play with the hem of your short dress, attempting to think of something to say. 

"I should probably head out, i'm pretty busy these next few days so.." his sentence trails off. you nod your head in response, still not able to come up with anything to say to him. 

Gojo takes his hands out of his pockets, throwing you the most adorable peace sign, his smile growing bigger. 

"i'll try and stop by before I leave okay?I'll see you later, y/n" his hand wraps around the knob, and the sound of the creaky door snaps you out of your haze. just as he's about to close the door behind him on his way out, you call out to him.

"toru!!" you speed walk to the front door, grabbing the frame and push it open so you can see him. 

"hm?" he turns around, facing you fully, all ears on you. 

"I have something I need to tell you" you look down towards the floor, too embarrassed to say it directly to him. 

satoru knows what's coming, he can feel it. his heart skips a beat as his cock starts to twitch slightly. even though he can't actually see it, your face looks so innocent and nervous, he almost feels bad for making you confess first. he knows how shy you get when it comes to feelings or anything that involves sexual activities. and he lives off of teasing you. seeing how red your face gets whenever his body is too close to yours or how you shy away from him whenever he compliments you. it never fails to make his dick hard whenever you get so shy. 

gojo grips the top of the door frame, leaning onto the side of it. you can't seem to get your thoughts to form a coherent sentence, so you say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I really like you satoru.." your voice is so silent, you could barely hear it your self. of course gojo heard you, but he teases you anyways. 

"I like you to y/n" your frustrated huff almost makes him bust out laughing, you're too adorable. Your hands form fists as you shake your head from side to side. 

"no, that's not what I mean." 

"oh? how did you mean it then?" his voice is mesmerizing and it feels like you're going to explode trying to tell him how you feel. 

"god this is so stupid. gojo I love-" your sentence is harshly cut short as the freakishly tall man bends down and cups the back of your head, forcing your lips to collide. you gasp into his mouth before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. with his free hand, he softly grips your waist, pushing you back into the apartment, slamming the door closed with one of his feet. 

Gojo moves his hand from your waist, pressing it against the wall behind you before gently pressing you into it. your hands find their way into his hair, tugging gently. Satoru groans into your mouth at your action, pressing his body into yours. Your face feels hot and your clit begins to throb as you feel every part of his body against your own. Satoru moves his hands to your waist, making you grind your hips into him. You sigh into him, but all of a sudden your mind starts to go into overdrive as you pull your lips away from his.

Gojo takes this opportunity to move his face to your neck, kissing down sweetly at your skin. His lips feel so soft and warm, but you instantly let out a partially loud yelp when starts to suck on the spot behind your ear. Your eyes close on instinct, your hands remaining tangled in his white hair. 

You feel his hands slide from your waist, down to your thighs and all of a sudden everything seems overstimulating and fast. 

"wait wait wait-" your voice laced with heavy breaths. Satoru instantly detaches from your neck, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek in worry.

"what's wrong love? did I hurt you?" his concern makes you smile softly. You trail your hands down to hold his face, reassuring him that you're okay. 

"I've never- I mean I haven't experienced, or had... I feel so dumb" you sigh in-between sentences, embarrassment laced in your tone of voice. one of your hands comes down to play with the tie of the suit he's wearing, fidgeting with the cloth. Gojo chuckles under his breath, biting his bottom lip slightly. 

"I know baby. Do you want me to go slow?" His words make you lightheaded. 

"if that's okay, i've never done anything with anyone so I don't really know what i'm doing.." you whisper the last bit of your sentence, looking at his face. He smiles at you, grabbing your hands and kissing your fingertips. 

"come here" he says, lifting you into the air like a princess, one arm under your knees, the other behind your back all in one swift, quick motion. You squeal in surprise, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

"toru what about the carrrr" you kick your legs in his hold, giving his cheek and jaw light kisses

"I waved him off before I got out of the car, don't worry about it hun" he turns his head, giving you a quick kiss on your lips before pushing your bedroom door open with his foot. Gojo gently sets your body down on the bed, crawling over you, both of his hands planted on the sides of your body. You giggle again, reaching your hands out to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

"you're so beautiful" he whispers right before his lips meet yours, soft and warm. your fingers find their way to his hair, gently playing with his locks as he presses his body into yours. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, exploring it. you sigh deeply into him as he presses his body against yours, slowly grinding his hips into your core. your sigh turns into a hushed moan as the grip in his hair turns into pulling. 

His tongue leaves your mouth as he looks at you with a sly smirk. his face moves down towards your neck, leaving sweet kisses along your jaw and neck. one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, caressing it with his thumb before trailing his lips down in-between your collar bones. with every gentle kiss, your breathing gets heavier and heavier. 

Satoru reaches the top of your dress after kissing every nook and cranny of your neck and collar bones. He sits up and your hands fall to your sides while his warm palm leaves your cheek. He smiles down at you. 

One of his hands comes down to your thigh, sliding up and under your dress slowly to meet the hem of your underwear. you sniffle a whine with the back of your palm. 

"let me hear you baby" he says, his thumb finding your clit through your damp underwear, tracing tender circles. you move your hand away from your mouth to cover one of your eyes, obeying his words. His thumb presses down a little harder, giving you the friction you need. With every circle he traces, the louder your whines get. He takes your growing whines and removes his thumb from your clothed clit. 

You sit up on your forearms, trying to see what his next move is. He uses both of his hands to grab your panties, looking up at you before removing them. 

"is this okay?" he questions, pulling them down just a hair. your mouth doesn't move, so your head nods up and down for an answer. He pulls your underwear down and below your ankles, taking them completely off and tossing them to the ground next to your bed. then, he hovers back over you, using one of his forearms as leverage to hold himself up right above you, the other hand tracing up your thigh once more before finding your bare pussy. 

Two of his fingers resume massaging your clit, this time with more force. You moan louder this time, looking directly at gojo, wishing you could look into his eyes. 

As if he read your mind, he leans his head down slightly so that he can slide his blindfold up and over his head with the arm that's holding him up, slipping off his blindfold, revealing his crystal blue eyes that stare into yours deeply. 

"wanna see your pretty face" he says and just like that, his long fingers slide into you, curling up and hitting your sweet spot instantly. Your back slightly arches off the bed and your hands fly to his back, nails digging crescent moon shapes into his skin through his suit. 

"oh my god toru" his fingers gently pump in and out of you, curling up to touch your g-spot over and over again. you shut your eyes, pulling him closer to you.

"yeah? you're so adorable, can't wait until you're screamin' underneath me" 

he watches your face contort into one of pleasure with a smile gracing his. his fingers work faster inside you, the only sounds being heard were your moans and the wet noises coming from your pussy, and gojo loves it. He loves hearing all the pretty noises you make just by fucking you with his fingers. One particular press down onto your sweet spot has you much louder than you already were, and he can instantly tell it was your orgasm approaching. 

he kisses your forehead and takes his fingers out of you. before you can protest, he's forcing your body to sit up straight. the sudden change from being gentle to somewhat forceful has you turned on even more. He moves your body to partially sit on his lap, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress and pulls it down, unhooking your bra right afterwards. 

You help him take off your dress and bra by reaching your arms above your head. He slips it off with ease and tosses it onto the floor next to your forgotten panties. His lips are on yours in a heartbeat, his pace quickening in the most tender way possible. His hand finds its way to the back of your head, lowering your body back down on the bed and breaking the kiss before you can fully lay down. He takes in the sight of you bare. As he's staring at you, he loosens his tie and takes off his suit jacket and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt. 

After he partially undresses himself, he grabs one of your knees and pulls it away from the other, lowering himself directly in your center. He comes down for another kiss, this one hungrier than the last. You reach for him, putting your hands inside his halfway undone shirt and wrapping them around his back, feeling his muscles under your fingers. He grinds his growing bulge into you, a moan erupts within the back of your throat. The hand that rests on your knee moves quickly towards your waist, forcing you to grind on him the way he's doing you. A small wet patch forms on his pants the more your bodies grind together. Satoru bites your bottom lip softly before breaking the kiss, only to start lowering his head down to your chest, never breaking eye contact with you, his hair covering a little of his face. 

He opens his mouth and licks one of your perky nipples. He does this a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking the bud in-between his teeth. Your moan sends shivers down his back, only fueling him to suck a little harder. His hand on your waist comes to fondle your other breast, pinching and massaging your other sensitive nipple. You throw your head back as your nails dig into his skin, sliding up into his hair and tugging on it rather hard. The action causes satoru to groan, shaking his head back and forth slightly with a cunning smile. The man above you then lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, moving in-between your breasts and trailing wet kisses down your sternum and passed your belly and abdomen before he stops right in front of your clit. 

His hand on your boob retakes its place on your knee, pushing it down on the bed so you can't close your legs together. 

He looks into your eyes, and without having to say anything, as if you read his mind, you nod your head quicker than you can even think. giving him the answer he needs. With your silent words, he presses a chaste kiss on your clit before darting his tongue out and licking a stripe up your already wet pussy, your bundle of nerves pulsating. 

His lips wrap around your clit, beginning to suck, eating you out. Your head feels light as his mouth works wonders on you. you instinctively tug his hair, slightly grinding your core onto his face. Your moans of delight have him groaning the vibrations ringing throughout your entire body. 

He laps at you as if you were the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, his hand on your knee moving to slide two of his long fingers inside your hole, curing them upwards to that familiar spot that has your back arching off the mattress and right into him. Even though you aren't looking at him, his blue eyes don't falter from watching all the pretty faces you make while he gently tears you apart. his fingers pumping in and out of you, caressing your sweet spot over and over while he eats you out.

Your walls squeeze his fingers. it's to be expected really, since you've never been touched before. but gojo is still pretty shocked with how tight your pussy is, and it's making him so much more obsessed with you. 

"fuck, you're so tight, how on earth are you going to take my cock if you can barely take my fingers, hmm?" he doesn't even move his mouth away from you, his breath fanning your heat.

"oh fuck, please-" your jaw slacks open and your eyes squeeze closed. Gojo creeps back over you, his thumb coming to rub on your clit. Your pussy is beginning to sound wetter, and your hole tightens even more around his fingers. 

"look at me sweetheart" your eyes have never flown open so fast in your life, immediately looking straight into gojo's. A sly smile grows as he looks at you. 

"you about to cum? You're squeezin' me so tight" his sentence ends in a chuckle. you nod your head in response, but that doesn't cut it for the white haired man above you. 

"words love, wanna hear you say it" 

"yes toru, im so close please let me cum please please please" your high pitched whines while you speak make him just about bust in his pants, but he keeps his cool. 

"hold it." you shake your head at his command, trying to hold in your fast-approaching orgasm. your palms trail towards his back once more, digging your nails into his skin as leverage to keep you grounded, as if you were going to float away. his fingers are ruthless, your wetness coming to leak down your ass cheeks and beginning to pool onto your bedding below you. 

an overstimulating feeling comes rushing over you, and it feels like you're going to spill over

"please let me cum I can't- hold it, I need to please toru ple- please" your hiccuped moans become louder.

"you can cum now baby, let me hear you" with his words, you tip over that edge and his fingers make one last thrust inside you, massaging your g-spot over and over as you cum. your juices squirt all over his hand and down into the mattress below you, your knees attempt to close around his body as you finish with a particularly loud whine. 

"good girl, you did such a good job for me" you take a minute to calm down, holding his body close to yours as you finish around his long fingers, it's almost like he's trying to rip you in half. his fingers slide out of your dripping hole as he wipes his fingers on his nice dress pants before cupping the back of your head, coming down to have his lips meet yours. 

The kiss is hungry; desperate as he sits up, you follow after him trying not to break the kiss. your hands move to work on the remaining buttons on his shirt, fumbling with the fabric. Gojo's hands come down to work on his belt, unfastening it quickly. you finish unbuttoning the last button and slide his shirt off of him as he takes his belt off, the both of you throwing the articles of clothing elsewhere in the room. you break the kiss as he goes to stand up off the bed, unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, only leaving his boxers. you come up and loop your fingers under the last article of clothing he has on, looking straight up into his eyes. You wait a second before pulling them down, his hard cock coming up to slap his abdomen. your mouth dries at the sight of it. 

He really wasn't joking when he asked how you were going to take his cock huh?

Gojo looks down at you as you lean back, so he takes this opportunity and leans down, planting both his hands on the bed and stares at you. he slowly creeps towards you on his hands and knees, your back hitting the bed frame as he towers over you. 

"come here" he says, grabbing your thigh and pulls you to lay down on the bed underneath him. gasping at his action, you look up at him, noticing how much taller he is than you, taking in how big his hands are as they wrap around your thigh. 

Gojo then moves his hand to his cock, gripping it in one hand and pumping it a couple times. He looks into your eyes as he does so, taking in your appearance. Your hair is slightly messy and tangled, your eyes looking at his full of love and admiration, his eyes telling the same. 

"toru?" his name twirling off your tongue

"yes pretty girl?" he puts the head of his cock up to your pussy, dragging it across your slit as he coats it in your wetness. Your face heats up in a pretty pink. your eyes locked onto one another as you finally let out the words you've been meaning to for the past couple years

"I love you" your hands are on his shoulders as he pushes his tip into you, hissing as he stretches your hole and stills.

"I love you too beautiful" you feel like your heart is going to burst at his words, pulling his body down into yours, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Gojo starts to push inside you slowly, more painful hissing coming from you is the only thing being heard. 

"deep breaths baby, doing such a good job for me" you grip onto him tightly as he pushes the remainder of his dick inside of you, his hips on yours. his free hand finds your waist as he keeps you in place. your breathing is heavy, but he decides not to move his his yet, waiting for you to get used to the stretch. a couple minutes go by as the pain subsides and your hips start to move against his

"toru.. please" he takes your words and starts grinding into you slowly, letting you adjust a little more before moving his hips, taking his dick out of you slowly. he turns his head and looks into your eyes and kisses your nose, cheeks, and then your lips. suddenly, he thrusts back into you, fast, bottoming out inside you as your shriek of pleasure goes straight into his mouth. 

chuckling, he begins to thrust his cock in and out of you at a medium pace, keeping a steady rhythm as he fucks himself into you. 

"fuck you're so tight" you whimper at his words, his thrust never faltering as your arms and pussy squeeze him tightly. you move your head to the side, giving him the opportunity to suck deep, purple bruises into your neck and collar bones. Your breasts jiggle with every thrust. one of your hands comes down from his back to the side of your head to grip the sheets next to you. Gojo sees this action and decides to move his hand from your waist to interlock his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he fucks you into the mattress. 

his hand swallows yours as he grips it. 

one thrust in particular has you screaming, crushing his hand as you throw your head back, your mouth open as you moan his name over and over again. a chant that is music to satoru's ears as he moans into your neck. 

"so much, feels so good please toru' don't stop" you choke out, moaning louder and louder. 

"Yeah? tell me all about it sweet girl" satoru praises you, edging you to continue

"so big, m' so full, it's so much oh my god" your back arches off the bed as you continue to moan. satoru lowers his face to your ear and bites your lobe, breathing heavy and letting out husky, low groans that have your pussy getting wetter. 

Your legs start to shake, opening wider for him to thrust deeper inside of you, and it works, his cock brushes your sweet spot in the most delicious way, and it has you screaming, writhing underneath him. 

Your walls squeeze him impossibly tighter, if that's even possible, resulting in louder moans erupting from the back of his throat and directly into your ear. he lets go of your hand and out of nowhere, his blindfold appears in his hand as he stuffs it in your mouth, muffling your sobs and cries. 

"don't want anybody to hear how much of a dirty girl you are, do you, takin' my cock so prettily?" he taunts, your eyes meet his as you cup his cheek, feeling his skin under your fingertips. his palm comes down to the base of your neck, wrapping around your throat ever so lightly, barely even choking you. 

satoru's hips snap against yours rhythmically, but he can barely control himself before he grips the headboard above you, fucking you deeper and your eyes squeeze shut as your whole body starts to shake and your arms are wrapping around his waist. 

You start to nod your head, the words “yes" and "please" being heard through your makeshift gag. gojo feels you flutter around his cock and he himself has been holding back his orgasm so the two of you can finish together. He looks down at you, making eye contact as he speaks. 

"you gonna cum sweetheart?" you nod your head, your eyes begging for release. 

"cum baby, you can do it, i'm right here I got you." your nails dig into his back, scratching his skin over and over again. you close your eyes and turn your head. Gojo's hand comes down to cup your face, turning your head to face him.

"look at me baby, cum with me, such a good girl huh?" your eyes meet his as you flutter around his length, creaming all over his cock as he thrusts into one last time, shooting warm ropes of cum into you so very deeply. 

"fuck, feel's so good " he throws his head back with a loud groan only for a second, then he's hovering back over you, taking the blindfold out of your mouth. he's quick to press his lips onto yours, kissing you so softly compared to earlier. he kisses you a couple more times before painting your entire face in kisses that are so light and gentle, it makes you wonder if this is the same man who was just fucking you into the mattress and forcing his blindfold down your throat. 

you giggle at his actions as he pulls his softening dick out of you. he grabs your thigh and spreads your legs, watching his cum spill out of you. 

"fuck, you're unbelievable y/n" he praises you again, a smile growing on his lips, his eyes filled with admiration. 

"I'll be right back love, don't move" he says suddenly, getting up off the bed and running into the other parts of the house, his butt jiggling as he runs and you can't help but laugh. He walks back into the room with a damp washcloth, a glass of water and a towel. You pout as he hands you the glass of water and starts to clean you up, making sure all the wetness and cum is cleaned up off of you before drying you off. 

After he's finished, he ushers you up, taking the first and second blanket off your bed and throwing them into the corner of the room to be washed later, going into your closet and pulling out two blankets. 

Satoru wraps you in one of them, and wraps himself in the other. the two of you lay down next to one another, your limbs tangled and sore as you stare into each other's eyes. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in and giving you a kiss filled with so much love, you swear you can die on the spot. 

"I wasn't lying,, about what I said earlier." you tell him, not breaking eye contact. 

"I know angel, neither was i." 

[littlexdeaths]

maybe taking steve’s closing shift wasn’t such a bad idea after all…

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

warnings: smut 18+ ONLY! robin is a ride or die bff baby, dom!eddie, little bit of brat!reader, semi-public sex, dirty talk, praise kink, pussy slapping, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, cum eating

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: thank you all so much for the love on this series so far!! seeing all your comments has made me so excited to keep going. and shoutout to both @take-everything-you-can and @inourtownofhawkins for letting bounce some silly name ideas off you. 💕

eddie’s promise of later didn’t come.

and you can blame the entirety of that on your brother.

while eddie had managed to sneak in your room later that night, he very quickly had to bolt before he got more than his lips on you. the male had barely managed to crawl out your bedroom window when sid barged in looking for him.

thankfully he bought eddie’s excuse of being out for a late night cigarette, but how many more excuses until he stopped believing them?

you both knew you had to be a lot more careful if you were going to keep this up. which also meant less time with your boyfriend if your brother was around.

so to say you were frustrated was the understatement of the century.

and when you had to sit across the kitchen table from them both that next morning, acting natural was harder than you cared to admit. your brother picked up on your foul mood almost immediately, which mirrored eddie’s.

“you two woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” he laughed, stuffing his face with some eggo’s.

but sid doesn’t realize the subtle truth behind his own words, which further fuels your irritation. instead of saying what you really want, you just roll your eyes before quickly finishing your own breakfast.

“well if you hadn’t barged into my room at the ass crack of dawn, maybe i would’ve slept better.”

you don’t let him get the last word before you stomp off to your bedroom.

it was saturday, which was the first of three evening shifts you’d have to cover for steve. part of you was extremely annoyed for agreeing to it in the first place, but there was no taking it back now.

saturday’s were the one day that you could spent with eddie without the presence of your overbearing brother, so that was partially why you woke up in such a terrible mood. but your attitude only persisted throughout your shift, despite robin’s best attempts to cheer you up.

“not even the charismatic powers of johnny depp in leather and denim can cheer you up, color me shocked.” she deadpans, glancing up at the tv screen and then you.

throughout your shift she’d put on all the johnny depp movies family video had to offer. but as much as you loved cry-baby walker— even he had his limitations.

“sorry robs, just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

but you both know it’s more than just that.

while robin doesn’t push you to talk about it, she definitely had some idea of what’s going on. perks of being best friends with both you and steve. so when you took your last break of the night, she took it upon herself to look up eddie’s number in the system and give him a call.

so you’re a little confused when you come back to a nearly empty store, the sorry we’re closed sign up in the window and your boyfriend leaning casually against the counter.

“uh… hi.”

it almost sounds like a question.

“don’t look so happy to see me, sweetheart.” he chuckles, pushing off the counter and closing the few feet separating you.

“no— of course i am! i just… what are you doing here?”

“well, a little birdie told me you had a bit of an attitude today. thought maybe i could be of some assistance.” he teases, before taking your face in between his palms.

and you practically melt under his touch.

as angry as you want to be at robin for prying into your personal business, you really can’t be. not when she essentially just hand delivered your boyfriend to you.

“now miss, there’s a certain… film i’ve been dying to rent. think you could help a poor guy out?”

that is how you ended up behind the emerald curtain of the adult section of the store, your back pressed against his chest as he railed into you from behind.

“is this what you needed to fix that little attitude, sweetness? just needed me to come take care of you, huh?”

you nod, whimpering pathetically as you grip harder onto the shelf in front of you. accidentally knocking numerous copies of dirty films to the floor with each hard thrust of his hips.

one of his large hands grips onto your hip, rings digging into the flesh there as the other rubs harsh circles over your swollen clit. your shorts and panties are scattered amongst the porn flicks, with his pants and boxers just barely shoved down below his knees.

you can feel him everywhere, fully stretching you out on the base of his cock. it’s all consuming and overwhelming, but everything you needed at the same time.

but your lack of response has him gradually slowing the pace of his hips, and the fingers that are rubbing your clit disappear.

“need you to answer me, sweetheart.” his lips graze over your ear, which pulls another whine from your throat.

that response has his hand coming back down, slapping against your throbbing clit with a wet smack.

“come on now— use your words, pretty girl.”

you gasp at the feeling, which earns you another slap.

“— yes yes yes! i need you, eds.”

you all but sob and his answering chuckle has you squirming his grasp, “see? now was that so hard?”

you find yourself moaning in relief when he starts thrusting into you again, barely able to stutter out a soft response to his question. but it’s better than nothing, because his calloused fingers are back to rubbing your clit.

“there’s my good girl, knew she was in there somewhere.”

you practically preen at his praise, and the wet schlick of his cock sliding into you is suddenly much louder in the small space.

“god, you’re fucking dripping, baby.” he grunts.

your grip on the shelf tightens, the wood creaking beneath your fingertips.

“— c-cause of you.”

he hums, snapping his hips even faster into yours. but the way your walls continually flutter around his cock, signals your quick finish.

“shit, shit, shit… hold it for me, okay? need to look at you, sweet girl.”

you want to cry when he slips out of you completely, but you have no time to complain before he spins you around to face him. his large hands cup under the back of your thighs, your own gripping onto his shoulders as he lifts you. using the shelf behind you for leverage, he slides back into you with ease.

his pupils are blown wide, practically swallowing the brown of his irises as he takes you in. and you’re not fairing much better, the glassy look in your eyes reflects in his own. he quickly builds up to the same pace as before, but his thrusts are almost deeper now. each stroke hitting a spot inside you that has you loudly keening in his embrace.

“that’s it— good fucking girl, let it all out, baby.”

your fingers slide up from his taut shoulders to tangle themselves in his wild hair, tugging until his lips are on yours. he groans into your mouth, hips stuttering as he nears his end.

“shit, come with me. come with me,” he all but growls.

you let one of your hands fall between your bodies, circling over your sensitive bud with a newfound urgency. but the feeling of his cock twitching inside you is what finally sends you over the edge, crying desperately into his mouth when he spills inside you.

eddie’s pleasured groans almost completely encompass your own, the male continuing to work you along his shaft until his thighs start to shake from the excursion. while his hips still, he keeps himself buried to the hilt inside you and playfully nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

you both stay like that for a while, basking in your post sex haze. he only untangles himself from you when your breath has returned to a normal pace and you can feel his warmth beginning to drip down your thighs.

eddie gently sets you back on your feet, a look of utter fondness crossing over his features as he gazes down at you.

“you should’ve brought your bandana or something,” you laugh softly, gesturing down toward your legs. “i’m all sticky now.”

he just grins, his curls bouncing when he shakes his head, “no need for that, sweetness.”

and then eddie drops to his knees, pushing your hips back against the shelf as he tongue darts out. the plastic cases creak in protest beneath his weight as he licks and sucks the mess he made from your overheated skin.

by the time he’s done your thighs are trembling from overstimulation, and your chest heaves as he helps you back into your clothes. the male presses a few more tender kisses to the tops of your thighs before he returns to his feet, now clutching one of the discarded tapes in his hand.

you can’t help but raise a brow when he looks down at the tape, then back up at you with a boyish grin.

“so, can i still rent this copy of throbbin’ hood?”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight

let me know if you want to join the taglist!

[queerly-autistic]

One of my favourite things about S2 was that we got to see so much in terms of Ed's relationships with women, and it just made me love him even more (if that's humanly possible). We didn't see him interact with many women at all in S1 (I think it was only the posh ladies at the fancy party which was...yeah, not a good experience), so S2 actually giving us a glimpse into his friendships with all these (very different) kickass women was so, so special.

I love that, as messy and fucked up as they all are, and even with the 'well we're pirates, we're not normal and we will fuck with each other' threat that hangs over everything, Ed's relationship with Mary and Anne is still so affectionate, and they both thrown their arms around him the moment they see him. Even though Ed is incredibly tactile, I don't think we've actually ever seen him be hugged like this, and it's just so lovely to watch him be embraced and clearly feel very safe being embraced by these women (and I can't with the way he clings to them, as well). I also love that this is a wlw/mlm friendship; yeah it falls apart later and turns into delicious gay-on-gay violence (and I wouldn't alter a note of it), but I love seeing this sort of affection between queer women and queer men, there's not nearly enough of it.

Don't even get me started on the BFF handshake he has with Anne - I want all the history there, give me six spin-off films about their adventures please.

And then we finally get a glimpse of his relationship with Jackie, which is similarly just lovely, but in a different way? You get the sense that they could sit there for hours, talking shit about the world, all whilst casually ripping the shit out of each other (but affectionately). You also know full well these two have talked extensively about men and know pretty much everything about each other's sex lives - we didn't see it, but I'm absolutely certain that Ed went into full gushing details about sleeping with Stede, just like Jackie did when she talked about The Swede fucking like a jackhammer (historical accuracy ftw).

And, again, whilst they're still pirates, and it's messy, the entire thing feels incredibly...safe, particularly from Ed's perspective? He feels more comfortable around Jackie than he is around most other characters (apart from Stede), just like he was with Anne and Mary.

And then, just to hammer the point home even further that Ed has, generally, fantastic relationships with women, and connects with them, and feels relaxed and safe with them, you have Ed and Zheng becoming instant BFFs literally minutes after meeting each other. Ed goes 'ooh, very cool woman kicking ass and killing people, she shall be my best friend, immediately', and Zheng is automatically incredibly relaxed and open with him, too (suggesting she feels as safe and comfortable with him as he does with her).

All I want in life is to see Ed and Zheng get silly-drunk with each other (and this is why we urgently need a S3).

And none of Ed's relationships with these women are a fetishistic 'I love women because they're fabulous' thing, or an overly patronising paternalistic 'I love the women and I must protect them' thing - all the relationships he has with women are very equal, very comfortable, fully believable, just fantastic friendships to watch play out. I feel like, given everything we see on screen, Ed generally feels a lot more comfortable and safe and open with the women he knows than the men he knows (Stede is the only other person he is this physically affectionate and comfortable with). Which is probably very understandable? Yes, the women he's friends with are all violent pirates too (that's part of the joy of it - none of them are lovely demure morally pure women, they're all violent pirates), but Ed has a lot of experience with specifically overtly abusive men - right back to watching his dad abuse his mum. And that's a distinction that matters: the show treats the violence of normal piracy and the violence of abuse very, very differently. Ed is not used to being treated softly or affectionately by men, as we saw in his shocked reaction to Stede holding his hand. I don't think it's any wonder that he gravitates more towards friendships with women (or that the men he feels the most open and safe with, such as Stede, Fang, even Frenchie, are very pointedly the opposite of the abusive men he has experience with). I just love love love that being friends with women is such a core part of Ed's character, and that we got to see all of these fantastic relationships in the show.

[chososcamgirl]

CLUBBING TOPS! - yeah this bitch goes partying EVERY weekend. also most weekdays bc sjap yn has a high alcohol tolerance. alcohol poisoning? never heard of her. these tops do it every. single. time. without fail. she wears any one of these slutty tops and she’s going home with a man. this girl has a mission! (and no it’s not to sleep with every dj that plays ayesha erotica for her. looks at megumi) don’t be fooled though she’s always down to share her clothes with maki or nobara bc she’s a girls girl (not rlly but she just loves her friends so much) she once caught panda trying to put her tank studio top one once and LOST IT. she started screaming at him that he already stretched it and he needs to buy her a new one… whole time the material was just stretchy she just wanted another one in a different colour (bc why would she pay $120 for a top when panda can!)

ACCESSORIES! - yn is a silver girl BY FAR. you’ll always catch her leaving with one if not all of these. she basically lives in hoops. showers in them, sleeps in them (i know that back piece is smells NASTY) she lives off the quote “the bigger the hoop the bigger the hoe”. MARC JACOBS FRIENDSHIP NECKLACE!!!! (yes i might’ve based this off me and my bff irl ok burn me) she has one on but the real question is who has the other? hint starts with p and ends in anda. but don’t be silly there’s no duos or trios cough yes cough in the group. they all have matching necklaces for eachother bc they couldn’t find a 4 friendship way necklace laugh out loud. she just prefers the marc jacobs one bc it makes her feel superior. CLIPS!!!!! yes she’s a sucker for cute hair clips arrest her. you will never see her with flyaways nah uh.

WHATS IN HER BAG! - her most prized possession… miss miu miu… she got it from the group for her 19th birthday (yes they all were broke afterwards and dine and dashed dinner but hey! can u blame them, that shit is expensive) and in so called expensive bag is ALWAYS a sonny angel. yes he does bring her good luck. the only time she forgot to put a sonny angel in her bag was when she got harassed via imsg.. sound familiar? this bitch vlogs EVERY MOMENT of her life. she has a secret youtube account where she posts her cute little city vlogs of her and her friends. she doesn’t expect it to go viral but it does shortly after she debuted man eater. one time she was at dinner and forgot her handy cam so she called her friend at home to come pick her up, drop her at home to grab her handy cam and then drop her back to dinner which she arrived shortly after her food did (wdym this isn’t a personal experience… heh… i lied sorry bff) and lastly her infamous pink hello kitty lighter. for blunts. and cigarettes occasionally. but mainly blunts.

TEES! - these are just some of the tops she would wear on air. the listeners can’t see her anyways but she loves to dress cute because it makes her feel good doing so. she was always so expressive via fashion because it’s illegal to kill somebody you hate crowd boos

BOTTOMS! - yeah so this bitch basically lives in mini skirts and booty shorts. no mind that her ass is out she refuses to wear pants. on the rare occasion she DOES wear pants it’s usually just bootcut jeans that flare at the end because it makes her ass look good.

OUTERWEAR! - she loooveesssss her jackets like she adores them. cold? putting on a jacket. being harassed? putting on a jacket legs are freezing due to said mini skirt? putting on a jacket. such a multi use piece of clothing! also comes in handy to choke out roommates when they eat your leftovers from the night before! oops!

SHOES! - this girl only wears two types of shoes. heels or knee high boots. nevermind that we are going to the beach she WILL pull up with kitten heels. but who needs the beach when clubbing is just as fun right? she does everything in heels. cook, work, griddy, kick a guy in the dick for groping her? you name it. put this bitch in 5 inch stilettos and she would still would NOT falter once not even stumble. she is a pro and actually needs to be considered for the olympics because that footwork technique is impeccable.

masterlist

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Pairing: childhood bff!Chan x fem!reader (non-idol au) Word count: 3.4k Genre: Fluff 🥰💖, Smut 🔥❤️ (angst if you squint) Warning: Weddings... (lord help me), pro best friend chan, mentions of familial favoritism, semi rough sex? , soft dom!chan, sweet name calling(babygirl, princess), slightly jealous chan, comfort, lord someone teach me how to make better warnings, i think thats all? (someone needs to teach me to proof read.)

A/N: THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU <3 I'm working on improving the formating of my works so >.> bare with me if some of the stuff doesnt translate over well on different devices, especially the text message part >.>

When you were young, you often got compared to your sister, your sister who loved pink and poodles and tutu skirts. She was younger than you by a year and yet, she always out did you, always was a step ahead, always beating you in everything. Yeah, you loved her, but the pain of comparison drove a wedge between you two.

You were 5 when you met Chan. He was very silly, always playing games and smiling, you happened to attend the same school and after he stood up for you against an older boy at the park you two were inseparable.

Chan, who sang for you. Chan, who shared his food with you. Chan, who taught you how to dance. Chan, who teased you for acting like a nerd. Chan, who was your best friend.

Chan was sitting on the couch in your apartment, watching a cringey romantic comedy with you when your phone rang. You gave it a glance and cringed, your grandmother's name appeared on the screen with a image of the woman with an almost plastic smile.

"You should probably answer." Chan said, "Would make it worse if you didn't."

You gave your best friend a side eye. "Nah really?"

He laughed lightly as you answered the phone.

"Hi, honey, you are joining us this year for the whole family get-together aren't you?" The old woman's voice came through the speaker to your ear.

"Of course Grandma-" You started.

"That's what you said last year, and you didn't come."

You made a face, the reason you hadn't gone was because you were sick. "Things happen Grandma."

"And the year before that?"

You pursed your lips, glancing at Chan. You weren't avoiding your family really you were just... avoiding the conflict that ensued when you were with your family. And by conflict you meant the constant onslaught of questions and disappointed looks you got whenever your family asked about anything you were doing with your life.

"And anyway, it's been so long since we've heard from you, we want to see how you've been, keep the family together, bring new people in along the way." Your grandma sounded so happy.

"What do you mean?" You were confused by the "bring new people".

"Oh dear. Did your sister not tell you?" Your grandma sighed, "She has a surprise for us this year."

You sighed. Your little sister always was one better than you, or two, or ten...

"Y/n?" Your grandma's voice brought you out of your daze and Chan leaned forward looking at your face.

"I'll be there this year grandma, I promise."

"Alright. Bye bye honey."

"Bye..." You said in a small voice hanging up.

Chan smiled slightly at you. "So?"

"Help."

His eyes widened slightly before darting around. "You know I really would if I could read minds but it's awfully sad I cant."

You rolled your eyes at the man. "My family dislikes everything I do."

"And?" Chan leaned back, raising a brow.

"They don't dislike you."

"What are you trying to do here?"

You clasped your hands and gave your best friend the most innocent pure pleading gaze. "Come with me, so they won't hate on me."

Chan made a face. "No-"

"I'll pay for the wifi in your apartment for the next two- four months." You grabbed your friend's big hands in yours, "Please!"

"Just because they don't hate me doesn't mean they won't hate on you." Chan said exasperated.

"BUT they'll find someone to compare to you so I won't have to be put down by this." You give him a pleading look.

"Y/n. I've done a lot of dum shit before this is my limit."

"Channie!" You begged. "Come on! I'll pay your netflix subscription too!"

Chan groaned. "Fine! You're making me feel guilty."

"AH! You're the best Chan." You smiled hugging you friend.

He rolled his eyes and patted your hair. "You're lucky netflix is expensive."

So there you were dinner, with your family, your grandmother quick to jump and compliment Chan and compare your father and uncles to him when they were his age. Everyone complimenting your sister and asking her what the big news was. Your dad looked about ready to leave when your younger sister stood. tapping her spoon against her glass gently.

You looked at her, she smiled at you, a smile you couldn't read.

"I have a big announcement to make." She looked at her boyfriend. "Well.. we have a big announcement to make."

"What is it dear?" Your mother asked.

"We're getting married!" Your little sister jumped and smiled. Everyone started clapping.

The initial excitement and congratulations ended, leaving a gently chattering at the table.

Cue your grandmother.

"Y/n dear, what about you?"

Silence.

Everyone looked at you.

Your sister sighed slightly. "Granny, you can't pester her. Give her time, she might get married before 40."

A soft laugh rippled over the table, you stared at your little sister. She smiled innocently, your fist clenched under the table. So what if she was younger and prettier and more successful. You made a move to excuse yourself but Chan grabbed your fist under the table, you relaxed your grip and his fingers slipped between yours and squeezed gently. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked up at your best friend, smiling.

Her Majesty the Queen 01:53 She was obviously out to get you.

Butt Hunter 01:53 I agree

🐶 01:54 Go to the wedding in white.

Baby Chick 01:54 💀

. Me 01:54 I'm NOT going to my sister's wedding in white!

Beanie boy 01:54 He's giving real solutions here.

Squirrel 01:55 Just don't go?

Bread. 01:55 All you do is avoid conflict.

Squirrel 01:55 NO I DONT

Noodle Spirit Survivor. 01:56 shut up. it's 2 in the fucking morning.

. Me 01:56 Sorry Chan, we'll shut up now.

Beanie boy 01:56 Erm actually it's 1:56 AM

🐶 01:56 It's called silent old man.

Bread. 01:56 LMFAO

Baby Chick 01:56 LOL

Butt Hunter 01:56 I don't think his phone box has a silent button.

Squirrel 01:57 😭

Her Majesty the Queen 01:57 💀

You put your phone down and picked up the invitation to your sister's wedding, 4 months... all you had was 4 months to get someone to go to the wedding with. You sighed, going to the app store and downloaded for the nth time, tinder. Cringing.

You had four months to at least meet some expectations, get a nice guy for maybe a month or two, ask him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding then what? You shrugged to yourself and shoved your phone under your pillow before going to sleep.

Chan realized he was screwed, he watched you get ready for another date.

"Honestly." You sighed sitting down to put on your makeup. "I might just go with a random guy. Or maybe I could take Hyunjin or Jisung."

He pursed his lips. Was he even an option for you? What made this guy from tinder so important you had to doll yourself up to go see him. Chan bit his lip, you were his best friend, he could fix the problem, he could be your plus one, he could ask. but he didn't. He was too scared to.

He remembered his conversation with Changbin and Minho a few days earlier. Maybe he was being too much of a pussy. He'd known you for ages, he knew how you liked your coffee and the music that calmed you down, he knew what part in silly romance movies made you cry, he knew when you were uncomfortable and when you were too angry to speak.

"If you keep beating around the bush with how you feel you might never get a chance."

Changbin's words rang in his ears and he bit his lip.

"Y/n what if-" He started.

The doorbell rang as you finished applying your lip stick. "Oh, I gotta go Channie." You stood and hugged him. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck." Chan gave you a small smile and the moment you were out the door he was cursing himself for not stopping you. "Damnit."

Chan wished he hadn't wished you luck. You and Seokmin, your date, apparently hit it off. For the next two and a half weeks Chan felt like a third wheel in his own friendship with you, if you weren't on the phone with Seokmin, you were texting him, and if you weren't texting him, you were talking about him.

It really came to a head when Hyunjin invited the entirety of the group chat to go out for karaoke and you were busy with Seokmin the day off.

It hand't really been his intention to show up at your place angry, just the thought of you not just ghosting him but the whole friend group. He knocked a few times. no response.

Chan knocked again. he still got no response. Sure the key in the dirt of the potted plant hanging under the sign of your apartment number was for emergencies only, but this was an emergency. (to him anyway.)

Chan opened the door and entered your apartment, expecting to hear lewd sounds or... what else was he really expecting. But as he approached your door his heart ached. It wasn't a sound he heard often from you but it was one he could recognize any day. Chan pushed the door open slowly. You sat on your bed, hugging a pillow, eyes red and puffy, tears streaking your face, you didn't notice him until he closed the door gently behind himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

You quickly wiped your tears. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Chan sighed. "Come here." He sat on the bed and opened his arms.

You leaned into him muttering, "Seokmin is a dumass."

"What happened?" Chan asked, rubbing your shoulder gently.

"He blocked me." You sniffed. "Out of the fucking blue."

Chan hummed softly. "His loss."

You looked up at your friend, "You're so dum."

"Nuh uh, I think I'm pretty smart princess." Chan smiled gently.

"I don't think so." You laughed softly.

He looked down at you. "'M smart enough to stay your friend."

You nod slightly, "I stayed attached to you at the hip is more like it."

"Didn't have a problem with it."

"Chan." You rubbed your friend's arm.

"Hm?"

"Go with me."

"Where?" he asked dumbly.

You sat up and flicked his forehead. "You know where."

"I don't get anything out of it." He rubbed his forehead.

"I'll uh..."

"Worry about it later." He huffed and stood, smoothing your hair. "Should we get (comfort food)?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask." You punched him softly and led the way out of your room.

The day of the wedding you were wearing a long pastel blue dress, and Chan a matching suit, it wasn't the first time you'd matched with your best friend, but this felt more special. Your grandmother and parents gave you side ways glances during the wedding procession, and once the reception had started so did your grandma's vulture like flocking.

"Y/N i really thought you would've come with someone other than Chan, maybe your sister was right you just need time." the old woman sighed.

You sucked in a breathe but Chan grabbed your hand under the table, his words making you freeze, "Is there a problem with me attending as her boyfriend?"

You turned to Chan and he squeezed your hand as if urging you to play along.

Your grandmother looked at you stunned. "What? Since when?"

"The dinner really opened my eyes, maybe guys don't approacher because I'm around, I do look like her boyfriend don't I?" He glanced at you, "Why not give it a shot?"

Your family must have heard your grandmother's cry because your mother and father came over a few moments later and you watched as Chan worked his charm, a mask on his face the entirety of the time.

Your sister looked between you and Chan, blinking quite a bit. As your parents congratulated you on not being single for the first time, you felt like you out did your sister, you looked at Chan, he smiled gently at you and your heart jumped.

After a lot of drinks and cake you decided it was time to head home.(Chan had to drag you out.)

The ride back to your apartment was quiet, you were too buzzed to speak and Chan was focused on driving.

Chan smiled softly, glancing at you. "Wasn't so bad was it?"

You took a moment before you spoke. "Did you mean what you said?"

Chan's brows furrowed, "About what?"

"Did you actually think of me like that after the dinner?" You looked at him.

Chan sucked a breath, squeezing the wheel. "Would you believe me if I said yes."

"I don't have a reason not to."

Chan pulled off the highway onto the smaller road that lead through the city and to your apartment.

"Well?" You asked.

Chan bit his lip and nodded. "I meant what I said."

You remained quiet until he pulled into your apartment complex. And even after he got you into your apartment. You stood there, looking at... Chan. Chan who knew you better than you knew yourself, Chan who always calmed you down, Chan who got angry for you, Chan who bought you food when you were sad and held you until you grew tired of it(you never did you never could), Chan your...

"You meant it?" You were completely sober now, picking up the conversation as if you hadn't been silent for the past half hour.

Chan nodded.

"Is that all there is to it?"

"No." he breathed, stepping closer to you.

"Tell me. What else?" You asked quietly.

"How do I even begin?" He laughed slightly. "I'm sorry-"

"Why are you apologizing?" You looked at him confused.

"For not telling you how I felt from the get go." he smiled, "If there's anything that makes me sleep at night it's you, if there's any place I feel safe it's with you. You make me more happy than I can describe with words alone, there isn't another person I'd be with in any life." He reached and caressed your cheek. "I wanted to fight myself when I let you go out with Seokmin. I want you, I need you, I..." He paused, scanning your face for a signal, any sign to keep going.

"You're going to shut up now when you're at the climax of your speech?" You laughed slightly.

He smiled and rolled his eyes, "I love you. I always have."

"You're really an idiot." You kissed him gently.

Chan blinked in shock. "I-"

You smiled, proud of yourself. "Now-"

Chan grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours again, you stared for a moment before relaxing into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue fighting yours before he pushed into your mouth to taste you, biting your lip gently.

"Wanted to do that for so long." He breathed against your lips, pulling away slowly.

You grabbed his collar. "If you don't finish what you started I will."

Chan's eyes widened and a smirk grew on his face. He kissed you again and his hand moved to the back of your dress. "May I, princess?"

"You may." You giggled as he removed the dress and your made quick work of his buttons before he shrugged off the jacket and shirt, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

You squeaked as he threw you onto the bed and got on top you. "Nervous?" he asked laughing lightly.

"No... Of course not." You said looking away.

He smiled and turned your head to face him kissing you passionately before he moved to suck a dark mark just next to your jaw. "So pretty, just for me."

You gasped softly and nodded. "Just for you Channie." Chan continued his assault on your neck before removing your bra and smiling at your chest, he kissed your lips gently. "This is my favorite part of you," He moved to kiss your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and biting gently, relishing in the cry that escaped your lips, "But this is second best."

You blushed, "Stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" Chan chuckled against your right breast, pinching the left.

"You-"

"Huh?" He kissed down your belly and bit hard beside your belly button.

"Ow-" You gasped and grabbed his hair.

"Gotta make sure they know you're taken if you wear a crop top." he murmured and moved lower kissing your thigh and pulling your legs apart. "This is mine hm? I think I waited for it long enough." He kissed your thigh before pulling your pantie off. He tossed it haphazardly over his shoulder. He took amount to admire you and you shifted slightly.

"Channie. You're staring." You muttered.

"That a problem princess?"

"Pervert." You rolled your eyes as Chan tugged you to the edge fo the bed.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you moan, he smiled. "That feel good?"

You nodded, panting.

"Use your words." He said rubbing your clit a bit faster.

You moaned and tried to move away but his hand came to hold you down. "No, no."

You blushed, "Meanie."

He smirked kissing your belly before slipping a finger into you. You moan as your wall clenched around his digit, he moved it in and out slowly, thumb still working at your clit.

You gasped and bit your lip as he pushed another finger into you. He paused looking at you.

"What?" You tried to move for friction but he held you down.

"I want to hear you."

You blushed furiously, eyes wide.

Chan laughed lightly and started fingering you again, his middle and ring finger curling to find your g-spot.

You let out a loud cry and Chan smiled, he moved to kiss you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he started grinding his palm into your clit as his fingers moved deeper. You moaned into the kiss and squealed, legs kicking slightly. Chan slid a third finger into you and you squirmed.

"It's too much!" You whined.

"I think you can take it." He said kissing your neck, "Just a little bit more, princess, wanna feel you cum on my hand."

You moaned louder as he pinched your nipple, sucking on the other one. You gasped as he started grinding his tented crotch against your thigh.

"Are you going to cum for me?" he cooed into your ear. "Cum for me, please, princess."

You moaned loudly as you came hard on Chan's hand.

He hummed and lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean before leaning to kiss you. "You taste good babygirl." He stood to remove his pants letting them fall to the floor.

You moaned at the lewdness of the action as Chan moved between your legs, tapping his cock against your clit.

"I'm gonna make you feel good, make you mine." He said, his voice thick with lust.

You bit your lip and nodded. "Please. "

Chan smiled kissing you gently as he pushed into you.

A throaty moan erupted from your throat and Chan groaned. "Sound so pretty," He pulled out slowly and pushed in deeply, you cried out at the slight burn. "I'm sorry baby," He kissed your cheeks gently. "Can I move now?"

You nod and before you could ground yourself Chan was pistoning into you, fucking you as if he wouldn't get to again. You held onto him tightly, clawing at his broad shoulders. He moaned and squeezed your hips tightly. "You're so tight princess."

He moaned softly against your neck, kissing and biting, leaving marks that would surely become hickeys by morning, as he rutted into you over and over. You moaned louder, panting into the heated kisses he granted you. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall with the force of it all, the sound of sin slapping against skin filling your bedroom, you were positive the neighbors could hear but it wasn't like you had room to care.

Chan's hand slipped between your bodies and he began rubbing your clit. "C'mon baby. Cum for me again."

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began thrusting into you harder, hitting your g-spot.

"Cum for me princess." He said through grit teeth.

Another thrust sent you toppling over the edge and you came hard, vision going white as you let out a broken cry. Chan followed quickly, his thick length throbbing inside you as you milked him for everything he had. He kept thrusting his gaze distant and glassy.

You whimpered and trembled as he overstimulated you slightly. After a few more thrusts he finally slowed down and relaxed on top of you.

"Let me take you out on a date..." He muttered against your shoulder.

"I'd like that." You said running your fingers through his curly hair.

What da cringe ending 😭 I really want to thank everyone for 100 followers LOVE YALL <3 requests will reopen soon, I'm still busy with school but I hoped you liked this it took really long to make.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Can we spare a moment to just discuss how

How in the everloving HELL

Shanks managed to net Benn Beckman as his first mate?

Like this silly lil redhead, who was still a teenager when he watched his own captain be publicly executed

And lost his clown bff

And was all alone and had nowhere else to turn to

And somehow managed to find an intelligent, patient, gentle giant of a big bro to recruit as his first mate??

Like. Beck is twelve years older than Shanks, and far superior in IQ, but.

I picture Shanks just huddled in a corner of an alley in the pouring rain with nowhere to go, and Beck working as a bartender stepping out back to throw out trash and finding him there, and Shanks just looking up with those puppy dog eyes and

"Join my crew please...? 🥺"

And Beck is just SIGH I guess this is my life now

I have multiple headcanons of how they could have met, but this one just persists.

Just immediately this dumbass is now my little brother and I must protect him from his own stupididty

And being forever and constantly surprised that Shanks hasn't somehow managed to unalive himself over the years

But also incredibly proud of the overpowered little dum-dum at every turn like

"Beck they're calling me a 'Yonko' should I be insulted"

"That's...no, that's a compliment, captain."

"Really?! 😀"

"😑"

And

"Beck why is this weird child gnawing on my arm"

"That's just Luffy, he seems to think you're a good role model"

"Oh. Uh, neat? *proceeds to teach weird child everything he knows*"

"exhausted sigh"

And now it's come full-circle with Luffy and Zoro. Silly overpowered dumbass and his protective big bro.

When the Red Hairs and the Strawhats finally meet, Beck is just going to look at Zoro and go "You too, huh?"

And Zoro's going to glance between Luffy and Shanks being happy lil dipshits together and be like "..........Yeah. Pretty much."

[lovebugism]

forgive me for what is likely a basic ass request but... steve has a crush on eddie's best friend? smut optional but encouraged :) (love, j.d. aka mypoisonedvine)

✶ ┄ LOVE YOU, ON PURPOSE (i)

part one | part two

summary: steve harrington took extra care to avoid the local freaks of hawkins. having shared custody of a fourteen-year-old forced him into a bitter friendship with one, he's steadfast in his refusal to befriend the other. that is, until you start working at the groove beside family video. steve claims he only fell for you because you tripped him. (17k)

pairing: steve harrington / eddie's bff!reader

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, protective eddie, canon divergence TW swearing, bullying, some smooching, talks of insecurities, reader is doubtful of steve's intentions because steve used to be a dick &lt;3

a/n: this request has been sitting in my inbox for ages. ages, i tell you! i wrote the outline the day it was sent in and ended up turning the blurb request into a full on 30k+ word fic. i'm sorry for the wait j.d. (and to everyone else who's been waiting patiently for me to put this out). i quite literally put my heart, soul, pussy, and so, so many hours into this. please enjoy! feedback is always appreciated! xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Something happens and I'm head over heels.

It would be a total disservice to call you Eddie’s best friend.

It wouldn’t even feel right to call you his platonic soulmate or his sister from another dimension. Not when the two of you are essentially an extension of the same human being. It’s a twin flame on steroids — your mirrored souls make the rest of Hawkins believe in some sort of higher power. There’s no way it wasn’t destiny that placed the two of you together at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time.

Your entwined spirits could’ve been a beautiful thing.

It’s too bad you’re both total fucking freaks.

Unfortunately, being a couple of metalheads who spend their free time creating fantastical worlds in silly little board games hasn’t become cool yet — for some sad, strange reason. It leaves you and Eddie as the town’s token social pariahs. The kind of misfits you only spot when you care enough to look — laughing too loudly at the lunch table or sharing a cigarette in the alleyway between school buildings.

The kind of weirdos who get your attention without trying. The kind that people only look at when they need something to make fun of.

With that being said, everything Steve knew about you came from the people that hated you.

Tommy Hagan said that you and Eddie had been fucking since the seventh grade, that the two of you had gotten close between blowjobs and fingerbangs in the old chemistry classroom. No one’s quite sure where it came from, but they believed him without thinking twice. You and Eddie tried to squash the rumor for years before leaning into it full throttle.

“And these are the freaks,” Tommy announced when he approached your lunch table. He was giving Billy Hargrove a grand tour of the high school, or rather the shithole, and detoured like you and Eddie were some kind of sideshow attraction. Him and his goons ogled at you like zoo animals.

Steve idled some feet away, not as interested in the bit as the rest of them. He was even less interested in entertaining the new kid on the block thateveryone else seemed to be obsessed with.

“Hey, Tommy...” Eddie sing-songed through a mouthful of PB&J. You’d given him the other half of your sandwich, because you always give him the other half of your sandwich. “Hope you’re not comin’ back to ask for a handy again. I already turned you down, remember?”

A dumb grin took over the boy’s freckled face. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned over to the California boy. “I wouldn’t get too close to them. Don’t know where their hands have been, you know? If I had to guess, I think Punchy got Munson’s rocks off in the janitor’s closet before lunch period.”

Neither of you were particularly fazed by the laughter that erupted all at once and threatened to swallow you whole. Instead, you smiled with bits of grape jelly smeared on your chin. “I bet you think about it a lot, don’t you, Tommy?”

You really lived up to the nickname. Punchy. You weren’t entirely sure where it came from — your fierce temper, perhaps, or maybe your intense personality. Either way, it suited you.

Vicki Carmichael once said that you bit a guy on a date one time. Barry Jenkins, a tennis douchebag who thought the world revolved around him because his dad owned a string of local laundromats. He took you on a date in his mom’s Impala and assumed making out in the backseat gave him free rein to stick his hand up your skirt.

The asshole sported a red mark on his neck the next day.

When people asked you about it, you smiled with all your teeth in place of any real answer.

Carol Perkins loved to comment on the state of your wardrobe, telling anyone who would listen about the time she caught you rifling through the $1 bargain bins outside the thrift store. She liked to joke that you were stealing from them. “Because she can’t even afford a couple measly dollars. It’s kinda sad, honestly. I feel a little bad for her,” you overheard her saying once.

You were smoking a cigarette in the stall and watching through the crack of it while her and her friends touched up their lip gloss. 

“Wait, really?” Tina wondered, stopping mid-swipe of mascara through her long lashes to gape at the girl beside her. Because, god forbid, they don’t have someone to make fun of.

Carol snapped bright pink bubblegum between her teeth. She looked offended, almost — manicured brows furrowed and shiny lips snarled — like the idea of her taking pity on you was insulting. “No,” she snapped in response.

You’re pretty sure it’s the only rumor about you that’s got any bit of truth to it. Or any rumor of hers, really. The thrift store was great and all, but you firmly believe that your best pieces come remanufactured straight from Eddie Munson’s closet.

So it isn’t any wonder why the two of you seem to dress so similarly — all leather jackets and distressed jeans and hand-me-down t-shirts that are either too big or too small. The both of you take little care in your appearance, wearing only what you feel good in. And sometimes that means wild hair and baggy clothes that swallow you whole.

To make it worse, you and Eddie even talk the same. You’re both loud and brash and have very little awareness of personal space. You aren’t scared to make a scene or use your voice when you think it’s being stifled. And when you love someone, they know it, because you won’t leave them the hell alone.

These are all the things that Steve hated about Eddie. So he hasn’t quite figured out why he’s so damn in love with you. 

But he is. 

Quite dreadfully so. 

Head over heels and stumbling since the day he met you for a second time.

It was the spring of 1986 and The Groove had just opened up. Steve had heard murmurings of a record shop taking over the empty outlet adjacent to Family Video but had no idea it would nearly run them out of business. The shiny, new music store attracted all of their usual customers. People were more excited to buy new cassettes than rent movies they’d seen a thousand times already.

Steve didn’t mind, though. He liked it best when the store was empty. But all of his friends — a closeted lesbian, a basket case, and a couple of fourteen-year-olds — seemed to have the same affliction that was plaguing the rest of the town. 

He tried not to be offended when Robin said she was going to spend her break next door and not with him in the closet-sized break room. 

He failed.

Robin spent her half-hour and then some meeting you. She returned forty-five minutes later with a blushing face and a bleeding heart. Suddenly, there were two people in Steve’s life that couldn’t seem to shut up about you. As much as it annoyed him, he let her gush about you anyway, because that’s what best friends do, after all.

But Steve knew you once upon a time. Or he thought he did.

You were a loudmouthed metalhead who wore all black to blend in to Eddie’s shadow. You created fictional characters because it was easier than making friends with real people. You were strange and awkward and mean and gauche — the total opposite of this heavenly, mystical creature Robin was making you out to be.

But then it became this whole… thing.

With Robin and Eddie constantly talking over him about you, the rest of the kids were as confused as Steve was. And as they so often tend to do, the group decided to take matters into their own hands and make the short trek to meet you formally. Steve figured that their answer would be final. When those teenagers hate you, you know it. He learned that the hard way

They’re gone for a little over an hour and come back with a thousand stories and various tapes they say you gave to them for free.

Lucas has got a new Beastie Boys cassette and a proud smile on his face as he recounts the promise you’d made him about catching his next basketball game. “And she said she really liked my ranger,” he brags less than humbly, telling the older teens about how you’d heard stories about his track record in Hellfire campaigns. There’s a sudden suaveness to his voice as he bounces his brows up and down at them.

Max scrunches her face in disgust. She clutches a Kate Bush tape close to her chest, like it’s a prized possession she never wants to let go of. She rolls her eyes at her boyfriend (or maybe ex-boyfriend, but Steve can never keep up these days) and makes her own conversation with Robin. The two girls are the only ones with more than half a brain cell between them, or so they claim.

The redhead tells her that she plans on bringing her broken skateboard over to your store soon. She says the thing’s been wobbly for days, and Robin nods along like she knows all about it. “Well, apparently, she has some tools and knows how to fix it. Said the trucks just needed to be reinforced or some shit, I don’t know, I’m just glad it’s getting fixed.”

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks her, confusion contorting his words along with his features. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “I could’ve fixed it.”

“You don’t know anything about skateboards,” Max monotones.

“Okay, but you don’t even know this girl! She’s a total stranger, Max. That’s dangerous.”

She rolls her eyes. “She’s nice, Steve. Way nicer than you—”

That makes him scoff.

“—And you’d know that if you got to know her.”

It’s Dustin’s turn to gush about you next. His opinion, for a reason Steve has never been able to place, arguably means the most to him. And the kid is just absolutely fucking beaming about you. He holds a Star Wars orchestral vinyl in his hand —  the brand new one he’s been talking about for weeks but couldn’t afford. 

He talks of the collection of DnD figurines you were painting behind the counter and the promise you made to make one for his bard come the next campaign. 

Dustin gazes at Steve, wide-eyed and nodding like he’s as amazed by the revelation as Steve is.  “She’s cool, Steve. Like… really cool.” 

The boy thought that Robin just had a crush, that Eddie was just being Eddie and overdramatizing all of his stories about you. But you’re everything they said you’d be and then some. The kind of stranger you meet that takes your breath away, that makes you sad in the understanding that you’ll never see them again. Dustin is grateful you don’t have to be a stranger anymore.

You sounded… nice. More than nice. They painted you out to be a fucking angel, the way you took care of a bunch of kids you barely knew for the better part of an hour. You weren’t the freak everyone made you out to be all that time ago.

They talk a great deal about your looks, too. Dustin, mostly. Lucas had received a glare and a half-hearted punch on the arm from Max when he said how pretty you were — even though she ultimately agreed with him. The curly-headed boy uses too big words to describe the renaissance painting you are, all heavenly morose and beautifully strange.

“Hey,” Eddie scolds from the sidelines, mostly playful. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Bring it down a few notches, ‘kay?”

Steve is silent for the rest of the day after that. He’s not pouting about it like Robin keeps saying he is, just reserved in his reminiscence. 

He can’t tell if he’s intrigued or annoyed. They talk about you the way people used to talk about King Steve — with a borderline obsession for someone they don’t really know. And deep down, he knows he’s just jealous. Jealous that no one talks about him that way anymore. Jealous that none of the kids have ever talked about him that way.

It leaves him skeptical and wanting to see the real thing for himself.

Steve opts to meet you on his lunch break the next day with a tight chest and sweaty palms, like a part of him knew it was going to change the trajectory of his life for the foreseeable future.

The door dings with his arrival. The record store smells like earth and nostalgia, a bit like flipping through the pages of an old book. Vinyls sit in rows and in towers that rise to the ceilings. Colorful cassettes, of which there are thousands, have nooks and crannies of their own. Posters decorate the walls along with various patterned records — there’s hardly a blank spot in the entire store.

And when Steve sees you for the first time, he only sees the back of you.

You’re in all black, just like he imagined you’d be. A sliver of skin at your midriff is showing from where your too small shirt has ridden up your torso. And your hair is as wild as ever, though a little longer than he remembers. You’ve haphazardly pinned back the ornery strings with a sparkly pin, but it doesn���t do much to tame them.

A breeze of warm wistfulness washes over him at the sight of you. A reminder of a life that used to be his, that you were a part of only passively.

It’s your smile that does him in. Maybe because you’ve never looked at him with it. As far as Steve’s concerned, no one’s ever smiled at him the way you do, and you barely even know him. You hadn’t seen him in over a year and if you shared any words in the past, it wasn’t anything more than snarky one-liners. But here you are, looking at him with sunshine anyway.

“Hi,” you beam with the warmest grin he’s ever seen, swiveling in your chair to face him. “Welcome in.”

He’s too stunned by the sight of you to respond. He just stands in the doorway, all wide-eyed and gaping, like he’s the first to see an angel on earth. And it’s strange because you’re far from perfect. 

You’re blousy and a little disheveled, like you’d been running late that morning. The lack of makeup allows your imperfections to shine through in a way that makes you somehow more alluring. And you’ve got paint splattered like freckles on your cheeks, the culprit being the figurines you’re painting behind the counter. If you know you’re dotted with shades of red, blue, and green, you don’t show it.

“Can I help you find anything?” you ask him, still kind even though he’s acting like a fucking weirdo. That’s supposed to be your thing, not his.

Steve grasps for something to say but comes up short. His lips part and then close again in an embarrassing pattern that resembles a fish out of water. It makes sense, though; it’s a bit how you’ve made him feel just now.

When he realizes he can’t make out anything intelligible, he shakes his head. “Uh… nope.”

He’s leaving before he even realizes he’s leaving. The door dings again and he’s on the other side of it, long legs carrying him the short distance to Family Video at record speed. 

He swings and slams the egress shut in quick succession, as though the ghost of you had been chasing him. He leans against the glass pane and exhales a heaving sigh, eyes squeezing shut as he recoils at what he’d just done.

He always knew that King Steve had died some time ago, but this was a new low.

Robin watches from the front counter with wide eyes. “…Did you forget something?”

Steve sighs a big, hopeless sigh, then peeks his eyes open. “My dignity.”

“She’s cute, right?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Her brows bounce in time with the smirk on her painted lips.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” he answers, all mad because it’s obvious. “She’s fucking— she’s beautiful.”

“Aw. Look at you,” she sing-songs and tilts her head to her shoulder. “I think your heart grew three sizes today, Stevie.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I never find out 'til I'm head over heels.

Steve, all caught up in his boyish misery, has no idea that he’s enraptured you in a similar way.

You hadn’t cared very much for the guy in high school. You didn’t really know him then, and you didn’t particularly want to. King Steve was rich. King Steve was pretty — too pretty. King Steve got attention from pretty cheerleaders and overaggressive douchebags alike.

King Steve didn’t need any affection from the local freakshow.

But, by some strange turn of events, he’d managed to make nice with your best friend. 

The way Eddie talks about Steve, his words always dripping with a distant venom, it sounds like they still hate each other. Maybe they do. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit that they hang out far too often not to be friends.

If you were still in school, you probably would’ve judged him for it. Being friends with the boy whose buddies made your life hell certainly warranted some degree of ridicule. But now, having graduated and trying to move on from it all, you can’t find it in yourself to. 

High school might as well have been a lifetime now. There’s no use in holding onto old ghosts.

If Eddie could let that shit go, so could you.

He drops by after school to keep you company like he always does when he doesn’t have a campaign to prep for. It’s his favorite pastime, perhaps a close second to Dungeons and Dragons. He gets to hang out with his best friend and swim in an ocean of music while he does it. As far as freaks go, Eddie Munson considers himself the luckiest.

He likes to hear you talk about everything new you’ve gotten in while he rifles through the old stuff that isn’t selling as well. You happily let him take what he wants for free. And what he doesn’t take, he doesn’t pay for either, because you cheat the system with your employee discount and then wipe the record from inventory. Just to be safe.

“I love having a criminal for a best friend,” he jokes every time, without fail.

Eddie stays by your side until the sun sets. He parts only to flip the sign at the door to closingfor you, then plops himself back on the counter again. His legs hang off the side of it, sneakers occasionally thudding against the wood when he kicks them back and forth too hard. He scans the back of an old Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl and bobs his head to the rhythmic bass as the song fills the empty store. He’ll take this one home, he decides.

You keep on painting like you have been all day, breaking only to assist customers or stretch your aching spine. The forest dragon had been far more work than you expected — made of pretty purple leaves instead of scales and blowing blush-colored flowers instead of fire. The little piece of clay has resulted in a day of back-breaking work. 

You’ll be damned if Eddie’s next campaign isn’t the most stellar looking one yet.

Focusing on that makes it easier not to bring up Steve. 

You want to. You just don’t know how. 

Eddie’s friends were Eddie’s, and you don’t get involved where it doesn’t concern you. Besides, you did sort of give him shit for hanging out with The Hair way back when. The last thing you want is him taking the piss out of you about it.  

You don’t want to sound like you care too much. Even more, you don’t want it to be obvious that you’ve been thinking about the boy all day — making yourself sick as you stew in what could’ve run him out like he did.

“Saw your friend today,” you remark, feigning a sort of absentmindedness, as you swipe your brush along the petals of your dragon. “King Steve.”

“Oh, you met him?” Eddie wonders, more intrigued by your words than you expected he’d be. He says it like you didn’t already know the guy — like this new Steve was a totally different person you needed to be reacquainted with to really know.

“I wouldn’t say met him exactly. He just, like, popped in for half a second and ran out.”

With your back facing him, you don’t see the shit-eating grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. 

Eddie was waiting for Steve to crack and finally see you. He knew he’d bite after the way the kids had talked about you — Dustin, especially. Because even though he claims he doesn’t have favorites, he’s got a very obvious soft spot for the boy. And he knew Steve would like you because everyone likes you. When they’re not clouded by judgment and high school hierarchies, at least. 

He’s still got no idea how a guy that trips all over himself at the sight of a pretty girl could’ve ruled Hawkins once upon a time.

“Fucking idiot,” Eddie laughs to himself, already gearing up for the shit he was going to give Steve the next time he saw him. 

But you see the boy before Eddie does. Steve comes back the next day, an hour or more after opening, less frazzled than the day before. The nearly twenty-four hours he had to prepare himself for the angel he was going to see allowed him not to make a total fool of himself when he stepped into the store again.

And you wouldn’t say it out loud — hell, it’s not even something you want to admit to yourself — but you’d been hoping he’d stop by again. 

You thought Robin would come by and drag him with her, or that Dustin and his friends would come around before Steve dropped them all home. Frankly, you didn’t really care what brought him back. You just wanted to see him again.

Steve’s different than the boy he used to be. Enough that it was obvious from a measly thirty-second interaction. He used to be a charmer who could talk his way out of anything. Not to you, of course, he wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to you. But then he stops by out of nowhere, in rare form, stumbling all over himself and looking like he didn’t recognize you at all.

You’re still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or not.

He’s mystified you in a way he probably isn’t used to. Most girls like the hair and the arms — the super buff, super strong arms that fit so nicely in his uniform — or the fact that he’s got money and a reputation that precedes him. But you’ve never given a shit about any of that. 

You’re more enchanted by the way nothing could even begin to conceal the soft, shy boy that King Steve had apparently turned into.

The door chimes above his head when he enters. The scent of earthy nostalgia is already familiar to him — lavender, sage, and something deeper. Steve considers it progress when he plants himself a few feet away from the door this time. If he runs out again, he’ll have to make an embarrassingly longer escape.

You turn away from your nearly finished figurine to greet the new customer. The practiced smile unconsciously widens at the sight of him. “Hi!”

“Hey,” he smiles with a curt nod. He regrets the half-wave he gives you the second his hand shoots up.

“You gonna run off on me again?” you tease and swivel in your chair to face him completely.

You’re wearing a Hellfire shirt that’s just slightly too big for you. It probably belonged to Eddie before it belonged to you. And you wear a corset-looking thing over top of it, a sheer number with a lace embroidery and a ribbon that’s tied in a bow at your belly. It doesn’t cinch you in the slightest, though, more for decoration than practicality.

“No that was… I just—” Steve huffs out a laugh as he tries and fails to come up with an excuse. He figures anything is better than the truth — that he saw how pretty you were and his brain forgot how to work because he’s the lamest person on the planet. 

So he chucks a thumb over his shoulder and fibs. “I left something back at Family Video. Had to run back.”

“It’s okay. I was just teasing,” you assure. “Uh— Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No. Not really. Just… new records to add to my collection, you know?”

“Oh, you collect vinyls?”

He doesn’t realize that’s what he’s just said until you repeat the words back to him. 

He’s kind of just talking out of his ass and hoping something sticks. That line does, apparently, because you’re beaming at him instantly. He’s scared to say no because then you’ll stop smiling. And he can’t have that.

“Yep,” he answers with a nod. The stack of records collecting dust in his den has to count for something, right?

He can’t find it in himself to regret his little white lie when it has you lighting up like a christmas tree. 

You toss your paintbrush down when you rush from behind the counter to meet him. You seem to have forgotten that you’d just dipped the thing in purple paint. The thing splatters shades of lilac all over the limestone bench. And, in your haste, you nearly smack yourself with the leaden slab as you raise it to pass by.

Steve’s eyes widen when you narrowly dodge the weighty thing — then jumps, startled by the dense thwap that echoes through the small store when it slams back down again. He’s almost worried that it might’ve busted the hinge. 

You cower at the loud sound but move on with a commendable finesse, too focused on him to care about anything else.

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to collect, but records are so expensive, it’s crazy,” you ramble as you walk up to him, totally unthinking in the way you grab his forearm and usher him to the back of the store. 

Your sheer black skirt swishes at your ankles as you walk. The dainty fabric is patterned with sparkly stars and crescent moons. He notices you wear a pair of dark shorts underneath for modesty. Steve tries his best not to stare at your ass. He almost succeeds.

“We actually just got in a couple of Dio records — The Holy Diver, you know, the one that just came out. I’m pretty sure there’s only, like, a couple thousand of these things in the whole world — which is totally fucking bonkers if you think about it,” you explain in one breath, laughing, before stopping abruptly in your tracks. Steve nearly runs into you when you turn around to face him. 

You laugh again, a sadder one, this time at yourself, as you bring your palm to your forehead. “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t even know if you like Dio. I mean, of course, you don’t, right? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… rambled like that.”

You’d just been so excited and Steve had just been so different that you forgot who you were talking to. Hawkins High Royalty, Prom King, Biggest Flirt and Life of the Party in the yearbook. 

As far as you’re concerned, Eddie Munson is your only friend. He’s the only person in the whole world you can be yourself around and never get self-conscious about any of it. 

But sometimes you have moments like this one with a total stranger. Moments where you lose yourself in the conversation and your own jumbled thoughts. Moments where you talk and talk and talk until something thumps you on the head and you realize how annoying you’re being. This time, it’s the musky smell of his cologne that knocks you back to Ms. Click’s history class. The crisp breeze of bitter nostalgia makes you shiver.

Steve can see the way you get so suddenly aware of yourself and how the cognizance of the moment makes you writhe. He tries to bat away the lingering insecurities with a smile. 

“Love ‘em,” he responds with a nod. He raises his brows and scoffs, grins and crosses his arms over his chest. “I mean, Dio? God, they’re like… top ten bands of all time, at least. Maybe even five.”

That isn’t totally true. He doesn’t know much about the band to have an opinion, but he’s pretty sure he might’ve said he hated them once. That was only because Eddie wouldn’t stop talking about them, though. Steve could learn to like them, if it means so much to you.

That’s exactly how he justifies spending $60 on four records. 

He tells himself that he’ll listen to them and think of you, that it’ll be a solid conversation starter the next time he sees you. 

You had a whole damn rack dedicated to all your favorite bands — “I put it together myself,” you’d bragged with a proud smile. S it’s a wonder Steve didn’t walk out with the entire damn store. Because you just kept on smiling and talking, so happy to have someone to care about what you had to say, and he ate up every second of it.

He’ll have to work overtime to keep his pockets from hurting, but it’ll be worth it. Because he’ll get to keep talking to you and indulging in all the things you seem to love more than life itself.

You’re still rambling as you ring him up. Steve notices you haven’t stopped yourself like you did before. His lack of dismissal has made you more comfortable, it seems. He likes that.

“I think we’re also gonna get a couple cases of Def Leppard cassettes tomorrow, which is super sick. I think I might have to start collecting, honestly. Tapes are whole lot cheaper than records, you know,” you tell him as you scan and bag all his vinyls. “And it’s also, like, a fucking stellar album. I don’t think I’ve stopped listening to Photograph since it came out.”

“Photograph. Right. Love that one,” Steve nods with a kind smile as he props his elbows on the counter. He doesn’t particularly care that he’s not entirely sure what you’re talking about, or that he’s never actually heard the song. He’s starting to realize you could talk for hours and he wouldn’t get bored.

“Oh, is that your favorite too? Eddie’s more of a Foolin’ kinda guy.”

Despite the fact that he’s never heard the song or this album in his life, he nods anyway. 

He sort of spent the first eighteen years of his life faking just about everything — it kind of came with being the King of Hawkins High. It’s a talent that hasn’t yet left him, it seems, lying through his teeth to impress people. It’s almost become a second nature to him.

“Foolin’s good, yeah, but I think Photograph is obviously better.”

“Obviously, right!” you exclaim with a sunshine-coated laugh. “That’s exactly what I told him! But he’s way too hard-headed to be wrong about anything, so…”

“Well, I’d like to put it on the record that I firmly agree with you,” Steve replies so smoothly that his tongue must be dripping with honey. It’s so easy for him to fall into King Steve mode — when he isn’t forgetting how to speak and running off, that is.

You’ve learned a lot Steve in the past half hour. He likes metal, but leans more toward rock. Particularly all the metal and rock that you like. He hasn’t once had a differing opinion than you, besides telling you he heard Eddie playing a Metallica song once that he didn’t particularly care for. The second you tell him it’s one of your favorites, he backtracks instantly, blaming the Munson boy for being too sloshed to play it properly.

And you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you just now either, with his chin toward his chest as he peers up at you with warm amber eyes. He’s the charmer that he always was. It makes you remember, again, just who you’re talking to.

“We have a lot in common, King Steve,” you lilt with a playful grin.

He deflates at the use of the old nickname. You see the light in his eyes flicker for a just moment before he’s ducking his gaze away from you completely. He tries to brush it off with a laugh. “Yeah, I’m not— I’m not really King Steve anymore…”

“No?”

“Nope. Just… Just Steve these days.”

When he looks back at you, he finds you nodding at him, almost in approval. 

Most people are upset to find that he’s changed so much. They hate that he’s no longer the recklessly stupid dumbass they used to get drunk with. 

Not you, though.

“Cool,” you mumble, smiling softly, as you hand him his bag and receipt.

“Uh, I’d love to, you know, come take a look at those tapes when you get ‘em in,” he says as he walks backward towards the door, finally making the brash offer he’s been thinking about this whole time. “Maybe I can bring lunch and we can—”

“Well, Hellfire’s been doing campaigns during lunch recently. And Gareth’s out sick, so I’ve been subbing for him, you know, so…” you interject awkwardly, shifting your weight on your feet. You hate to turn him down, but Eddie might just kill you if he has to get a substitute for the substitute.

“Oh…” he nods, softly puckering his plump pink lips that you can’t seem to stop staring at.

“But I don’t think they’re coming in until late, anyway,” you add quickly. “So, you can stop by at closing, if you want?”

“No, yeah, that’s cool. So cool,” he replies, a little more flustered than he’d been just moments before. He’s just happy that your rejection wasn’t a total refusal.

You try to bite back the wide grin threatening to take over your mouth. “Okay… I’ll catch you later, then, Just Steve.”

“See you,” he waves right before startling himself when he backs into the basket of clearance tapes sitting just beside the door. He barely catches the thing before it tips over completely. He flashes you a shaking smile afterward and finds you covering your mouth with your hand while you try not to laugh too loudly. 

He wishes you’d just went ahead and laughed at him. He wouldn’t have even cared that you were laughing at him, if it meant he got to see you smile.

And even though he’d just gotten done making the biggest fool of himself, he walks back to work feeling like the coolest man alive. There’s a foreign strut in his step that hadn’t been there before he saw you. It doesn’t leave him when he realizes he’s gone slightly over his break and that Keith is manning the counter in his absence.

The man mumbles a monotoned goodbye to the customer he’d just checked out.

She turns around and Steve realizes he recognizes this girl — Mindy or Mandy or maybe Monica — from Mr. Kaminsky’s class way back when. She did all of his homework for him before and after letting him fuck her on her twin-sized bed in her all pink room.  That’s when Steve was conquering girls like they were Mount Everest, way before Nancy, when King was a title he wore with pride. 

But he’s still so stuck in his head with thoughts of you that he doesn’t even see Mindy-Mandy-Monica or the flirtatious wave she throws his way.

“You’re ten minutes late,” Keith scolds, with his dead tone and his deader eyes.

Steve only shrugs, uncaring if it came out of his paycheck because — “I just got a date with the hottest woman on the planet,” he boasts with a puffed out chest and too smug smile.

It doesn’t lessen Keith’s anger, just diverts it. Because he knows exactly who he’s talking about. And so does Robin, as she pops her head out from behind the man from where she sits at the computer. “No way,” they chorus in disbelief at his words.

Steve nods. “Yes way.”

“Eddie’s gonna kill you,” Robin remarks with the shake of her head. 

He knows she’s right. He just doesn’t care. 

Eddie’s always been protective of you. Everyone knows that. But the two of them were friends now — or somewhat good-natured acquaintances, at the very least. He would’ve been mad about a year or more ago, if King Steve had decided to suddenly woo his best friend. 

But it’s different now. He’s different now. Eddie knows how much everything’s changed, it’s just a question of if he’s willing to rehash old wounds.

It’s a good thing Steve knows how to take a punch.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Don't take my heart, don't break my heart.

Steve finds you again the next day less happy than he’s gotten used to.

The record store is dim and the red sign at the entrance has been flipped to closed, but the door is left unlocked — for him. The warm scent is a distinct contrast to the frigid spring night, a cozy high hemp and lavender, but your absence is noticeable and terribly heavy. 

Steve lingers in the doorway, his shadow looming like a giant before him from the moonlight streaming in from outside. 

He calls for you in the emptiness.

“Uh… Punchy?”

He’s relieved when you answer. The “back here!” you shout to him is muffled and far away. He follows the sound of your voice, filled suddenly with a childlike consolation. 

The yellow fairy lights dangling over his head guide him through the aisles of cassettes and closer to you. Through a cluttered backroom, Steve finds you standing just outside an opened door — left ajar, for him.

The smile you flash when you see him is as dim as the closed-down store. It lacks all the sunshine you usually look at him with, shades of stormy gray rather than the usual yellows. 

A look of concern flashes across his features — furrowed brows and inquisitive twinkling eyes — as you take a drag from the lit cigarette caught between your pointer and middle finger. You muster your best grin, but it flickers like a shoddy radio signal. 

“Punchy, huh?” you tease.

Steve’s brows pinch together as confusion floods his features. It takes him a moment to realize what he’d said and the nickname he’d used — and he doesn’t want to be dramatic or anything, but he kinda wants to die. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, to hold on to an old high school monicker. And, fuck, if you hate it half as bad as he hates being called king, he deserves a slap to the face right about now.

You laugh instead of ball your first. He’s able to smile meekly in relief. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I… I don’t think I even realized it came out.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure when you see him getting all apologetic. “Eddie still calls me that all the time, so… Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Steve tries to move on, but it’s hard to when you’re so obviously gloomy. He hates how reserved you’ve gone in your quiet, not talking up a storm like you had been the last time he saw you. Now you’re just… a storm. It’s a little like sitting next to a rumbling rain cloud.

The rumbling rain cloud beside him takes a drag of her cigarette.

“You okay?” he asks and sounds like he really cares.

You didn’t think King Steve was capable of caring about anything other than his hair, but he looks down at you like he can feel every blue bolt of your doom and gloom. He makes you feel seen in the void of your sadness despite all the years you spent being invisible to him.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just the tapes. They didn’t come in,” you answer with a shrug. Smokes leaves your mouth and lingers in white clouds in the air. “So I’m a little bummed.”

“Oh…” is all Steve says and his pink mouth forms a too pretty ‘o’ shape that you can’t draw your gaze from.

The following silence makes you momentarily cautious. Insecurity runs cold over you because no sane person gets this about upset over a broken promise of a couple cassettes. It’s stupid, you know it is, but you were really looking forward to them. It’s like promising a kid the most metal present ever and then snatching it out of their bare hands.

Now, over the course of a couple hours, you’ve managed to convince yourself you won’t remember happiness until you get those stupid tapes.

“Sorry,” you apologize to him for a reason he can’t place. You shift your weight on your feet and peer at him from beneath your lashes. “I know you were looking forward to them, too.”

You extend your hand and offer him the cigarette between your fingers like it’s an olive branch. He takes it from you with a distant smile, then opts to laze against the brick wall like you are. He stays a respectful distance on the other side of the entryway. 

“It’s okay. They’ll come. If I’m being honest, you know, I was kinda more excited to see you.”

His admission is brazen and a tad bit brash, even for a certified ex-douchebag. It lacks all of the usual honey-coated flirtation that usually tints his tone when he’s talking to a pretty girl. Because he wasn’t trying to make you swoon — though he certainly wouldn’t have minded if you had. This wasn’t some romantic advance, just a proclamation of his own personal truth.

A flash of shock contorts your features. “Really?”

“Of course,” he answers, breathing out a laugh that exits along with the smoke in his lungs. “I love talking to you. You’re… You’re cool, you know? S— Super cool.”

His face screws up at his stuttering, and he shakes his head at how the words sound leaving his mouth. His cheeks glow cherry red beneath an orange street lamp. 

“Super cool, huh?” you repeat with a giggle that’s bright enough to illuminate the velvet night. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

Steve scoffs when he passes the cigarette back to you. Because, lately, that’s all he’s been hearing about you. From Eddie, from Robin, from Dustin — every good thing a person could say about someone else, they all say about you. 

He’s starting to understand why.

Because you’re sweet. Like, pure sugar poured on the tip of his tongue kind of sweet. You’re bright like sunshine and soft like summer rain. You’re a shot of pure espresso for a boy who thought his life was at a dead end. He’s not entirely sure how he ever could’ve thought you were some deep, dark, devil-worshipping freak.

“I don’t believe that,” he dismisses with the shake of his head.

You breathe out a sharp exhale and a puff of nicotine-coated smoke. “I’ve been the town pariah since I was eleven, Steve. Everyone thinks I’m some kinda delinquent who’s in a cult because I play a dumb board game. So, no. No one’s ever thought I was cool before.”

“Still?” Steve wonders with a twisted face. “You graduated, like, a year ago. Are... Are people really still on your ass about that?”

“A little,” you answer with a shrug, trying your best not to look as affected by it all as you feel.

Steve feels his chest swell with the fiery urge to protect you. The same one he gets when Dustin tells him about the assholes at school that are bothering him. He wants to defend you from the same sort of assholes that he used to be. The impulse is borderline primal, rooted somewhere deep and far within himself, because god knows he’s got a terrible track record when it comes to winning fights.

“Shit, Punchy… I’m— I’m sorry.”

You sputter out a laugh at the apology, louder when you realize he’s using the nickname again.

He can’t relate to any of this. The trials and tribulations of being persona non grata everywhere you went were certainly lost on him. Steve might’ve lost his touch somewhere down the road, but he’ll always be crown royalty — the kind of guy you think fondly of when your wonderyears are long gone. But you? You’re lucky if people don’t cross to the other side of the street when they spot you coming.

Perhaps that’s why his words warm you so much. Because, despite all that, he’s trying to make you feel better anyway.

You give him a tender smile and a dwindling cigarette. 

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s whatever, you know? I think it’s because I still hang out with Eddie all the time. Like, people see us and remember what fucking freaks we used to be,” you say with a laugh, then start to ramble without thinking. “We saw Tommy Hagan at Melvald’s the other day, and he looked at us like we caused him severe PTSD or something, like, he looked terrified. I honestly felt a little bad.”

Steve smiles, wide-eyed, equal parts intrigued and unsettled by the reminiscent glimmer in your eye and the daunting giggle that spills from your lips.

“But I wouldn’t leave Eddie, you know?” you blurt, suddenly serious, like you’ve taken offense at the very thought. “Not even if it meant people stopped being so mean. ‘Cause I love him and everything… Even though he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, he’s a total pain in the ass,” Steve agrees and flicks the butt of the cig between his fingers. “He loves you too, though. I can tell. The asshole never shuts up about you.”

“He talks about me?” you ask, voice fragile and pitched higher than normal.

Steve doesn’t like the way you say it. He hates how you look at him even more, with a scrunched up face and eyes that flicker with embers of shock. Like you don’t believe it, like you think yourself unworthy of it.

“You’re all he talks about,” the boy assures, feeling so suddenly brave and wanting to make you feel brave too. He hands the cigarette back to you. “I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d never shut up about you either.”

The contorted look of confusion on your face untwists itself, and your features fall flat with disbelief. A smile pulls slow at your mouth. Your eyes glitter an orange gold beneath the streetlight. They flit over to the boy beside you just long enough to take the stick from him.

“Steve Harrington…” you lilt, almost scoldingly so.

It makes him smile. “What?”

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you,” he retorts playfully. “Who’s to say I was flirting?”

“So you weren’t then?”

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs with a knowing, practiced smirk. “Can you blame me?”

You don’t seem impressed by his not-so-subtle attempt at flirting, and he isn’t at all used to that. The bravado and the puppy dog eyes are his one-two punch — any other time, he’d have a phone number tucked safely in his pocket by now. But you’re not biting.

“I’m so not your type,” you dismiss with the shake of your head.

“Yeah?” he challenges, shoving himself off the brick wall with his shoulder and making the short trek over to you. He plants himself next to you, leans with one sneaker crossed over the other, and smiles with a playful twinkle in his eye. “And what’s my type?”

“Nancy Wheeler,” you answer without missing a beat. “Pretty girls.”

“Well, I think you’re very pretty—”

“Not like her,” you interject with a foreign firmness that Steve hasn’t seen from you until now. You’re still smiling at him, though, still kind but looking like you don’t believe him. Like you think this must be some kind of sick joke that he’s taking too far.

You can entertain Steve. You like Steve. Mostly because he’s totally different from the douchebag you remember him being — the douchebag you were expecting him to be. 

You find that he’s terribly clumsy and not overtly good with words. He says dumb jokes that don’t come out right and smiles in relief when they make you laugh anyway. He’s soft like peach fuzz or a fluffy cloud, mushy like warm chocolatey gooey goodness, and not at all like you remember him.

But then he does this. He morphs into something else, changes shape right in front of you. He smiles at you with little of his dumbassery behind it — all smirks and faux longing gazes with the intent of making you swoon at his feet. He grins down at you and all you see is the teenage boy who would’ve never looked at you that way four years ago. Hell, not even one. 

It reminds you of who he is, who he used to be, and who you are now. 

You haven’t changed so much since high school. You’ve matured a little, sure, but there was never an asshole exterior that you felt the need to outgrow. You’re still loud at times, unaware and ignorant of the world around you. You still play lightsabers outside Eddie’s trailer in between lengthy Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. You still pretend like the lingering glares from all the people you used to know don’t bother you. 

They do, though. They always have.

You look at Steve and you see this butterfly — someone made of rainbow colors and mostly mature. He’s growing, and you’re stuck in the same cocoon you’ve been wrapped in since freshman year, still fumbling around and trying to figure out where you fit.

He’ll always be the pretty butterfly he always was, with his pretty little iridescent wings that catch the light and all the attention. He’ll feed off the applause he gets while you’re sitting on the sidelines. The girl who’s destined to stay bundled in her cocoon forever only hears all of his praise — never watches, never receives.

“You and I are completely different people, Steve Harrington,” you declare with a grin that tells him you’ve already made up your mind.

The boy doesn’t get it, though, why you seem so upset by the idea. Him and Robin were completely different people. Him and Dustin were, too. The two people he adored — tolerated — most in the entire world weren’t a single thing like him, and it was better that way.

You don’t seem to share a similar philosophy, though. You take a drag from your mostly gone cigarette and mourn what could have been; if only he had been the town freak or you had been born the pretty girl next door.

“That doesn’t have to be such a bad thing—”

He’s abruptly cut off by the sound of muffled rock music and the bright yellow headlights of Eddie Munson’s van. The two of you shield your eyes when he whips into the desolate parking lot and parks in front of you. The sudden intrusion feels like being blinding like the sun after you’ve found such comfort within each other in the dead of night.

The stifled Def Leppard song — or maybe Poison, Steve can never quite tell the difference — is brought to a sharp halt when the engine shuts off. The headlights dim. The metallic slam of the driver’s side door sounds so much louder in the darkness.

Eddie rounds the front of his van and eyes the two of you rather suspiciously. The boy inhales deeply, puffing out his chest and splaying his hands on his hips. “…What’s going on here?” he squints at you.

You give him a terribly manufactured sunshine smile and bat your lashes his way, like you’re pretending to be un-innocent. “Nothing…” you sing-song.

Eddie rolls his eyes at you, then turns his attention to Steve. They’re not really strangers anymore, but he still feels the need to treat him like an outsider anyway.

“Harrington,” he says in the place of any real greeting. “Don’t you have other shit to do? Like, I don’t know, a shift as the mannequin at the GAP or something?”

Steve can’t find it in himself to get self-conscious about his fitted-sweatshirt, khaki-slack combo when the insult comes from a guy in a decade-old leather jacket, unwashed t-shirt, and ripped jeans.

“Very funny,” the brunette monotones. 

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” you ask when you turn and walk backwards towards Eddie, like there’s a gravitational pull dragging you to him.

You say it to be polite mostly, but you’re hoping for an affirmative — a promise that you’ll have another night like this one, where he sees you just to be seeing you. Hell, you’ll even take a nod if that’s all he’ll give you. And when he does, he gives you a tiny smile that almost makes you trip over yourself.

Fuck, you think to yourself, like your brain is talking to your heart. We just agreed not to do that.

Before you get in the van, you walk by Eddie and bring your cigarette up to his mouth. You coax the stick between his lips with your pointer and middle finger, opting to let him take the last couple of hits because he never turns down a free smoke.

The passenger door shuts once you’re tucked into the seat of it. The sound it makes punctuates your absence. Steve feels all of its emptiness.

He eyes Eddie from the distance, immediately noticing the darkened skepticism dancing in his dark eyes. 

The boy’s always felt the need to protect you. When the entire town got spooked about stories of some satanic panic and started treating you like monsters, he wanted to shield you from the boogeyman everyone turned into. 

Steve wasn’t one of them, the bad men. But Eddie loves you and it’s made him doubtful.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Steve feels the need to say, as though he’d been caught with his pants down and not just sharing an innocent cigarette with a friend.

Eddie takes the final few puffs of it and exhales rather dramatically, lips pursing to blow it in his direction though it’s too far away to hit him. The boy throws the filter to the concrete and extinguishes the ashes with the toe of his dirty sneakers. 

He waits until the white smoke has fully dissipated to speak.

“Damn right, it isn’t.”

That’s all he says. He doesn’t even look at Steve when he says it, or when he rounds the van and hops into the driver’s seat next to you. Steve squints when the too bright headlights come alive again in time with the roaring engine and dated rock music. His tires screech when he speeds out of the back parking lot. 

The tin can he drives nearly tips over when he turns too sharply onto Main Street.

Steve doesn’t get a chance to get a good look at you before you’re gone completely. It makes him all boyishly upset, knowing the hours without you will be most agonizing, but the empty feeling is eclipsed by the warm relief of not getting clock cleaned by Eddie Munson.

Damn right, it isn’t. Four words. That’s all he gets. But they’re daunting and coated with a lingering foreboding that feels almost like a threat.

So, by all accounts, Steve probably should’ve known there was no way Munson was ever going to back down that easily.

Eddie comes back the next day, a thundering storm cloud of the boy he usually is, head wild with curly hair and a million thoughts. 

The door dings far too gently for such an aggressive arrival. Metal bangs against metal as the handle collides with the window pane. He stomps to the counter in several quick strides, dark eyes darting around the half-empty store — obviously searching for something.

Robin, manning the front counter, is entirely unable to be threatened by him. The all black, chunky metal rings, and crazy hair stopped being so intimidating when she found out you called him Eddie Spaghetti. Now, it’s all she can think about when she sees him. 

Even as he stands ahead of her, obviously upset, all she sees is a very cartoonishly angry Eddie Spaghetti, and it takes everything in her not to laugh.

“Where’s Steve?” the boy finally wonders when he realizes the boy’s not in the front.

“Uh, he’s in the back, I think. Why?”

Eddie doesn’t humor her with an answer. He just storms past the counter and makes a b-line for the break room.

Robin watches him over her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to go back there!” she half-heartedly shouts, but makes no further effort to stop him from doing so.

He finds Steve working beneath the dim yellow light of the back room. There’s a warmed-up container of leftovers on the small round table on one side of the room and a stack of unorganized tapes on the counter on the other. Steve multitasks between both and hums something summery under his breath — The Beach Boys, maybe.

He’s too distracted to notice Eddie’s abrupt appearance. It’s the subtle click of the shut door that gets his attention.

Steve’s confused at first. His head snaps over his shoulder like a ghost must’ve closed the door on him. He realizes that it’s just Eddie, and he’s so innocently relieved that it’s almost humorous, then confused all over again. His brows pinch together and through the chicken tender jutting out his check, he mumbles: “You’re not supposed to be back here—”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Eddie interrupts in a monotone.

He swallows. It’s as thick as the tension that settles between the two of them, made heavier by the lengthy silence. He crosses his arms over his chest, stands up a little straighter, and bares his neck when he lifts his chin. “I want you to leave her alone.”

Steve scoffs and chews through his mouthful. “Leave who alone?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Eddie squints with an unusual sort of seriousness. “I don’t want you messing around with her anymore, man. I’m, fucking— I’m so fucking serious right now.”

The clarification makes Steve laugh. He shakes his head and goes back to piling the myriad of tapes into organized stacks on the counter. “We were just talking, Eddie. I don’t need the lecture, okay?”

“We both know it’s never just talking with you.”

“What? Are you in love with her or something?” he retorts, trying to make a joke of it.

Eddie, for the first time in his life, isn’t amused. “Oh, god, get over yourself, dude. I know what kinda guy you are, alright? I’m not gonna let you hurt her.”

His words hit Steve like a pot of boiling water. It prickles his skin, leaving blisters and burning red blotches in its wake. He’s all but on fire with his anger, less offended by the accusation than by the person it comes from.

Steve and Eddie aren’t friends by any means. They’re just two guys with shared custody of a bunch of teenagers, bonded in their want to keep them all safe. But through their lighthearted animosity, is a sort of understanding: neither of them are the assholes the entire town claims them to be. Eddie isn’t apart of some satanic cult. Steve isn’t a douchebag that uses women as accessories. And that’s just a silent agreement they’ve both come to on their own terms. 

But now here they are, talking like it’s 1984 all over again and they’re strangers who hate each other’s guts.

“No. I’m not gonna hurt her. Because we’re just friends, Eddie.”

The boy just shakes his head. He scrunches his nose like he’s wincing, then laughs — a big, dramatic laugh that fills the tiny break room. He begins to pace, waving an accusatory ringed finger Steve’s way. “No, see… That’s the thing. I don’t think King Steve is capable of being ‘just friends’ with a pretty girl.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a heavy huff. He comes to the conclusion that Eddie’s just projecting and that there’s no use in arguing his case. He shoves a black VHS tape into its designated sleeve and slots it in with the rest of them, muttering under his breath, “I’m not King Steve anymore…”

“What?”

“I said, I’m not King Steve anymore!” he yells, a bit louder than he intended to.

He drives a tape onto the pile with an unexpected aggression. It hits the wall with a resounding thud. His arms flail wildly at his sides when he turns to face Eddie again. “God, you guys act like people can’t change! I’m not the asshole I used to be, alright? Jeez…”

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in the place of any real reply. Deep down, he knows all that. He knows it’s all true because he would’ve never befriended him otherwise. Steve Harrington — the king, the rich kid, the douchebag — turned out to be a pretty damn good guy. 

And maybe if Eddie didn’t love you so much, he’d be able to wrap his head around all that.

But does. So he can’t.

He saw you two together the night before, sharing a cigarette behind The Groove — albeit a little too close for his liking — and suddenly, it was junior year all over again.

You’re stressed out about the ACT and college acceptance rates, none of your clothes quite fit you, and you’re trying out bold things with your makeup that don’t quite fit you either. You grin wildly up at Eddie through the vibrant lipstick smeared on your lips, laughing at his half-hearted attempt to cheer you up. 

And Steve is a senior, standing on the other side of the hallway — with his pretty clothes and prettier hair — and he lets all of his friends laugh at you. They make fun of your un-styled hair and the way your shirt makes your boobs look, and Steve doesn’t find any of it particularly funny but he lets them mock you anyway.

Eddie sees you together and forgets about the man Steve is now. All he sees is a boy who never stuck up for you, for either of you, who let his best friends make your lives hell because his reputation mattered more.

And it wasn’t like it was his job to defend you, because it wasn’t. Not really. It’s just that you would’ve done it for him, if the roles were reversed. Eddie, too. Neither of you would’ve let a lamb be led to the slaughter quite like that. It was the Hellfire motto, after all — to protect the little sheep from the creeping wolves.

That’s where the difference lies. It’s where the mistrust settles deep and where the root of all of Eddie’s worries lingers.

But Steve has done more to prove himself than Eddie likes to give him credit for. 

He takes care of a bunch of kids like it’s his job. He runs Robin to and from school most days out of the week, on time each morning — which, for a guy who showed up late every day for four years, was definitely saying something. He even comes to Eddie’s shows when he’s not too busy working the graveyard shift, never minding that he sticks out in his collared shirt and slacks — a pretty boy amidst a crowd of freaks.

Fuck. Steve Harrington was a pretty alright dude.

But you’re better than alright. You’re better than good. Better than perfect. 

If you got your heart broken, Eddie thinks he’d feel all of it times a thousand.

Steve’s been through his own kind of heartbreak, though. He’s slapped a bandaid over his own bleeding heart, and it’s made him soft. The good kind of soft — the kind where he sees a bug on its back and has to flip it over because it hurts too much to let it suffer. Eddie knows he’ll be that kind to you. Kinder, even.

“Yeah, you better hope so, Harrington,” the boy concludes with a slow nod of his wild head. He steals a chicken tender from the styrofoam box it sits in, like it’s some kind of power move, and waves it at him like a condemnatory point. “I hear you do anything — anything — to her… And your ass is grass.”

Eddie takes a hearty bite from the strip, then tosses it back into the container again. He spins on the ragged heel of his sneaker and stalks out of the break room, punctuating his absence with the slam of the door. The ancient thing gets lodged and doesn’t quite shut all the way, so he has to double back and shut it fully.

Steve is left dumbfounded, in more ways than one.

“…He just ate my chicken,” he mumbles to himself with a frown settled deep between his brows. But there’s a lingering tension in Eddie’s storming out — a tangible fog within his words that settles something heavy in the Family Video breakroom that doubles as storage. 

It feels almost like a blessing.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Won't escape my attention...

The more time you spend with Steve, the more confident you get. 

You visit him at work more often, caring less and less about bothering anybody when you realize they all wanted you there. You let yourself ramble in front of him, too, not stopping yourself nearly as often as you used to. Steve guesses you started to believe him somewhere around the millionth time he promised he liked hearing you talk.

You turn to glitter in his presence, becoming more unapologetically yourself and glowing with it — with all the things that used to make you insecure, things that King Steve would’ve made fun of you for some time ago. Everything you were scared made you too different, is why he liked you in the first place.

And Steve gets to watch it all play out right before his eyes. You inch slowly out of the protective shell you’ve built around yourself and bloom like springtime flowers. He’s grateful he gets to witness it, even more that you feel comfortable enough to do it all in front of him.

You’re hardly as timid as you usually are when you saunter into Family Video. Rather than tiptoeing in and apologizing for intruding, you burst through the front door with a beam and a high-pitched squeal. You’re as bright as every star in the galaxy combined; even dressed head-to-toe in black, you’re more blinding than the sun. 

Eddie’s leather jacket, either stolen or unenthusiastically lent from the boy himself, swallows your upper half. You wear a piece of Metallica merchandise beneath it. The thing is cut up to your ribcage. The jagged edges in the fabric, likely from a dull pair of kitchen scissors, tells him the chop was intentional.

A leather skirt clings effortlessly onto you, revealing the pudge of your stomach and the curves of your hips. The thing is donned with two spiked belts and several chains hanging loosely at your waist.

Steve is dozing at the counter with his chin propped on his first when you walk in. He’s half-asleep until he sees you. The shot of espresso that walks in makes him instantly forget how tired he is.

“Guess what?” you ask with wide, sparkling eyes as you skip to the counter with your hands behind your back.

Steve always hated that question. Usually, it came from Dustin or Robin — or, god forbid, both of them — followed by a “No, seriously. Guess.” It left him with no choice but to humor them until they ultimately caved and told him something he couldn’t have guessed in a million years.

He isn’t so annoyed now, though. In fact, he smiles. “What?” he replies.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, as though in a futile attempt to conceal the wide grin on your face, and take your hands from behind your back. You flash him the cassette tape you hold in the palm of them, a blue and yellow thing with the angled Def Leppard logo printed on the cover.

“No way!” Steve finds himself exclaiming like he’s the number one fan of the rock and roll band. He isn’t; never has been, really. But he is a fan of you. All of his excitement, all of his bright and shining smiles — they’re all for you.

“They came in last night— when I was off, of course— and I opened this morning and there was a whole damn tower of these tapes! I’m the one who does the tape towers, okay? Plus, I’ve been doggin’ my manager for weeks about the things, so I can’t believe they came in and no one told me, you know?”

Steve gets lost in your rambling right along with you, nodding because he never wants you to stop talking. His twinkling gaze follows you back and forth as you pace in front of the counter. You gesticulate wildly with your hands, nearly elbowing a customer when they get too close to the line of fire.

��And she was all like ‘I can’t control when they come in,’ And I was like ‘well, you can’t control when I come in either, I’ll be taking a long lunch now, thank you’—” you recount, albeit at a slightly louder volume that shocks anyone who doesn’t know you. People shoot you lingering side eyes from over the aisles.

Steve doesn’t care. He’s even happier that you don’t seem to either. You feel comfortable enough with him now to stop caring about the rest. When you stop yourself, you do it because you’ve said everything you need to say, not because you feel like you’ve annoyed him in some way. 

“Anyway,” you conclude with a sigh. “I wanted to run it to you personally because, besides Eddie, you’re the only person I know who cares as much as I do.”

You smile sweetly at him, peering at him through your lashes, so suddenly timid — no longer the boisterous girl lighting up the whole room. Steve notices that you do that a lot, go from loud and sunny to shy and glimmering. Eddie does it too, sometimes, but it’s not nearly as cute.

“My wallet’s in my locker,” he tells you when you hand him the tape. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder with his free hand. “Let me go grab it. I’ll be, like, two seconds—”

You reach over the counter and take him by the arm, wrapping chipped maroon nails around the crook of his elbow to keep him from straying too far. Shock coats his features at the suddenness of your touch and the way it makes him buzz.

You scoff. “Are you serious? I’m not gonna make you pay, you weirdo.”

“No?”

“Of course not! It’s a gift.”

“Well, gee, Punchy. Considered me flattered,” he concedes with a faltering smile.

You laugh at his half-hearted attempt to be charming.

He rests his crossed arms on the counter and leans over the top of it in an effort to be the slightest bit closer to you. He gazes up at you with honey eyes and raised brows and a big, dumb smile. “And, you know, flattery... it goes a long way with me.”

You arch an un-manicured brow at him. “Does it, now?”

“Yep. So much so, I’m willing to break a few rules and let you pick out a couple of movies. On the house.”

It’s dumb and it’s sweet and so terribly innocent. He wants to give you so much than that but he’s got about eighteen dollars to his name, so all he can do is offer you a few measly VHS tapes. It has you beaming like he just offered you the world.

“Steve Harrington,” you scold playfully. “I didn’t know you were so naughty.”

He falters. His resolve slips and, for no more than half a second, his brain forgets how to work. 

He’s not quite sure how you manage to do that to him all the damn time. You make his brain shortcircuit and his belly quiver and his vision swim. He’s known you for a while now, long enough that the lovesickness should’ve well worn off.

Steve’s worried that there’s no cure for you, that he’s in it for the long haul now — upset stomachs, heart palpitations, and all.

“Well, I’m full of surprises,” he shrugs and sways on his feet. “What’s your poison, Punchy? Molly Ringwald? Robert Downey Jr.? The John Hughes type?”

You can tell he’s joking. You squint over at him and rest your elbows on the counter top your face-to-face. 

The wintergreen mint on his breath makes your head swim. 

Your rouge-tined lips are so close he can taste them — he wants to, desperately so. 

You don’t miss the way his gaze flits to your mouth, lingering there for no longer than a blink.

“Try Night of the Living Dead,” you challenge. 

“That is so dreadfully on brand for you,” he manages to reply without much stuttering. He’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all, with the way his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“I’m nothing if not predictable.”

Steve doesn’t respond as he leaves the counter to get what you asked for. Silence is easier than saying that you’re the most surprising thing he’s ever met in his life.

When he returns, he brings the entire film franchise with him. All three movies are stacked in his arms and he scans the backs of them, hoping Keith won’t notice that they’re being rented free of charge.

“Have you ever seen them?” you wonder.

He shakes his head. “No. I saw one of them at a drive-in a long time ago, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention, if you know what I mean—” he answers with a soft laugh, quick to cut himself off. It was supposed to be a dumb joke, but both of you know what he was insinuating and it makes everything awkward. 

Robin would’ve slapped him on the back of the head if she were around to hear it. 

He would’ve deserved it.

“Well, you missed out,” you scold, not quite meeting his gaze. “They’re actually pretty good.”

“I’ll try and watch ‘em sometime then.”

“Tonight?” you offer suddenly.

Steve furrows his brows. “…Huh?”

“I mean, like— I don’t know… I thought maybe we could watch them tonight,” you stammer with your eyes turned down toward the counter, where you draw invisible patterns onto the granite with the tip of your finger. “Like, together… if you want.”

Steve is momentarily speechless. He’s spent weeks plotting how he was going to ask you out. It would come to him in waves. He’d feel like he’d concocted the most perfect, foolproof plan right before realizing there was no way in hell he could ever go through with it — all in the same fleeting thought. 

But here you are, biting the bullet for the both of you. 

He’s grateful. He thinks he’s dreaming.

“That sounds…” Steve trails off with the mindless nod of his head. “Yeah. No. Totally. That sounds… really cool.”

A wide smile pulls at the edges of your lips. You purse your mouth to the side in attempts to conceal it. “Cool,” you murmur all cool-ly, like his affirmation isn’t heaven to your ears.

“Uh, not to sound like a total douchebag or whatever, but my dad— he’s got this theater room and everything, and my parents are almost never home,” Steve rambles as he puts all three movies into a paper bag. Then his eyes go wide and his face glows cherry red. “Not like that! I didn’t mean it like— That sounded really weird… I’m sorry—”

You giggle at him, at the way he can pretend to be so suave, and then reveal all the marshmallow fluff he tries to keep hidden a moment later. “It’s okay, Steve. I got what you meant.”

He writes his address on a yellow sticky note with the Family Video logo printed in green at the very top. His handwriting is boyish and sloppy, the sign of a boy who never did care much about school. Some letters are connected, others far apart; some written too big, while others are too small. You find it endearing, but Steve knows it’s just because his hand was shaking something fierce.

He leaves his number written at the very bottom. Just for good measure.

“No funny business, alright, Harrington?” you joke, waving a ringed finger at him as you walk backward out of the store, heading back to your own job.

Steve bites back a smile. Once upon a time, he was all funny business. No girl was ever going to invite King Steve over and not expect some heavy petting. And he wants so badly to kiss you — fuck, he wants to kiss you all the time — but the want to spend innocent time with you eclipses all of those boyish feelings.

He yearns to be close to you. Like magnets. Or a moon and the ocean’s tide.

“No funny business,” he promises.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You keep your distance with a system of touch.

It isn’t until you arrive at the front gates of the Harrington home you realize you’ve never been in the suburbs of Hawkins before.

You grew up on the very outskirts of town, where there were more trees than people or houses. The block was half rundown already and horribly secluded. The only interesting thing about it was the winding trail through the woods that led to the anterior of Forest Hills trailer park.

That’s where you spent the bulk of your time, practically living with Eddie and Wayne in their one-bedroom trailer, until you felt guilty enough to go back home for a day or two. Your parents would inevitably remind you why you ran off in the first place, and then the cycle would start all over again.

It was all just far enough away from Hawkins that you could pretend like the town’s bullshit didn’t exist. The freak from the wrong side of the tracks didn’t belong on Maple Street or Fairview Road or Laurel Avenue. That was for people who could afford new shoes every school year, who could go clothes shopping and not feel guilty about cutting into their food money, who were set up with trust funds before they were even born.

But here you are now, on Fairview Road, seven o’clock sharp, and standing in front of the biggest house you’d ever seen. 

You ring the doorbell and flinch when it’s louder than expected. The chime is light and jaunty. You wonder if it’s been programmed for the change in season.

Steve answers no more than a couple seconds later. He swings both French doors open, arms spreading wide like the smile on his face.

He’s traded in his slacks for comfier jeans and his vest for a form-fitting sweatshirt he’s bunched at the elbows. You realize, then, that you’ve never seen him without the forest green Family Video jacket. It makes him look naked, almost, like a totally different person — no longer the dork who works a measly nine-to-five with his best friend and visits the freak next door on the off chance his manager won’t dock his pay for it.

The vest had humbled him to a certain extent. Now he just looks cool. Like the boy people would either praise or avoid like the plague, for fear of getting in King Steve’s path — just a little bit more mature looking now, with his chiseled jaw and scruffy chin.

It makes you feel a little stupid from where you stand on the porch ahead of him, wearing the same thing he’d seen you in earlier that day. He’s got no idea you spent the past couple of hours agonizing over what to wear. For the sake of not seeming crazy overzealous, you opted not to dress up. Now you’re scared he thinks you just didn’t care enough to.

But you do care. So goddamn much that’s it scary. 

You never had to worry about what you wore or what you looked like before you left the house, about what you had too much of and what you lacked. Now, it’s all you can think about.

If Steve notices anything at all, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps on smiling at you, too happy to see you to care about what you’re wearing. He’s just glad that you showed up.

Truth be told, he had a six-pack and Robin’s number on speed dial on the off chance you canceled on him. He was preparing himself to wallow in self-pity and spend the rest of the night ranting to his best friend about the bleeding heart he had for you. Because, as far as he was concerned, you were far too good to be true. 

You were beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. You treat him like you’ve known him for years, like he didn’t spend so many of them avoiding you in attempts to keep some measly title that didn’t mean shit. You were too perfect. Sometimes, Steve gets scared that he just made you up.

But whether you’re a dream come true or the real thing, you’re standing on his front porch anyway, with a smile and a bottle of grocery store wine. 

He saves the beer in his fridge and the wallowing for another day. 

Steve escorts you through his lavish living room and to the downstairs area that’s got a movie screen hanging on the walls and a couple of leather couches sitting in front of it. The coffee table in front of them holds a myriad of glass bowls — popcorn, various candies, and more popcorn.

“You planning on throwin’ a party down here, Harrington?” you tease with a soft chuckle, trying to conceal how your heart’s about to burst at the mere sight of it all.

“Well, I just— I didn’t know what you liked, and I didn’t— I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, you know,” the boy stammers out. He brings the palm of his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “So I just… I got… everything.”

“It’s a good thing a like everything then, huh?” you smile at him as you pluck a Red Vine from its dedicated bowl. You rip off an inch or two with your teeth and then talk as you chew: “I hope you’re prepared for all of this shit get eaten, Harrington. I can get quite ravenous.”

Steve nods to himself and tries not to smile too big. “Sounds entertaining… Maybe I’ll just watch you instead of the movie.”

It was supposed to be a joke. 

But then you settled down next to him on the couch, keeping a respectful distance but sharing the same fuzzy blanket, and he has to physically force himself to drag his gaze away from you. 

He was right about what he said before, you were far more entertaining than the black and white film projected ahead of him — grabbing handfuls of popcorn at a time and quoting the movie through the mouthful. 

It’s a tad bit barbaric, the faintest bit off-putting, and otherworldly levels of endearing. It leaves him virtually unable to take his eyes off of you. 

He didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but you keep on proving him wrong. 

He’s starting to realize he doesn’t know shit.

You’re slowly coming to the same understanding.

You’ve heard stories about Steve. Usually from gossiping cheerleaders standing in circles at their lockers or whispering in the back of a classroom. Doomed as the freak and all but banished from the inner society of Hawkins High, you became an observer. You were so invisible that people sometimes didn’t realize they were talking right over you, sharing secrets they wouldn’t want someone else to get a hold of. 

But apparently you were the exception. Because you weren’t a someone to them.

They talked about how kind he was, how well endowed, how they were meant to go on some stupid date but missed their reservation because Steve got a little too handsy beforehand, and how they spent the rest of the night with their hands shoved down each other’s pants at Lover’s Lake. 

You were seeing, firsthand, how much he’d changed. How he made his promise of no funny business and how he was sticking to it — no teasing you about the whole thing with a knowing smirk and flirtatious honey eyes, no urging to close this distance between you, no tiny touches on your arm or thigh in the hopes of heavier petting.

He spends the entirety of the first movie perfectly respectful. Just like you’d asked him to be. 

And it was nice, knowing that you weren’t wasting your evening with some asshole who was only spending time with you in the hopes of you putting out later. But it leaves you the faintest bit empty. Hungry. You long for his touch like a missed meal. Starving and feeling it all.

It’s not even heavy petting you want, you just want to feel him next to you — to press yourself into his side and to warm yourself with him like a blanket. 

But you weren’t a pretty cheerleader or a girl dripping in expensive clothes and daddy’s money. You were the weirdo, the freak, the loudmouth nerd, Punchy — all names you wore proudly, like lit-up signs or steel armor. 

Until now. 

Now you think if you weren’t Punchy, if were you someone different, then maybe he’d want to touch you more.

The first hour and thirty-seven minutes of your favorite movie are strangely agonizing. 

Your hands itch with the desire to touch the boy next to you, and they busy themselves with the bowls of candy and savory junk food splayed out on the table in front of you. It’s mindless more than it is anything. You’re absentminded binging does nothing more than half-distract you from the thoughts raging rivers in your skull.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it until your hand falls into an empty bowl of popcorn and finds nothing but kernels at the bottom of it. 

It makes Steve laugh, thinking you were just too into the movie to notice — having no idea it was him taking up all your brain power. 

He leaves to fix more snacks for you while you slip the second VHS into the movie player. He returns with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and two beers after the wine bottle has been sufficiently emptied. When he plops down next to you again, it’s in the same spot he’d been sitting in all night — a couple of excruciating inches away.

Under the guise of sharing the popcorn in his lap, you make the too bold decision to slither in at his side. It’s innocent at first — your thighs just barely graze and your elbows bump when you dip your hands into the bowl. And it’s still innocent some thirty minutes later, when you find yourself resting your head on his shoulder with your legs curled up behind you.

Steve tenses when he feels your temple pressed against him, but only for a moment before he relaxes again. It makes him all suddenly warm and self-aware of every movement he makes. He tries not to breathe too heavy or shift too often, for fear it might jostle you too much. He doesn’t want to stop feeling you against him like this, even if it’s got his skin prickling with a searing form of anxiety.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep,” he jokes.

“Of course not. It’s way too riveting,” you scoff, even though he can feel you cuddling further into him. Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt when you look up at him. He turns his head to peer down at you and his nose nearly grazes your forehead. 

He finds you with a certain glint in your eye. It’s borderline playful, like it so often is, but coated with a sweetness that drips over him like honey. “You like it so far?” you wonder.

“Yeah,” the boy nods quickly. He couldn’t tell you what had happened the past two-and-a-half films, but he could tell you how your jaw tenses when you chew and how your smile curls just before you laugh out loud and how your eyes widen every time you quote the movie. “It’s really good. I like it.”

You beam at him before turning back to the projector again. You shift to get more comfortable against him. “Good.” 

By the third movie, you’re somehow even closer.

Truth be told, Day of the Dead wasn’t your favorite in the trilogy, so it left your mind wandering to far off places — namely, the pretty boy sitting beside you. He goes to put the tape into the projector, feeling immediately cold without pressing into his side, and when he returns he tries his best not to beg you to cuddle against him again.

“My shoulder’s gettin’ real cold over here,” he tries to joke. 

You see right through his beckoning, though. It makes you happy to know he wants it just as much as you do. 

“Just say you wanna be next to me, Harrington,” you tease like you aren’t happily obliging him. You snuggle into his shoulder and rest your head against him while your arms curl around his bicep.

“I wanna be next to you,” he repeats, a playful smile on his lips though his gaze softens with sincerity. “Is that so bad?”

You shake your head against him in reply. Suddenly as mushy as the boy beside you, you turn to look up at him. “Not unless it’s bad that I wanna be next to you, too…”

“Nah. It’s not bad,” he assures in something short of a whisper. “Guess I’m just glad I’m not the only one that’s so far gone.”

He doesn’t elaborate on what he means by that. He doesn’t have to.

Perhaps it’s the admission that this boy is so far gone for you that gives you a sudden burst of confidence. Maybe it’s the comforting feeling of being seen, of knowing you’re no longer alone in your similar far gone-ness. Each feels like rays of sunshine to your skin and has you pressing your lips to his wanting ones without much thought. 

The plump pink of his mouth are magnets for yours. They meet and lock together with little effort, almost destined to do it. It’s a soft, meager, and lingering little peck that sucks you both in a little too easily. It’s hard to pull away from him, but when you do, your lips click in protest.

Then there’s a look, then a deafening silence that says more words than either of you were capable of forming in that moment. His amber eyes dart between both of yours, asking a question without saying a goddamn thing. One that you answer with your own softening gaze. 

And it’s almost better than the kiss itself, the swirling feeling in the pits of your stomach, the knowing of what’s about to happen.

A silent plea and a blink later and his lips are on yours again. 

It’s an awkward mess of yearning mouths and tangled limbs as the both of you fight to find purchase on one another. Your fingers knot in the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling him impossibly closer, while his grip the bare skin of your waist from where your shirt had ridden up. His touch makes you buzz, like a static shock or a bolt of lightning.

Steve makes several observations when he feels you melt into him like honey on toast. He notices how you press yourself into him, like you won’t be satisfied until you’ve swallowed him whole, and how it has you kissing him like you’re scared he’ll pull away — like you’ll open your eyes and he won’t be real. 

You’re as domineering against his mouth as you are in real life, still as all-consuming and overpowering as the girl he’s gotten so familiar with.

He doesn’t realize how you’ve settled so intently on top of him until his back meets the pillowy cushion of the leather couch. You don’t either, until he exhales a sharp gasp against your cupid’s bow. Then you part from him, for the first time in several minutes, breathing in the oxygen your lungs had just begun to scream for. 

Steve finds you with kiss-bitten lips and glassy eyes that look upon him with a softness that he didn’t know existed until now. He smirks with his own swollen and pinker mouth like he isn’t glowing red beneath you. 

“I thought you said no funny business,” he manages to tease through bated breaths.

You don’t bother to make up excuses for yourself. You’re already on top of him, all over him — you’ve already kissed him like you would’ve died if you hadn’t. Now, you’re straddling him, caging him between your legs and under your torso. You’ve settled on top of him with a comforting weightiness, like you’re building a home in the familiarity you’ve sought in him.

“I lied,” you mutter with a lazy shrug. A sly smile pulls slowly at your lips until you’re all but beaming sunbeams down at him. He revels in your warmth. “’S not my fault you’re so damn cute.”

It’s easier to blame it on him for all the reasons you’re attached to him like a magnet to his metal, your moth to his flame. You part his lips with your mouth, rut your tongue against his own, reveling in the foreign familiarity of it all, and then blame him for the way you can’t seem to stop any of it.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though. The way his hands find purchase on your hips, petting the warmed skin there and sometimes squeezing to pull you further down onto him, tells you that he has a similar yearning to melt with you. He lets you kiss him all slow, allows you to taste all of him, and doesn’t rush you in your process. It’s comforting, tender. Free.

He’s not used to being on his back like this. Usually, he’s the one taking control. It’s his mouth that does all the work. So, it’s strange to be under you and to have you above him. But it’s more pleasant in an even stranger way not to be rushed — not to have to do all the work. His mouth opens so obediently for you and finds an effortless rhythm with your lips and your tongue. 

It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done in his life, kissing you. 

He delights in every ounce of the warmth and unfamiliarity you press to his mouth, and tries to shove down feelings of unworthiness that simmer in his chest while you do so.

You don’t part until your mouths are numb and tingling with it. 

Your lips are more vibrant in their color, aflame and swollen from being so ardently kissed and sucked and bitten. Neither of you mind making out like a couple of teenagers. It’s comforting to know that things won’t go further than a couple soft touches on burning skin. It was never supposed to be anything more than that, anyway. It was just about being close to each other.

You’ve almost succeeded in your effort to melt into the boy beneath you, when you hear the distant sound of a door opening and closing again. Muffled voices follow — unknown to you but obviously familiar to him. 

You part from him without thinking, like you’re a couple of kids again who’ll get in trouble if your parents ever found out what you were doing down here. Steve groans at the loss of you and in annoyance at the sound of his parents. His heavy eyes fall shut and his head leans back to the couch cushions as he fights to swallow down all of his anger.

His parents never really come around these days. They’ve got a bigger home in the city, closer to his dad’s work, and they choose to stay there most days of the week — month. 

They used to make excuses for why they left their only son behind. It’s five minutes from your dad’s firm. There’s more opportunity for your mom’s real estate business. Oh, don’t be so selfish, Steven, you’ll finally have the place to yourself. It’s a win-win for all of us.

Steve didn’t want their excuses. It was actually easier with them gone. 

But they come around every now and again, whenever it’s most convenient for them, and treat their arrival like something that needs to be celebrated. Like they aren’t supposed to be with their child in the fucking first place. And they somehow manage to pick the most inconvenient times for him, like they know he’s in a bind and want to see him struggle to get out of it.

Usually, it’s when he’s in between paychecks — when they want to take him out to some fancy dinner he could barely afford anyway, but especially when he’s hardly making it until payday. Now, it’s when he’s got the prettiest girl he’s ever seen on top of him, and he’s all hot and half-hard. Steve doesn’t want to let them ruin the moment, as good as they are at it.

“It’s okay. They won’t come in here,” he assures when he feels you tense at the unexpected company. “My mom will go to the bedroom and my dad will go to his office. We’re good, I promise.”

You figure he’s right. The voices grow more and more distant. Heeled shoes click up and up the stairs while heavy stomps head the opposite way. But you’ve already been so woefully knocked out of your stupor that you’re scared it’s too late.

Your lips are numb and the credits are rolling and you’re on top of this beautiful boy and you have no idea how you got there.

It’s almost frightening, the way Steve had consumed you mind, body, and soul by just existing next to you. You become dreadfully hyperaware of the whole thing — of who you are, who he is, and what you’re doing. You lose all your softness and turn to ice, hardening and shrinking back into yourself.

“I should—” you start before clearing your throat when the words come out heavier than expected. “I should head out anyway.”

“Oh,” is all Steve can say. “Right.”

You stare down at him, chest still pressed against his, nose nearly touching the tip of his own. “I just— I have to open tomorrow and everything, so—”

“No. Yeah. Yeah, I— I get it.”

You make tricky work of untangling yourselves.

His legs twist with yours when you both try to rise from the couch at the same time. Then your ring gets stuck in the fabric of his shirt, but not before his belt buckle gets somehow caught in yours. It’s like fate is protesting the imminent parting, but neither of you are paying attention to the signs.

He walks you to your car and chuckles under his breath as you scurry to the front door. 

You’re not-so-distantly terrified of running into his parents. They probably wouldn’t mind that he’s sneaking around with a girl, surely that they’re used to, but you’re almost certain they’re not used to girls like you. Girls with wild hair and leather skirts and chunky boots and too bold makeup. 

You’re not the girl next door. You’re the girl parents warn their sons about. “Leave that girl alone,” they say. “She’s nothing but trouble.”

You tell him all of this on the short trek to your half-broken-down car when you catch him laughing at you about the whole thing. You say it in jest, lighthearted and trying to make a joke of it. But there’s an underlying melancholia to your tone that reveals every truth you’re trying to evade.

“They don’t care enough about me to give a shit about a girl I’m with, I promise,” he confesses with a laugh that sounds more like a sad scoff than anything else. His chocolate eyes turn gold beneath the yellow street light. He smirks at you. “Besides, I don’t know if I told you this or not, but my middle name is actually trouble, so… I think we might be a match made in heaven.”

You roll your eyes at his attempts to flirt with you, though his lack of finesse makes you smile. “You’re an idiot, Steve Actually Trouble Harrington.”

“You really know how to say goodbye, don’t ya?” he grins when you reach the curb where your tin can car sits. 

“Yeah, I’m pro,” you shrug with a teasing glint in your eye, then you beam. “I’ll see you around, ‘kay?”

“Totally,” he nods, suddenly forlorn at having to leave you like he hadn’t just spent the past four hours with you.

Themetallic click of your car door opening sounds much louder in the emptiness of the suburbs. You glance at the boy right before you sink into the driver’s seat, feeling your heart swell with something short of yearning — anticipation. 

You weren’t actually a professional at saying goodbye, you find, because you’re realizing how hard it is to leave him.

“Steve!” he hears you shout from across the lawn when he’s halfway up the drive. 

He turns around, expecting to hear you tease him some more or tell him you were having car troubles. Neither would’ve shocked him. You’ve got a smart mouth and a shittier car. But you keep on surprising him, all but launching yourself into him before kissing him harder than he’s ever been kissed before.

Steve tenses against you at first, then relaxes again in record time. He sighs in the comfort of having your body pressed so intently into his and your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him somehow closer. 

You feel the breath of his exhale fan against your cupid’s bow. It makes you smile, and he feels the expression contort against his lips. His hands rise to the widest part of your hips without thinking. It’s all muscle memory now.

And even though he’s spent the better part of an hour kissing you, this one is so obviously different. This wasn’t just to pass the time. This was more than just to feel him — it was to tell him something. He hears every word you don’t say, but rather press like a stamp to his mouth.

He’s breathless when you pull away. You meet his flushed face with a mischievous grin.

“What was that for?” he wonders breathlessly, but doesn’t waver with his hold on you. He quickly notices that yours doesn’t either.

You shrug in response. “‘Cause you’re pretty.”

“Yeah, well…” he tries to play off like he’s not blushing like crazy. “You’re pretty too.”

Your beam ebbs into a teasing, tightlipped smirk. “Stop flirting with me, Steve Harrington.”

You shove him away with a rougher hand than you realize before you walk away from him. Steve rubs at the ache in his chest with the palm of his hand.

Your playful teasing and your lingering kiss is the only thing Steve has to remember you by when you turn on your chunky heeled boot and head off down the driveway again. He’s frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you and reeling at how you manage to drive him crazy without trying.

Your eyes find him again just before you duck into your car, and you see him still looking at you — mouth agape and eyes wide like you’re some kind of rare find. You figure you must be, in some way. Girls like you aren’t supposed to like guys like him. Vice Versa. Tale as old as time.

The boy stays locked in his stupor until the sprinkles whir on. The spurts of freezing cold water spray all over him and his pretty hair and expensive sweatshirt and his vintage jeans. “Shit!” you hear him swear as he rushes for cover on his front porch. 

He’s quickly soaked and freezing cold, but he smiles anyway when he hears the sound of your giggling behind him. It’s as animated as your personality and spills from your mouth like so many rays of sunshine, just a little too loud for the quiet midnight suburbs. 

It’s perfect, he realizes. You’re perfect. 

[joelscruff]

pov: your camera roll if pedro was your bff ✨

some @swiftiscruff friendship exchange fun! i personally think this weekend is the perfect opportunity for us to be cringe & delulu without fear 🫡

here's a silly lil gift for all the amazing people i've met on this here app. your kindness & love & humor & friendship has not gone unnoticed by me and i hope you know how much i truly appreciate all of you 💕 not only is this for all of you, but it's also for all my incredibly supportive and beautiful readers who have made posting fic on here such a wonderful experience and continue to encourage me to try new things. thank you for your patience and sweet words, i am forever in your debt ❤️

if i could tag all of you without this post completely glitching out i would, however every time i try to do it barely any of the tags will stay?? i had it alphabetized and everything 😭😭 i think there's just too many and i don't wanna purposely leave anybody out, so if you're seeing this and we follow each other or you follow me/read my fic etc etc then this post is for you. YES, YOU!

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

BLOOD SUCKERS

Characters: ot7 x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, described sex scenes, death, consumption of alcohol and blood, threesome, male and male intercourse, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, wax play, blood play, and more.

Genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampire, angst, reversed harem, best friends to lovers.

🩸My Master List🩸

Intro;

I knew something was wrong in the small city I’ve been living ever since I was born here and after I graduated from high school I was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the whole year this small hell of a city called Spring Villa always rained every day.

Every god damn day.

Not that i was complaining, one summer during a high school trip to California was enough for me to realize hot weather was not for me. One day to be more specific, it was my first time and everything seemed so more alive and colorful. But all come to an end since i had to spend the rest of the trip at the hospital with an IV inside my arm due to being exposed to the sun for too long, just one afternoon which was the same as everyone else did but i was the only one who almost died that day for burning on the sun and end up looking like a hot Cheeto. After that i even started to enjoy the cold humid air hitting my face every day when i left to work, the only thing it didn’t change was my hatred for the rain every morning. Getting wet before work was not very enjoyable, everyone could agree on that note.

But the beautiful weather of the city was not the most uncanny thing about it, it has been almost ten years since a serial killer was circling around the Spring Villa. I was only a teen when everything became known to everyone in the city that something wasn’t right, so many bodies were found around Spring Villa along the years people began to stay at home locked away from everything. Some left the city for once and never came back, those who stayed were people who had nowhere else to go, like me.

My father was terrified of the accidents involving the serial killer in town and he too left before anyone else, leaving me and my mother behind. I couldn’t blame him especially after my brother ended up becoming one of the victims, when the police officer called for my parents to identify the body it didn’t felt real to me. I was not allowed to go since at the time i was underage but, I didn’t even got a chance to say goodbye either. My parents didn’t do a funeral for him, it was all too much to bear so instead he was cremated and thrown on a river on the west side of Spring Villa his favorite place to hide with his friends. Ever since that happened my parents have not been the same, I knew that sooner or later this was bound to happen. When father left it was the last straw of sanity of my mother, she became an alcoholic and well… not good.

I’ve been working at the Spring Grill ever since I graduated high school, apart from so many people leaving the city many others came from cities around the town to get a bit of incloser about the serial killer of Spring Villa, he was never caught and that mystery seemed to amaze many tourists around town.

People from all over came to my stupid silly little city to make videos about the killer of my brother, at first I was so angry at them I wished they just didn’t came at all but, over the years it became dull and empty inside my heart. I had more to worry about then that and since I needed money to pay the rent I was more then happy so many tourist came to Spring Villa.

After all I meet my best friend like that.

Notes: Hello readers! Here’s a new story for all of you I truly hope you guys enjoy this work as much as you all been enjoying my old works. This story has been going around my mind a lot and I thought what better time to write then now? So here it is! Taglist is open so leave your request in the comments and I’ll add you! Love all of you, Author. 🩵

[jealousmartini]

Oh, nothing much, just a list of reasons why I am so excited to permashift to my ultimate 4d reality //better current reality//

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

— EXPERIENCING DESIRED SCENARIOS

I am a hardcore daydreamer just like my brother and sister shifters(you guys🫵🏾), and I can't wait to really live the silly imagines I always have in my head. Even if it's something relatively small, I will still get to live every second of them.

Idk if some of you guys will remember that one post where I mentioned Googlebox? But I'm mentioning it again🙄 because I scripted me, my love of my life, his sister who is my bff, my own girl bff and her boyfriend are part of the program teehee. I swear no one will ever understand how much of a comfort show Googlebox is to me and in general.

The idea of being on TV whilst watching TV and relaxing with my favourite people and eating my favourite food just makes me melt. It's such a core memory to me and idk I just love showing off how perfect my family is to everyone else

— FOOD

I can't wait for all the delicious food I'll get to eat. There will never be a single time where I have to eat something I don't like or don't want to ever again, because why should I have to? I'm mostly excited to have stuff like popeyes, McDonald's, seafood boils, those Korean and Japanese foods you see on mukbangs, loads of fruit bowls (I really do love fruit), basically everything meat/barbecue, pasta including ramen, and sweets too cus🧍🏿‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

— NO UGLY CLOTHES ALLOWED

Never will there be a day or night where I will ever need to wear clothes that don't suit me or clothes I don't like. My closet is going to be full of the cutest and gorgeous late 90s and early 2000s skirts, shirts, bellbottoms, flares, jackets, oversized ts, shorts, belts, slippers, jewelry, panties and bras etc etc

— ALREADY COMPLETED WORK

In my better cr, I scripted that I am already miles ahead of everyone in college work (and best believe all my work is at distinction level) so I have all the time in the world to do what I want until the next brief; I also scripted the date of month that I will wake up in my better cr in is the 17th April last week so I will have only 3 days of college next week (because i go in on mondays, tuesdays, wendsays and Thursdays) and 4 weeks of freedom to myself. (I also scripted my teachers let me do my own art work in my free time in class, cus sometimes all a girl wants to do is draw their ocs🥺)

Edit :: 17th of may now!!

— CURRENTLY IN MY MOVING ERA

In better cr, I am kind of in the planning process of moving out of my house to my apartment penthouse with my friend group. I'm thinking of moving out at 18 or 19 years old since I'm 17 rn and I still want to explore my better cr house cus it's wayyyy better than this one. But even once I've moved out I'll probably keep visiting my old home where my mum and her husband lives because.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Overall, I am so excited to experience everything I have ever dreamed of. I know I deserve my freedom and peace, excitement, and joy. Being able to just do what I want when I want and always knowing that no matter what, everything is going to be okay.

Life is so amazing, and it's so worth living. I know I will manifest my desired reality in no time, and I know all of the stress, time, anxiety, and patience won't be for nothing. Life is mine to explore, and I can't wait to do so

@4ellieluv @livingmydreamlife5555 @theshifterbear @cocozydiaries

[mdianasims]

He has traveled around the worlds and collected many memories and keepsakes. He made many friends along the way while he did both mundane and epic heroic things. And in every town there was another lover (or two) to be left behind.

You all know we're talking about Icarus Ibarra, Iker for friends (and he has many - one cheerful introduction and you're BFFs). His recent adventures made him realise that it might be time to settle down. And that doesn't mean he won't be going from world to world anymore. He will, he'd just prefer to do it with that one special someone by his side. And what better way than to find that someone in style?

Watcher Studios Inc presents...

SUBMISSIONS ARE CLOSED More info under the cut.

We probably don't really need to introduce our bachelor, but here's a quick recap:

Full name: Icarus Nicodemo Ibarra Reyes Age: 28 (young adult) Traits: Romantic, Music Lover, Bro, Active, High Metabolism Aspirations: Party Animal, Romantic Explorer Likes: Activities - Dancing, Fitness, Gardening Guitar, Handiness, Mixology, Photography, Snowboarding Colour - Blue, Green, Yellow Music - Alternative, Latin, Latin Pop, METAL, Singer Songwriter We're not sharing compatibility likes/dislikes or turn-on/turn-offs (TOTOs), because that would take the fun out of the challenge.

In case you're not entirely up to speed on Iker's previous adventures, you can find them here.

Still interested? Good. If you want to apply, these are the essentials:

Read the rest of this post carefully. If you still want to enter your Sim after reading, then comment that you want to submit a sim.

I've made another post that further specifies some choices you have. I'm asking you to prepare this before submitting your Sim. That will make it easier for me to play it out when it comes up in my game. I know it looks like a lot, but all you need to do is make a Sim, dress them nicely and make a few choices. Then I'll do the hard work.

This is The Grand Scheme. Save the link, it'll be handy when you create your Sim. And even if you do not intend to submit a contestant, I don't mind sharing my nefarious plans ;)

There's a maximum of 12 participants (and a minimum of 7 or it'll mess up the schedule), first come, first served. One of these spots has been reserved for @zosa95. Because, if I hadn't submitted Iker's sister Neia to Branson's Bachelor Challenge, I would not have had Iker. It seemed only fair to do this in return.

Practical considerations:

No CC (minor exceptions: x and x)

I have all packs except Batuu. As for CAS Kits, I only have Simtimates and Moonlight Chic.

You will need Growing Together and Lovestruck for the personality likes and TOTOs. If you do not have these packs, you can still participate. You just need to let me know how you want to fill these and I can set them for you once your Sim is in my game.

1. Requirements:

Age: Young adult (give a 'real life' age if you like, anything from 18 to 30 is acceptable).

Gender: Male or Female.

Pronouns: No custom pronouns that are intended to be silly (such as 'His Evil Highness' or 'Her Colourful Ladyship' or whatever you would use to refer to your favourite pet (or Sim)). This is basically to prevent me from making mistakes while posting. Too many different pronouns and it's gonna go wrong at some point. Please use something short (and easy to remember).

Sexual Orientation: Must be romantically attracted to and interested in woohoo with men (whatever else you check, is your choice).

Romantic Boundaries: Set them as you like, Iker's player trait should overrule it (if not, I'll set everything to no jealousy).

Occult: Human preferred. No Werewolves, Vampires or Aliens (Iker is still processing the Moonwood adventure, which also made him hate vampires. After StrangerVille, though unfounded, aliens are bit of a touchy subject too).

Traits: Bro and Unflirty are not allowed (there's a rule about bros, and unflirty will just make it incredibly hard for your Sim).

Likes/dislikes:

No more than 2 music likes (because those still dominate wants).

Decor and Fashion are optional (i.e.: Dream Home Decorator and High School Years are not required).

Conversation Topics and Sim Characteristics are required to be set.

TOTOs:

Way of Life and Characteristics are required to be set.

Romance styles: 2 turn ons and 1 turn off, the other 2 will be neutral (I'll do this for Iker too, for a more interesting experience).

Hair Colour: Black hair turn on is advised.

Outfit colour/Fashion categories are optional.

Your Sim can be CAS created or born in game, skills are allowed, there won't be skill based challenges. They can have additional self-discovery traits if you've played them. However: the romance skill and hidden woohoo skill are banned (Iker doesn't have those either, yet) and charisma is capped off at lvl 3.

Fame is not allowed - I'll just keep all Sims out of the spotlight.

2. Outfits:

There will be lots of themed parties, outings and dates, so I've got an entire outfit scheme set up. To give you a chance to express your Sim's personality through their outfit choices (and get creative with NoCC CAS).

First, look up the outfits on The Grand Scheme. Then choose one of the following:

Easy Street: Set your Sim's standard oufit for each category, copy it to all listed slots. Then adjust the two mandatory second outfits.

The Middle Road: Do as above, adjust any other oufits you like.

All the Way: Set all oufits as requested.

Know that not all of these outfits will be used if your Sim is eliminated early on. But hey, at least you'll get a nice NoCC lookbook from it! Another thing to keep in mind (though entirely optional), the show (mostly) takes place in Ciudad Enamorada and Oasis Springs in Spring and Summer. So, big fluffy sweaters might look a bit out of place. If you accidentally use an item from a Kit that I do not have, I will try to replace it with something similar. If you do not set outfits for the themed activities, I will dress your Sim as I see fit.

3. Dates:

For three of the dates, there's a choice to be made by the contestant. Look this up in The Grand Scheme and let me know through DM what your Sim would choose for their perfect date(s).

4. One Final Question:

In case your Sim is eliminated, should they:

be returned to you (I'll save your Sim after elimination and upload the tray files and send you a private link);

live on in my save file;

be deleted;

remain in limbo forever (I'll store the tray files somewhere)?

Not answering this question defaults in the last option.

I know this is a lot. I hope you are not deterred by it. I just want to do something interesting with the new date system. And then this massive plan formed and now I'm stuck with it.

Anyway you have at least until 21 September 2024 to submit your Sim. If you need more time, or I'm not ready with the preparations, that date may move to somewhere in October.

Let me know in the comments and/or through DM if you want to submit a Sim. I'll put your name on the list. If I've added your name to the list and you no longer can/want to submit a Sim, let me know. There might be someone else who can take your place.

If you have any additional questions, do let me know. (if you think I've made any weird typos, let me know as well. I've checked the post a several times, but something might still have slipped).

Thanks for reading and I hope you're as excited about this as I am!

[rubyreduji]

congratulations (again) on 3k followers, jj!! i am scuttling over here like a gremlin to make my very first request for ur sleepover event hehe :3c

i've been toying with this idea about bffs!minghao and reader where hao has this emo punk aesthetic while reader is basically the epitome of girly pop -- everything pink, short skirts, frilly dresses, all that jazz. no one knows how they wound up as bffs but little does everyone know they have the filthiest sex behind their backs <3

thank you sm !!!! i am always present for any and all jj content >:3c

— join the sleepover!! 🧸️

summary: you and your best friend could not be anymore different, you two seem to make it work though

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, fingering, thigh high kink, creampie wc: 1.8k an: if minghao is ooc then im sorry </3 i just want him to be an emo simp okay,,, also hello kai :33 thank you for the request i literally love this dynamic so much im sorry if you hate it fjdksla

“Hao-Hao!” You shout as you see your best friend enter the party. His lanky, dark clad figure stands in the doorway and he looks over at you lazily. You rush up to him and quickly cling to his arm, nuzzling your face against his bicep.

Across the room Wonwoo shakes his head. “I don’t know how those two are friends.”

The other two boys sitting with Wonwoo glance at where you and Minghao stand and Jihoon frowns. “It doesn’t even seem like Minghao likes her that much.”

Minghao’s face is unwavering as you yank at his arm, your mouth flying a hundred miles a minute as you ramble on about your day. The conflicting personalities aren’t the only thing that is odd about your friendship. 

It’s like looking at day and night as you two walk past where the three boys are sitting. Minghao’s signature frown is accompanied by his black t-shirt and black jeans, the only thing breaking them being the silver eyelets on his belt. His height and demeanor already do enough to contribute to his scary presence, but his sleeve of tattoos and the dark eyeliner smudged on his eyes puts the finishing touch on it. Compared to you, it’s like watching a doberman and a pomeranian walk side by side.

Your own figure is dressed up in a short, pink skirt with white frilly socks that stretch all the way up to your thighs. Your matching pink heels clack against the floor as you trot next to Minghao. There’s a permanent smile on your face that pairs nicely with the makeup you applied this morning.

“They’ve been best friends for a while,” Soonyoung says, still staring at you two. “I still don’t know how though. They have nothing in common.”

“Obviously,” Jihoon mutters. “Maybe Minghao is just keeping her around to be nice?”

“Minghao? Nice?” Wonwoo scoffs. “More like she’s the one stringing him along.”

“Maybe one of them lost a bet,” Soonyoung pipes in.

“Or it’s some elaborate prank.”

“Hey.” The gruff voice makes all three boys jump, their heads whipping around to see their topic of conversation standing over them. Without fail you’re there as well. “We’re heading out if someone asks.”

With that Minghao grabs your hand and pulls you away. Minghao’s black, chipped nail polish looks silly next to your perfectly manicured pink nails and your cute beaded friendship bracelets contrast deeply with Minghao’s studded leather bracelets.

You giggle as Minghao leads you out of the party and to his car. He opens the door for you and you slide in as Minghao rounds the car to get into the driver’s seat.

“Hao,” you start, “is it really that weird that we’re friends?”

“Don't listen to them, they're all just idiots,” Minghao tells you, his hand moving across the center console to rest on your bare thigh. You smile at his response, and he squeezes your thigh.

You and Minghao have been friends for as long as you can remember, but it wasn’t until later in life you two became best friends. Now you two are practically inseparable as you drag Minghao with you everywhere you go. You like to think of him as your “scary dog privilege”.

The contrast of you and your best friend does not go unnoticed by you, but you’re not sure why it’s such a big deal. If anything, you find it cute. You love how it sounds when you’re walking, Minghao’s combat boots thudding deeply as your high heels click in tandem. 

It’s not like you two don’t have anything in common either. You two share the same taste in movies, and Minghao never complains when you listen to whatever girly pop song you play in the car. It doesn’t matter if you two don’t have all the same interests though, because you’ve been friends for so long you have learned to appreciate each other’s interests.

There is one other giant perk of being best friends with Minghao though.

.

.

.

“These are cute,” Minghao grunts as his fingers trail over your panties. You shudder at the touch but still smile at your best friend.

“I know! They’re new.” You wiggle your hips a bit, showing off your pink lace underwear. You’re lying pressed against his mattress, your skirt flipped up to reveal your thighs and panties. Minghao stares down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

“How much were they?” Minghao mutters and you think for a moment before respondings with the fairly cheap price you paid. Minghao then smirks before grabbing the fabric and tearing it apart. “I’ll buy a new pair.”

With that he pushes a finger into you, your cunt already dripping just from the making out you two did as soon as you made it inside Minghao’s apartment. You mewl out at the intrusion, your hips automatically bucking up into his touch.

You can feel the coolness of Minghao’s rings pushed up against your folds as Minghao’s fingers delve deeper into you. 

“You look so pretty like this baby,” Minghao coos. “In your pretty little skirt and stockings with my fingers inside your needy little cunt.”

“H-hao,” you gasp out. You reach towards him, tugging at his shirt, and Minghao gets the hint. He slides his fingers out of you and you can feel your walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled again, as Minghao pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his toned torso. 

You love how Minghao looks with his shirt off, all of his tattoos on full display for you. You sit up and run your hands across his chest, admiring the art on his skin. Minghao just smirks and leans down to kiss you. 

Minghao pushes you back against the bed once more, this time crawling over you. His lips slide against yours expertly as his hands trail up your sides before his fingers stop at your boobs. It’s now his turn to admire your chest.

His body rests between your legs and Minghao grinds down against you, his bulge rubbing right against your bare clit. You whimper into Minghao’s mouth, impatient to feel him inside of you. His fingers grope at your tits over your thin shirt and you can feel your nipples pebble up under his touch,

“Hao,” you whine, “please. No more teasing, I need you to fuck me.”

“If you insist, pretty girl,” Minghao says. He pulls away from you, this time to strip from the rest of his clothes and all of his accessories. You quickly do the same, disposing of all of your clothes, besides your stockings. You have yet to confirm if your best friend actually has a thigh highs kink, but the way he fucks you harder when you keep them on doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

No matter what people may say about how Minghao treats you, you’re his princess and he really would do anything for you. Which is why he’s laying down on the bed, allowing you to crawl into his lap and line yourself up to twitching cock. There are very few things you love more than riding Minghao. Only your Sanrio plushies and your Skzoo keychains come to mind, so yeah, you really love riding your best friend.

Slowly, you sink down onto Minghao’s cock, taking a moment to adjust to the feeling of him stretching out your walls. You can hear the shallow breath Minghao takes when he bottoms out and you arch your back at the feeling of his tip brushing up against your cervix. 

“Will never get tired of your tight little pussy,” Minghao growls.

You can’t respond, your brain is already a bit too incoherent to think of a proper response. Instead you lean forward and brace your hands on Minghao’s chest as you start to roll your hips. Minghao’s hands fly up to grab at your ass, helping to bounce you up and down in his lap. His fingers knead at your ass, the feeling of his strong fingers digging into your skin sends even more jolts of pleasure to your core.

Even during sex, you and Minghao couldn’t be more different. Your moans are wanton and loud, shameless in showing your pleasure, where Minghao is more grunts and huffs and the occasional dirty sentence.

Your white thigh highs look pretty pressed up against Minghao’s tattooed thigh and the sight makes you wonder if Minghao is on to something with his thigh high kink. You stare down at the man as he smirks up at you. He moves your hands so they’re off his chest and braced against the mattress so your body hovers over his even more, his mouth now level with your breasts.

Your pussy clenches down at the feeling of his warm tongue running over your stiff nipples. Your breath is labored as you stare down at Minghao. The only view you get is of his dark mullet though, your best friend lost in his pleasure of sucking on your tits. 

You’re far past having the ability to think straight, let alone focus on more than one thing, and your hips stop moving in turn to enjoy Minghao’s mouth against your tits. This doesn’t fare well with him though, and he tightens his grip on your ass, guiding you down his length as he pounds up into you.

With Minghao’s help, his cock now hits against your g-spot, making sparks fly behind your eyes with each thrust. You can barely breath, only letting out soft pants as you do your best to fuck yourself on Minghao’s cock without letting the pleasure overtake you too much. 

Luckily you don’t have to wait too long, as Minghao pops his mouth of your boob to growl out, “M’close.”

Minghao pushes himself up, sitting up so he can press your chests together. Your arms wrap around his neck as you cling onto him, your hips moving frantically to get you both off. All it takes to send you over the edge is the open mouthed kiss Minghao presses to the sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers dig into his back as your legs shake as your cunt clenches down, causing Minghao to reach his high as well. Minghao lets out a low groan as his cum spurts into you, filling you up.

The two of you stay there for a while, holding onto each other while you catch your breath. After a few moments Minghao slowly lifts you up and pulls out of you, his cum sliding out of you as well. Minghao grumbles about having to wash his sheets now but you know he’s not that mad, especially considering it was his cum.

You press soft kisses to Minghao’s face, before leaving a peck on his lips. Minghao giggles at the gesture which makes you smile in return. If Minghao’s friends think that the two of you being friends is strange, you’re sure they’d have an aneurysm at Minghao giggling after just having sex with you. To you though, it’s just like any other day with Minghao, and you wouldn’t have it (or either of you) any other way.

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join my taglist: here!

[ikigaisvt]

Everything Everywhere All at Once

You have always loved Vernon and that much he knows. What he doesn't know is that you love him more than a best friend probably should. He also doesn't know you're virgin; but that has no correlation, right? Or does it?

What you don't know about him? Well, he's in love with you too. And surprise, surprise, he's a virgin too.

pairing: reader x vernon, she/her!reader x vernon, virgin!reader x virgin!vernon, inexperienced!reader x somewhat experienced!vernon, bottom!reader x top!vernon (but no real power dynamics) words: 3.9k content: smut, fluff, slight angst warnings: dirty talk (subtle), begging, praising, fingering, first time for mcs, protected sex, kinda love making, very sappy tbh, vernon is vry horny, they're desperate for each other, petnames (for reader: babe, baby, sweetheart, my girl, girlfriend / for vernon: babe, baby, boyfriend), vernon is called pretty, slight angst ig?, reader wears lingerie note: MINORS/AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI. i first thought of this idea after playing a silly kpop dating game with my bff and i got vernon as my best friend and first time,,, i thought it fit him all too well so i decided to write it! you absolutely don't have to know the movie EEAAO to read this, it's absolutely not related to its story. the last paragraph of the fic is inspired by a quote from EEAAO which i'll put here "of all the places i could be, i just want to be here with you." (same quote as on the banner). also, once again, shout out to @homerunhansol for hyping me up while i was in the process of writing this and for being so excited! this one is for you, my fav dolly 🫶

You love Vernon. You really do. You don't think you could have lived your life without him and thanks god you didn't had to. You often talk about being soulmates with each other; how the feeling of being together transcends anything else. Any love you have ever felt feels so little compared to what he makes you feel.

And people must be thinking how lucky you are to have such a wonderful partner.

But here's the problem: Vernon is your best friend and you have been in love with him for as long as you can remember.

As Vernon looks at his best friend sat next to him, on his couch, in his dorm, he wonders how a situation can feel so blessed and yet so cursed. He truly thinks being your best friend is the greatest gift in his life; you are an amazing friend, you never fail to support him and let him know how precious he is to this world. You understand every single one of his obsessions, from movies to cats to tacos. Despite all of this, you will forever – at least he thinks so – a source of hurt for him. Vernon has been in love with you for as long as he can remember and that's a lot of time. You have always been part of his life, just like his love for you has always been here, rooted deep in his heart, never swaying or moving aside for anyone else.

He knows it's all because of this love that he's still a virgin. He also knows that he probably should have gotten over it by now and lose his virginity with the numerous girls who have tried to get with him. He truly knows all this and yet he cannot get over this deep-rooted emotion he feels when you look at him, just as you are doing right now.

"Vernon? Earth to Vernon?" you say, waving your hand in front of his eyes, "Are you even listening to me?" you ask him, chuckling.

"Sorry, was up in my head for a sec." he answers, turning to give you his full attention.

"Let me guess, were you thinking about Everything Everywhere All at Once, again?" you tease him in a smile.

"No, I wasn't," he says, frowning a little, "It wasn't anything important." It was important.

"Okay, if you say so!" you tell him cheerfully, "Anyway, as I was saying, I was on a date with this boy and you know what was one of his first question?" you ask him, waiting for his answer which comes in a shake of his head, "If I was a virgin!" you say, dropping your hand in a dramatic way, "When I told him I was still one, he bolted out of that café-"

"Wait, you're still a virgin?" Vernon asks, completely surprised at the news. If there was someone who could pulled anyone, it'd be you.

"Oh, you missed that part too?" you tell him, still annoyed at the memory of said boy, Vernon nodding again, too shocked to let any words out, "yeah I confessed to- no I mean, I broke the news like 5 minutes ago. What you were thinking about must have been really important. Anyway, now I’m thinking I really need to get rid of my virginity card because it's blocking every relationship for me."

"But how can you get rid of it? It's not like you're going to jump on the first boy who's slightly interested in you?" he says, in disbelief at your words, "Right?"

"No! Of course not," you say trying to calm down your nerves at what you're about to say, "That's why I was thinking about this- What if you become my first time?" you finally throw as Vernon takes a sip of his coke, making him choke on it.

"What?" he answers in a strangled voice.

"Listen to me before you say no, please!" you beg, your hands joined in front of you, "I just- I trust you and I love you and you are definitely experienced," I am definitely not, Vernon thinks to himself, his cock already straining in his pants at the thought of even touching you, "And I can't think of anyone else better than you for this." you conclude, looking desperately in his eyes for any sign that you did not scared him away.

"This is a crazy idea, Y/N." his voice still hoarse from the coke incident.

"It really isn't," you fight back, "We don't have to talk about it to anyone. It will just be between me and you."

"Do you really trust me with this?" he asks you, pondering about the idea. if I say yes, when I say yes, it will be for me only, Vernon says to himself. So selfish. "If we do this, I have one request." Vernon tells you, already knowing his answer.

"Anything you want." you tell him, already eager to please. Cute.

"You have to watch Everything Everywhere All at Once with me." he asks, making this easier on purpose – if he’s true to himself he’s doing it mostly for him rather than you.

It's a few days later, when you scrubbed every inch of your skin that you and Vernon meet up – in your apartment (as it is roommate free) so you can, quite literally, fuck around. If someone told you months ago, you'd be doing this with your best friend, you wouldn’t believe them.

When Vernon walks in your apartment, you can see the anxiety on his face and in the way he holds himself. You’re starting to think you have broken your best friend with your proposition.

"You good?" you ask him, getting a hold of his hand, making him jump out.

"Y-Yeah! I'm fine," he tells you, his cock hardening already hardening against his pants for you.

"Come on," you say as you give him your hand, leading him to the bedroom.

When you both go into your room, Vernon notices how it is cleaner than any other day, no clothes lying on the floor (even though that will not last) while your bed is done nicely. You sit down at the foot of the bed, Vernon still standing in front of you.

"How- How do we process?" Vernon asks you, his knees shaking slightly.

"We don't have to do this, you know?" you say softly, "Maybe it was a bad idea after all." you mumble.

"No, no, no," he tells you hastily, falling on his knees to get to eyes level with you, "It's fine. I want to do this." he says, holding your hands tightly. "Do you?"

"Yeah, I want to do this too." you say, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"That's good to know," he chuckles slightly, stroking your hand with his thumb, "Can I kiss you?"

"Hm, you can." The nerves starting to get to you too, before easing up when Vernon gets a hold of your hand.

He leans in slowly at first, so you can back out at any moment but when he feels your hand squeeze his in a you can kiss me, he slams his lips to yours. He feels your hands move to his shirt, grabbing it tightly. After a few seconds of a sweet kiss, you part, feeling the emotion of finally sharing a kiss settle down in the pit of your stomach. You hide your face in his neck, whining softly.

"What is it?" he whispers, rubbing your back over your shirt.

"Nothing, 'm fine." you mumble, raising your head slightly, kissing at his jaw, making him shudder. You make your way back to his mouth, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way. Vernon hisses at each one, feeling sensitive already, his cock getting harder every time your lips touch his skin.

"Can I kiss you again?" you whisper against his lips.

"Of course," he says as he gets up, "Come on, lay down for me."

"Y-Yeah, okay."

"Good." he says as he gets onto the bed, holding himself up above you.

"Come here," you mumble softly, raising your arms to touch him, "please."

Vernon lowers himself, your nose touching, as you close the space between your lips, opening your mouth slightly. You moan quietly when he starts to kiss you harder as if he wanted to do this his whole life. If only you knew.

As the kiss gets even more heated, you start to play with the hem of his shirt, wanting him to get it off so you can feel him completely.

"Want me to get this off?" he asks you, trying to keep it together for your sake. After all, you think he has experience.

"Yeah," you breath out, "I can take mine off too." you whisper softly.

"it's okay, you don't have to," he utters, sitting up on his heels, "Anything you're comfortable with."

"I want to." you tell him, looking up with shiny eyes.

"Alright, baby." he answers before pulling up his shirt, revealing his toned torso, blushed a light pink.

"You look so pretty-" you sigh out, laying your hand on his stomach, feeling his happy trail under your palm.

"T-Thank you." he mumbles, reaching out for your shirt in a sign that he wants to see you too. Your shirt gets pulled off in a few seconds, revealing a pretty baby pink bra, made mostly of lace.

"Fuck- You look so good," he moans out, his pants getting tighter at every passing second, “Is this for me?" he asks in a low voice, reaching out for your chest, almost hissing – as you moan – at the sensation of the lace under his fingers, as if it burns him.

"Hm, yeah," you admit in a small voice, "Wanted to be pretty for you- It's a matching set, too." you moan out at the way he plays with your covered tits. He must have done this to so many girls, you think to yourself, and you feel the tears welling up in your eyes but you push it down. If you can have him at least once, you will take it. No matter how much it hurts.

"You're going to kill me," he whines, the desperation making the fire in the pit of his stomach grow bigger and bigger, "Can I see?"

"Yeah." you nod, feeling the shyness gather up in a blush all the way down your neck. As soon as the words are out of your mouth, he works at the buttons on your pants, chuckling slightly at the way his hands are shaking from nervousness. Once your pants slide down, Vernon gasps at the way your baby pink panties hug your pussy so well.

"It looks gorgeous- No, I mean- You look gorgeous." he sighs out, the stress making him mumble rapidly.

"Thank you," you exhale, clutching onto his hand tightly, "Why are you so nervous? You already did this. I’m sure you know what to do."

"Well- I know what I’m doing b-but only up until this point." he mumbles under his breath, finally confessing to being a virgin too.

"What do you mean?" you ask, not quite understanding the situation.

"I mean- I already did all this and some more. I already used my fingers on someone but-" he chokes out, the words not quite wanting to form in his throat, "I’m a virgin too."

"Oh." you say softly, shocked that your best friend – whom you are deeply in love with and who's extremely hot, is a virgin too. He softly lets go of his hold on your hand, understanding that you might want to back out of your arrangement. After all, this is not what you were expecting.

"I’d understand if you don't want to keep going." he utters.

"Hey," you interject gently, holding his hand once again, "Can I know why?"

He sighs out; "Maybe one day I will tell you." In a very very very long time.

"Okay, that's fine," you smile, "It doesn't matter anyway."

"No? It doesn't?" he asks, surprised.

"No, it doesn’t. I want you," you reply, looking up at him, a pleading look across your face, "And I’m so wet. You can't just leave me like this."

"Fuck- Okay," he murmurs, knowing you want him and not his experience making this whole situation way different, "What can I do? I don't want to do something you don't want."

"Will you touch me? Please?" you ask, your hands softly touching his back, goosebumps appearing on his skin.

"Can you open your legs for me, baby?" he asks, his hands pushing your legs open gently. You fall open at his might, Vernon seeing your pretty panty with a wet patch already showing.

"Shit baby- You're so fucking wet for me already."

"i told you so," you whine as your hips buck at him, "Will you touch me n-" you choke out, not even being able to finish your phrase that his fingers meet over your panties, rubbing your clit in a circle motion. Your moans fill the room pretty soon and its only music to Vernon’s ears.

"You sound so good for me- you're driving me crazy." he tells you, his cock pressing against the harshness of his pants' seam making him groan out. He knows he already ruined his briefs from how much pre-cum is oozing from his cock.

"Shit- Vernon," you say, choking out on your moans, "Just get rid of my panties, please."

"Y-Yeah, of course, sure," he mumbles, panicking at the thought of seeing your pussy in full light. He tugs at your panties, your hips raising to help him get it off, "You look so pretty," he says, the second it's off, already teasing your hole with one finger, "Everywhere. You look so pretty, everywhere." he rectifies, blushing deeply. "I’ll start slow, okay? Tell me if it hurts or you want me to stop."

"Don't worry," you say as you grasp at his other hand, intertwining your fingers together, "I will." you whisper, bringing your intertwined hands to your lips, kissing his knuckles.

He slowly thrust his index, feeling your warmth hugging him tight, making him wonder how the fuck are you even gonna take his cock.

“You good, babe?” he tells you, breathless, brushing your hair out of your face messily.

“Yeah- feels so good.” you say, in a high pitch, already choking on pleasure. “You can move. I- can take it.” you assure him, closing your eyes, letting your body fall into the slow rhythm he settled for.

Vernon works you open slowly, your hips bucking up slightly at the sensation after he adds a second finger.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he says, your walls clamping around his fingers, “How are you even going to take me?” he mumbles under his breath as he never stops his movements, bringing you so close to the edge.

“I’m so close, please-” You beg, wanting to fall off the edge already. Your hand grips his even harder, wanting to feel him all at once.

“You can come whenever, okay? Just let me know,” he replies, adding pressure to your clit with his thumb, “I might need to prepare my heart to see my pretty girl cum.”

“Stop being so silly,” you say, short of breath, “you might kill the mood.”

“I’m not silly,” he says out loud but as you fall of the edge he adds, “I’m just in love with you.” quietly, thinking you will not hear it with the fog shortening all of your sensations but your sense of touch. You feel Vernon everywhere; in the depth of your brain, thoughts of him dazing everything for you and also in the beating of your heart, how it slows down when his breath gets caught in his throat and how it speeds up when he utters a word, especially when he confesses of being in love with you. Your pleasure keeps going up and up, thinking of how he’s in love with you as much as you’re in love with him, until it starts to goes down and you realize he doesn’t know you heard him and that you love him too.

“Me too.” you whisper, once you catch your breath, as if loving him is still a shameful secret that should never be brought into daylight.

“This is not the kind of things people say after their first orgasm.” he utters as he rubs at your hips, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m in love with you too.” you clarify, bringing your hand up to the hair falling into his eyes as shock can be read on his face.

“Y-you heard me?” he answers quietly, his world slightly crumbling around him as his brain didn’t register your words just yet.

“Yeah, I did.” you chuckle slightly as your rub at his hand, waiting for realization to hit him. Realization that you love him too.

“Shit- this is so ba-” he starts, before cutting himself off, “did you just say you’re in love with me too?”

“Yeah, I did.” You repeat, amusement showing on your face.

“Oh. Oh.” He utters, happiness making its way on his face as quickly as pink tint his cheeks, “Do you, really? You’re not just saying this, right? It’s not an in-the-moment thing? You really do, right?” he babbles fast, nervousness still present within his heart – and in his voice.

“Vernon, baby,” you say, grabbing his face in your two hands, stroking his cheeks, “I’ve been in love with you since the first time I got to learn about love. This is the cheesiest thing I can probably say but it’s the truth. You’re who taught me love, who made me realize I’d never settle for someone who loves me less than you do. Trust me when I say I love you; I do, in every way. As a best friend and as a girl who thought she was in an unrequited love all of her life.” you confess, hoping it can ease his nerves – mostly so he can fuck you. You want him even more, now.

“Do you know you just made this whole thing way hotter, now?” He mumbles, redness still covering his cheeks – and even his torso.

“By confessing my undying love for you?” you giggle, your hands resting on his shoulders, playing with his hair at back of his neck, “I’m glad then, baby.”

“Do you want to keep doing this?” he asks, leaning down to kiss at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses from one side to the other as your hands wrap around his shoulder, whining at the way he’s so eager to please you.

“Baby- yeah, please,” you plead, “I want you.”

Vernon groans slightly at your desperation, thinking that maybe all along you wanted to have him and not just to have someone take your virgin card. Vernon keeps leaving kisses along your neckline, your collarbones, your jaw, slowly working you two up again; you, pleased by the sensation of his warm mouth marking your body forever and him, thrilled to please you as he hears your sweet whimpers begging him to fuck you. He detaches himself from you, despite your whines making him want to grab you in his arms and never let you go, to take a condom from his jean’s back pocket. He climbs on the bed again, sitting on his heels as he puts the condom on, while you watch him resting on your elbows.

“Are you ready?” Vernon asks as he finds his place over you again, opening your legs slightly with his hand while you lay down again.

“Hm, I am,” you whisper, brushing his hair back, “Are you?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, offering his hand to you in a please hold me, “take a deep breath for me, okay? I read it can sting but we will go slow, okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I trust you.” you add before he pushes his tip inside. He keeps going so he fully settles in you, your pussy clenching around him as your hand squeezes his.

“You’re okay?” he asks, nuzzling his nose against your cheek before leaving a full of love kiss against it.

“Hm, j-just give me a minute.” you utter out, leaning into his touch against your cheek.

“You feel so good around me, my girl.” he whispers as he moans out loud at the way you clench around him at his words.

“Y-you can move.” you tell him, feeling your slight pain subside, only for pleasure to replace it.

As soon as he settles a gentle rhythm, you can feel his pleasure building up as he moans out louder at every passing second, your whines mixing with his, your pleasure sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“Babe- fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he whines, loving the way you tighten around him, “You feel so good- fuck, you’re so good for me.” he mumbles incoherently, pleasure taking over his every cells.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you whimper, “you can cum, cum for me, cum for me, baby,” you tell him, holding him as he plops against your chest, his hip giving one last push as he comes, burbling against your shoulder – a mix of moans, I love you’s and thank you’s.

You rub his back for a few minutes, waiting for him to come down his high, feeling his breath hit your neck every time he exhales. His heart, which you feel strumming against your chest, slowly calm down before he pulls out of you and gets up to get rid of the condom. He’s quickly back on the bed, holding himself over you, his face still harboring a pretty hue of red, drops of sweat still showing at his hairline.

“You look so pretty,” you whisper, looking up at him with stars in your eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers, a deeper shade of red creeping on his cheeks, “you didn’t come.” He mumbles under his breath, a slight pout making its way on his lips.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, slowly pushing him back so you can straddle him, “we have a whole life now, don’t we?” you laugh, kissing his cheek before getting up, “Come on! We need to shower.”

It’s only after a shared shower and countless kisses that you find yourself under the sheet again your head resting against his naked chest. You gently play with his fingers as it rests over the sheet, his other hand lightly rubbing at your bare back, giving you goosebumps all over.

“What now?” he says quietly, as if he expects you to let him slip through your fingers.

“Now, you can call me your girlfriend,” you chuckle slightly, knowing he doesn’t how to go about the new relationship, “and I’ll call you my boyfriend.” Vernon giggles at your corniness, loving how you can ease up his nerves so quickly.

“Okay, girlfriend. What do you want to do for our first date?” he asks after leaving a kiss on the top of your head.

You think for a few seconds, still playing with his fingers as he rests his chin on your head, before you sit up quickly, turning around to face him.

“I know, I know!” you say loudly, almost jumping up and down from excitement.

“Okay, babe,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “care to share a thought?”

“Let’s have watch Everything Everywhere All at Once as a first date!” you tell him, proud of your idea.

“Oh, didn’t I choose my girl well?” he says before grabbing your arm, making you fall down in his embrace again.

No matter what the future holds for you and Vernon, you both know that despite all the places you could be, you both just you want to be with each other. In every world. In every timeline. And in every universe.

thank you SO much for reading! remember that likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated so don't hesitate if you liked it 🫶