#Yes he did have sex with him but he also raised him from childhood we have some complex stuff going on here

[nightcolorz]

I just know that whenever Armand violently snaps at Marius he is like 😨😨 my sweet cherub…what has become you, as if Amadeo didn’t learn that shit from him 💀💀

Local father/Master shocked by child/properties tendency towards violent emotional reactions after raising him to expect to be beaten whenever he is pissed off

[authorhjk1]

In regards to Jihyo's new relationship. Could you write how they met through mutual friend that leads up to them working out together and much more. Gym sex would be great.

(whether using his name or "Y/n" is fine)

My Girlfriend

(Park Jihyo X Male Reader)

The first time you saw her, you thought nothing of it. Yeah, sure. She is a famous singer, an idol. Not just in Korea, but the whole world. A beautiful, talented woman in a whole group of beautiful and talented women. But you never expected all of this to happen.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes, then?"

You blink. Once. Twice.

And you remember that one day. That one day a month ago. When she greeted you with a simple

"Hi."

Park Jihyo gave you a loving smile, although the two of you just met.

"Jihyo, it's a pleasure to meet you."

You stared at her hand a second too long, but you eventually took it

"(Y/n). The pleasure is mine."

Jihyo chuckled. You didn't expect to be greeted this formally. After all, you were just there to celebrate with the father to be. He is a good friend of yours and, as it turns out, a childhood friend of Jihyo's.

"You know her, right?"

You glanced at your friend, before looking back at her. Jihyo looked stunning. Her hair flew down her naked shoulder, her face was decorated with a smile that played around her lips. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement.

"Of course I do!"

That came out more defensive than you thought it would.

It made both of them laugh.

"Well, I did tell her she is your bias."

He seemed to be enjoying your embarrassment.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You never actually thought you had a chance to meet her. But you dreamed about it more than just once. This wasn't it though. You were supposed to look cool or something. Like, impressive. Maybe wearing a suit, while you walk up to her confidently, asking for her number on the street. Or working out and she would walk in and see you.

Or anything else. But this was just weird. The two of you sitting next to each other at a party in a chicken restaurant. Your friend to your right and his wife opposite from him. Jihyo to your left. And the rest of the chairs were filled with the couple's friends. You knew some. But some were also strangers. Just like Jihyo. Well, not really. You felt like you already knew her.

"And I appreciate that. Thank you very much. It's always great to see a Once."

Jihyo patted your shoulder, while smiling at you. Your embarrassment got replaced by butterflies in your stomach. How can she be so beautiful?

"I-I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

You groaned internally. What was that? That was really lame. But how were you supposed to answer?

"Thank you, you too."

Jihyo kept her smile on as the two of you raised your glasses.

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

You were always a little awkward around women, especially when they were as beautiful as Jihyo. But with a little bit of alcohol and some internal speeches about bravery, you actually did manage to keep talking to her for almost the entirety of the night. You were glad the two of you hit it off and it seemed like Jihyo really enjoyed your kind of humor. As the night progressed, you realized that this might actually turn into more than just a spontaneous one on one fan meet.

"Please. Stop. It hurts."

Jihyo kept giggling and laughing, while you told her a joke or a funny story about yourself. For some reason, she was able to tell when you were actually sincere and when you were exaggerating. At one point, she started to hold her stomach, while you were about to get to the climax of your current story.

"Let's have one last toast, before we all go home."

Both of your smiles faded, when you realized that the party was ending. And with that, also your time together.

After the toast, Jihyo stood up and you did the same, trying to be a gentleman, until the very last moment, you helped her with putting on her jacket, before walking her outside.

"I had a great time today."

Jihyo exclaimed, taking a deep breath of the midnight air. It was a little cold, but still comfortable.

"Me too. The party was nice."

"I'm not talking about the party."

"No?"

You pretended to be confused, looking around.

"If you weren't at the party, where is Jihyo then?"

You made her laugh again.

"Jihyo!"

You yelled, not very loud, in the direction of the restaurant you had just stepped out of.

"Stop it!"

Jihyo laughed, slightly embarrassed, because a couple of people were still walking by.

"You can't just start screaming in the middle of the night!"

The two of you exchanged a short giggle as you felt the energy slowly escape the scene. It's that feeling, when you just left a party or an event and you are kinda excited to go home. That kind of feeling. Jihyo seemed to feel it too, since she slightly turned towards a direction, probably where she came from, to signal you that she wanted you to walk with her.

While the two of you walked side by side through the sleeping city, the two of you barely talked. Jihyo didn't need to ask, if you were going to walk her home. She didn't drink that much, but it was still the middle of the night. And you didn't care that you would had to walk home longer than usual. After all, it gave you more time with Jihyo.

Eventually, the two of you did reach her apartment complex. She seemed reluctant to just say goodbye. Instead, she looked to the ground, before turning towards you.

"You haven't told me how the story ends."

"Hm?"

You zoned out for just a moment. The slight buzz, this gorgeous woman and the night air made you feel like you were walking on clouds.

"The story, remember? Just before we walked home. I really want to hear the end."

It took you a moment. You were just about to tell her right then and there, when you suddenly realize what she was hinting at. Her eyes, big and dark, were looking up at you as if she was asking you for something. To read between the lines.

"Well, the story is quite long. And it's too late to tell you the rest of it now."

You paused for just a second, trying to figure out, if you read her words correctly. But Jihyo only showed you her usual friendly smile.

"Why don't you... Well, why don't you give me your number and we figure something out?"

You spoke a little faster than you wanted to. Jihyo definitely caught onto your nervousness.

"Sure. Why don't we do that?"

Her smile now seemed to tease you a little.

"Great. Just let me get-"

"But maybe you should give me your number. Because of my schedule and stuff."

You nodded hesitantly. Were you reading her wrong? Is that her strategy for people who aren't idols and ask for her number? So she doesn't get bombarded with texts and calls?

"I'm not playing you."

She seemed to have looked through you once more.

"I really did enjoy the party."

Once again, her eyes were telling you that it was in fact, once again, not about the party.

"Alright, then."

You took the phone out of her hand and started to put your number in.

"I'm just letting you know right now, that I'm a very busy man. I barely have time at all. Only during the night. So if you want to hang out then..."

You gave her her phone back with a cheeky grin as you hear her laugh.

"Yeah, sure. Me too. I'm usually available between 11 pm and 2 am."

The two of you looked into each other's eyes for a moment, until Jihyo cleared her throat. Or maybe you were just staring.

"Anyways, I better get home now. Busy schedule tomorrow."

"Yeah, same same. Ton of work to do."

Your exaggerated tone made her shake her head.

"Good night. I will text you soon."

"Sleep tight."

You planned on just waiting for her to enter the building. But instead of leaving, Jihyo suddenly stepped towards you. Before you could react, she was already standing on her tiptoes, giving your right cheek a kiss. Her soft lips seemed to heat up your whole body.

This was the fourth time within the last three weeks that you entered Jihyo's apartment complex, not counting the night you had met. The two of you met up a couple of times by now. Your first date included a cup of coffee and a walk around the park near her company. For the second one, you took Jihyo out to dinner and you were surprised by how good she looked in a long, black backless dress. She ordered ice cream for desert. But while she ate, she was complaining about how she would have to work out more, if she ate so many calories. And that's how the two of you talked about your workouts a little. One thing let to another and here you were. You're not just dating Park Jihyo, you were now also her newly appointed gym buddy.

"You started with out me?"

You walked over to her as you saw Jihyo sitting on the floor in a corner of the studio, trying to catch her breath.

"Just a little. You are late."

You quickly checked your watch.

"I'm not. You're early."

You finally reached her, towering over her.

"Guilty."

She gave you a cheeky smile, wiggling her eyebrows. You leaned down, softly raising her chin with a finger. Closing your eyes, you felt your lips meet. Her warm breath mixed with yours, her scent lingering in the air around you.

Not your first kiss. Not your first kiss with Jihyo. And yet the best you've had so far. Not just with her. But because of her.

A couple of moments later, you helped her off the ground, without missing the opportunity to admire her body.

"Got you something."

Jihyo reached for her bag and you watched as she took something out of it.

"Here. Thought it might help."

"This is a towel."

You said in disbelief. Not because you didn't appreciate it. But because this was completely unexpected.

"Yeah, I know. I bought it for you."

A grin played around her lips, probably because of your dumb look.

"Don't play with me. I saw your commercial two days ago. I'm sure they threw these after you when you went home."

Jihyo rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

"It doesn't work like that, you know? They don't just give me anything, just because I model for them."

For some reason, you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you are dating a famous person. A singer, a dancer, a model and much more. You never expected to hear these kind of words from you girlfriend. Sorry, gym buddy.

"Plus, you should check out the back, before you judge me."

Jihyo suddenly gave you a cute pout, before walking away, leaving you standing.

You turned the towel around and there it was. Your name. She actually had put a lot of thought into this. You had told her, that your towel got stolen while you worked out before.

"Jihyo!"

You chased after her.

Throughout the next two hours, people came and went, while you and Jihyo focused on working out. You were able to resolve the towel debate quickly, knowing that Jihyo doesn't like to stay mad for long.

Eventually, you found yourself lying on a bench, after just having worked on your arms. Jihyo walked over to you, handing you your new towel.

"Thanks."

You mumbled, still breathing heavily as you wiped your face.

"We should work out this later more often."

You looked up at her words, scanning the gym. She was right. Except for you and Jihyo, there was no one here anymore.

"Yeah, it's nice to be alone with you."

Your eyes shot back up at her. Jihyo's eyebrow was raised, a cocky grin on her face.

"I mean, it's nice to work out with you alone, you know? No one disturbing us..."

"Mhm."

Jihyo chuckled, before turning around. She stepped towards a bench nearby. Placing one knee and one hand on it, she grabbed a dumbbell and resumed her workout.

After what had happened, you couldn't help but look at her for a couple of moments longer. And you soon realized that Jihyo was in a quite interesting position. Despite her loose sweat pants, you had quite the view.

There had been more than just a couple of times you thought you had been caught, when you looked at her chest maybe a little too long. The two of you hadn't been intimate with each other, except for kissing. And none of you brought it up so far, but there was definitely tension there. So this almost felt like an invitation, but also like a coincidence at the same time. Jihyo could've faced the other way. She must have known that you could see her butt through her pants. Or maybe she did this on purpose, because otherwise, you would've been able to look directly into her cleavage? But then again, she would have been able to see that. So...

You were over thinking again. This tends to happen, whenever you are with Jihyo. You don't want to mess this up.

"You can touch me, if you want."

Your hart dropped mid beat.

"Huh?"

You were now very aware that the gym's walls are covered with mirrors. Fuck.

Through one of those, Jihyo was looking directly at you. A, what seemed to be naughty smile, played around her lips.

"Don't just stare. Touch."

"Well, I don't want to- I mean, I did-didn't mean to-"

Jihyo rolled her eyes.

"Your part time innocence can be very charming. But right now, I don't want you to be innocent."

Now, she looked at you over her shoulder.

"I want you to touch me."

You quickly looked around, making sure that no one was there. Reaching forward, you felt the soft fabric of her pants and the firmness of her ass. You saw Jihyo biting her lip as you placed your other hand on her cheeks as well.

"That's it."

She sighed, stopping mid work out to enjoy your groping of her butt.

Now that you felt the ass cheeks of one of the most beautiful women on earth in your hands, you decided to push your luck a little. After all, she had told you to not be this innocent.

"The cameras don't do you justice. Usually, your front is the focus."

You saw Jihyo smirk in the mirror. She knee what you are trying to hint at.

"Go on then."

Jihyo turned around and your hands fell off her ass. But the disappointment only lasted for a second, when Jihyo straddled the bench, now fully turned towards you.

"Touch me."

You reached for her chest this time, feeling the fabric of the pink sports bra, before you squeezed her boobs.

"Right there."

Jihyo let out a moan as her head dropped back.

You enjoyed yourself for a while, squeezing and kneading her tits. Eventually you leaned forward and kissed her shoulders. Then, you moved downwards, while you let your thumbs graze over her clothed nipples.

"Oh, god."

Another moan escaped her lips.

Just when you were about to place your lips on the top of her tits for the first time, Jihyo leaned back a little.

"Not so fast."

She reached forward herself, this time. You felt her hand palming your cock over your shorts.

"Ladies first."

You gladly left her tits this time, while Jihyo glid off the bench she was sitting on. Now on her knees, she quickly pulled off your pants. A smile played around her lips as she leaned down to give your clothed cock a kiss.

Your pants and underwear were quickly taken care of and Jihyo was greeted with your cock.

"Nice."

She murmured, before kissing it again.

You couldn't believe that she was actually doing this. Right here. In a public gym. You were getting a blowjob in a public gym. By Park Jihyo. It was still unreal to you, even when she wrapped her lips around your dick.

"Jihyo, I-"

"Shh!"

She let your cock fall out of her mouth and looked up at you.

"Just relax, baby."

You took a shakey breath and watched her resume her work. Her lips glid along the length of your shaft. One hand held your base, while the other stroked your thigh in a soothing motion.

Jihyo was going slow as she lovingly took care of your cock. Her eyes were closed by now, enjoying your dick as she sucked you off.

You sat on the bench, your toes curling. You needed some kind of outlet for your pleasure. You didn't know where to put your hands. Behind you? Or...

You reached forward, placing both of them on Jihyo's head. She moaned around your cock, sending small vibrations through your entire body.

"God."

You sighed as your head rolled back. Jihyo's lips reached her fingers around your base, whenever she moved down. It made your tip graze her throat. Her muscles squeezed your cock.

Eventually, Jihyo let your dick fall out of her mouth.

"I need you."

She quickly straddled your lap, your cock resting against her tummy. As she looked down, she bit her lip, seeing how deep you could go.

"Take these off me."

Jihyo motioned towards her pants and you quickly pulled off her waistband.

"Wait."

You stopped midway, looking up at her.

"Do you have protection?"

Jihyo slowly shook her head, a disappointed look on her face.

Your hands were still on her waist. And you could tell you're only a small tug of her pants away from seeing her pussy.

"But I have some upstairs."

Once she remembered that she had some in her room, her face lit up.

"Hurry."

You lied in Jihyo's bed, catching your breath. She lied next to you, her finger drawing circles on your naked chest. It was quite for a while, except for your breathing. You stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

"Wow."

Jihyo laughed, lifting her head off your shoulder.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know."

You shruged your shoulders.

"I didn't think it would be... You know? This good."

"Is that a compliment?"

A teasing smile greeted you as Jihyo looked up at you.

"Yeah."

She rolled her eyes, her head resting on your shoulder again.

"I liked the workout too."

"Oh, totally. The workout."

You pretended to be oblivious to her raised eyebrow.

"But I liked what happened afterwards way more."

Jihyo scoffed with a smile on her face.

You felt her tits press against your side as she snuggled closer.

"This is great cardio, you know? Maybe we could cut the workouts short from now on."

"Doe's this mean we will do this again?"

You were surprised at Jihyo's suspicious tone. Didn't she trust you?

"Of course. Why wouldn't we?"

"Well, I guess you just experienced what every fan could wish for. I wouldn't be surprised if I never see you again."

"That hurts. Why would you think I would just leave?"

"You won't?"

Jihyo looked up at you again.

"Of course not."

You shook your head.

"I've always liked you. Even before I met you in person. Why would I leave you now?"

"Fine."

You were surprised at how quickly you had just convinced her.

The two of you lied for a while in silence, before you heard Jihyo speak again.

"There is just one more thing."

You watched her as she pointed at her alarm clock on her nightstand.

"Judging by how late it is, you won't be going home tonight."

You were planning on going home, actually. But it seemed like that was not gonna happen now. You didn't expect to be this close to her already. Yes, you just had sex. But sleeping in the same bed? You didn't know each other's sleeping habits and-

"And if you leave my room tomorrow, you will meet at least some of the girls."

You gulped after her words just interrupted your thoughts. Right. The rest of Twice. You could already feel your nervousness rise, just thinking about them. The fact that you were lying with Jihyo in bed, naked, was already a miracle.

"So..."

You heared her hesitate. Her eyes locked on the door as if she was too shy to look at you.

"Should I introduce you as my boyfriend?"

You were stunned. Despite dating Jihyo, you never thought you would get this far with her. Was she really asking you to be her boyfriend? You? The ordinary guy, whom she had met by chance? You are not an idol. You're not rich. You had always thought that this wasn't that serious for Jihyo. You expected every idol to be with a rich guy or at least another idol.

The first time you saw her, you thought nothing of it. Yeah, sure. She is a famous singer, an idol. Not just in Korea, but the whole world. A beautiful, talented woman in a whole group of beautiful and talented women. But you never expected all of this to happen.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes, then?"

"Oh, god. Keep going."

Jihyo moans into your neck as you sit on the bench you were just working out on, Jihyo in your lap. The hole in her leggings is the product of her earlier advances, which you silenced with a forceful rip of her clothing. It now enables you to hold onto her firm butt, which seems to look and feel even better in her tight leggings, while you lift Jihyo up and down as if you are still working out.

The last couple of weeks, since that first time, have been like this. The two of you meet up to work out together up to six days a week. All of these sessions end with the two of you, going to town on some of the gym's equipment.

But it's not like that's the only thing the two of you do. You spend quality time together, going on dates, hanging out at your place and sometimes even at hers.

You feel Jihyo's hands glide over your biceps as she feels your cock deep inside of her. The both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered with a slim layer of sweat.

You kiss Jihyo, just in case someone comes in, to stop her from moaning too loud. As you keep squeezing her cheeks through her leggings, she bites your lip, making you groan into her mouth.

"Your cock is so deep inside me."

Jihyo whispers against your lips, after the two of you break away for air. The recent workout and this little session are tests for both of your lungs. Her heavy breathing matches yours as the two of you lock eyes.

"Jihyo..."

You want to tell her that you're close already. That you don't have much more inside of you. You're close to your climax and your arms are slowly giving up too. It's a mix of pain and pleasure.

"No! Not yet! I need more, baby."

Another kiss leaves the both of you with even less air. But you can feel yourself getting slower.

"Don't cum yet."

Another kiss. Slower.

Eventually, Jihyo signals you to stop. Your arms burn like fire. Not because she is heavy, but because of your prior workout. You barely manage to lift her off your lap.

"I think we need to give you a little break."

With a knowing smile, Jihyo looks at you while leading you towards the leg press.

The two of you must have defiled every single equipment in this gym by now. And the leg press is no exception. Some of your after workout sessions actually start right there. When Jihyo stands above you, making sure you don't drop your weight. And you have the best view of her nice firm butt, hugged by leggings, which are almost too tight for her.

You lie down, just like you usually do. Jihyo stands above you. But instead of watching your weight, she lowers herself, until she sits on your face. At the same time, you dart your tongue out and taste her pussy. You groan at the familiar taste, sending a shiver up her spine.

"That's a good boy."

Jihyo sighs as she feels your tongue roam her pussy, while your hands hold onto her juicy thighs.

Both of your bodies are marked by your countless hours in the gym. You take health and working out equally seriously. Jihyo's thighs and ass are just a couple of benefits that result from that. And she loves to feel your biceps, or your abs, when you pull her back against your stomach and she feels your hard muscles on her back.

Now, Jihyo moans and sighs on top of you as you eat her out. You know that Jihyo only cums two ways. When you lick every spot in her pussy, or when you fuck her hard and rub her clit at the same time. And your tongue in her pussy aims to finish her by using the first option.

No spot stays untouched as you lap up any of her juices that dribble out of her. As you let your tongue glide along her folds. As you bury it inside of her. It all has only one purpose. And soon, you are witness to the result.

"Oh, god! Baby!"

You feel Jihyo's legs shake around you, your hands still holding onto them. She lowers herself even further, unable to lift her own weight now. Your nose slightly grazes her clit, your tongue invades her pussy as deep as it can. And then, you push Jihyo over the edge.

"Yes! Right there, make me cum!"

Her juices flood your open mouth as your girlfriend orgasms on top of you. Her thighs threaten to squeeze you to death as you try to pull them apart. Her load moans echo through the gym.

A couple of moments later, you've moved on already. Jihyo is now lying on a bench, her legs draped over the barbell above her head. Your short break enables you to fuck her hard and fast, while her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her ripped leggings give you another beautiful view of her beautiful pussy, taking your cock beautifully.

"Baby, baby, baby!"

Jihyo half cries half sings as you make the bench rock back and forth to the rhythm of your thrusts.

You put your white towel underneath her. The one with your name on it. You don't want to make a mess like two weeks ago. You almost had to buy a new leather cover for the bench.

"Oh, god!"

Jihyo's back arches off the bench. She pushes her chest towards you in the process. If she didn't have her top on, you would be all over her. But right now, you are completely fine with just fucking her tight pussy.

You want to feel them though, you realize, as Jihyo keeps arching her back. One of your hands moves towards her chest. Another loud moan escapes her beautiful lips as she feels you, groping her tits through the fabric.

Your other hand reaches between her legs, just above the hole in her leggings. Your thumb brushes over her clit underneath the fabric.

"Right there!"

Jihyo immediately reaches another plateau of pleasure.

"Keep going! Don't stop!"

Her whines make you go faster. Your hips crashing into hers as you bottom out inside of her with every thrust.

Your thumb on her clit and your hand on her tits add to the pleasure your cock is giving her. Your girlfriend eventually succumbs to the overwhelming sensation.

Jihyo can feel her orgasm slowly approaching.

"Oh, baby! Yes! Almost there!"

You keep fucking her as she closes in on her climax. Your thumb on her clit keeps rubbing her. Jihyo's legs seem to push against the barbell as she orgasms.

"Oh, god."

You can't help, but let out a groan yourself as you feel Jihyo's tight pussy squeezing your cock. Her juices start to spill out of her. They cover your cock, your lower body. But most of it lands on your towel underneath her. You watch how the white fabric around your name becomes soaking wet.

The sight of your girlfriend, climaxing around your cock, drives you towards your own orgasm as well.

"Jihyo, I'm gonna-"

"Cum in my mouth, baby. I wanna taste your cum."

It takes a moment to get her legs off the barbell and the rest of her body off the bench underneath it. But eventually, Jihyo does kneel in front of you.

She pulls off your condom as she looks up at you.

"Cum for me, baby."

Her big eyes, pleading for your cum, don't give you much of a choice. As soon as Jihyo sticks her tongue out, it only takes her a couple of strokes, until she makes you climax.

You groan as you watch how your cum hits her tongue and the inside of her mouth. Jihyo takes it all, until your knees are weak and you are completely spend. Using her tongue, she pushes your cum around in her mouth a couple of times, before she swallows.

You watch as her body moves to the rhythm of the song. For a moment, your view is blocked by Sana, but you can soon see Jihyo again.

It's an honor to be able to watch Twice's dance practice live. You just came here to pick up your girlfriend, so you two could have your scheduled date. But you didn't expect traffic to be this good, so you got here early.

You lean your head against the wall behind you as you feel your cock slightly harden. Jihyo's body roll reminds you of how she rides you in bed. The way her hips sway, when she turns around, the way she throws her hair back while dancing. Her smile, her wink towards the mirror, her hand that glides down her body, tracing her curves. All of these things make you shift around on the sofa in the corner of Twice's practice room.

You almost forget the other members. The song moves into the background. For a brief moment, you consider sneaking out and finding a quiet place to let go of your now build up tension. Maybe the men's room...

The music comes to a hold in that very moment.

You let out a deep breath as you see the girls turn towards the mic case that's next to you. You're suddenly very aware that you're still hard. They were practicing for an upcoming performance, so Jihyo's outfit makes matters even worse.

"Stop staring at her."

Sana giggles as she catches you.

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. The other members grin and giggle as well. Jihyo can't hide a smile.

"Stop teasing him, Sana."

"What?"

The Japanese girl plays innocent.

"He can stare as much as he wants."

To your surprise, Jihyo gracefully takes her seat on your lap.

She usually isn't that fond of skin ship in front of her members. Partially because Sana is unbearable, once she finds a reason to make fun of Jihyo.

"I bet he does."

Sana wiggles her eyebrows, while the other members pack their things.

You involuntarily clear your throat as Jihyo shifts around a little. Her firm cheeks rub against your erection. There is no doubt she must have felt it already.

"As long as you don't make too much noise again tonight..."

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you and Jihyo hear Tzuyu's whisper.

"Yah!"

Jihyo is now embarrassed as well.

Eventually, you and Jihyo are the only ones in the room. The other girls already left. But not without teasing the two of you. If you heard it correctly, Nayeon even offered Tzuyu a pair of earbuds.

"Let's skip the date."

"What? Why?"

Jihyo is still sitting in your lap, your arms around her waist.

"I'm not that hungry yet. I think I'll have to work out a little more."

Her teasing smile makes you smile as well. Until you remember.

"I already reserved a table."

Your girlfriend shrugs her shoulders.

"So?"

"I love this side of you."

Jihyo looks back at you.

"Let's get out of here."

The two of you decided on your place. Especially after all the teasing. But you never made it past your living room.

"Do they feel good?"

Jihyo looks up at you, waiting for an answer.

Your cock is buried inside her cleavage as you sit on your couch, while Jihyo kneels in front of you.

"God, Jihyo."

Why does she even have to ask?

Your girlfriend uses her hands to press her tits together, while she moves up and down. Her soft skin makes your head fall onto the backrest. You see stars, when Jihyo darts her tongue out to lick your tip.

"Wait, don't-"

You're interrupted by another lick.

Your shakey breath makes Jihyo chuckle. You're somewhat embarrassed that she doesn't need to do much for you to orgasm quickly. But she already told you, it's actually a compliment. And, even if you're about to cum early, you can always take a short break and focus on her pleasure.

To be honest, though. Who could blame you? No one would last long with Jihyo.

"Get up here."

A smile plays around her lips as she rises from your carpet and quickly gets onto your lap once again. You feel her ass cheeks rub against your cock, which doesn't help your current state.

Trying to focus on something else, you lean down and take one of her nipples into your mouth.

"Baby..."

Jihyo sighs as she holds your head with one hand, while the other rests on your shoulder. As you keep sucking on both of her tits, she eventually starts grinding against your thigh. Her naked body on top of yours searches for as much pleasure as it can get. You feel her slight wetness on your thigh.

"Keep going..."

Another sigh and you switch sides once more. You hold both of them in your hands, kneading them occasionally.

Jihyo shamelessly pleasures herself with your thigh, while you kiss and lick her tits. Her pussy becomes wetter, the longer she keeps grinding against you.

"Baby, I need you in me. Now."

Your hands move to her waist, giving her a silent approval. Slowly pulling Jihyo off of you, you lie her on the couch.

"Turn around."

Jihyo does as you tell her. She is now lying on her stomach, while you kneel behind her.

You quickly put on the condom, before slowly sliding into her warmth. The both of you moan at the same time as you penetrate her pussy. You ease yourself into Jihyo further.

"Fuck me good."

Your hands grab each a handful of her ass cheeks.

"Trust me. I will."

You give Jihyo one powerful thrust, while holding onto her ass.

Your girlfriend's head sinks into the sofa.

You hear a muffled moan as you start to fuck her properly. As you drive yourself as deep as possible, you notice how deep you can actually go in this position. Your sofa absorbs moan after moan as Jihyo shakes underneath you.

You are unable to play with her clit in this position. Lucky for her though, your thrusts are powerful enough for her to rock back and forth on the couch. The hard fabric does your job for you.

Looking past Jihyo's ass, you notice how the light material underneath her is turning darker.

"Damn, forgot the blanket."

You only hear another moan as response. Her heavy breathing against the sofa echoes through the room. Alongside the clapping of her cheeks against your hips. While holding onto them with both hands, you marvel at how beautiful they are.

You completely forget the blanket as you knead them a little. Who can blame you? In your opinion, everyone doesn't appreciate her ass enough. Jihyo always gets attention for her chest. Rightfully so, no doubts there. But if they could only see what you see right now...

You haven't tried it before, but you suddenly have the urge. Without thinking, you raise a hand and let it drop onto her right cheek. A particularly loud moan encourages you to strike her other cheek. Alternating between both of them, you soon turn Jihyo's skin a light a shade of red.

A couple of moments later, she trembles underneath you. Harder than before. Her hips slightly raise off the sofa, she raises her head to moan your name. And she drenches your sofa in even more of her juices.

Jihyo orgasms while calling out for you. You keep a tight grip on her cheeks as you fuck her through it. When she starts to talk again, it's hard for you to make out what she is trying to say.

"P-Please...."

Another thrust makes her head rock back and forth, like one of those dolls.

"C-Cum..."

Is she asking for another orgasm? Jihyo usually isn't that greedy.

"Back... C-Cum..."

You have to admit that it takes you a while to understand her. To be fair, you're not in the best state of mind yourself, right now.

"C-Cum...on.....my...."

Another particularly deep thrust makes Jihyo shreek, her head dropping onto the couch again.

You hope you heard her correctly, because you don't have time to ask her to repeat it. The wonderful sight of her ass and her tight pussy, its walls stretching around your cock, make it hard to keep back your own orgasm for long.

Trying to hold on longer, you start counting your thrusts. You don't reach ten.

As Jihyo's walls tighten around you further, as you drive yourself as deep into her as you can, as you knead her cheeks, you finally have to pull out.

Throwing your condom behind you just in time, you barely get to aim your cock properly. As you do orgasm, your cum shoots all over Jihyo's back. Her back muscles, which you can see, due to her many workouts. You paint them with your cum.

Both of you catch your breaths as you lean against the backrest, while Jihyo still lies in place.

"That was...."

You can tell that she is looking for the right word, but has trouble finding it.

"Amazing."

You end the sentence for her. Jihyo chuckles at your lack of creativity.

"About that reservation you mentioned earlier..."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Now you're hungry?"

"You aren't?"

Jihyo looks back at you.

"Let me order something."

"Where were you going to take me anyways?"

"Chinese."

"Order that then. I'm gonna take a shower. After practice and this"

Your girlfriend nods towards her cum stained back.

"I really do need a shower."

[madamechrissy]

Your series is on toppp, i was always waiting for your new post especially that gojo series lmao. Anyways, can we get a gojo x innocent!reader?? Make them likee childhood friend and gojo takes her virginity lolll.

Thank you sm love, I hope you enjoy it <3 You know I've never given Gojo a virgin in anything, it's his first time for me lmaooo! 🩷🩷🩷

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x virgin reader

Contents/warnings: cute fluff, friends to lovers, first time/loss of virginity, oral sex (M and F receiving), explicit sex, pet names, not much plot lol, just smut fr

Word Count:: 3.7k

🩷 First Time 🩷

You are sitting next to Satoru on his couch as you all watch one of his silly movies. He has laid out a million snacks and treats for the night, including bowls full of Halloween candy from yesterday. Yes, Satoru was twenty two and yes, he still went trick or treating, you’d been dragged along with him all night last night, running from house to house.

Your feet still hurt, you’re wincing and rubbing them, and Satoru looks over at you with his stupidly pretty eyes, eyes you should be used to after being friends for ten years, but sometimes they… well they did things. Satoru seems to be clueless at his effects on you, how when he tickles you, you gasp, how when he pulls you against him, you sigh and inhale his scent.

You’re pretty bad at hiding it.

Suguru and Shoko make fun of you endlessly, but you are just too afraid to ruin your friendship. But then, you’ve also non stop turned down men, left and right, pining away for him. It certainly was not the best way to go about things, but you’re holding out for him to be your first. Even though it’s foolish to think it will happen, you can���t help but wait for him.

Satoru was not dating anyone, he really had not dated much since high school, he would have a fling here and there, but mostly he spent time working and then with his friends. With you.

“Feet hurting? Bring ‘em to Daddy.” He teases with a smirk, and you giggle, rolling your eyes.

“Oh gosh, Satoru. You really gonna rub ‘em?”

“Sure am, it’s my fault they hurt. C’mere.” You lean back on the couch and prop your feet up on his lap, as his long fingers press into the soles of your feet, you moan a bit, and he pauses, looking at you.

“Sorry.” You say, flustered and overheated, and Satoru looks back at the movie, his tall, lithe body leaning back against the cushions.

“No need to say sorry, it feels good hmm?” He teases, as you try to focus on the movie, but he’s pressing his fingers deeper, and massaging your feet so good your eyes flutter shut.

“Very good, oof thank you.” You say softly, going to pull them back a bit, but Satoru now has raised his massage to your ankles. You gasp. “That tickles!”

“Does it? You’re so ticklish.” He’s running little circles on your ankles then, and your thighs shift as his hands slip even higher, to your calves.

“That feels… really good, mmm.” You whisper, wishing it meant less to you, wishing you did not treasure and drink in every bit of your best friend. His shiny white hair, his perfect straight nose, model cheekbones and pouty lips. Satoru Gojo was the prettiest man you’ve ever seen, but it’s more than that.

His little smirk and how his snowy lashes lower over his eyes, his laugh when he’s being silly, how his body looks in that black skin tight gym shirt, his biceps curling as he’s gently brushing your legs. You bite your lower lip then, as he’s still watching the movie, his touches lighter, little caresses down your legs.

“You have nice legs.” You sputter then, mouth wide, and he peeks at you, a little blush on his cheeks. “What you do.”

“Um… what? I do?” He looks down at your thighs now, and when his huge hands cover them, you can’t stop the little whimper, drawing his attention to you.

“You doing alright over there?” He asks then, raising a brow, and you cover your face now.

“I have to say something.” You shift your legs down, and Satoru pouts.

“I was having fun playing with them, meanie.”

“Satoru…” You lean forward on the couch, touching his shoulders gently. “I really have to tell you something.”

“Go on then, silly girl.” He taps your nose with a little smile. You take a deep breath, looking into his swirling blue eyes then.

“I want you to be my first.”

“What!?” He’s sputtering now, and jumps up, and then you jump up, turning away and covering your face.

“I’m so stupid, of course you wouldn’t. You’re Satoru Gojo, you can have anyone. And you’re experienced. And-”

“Hey, hey.” Satoru’s hands are on your shoulders behind you now, and you tense a bit at the touch, heart racing. “You’re prettier than anyone I’ve been with, it’s not anything like that.”

“Shit, really? You think I’m pretty?” You whisper, looking back at him, and he exhales, hands squeezing a bit, nodding.

“Of course you are, silly. I tell you that you look cute all the time, do I not?”

“Cute. Not pretty.”

“Well, you’re cute and pretty. And… you’re a virgin?” He turns you to him then, and you nod shyly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Why me the first time, why not a boyfriend?”

You sigh then, fiddling with your hands in front of yourself. “You’re who I want it with. We can stay friends, it doesn’t have to like ruin it, you don’t have to date me.”

He blinks his white lashes then, tilting his head. “Why wouldn’t I wanna date you?”

“Because we’re friends!”

“And I like you, a lot. I always have. I thought… Well, I thought you didn’t like me like that.”

“What!?” It’s your turn now, and he smirks a bit.

“Well, I’m half naked in front of you constantly, and I barely see you check me out.”

“I do! But I look away when you look at me. You don’t check me out!”

“Oh, I do.” His eyes dart down your body now, and it’s as if he’s touching you, as he looms over you, so tall, so sexy. “I look away when you look at me. Now, you really want a first time, you have to be my girlfriend, I’m no hussy.” He states, putting his hand to his chest, and you laugh then.

“I can absolutely do that. How do we seal this boyfriend/girlfriend status then? A selfie? A pinky swear?” You step closer, trailing a hand up his chest now.

“Mmm, all of the above. But first, this.” Satoru leans down now, kissing you for the first time, his soft, plump lips pressing on yours, and you gasp at it, before kissing him back, putting pressure on his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, on your tip toes. Satoru moans softly, pulling back, his hands on your waist, then his eyes lock onto yours.

“Toru… that’s perfect.” You murmur softly, as you still feel the tingles of your lips, then you realize you have a tear sliding down your cheek. Satoru swipes it away gently, tilting up your chin and bending down, lips against your ear.

“I wanna have you cumming so hard you scream my name, pretty tears falling out of those pretty eyes.” Your body reacts viscerally, your nipples pressed against the little tank top you’re wearing, as he nips your ear then, sending shivers down your spine at the sensation.

“Please.” Satoru’s kissing down your neck now, hands on your hips, feeling your every curve, your hands enwrap in his silky hair, gasping when he picks you up in his arms like it’s nothing.

“Anything you want, pretty girl.” You melt at his words, as he carries you to his bedroom, laying you down and sliding up your tank then, revealing your breasts, he exhales as he sees them, nostrils flaring. “Holy… they’re so fucking pretty.”

“You like them?” You ask shyly, and he nods eagerly.

“Take it off, please, be a good girl for me.” You’re dripping wet already, as you lean up and pull the top over your head, your tits bouncing gently. He’s gripping them in his big hands then, squishing them and running his thumbs over your nipples, your back arches. “Tell me what you like, don’t hold back, I want to learn all of you.”

“That feels good, it feels so good.” You say softly, and he then kisses down to each peak, sucking them into his hot mouth. “S’good, mmm!”

He hums a bit, his big hand sliding down your tummy, making it tremble, as he finds your shorts, pulling them down. “So, do you masturbate Miss Virgin?”

“Jerk, ugh. Of course I do, ah!” He’s kissing and nipping on your rib cage now, looking at you with his eyes dilated, pupils so big there’s just a ring of that brilliant blue now.

“Show me what you do, then I’ll know where you like to be touched most.” He’s taking your hand now, grinning with those white teeth. “Aw, ya blushing?”

“Well, y-yes. Um… I don’t finger myself, I just rub my clit.”

“Of course, those small little fingers, they can’t hit good.” He holds his fingers out, double your length, so long you clench around nothing imagining them, getting wetter when he presses your finger to your clit. “That’s it, pretty, show me.”

You rub your clit in circles, aching for him, as he stands up, taking off his shirt then, and you drink in his body hungrily, as he drinks in yours. “Fuck you’re gorgeous Satoru.”

“And you’re gorgeous, best friend. Girlfriend. Shnookums.”

“Shnookums!”

“Tossing cute names around.” He’s sliding his jeans off now, just in his dark blue boxers, then you see that outline, making you heat up even more with such strong desire. “Go ahead, keep going, you’re doing good.”

“Want you to touch me.” You whisper, as he sits back on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight, watching as your finger is playing between your lips, taking your hand gently and sucking on your finger then. “Oh!”

“Yummy. Need to taste you.” He says then, his voice husky, you are crying out when he rubs his fingers along your folds, down your slit, where wetness is pooling down to your entrance.

“Toru!” Your hips buck up when he runs circles on your clit, eyeing you carefully now.

“Have you had anything inside this pretty pussy at all?” He asks, sliding down to lay between your thighs now, his hands pressing into the plush of them as he spreads them wide. “So perfect.”

“No, I haven’t.” You admit, then gasp out when he slides one of his thick, long fingers inside you. “Ah… ah!”

“Fuck you’re so tight.” He pecks little kisses on your thighs, nipping as he studies you, pressing on a spot now that makes you see stars. “There it is.”

You’re falling apart as he pumps that long finger in, before stretching it to two, which is so hard to take, you can barely get to his first knuckles. “Toru, it’s too much… too much…”

“Aww you can take it, can’t you? Gotta stretch this tight little pussy for me, I’m a lot bigger than those fingers.” You can hear the squishing of your wetness as he kisses closer and closer, and you’re entangling your fingers in his hair, pressing against his scalp. “You’re so needy for me, aren’t you?”

You can’t speak then, when he kisses the hood of your clit, pulling the fingers out to part your folds gently. Your legs shake on either side of his head as he studies your pussy even more, moaning as he does. “Toru, um what are you doing?”

“Gonna eat you out, pretty girl. I can’t just have a treat like this and not eat it, don’t you know I have a sweet tooth?”

“Are you sure, I didn’t expect-”

“Oh this is my favorite. You’ll love it.” Satoru swipes his tongue up your slit then, and you’re moaning so loud it’s embarrassing, and he exhales, tickling you so good, his cool breath blowing on your overheated cunt. “Yummy.”

“Toru, fuck…”

“What a bad mouth, young lady.” He glares, and you laugh, breathless. “And you’re laughing, ah-ah.” He smacks your pussy, shocking you, but you like it, as you’re gushing more arousal out of your little hole. “Freaky little virgin.”

“Toru!”

“Stop talking back missy.” He smacks it again, and grins at your reaction. “Let me enjoy my treat, hmm?” You just nod, and he dives down now, sliding his tongue in and out of you in the most delicious tongue fuck. You’re already pulsing around him as he drinks you up, exploring you with his tongue, lips, teeth.

Your back arches, as he’s fucking you with it over and over, his teeth hitting your clit when he swipes up, finally swirling your clit in circles with the tip of his stupidly talented tongue. You can’t stand how good it feels, the pressure in your tummy, then you realize you’re going to cum, and cum so hard, you feel everything on fire, every nerve ending lit up.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum!” You pant out the words, and Satoru’s moaning against you, leaning up, half his face covered with you.

“Cum all over my face, let me drink you pretty.” He’s not goofy, silly Satoru, he’s some damn sex demon now, as he flicks his tongue once more, and you’re shattering for him, pulling him against you as you cum.

Satoru rides it out with you, continuing to flick his tongue so fast, sipping up the wetness out of your soppy cunt. You feel so good you’re blinded, eyes blinking rapidly to try to focus, to try to cling to this earth. He’s more serious now as he exhales, fingering you again, sliding two in with ease at how wet you are, hovering over you.

“Such a good girl, came that much for me? Wanna taste it?” He asks, and you nod nervously, then he’s kissing you, letting you taste your sweet arousal. Your hands slide down his hard abdomen, over the ripples of muscles and sinew, until you find his boxers, tugging. “Oh fuck, wanna touch me?”

“Yes, please.”

“I wasn’t sure your first time.” His care melts you, melts any worries you have away, but when he takes off his boxers and you see him, you panic.

“Oh that will never fit!” You watch him chuckle then, his soft hair falling over a brow as you touch it, your tiny hand not covering hardly any of it.

“It will fit, I promise.”

“Will it hurt?” You ask, brows together, stroking him, watching his eyes flutter shut, biting his lip.

“I haven’t been with a virgin. Um, I hear it hurts a bit, but you’re so wet and warmed up, I hope it won’t for long. I’ll go easy on you, the first time.”

“The first time!?”

“Then we’ll get freaky.” You giggle again, stroking him up and down.

“Can I suck you too?”

“You want to?” You nod and he exhales, getting on his knees then, gently positioning you on all fours. “Fuck it’s like my four pm nap.”

“Huh?”

“I nap after work, and you are always in some position. Some new one. Legs spread, ass in the air.” He wraps your hair up, pulling it gently into a ponytail, his pretty cock so thick and intimidating, twitching as you flick your tongue on the pink tip. “Oh fuck, that feels good.”

“What do you like?” You lap at the pearly liquid weeping from his tip, tonguing it and tasting it, sweet and a little salty, before sucking a couple inches in your mouth, earning his little whimper, so sexy it makes you impossibly wetter.

“Anything you wanna do, fuck. At your mercy here, the tip is the most sensitive. Can you take more?” Satoru’s voice is soft as he presses in further, and you’re moaning around him, nodding. “Good girl.”

“Mmm.” You’re sucking more of him then, as you look up, seeing his perfect form, that happy trail of white hair under that flat belly button, his hard body tensing as you stroke him where your mouth can’t reach.

“Okay, too much, I want to last for you. Mmm.” He pulls you off gently now, pushing you back to lay down, settling between your thighs, fingering you with his two fingers again. “Are you sure about this? We can wait.”

“I want this, I really do. I have for so- ah- long. Toru! Close!” He’s sliding his fingers out then, leaving you whining, as he now presses his thick tip in your entrance, and your eyes lock as you gasp.

“Want to feel you cumming around me, love.” Love that little pet name is destroying you. “Relax, please, don’t tense, just trust me. I got you.”

“I trust you, Satoru.” He exhales then, head resting on yours, then presses in, and you whine out at the pain of the first stretch, and he pauses, groaning.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight. Are you okay, pretty?” You nod a bit, as he eases back, and you’re gripping his back so tightly your nails are leaving crescent marks. “Oh fuck…”

Satoru moans as he presses further in, and you’re full, too full, it’s like nothing you’ve known. He sinks in so deep you feel him in your stomach, feel him everywhere, burning the skin as it stretches to accommodate. Satoru studies you carefully, his brow scrunched up, cupping your face with one hand.

“Baby, you all right? Gotta tell me.”

“I’m so full. It’s just… a lot.” He nods, kissing you again, rocking his hips, and then his tip drags on that spot he’d just fingered, and it feels so good, you’re clinging to him. “There, there!”

“Here?” He does it again, and your eyes roll back, feeling him roll those hips, you’re wetter and wetter with every shallow thrust, and he’s whimpering again, his cheeks flushed pink, his lips parted. “Cum on me, please?”

You need no further urging, you’re soaking Satoru’s cock as you cum, and his lips drink your moans, his hands now holding your thighs, sliding them up further, starting to fuck into you now. You’re falling apart under him, moans ridiculously loud, pleasure is coursing through your body while he fucks you into another orgasm.

“Toru, Toru! Mmm!” Satoru’s pretty eyes look into your own.

“Can I go harder, love?”

“Yes, please.”

He laughs just a bit. “You can take it, huh?”

“I can, fuck I can.” He fucks you harder then, pressing your thighs up, and you’re struggling to take more and more of him, as he’s so deep he’s hitting your cervix.

“Feel me here?” He takes your hand, pressing it on your tummy, and he has a wicked grin as he slides in slow, and you feel him there, making you squeak. “You’re so cute.”

“Cute, still, while mmm… fucking?”

“Cute anytime. Cutie.” He smacks little kisses on your cheeks, somehow he’s dirty and sexy one moment, then sweet and adorable the next. “Mwah!”

“Satoru!” You giggle when he leaves a loud kiss on your lips, but then he presses in so deep and grinds, and you lose all sense. Everything is fading, floating.

“Call me Toru when you cum.”

“Toru!” You cum all over his cock, arousal dripping down his length, down his balls that are smacking your ass, and he sucks in a breath when he feels your walls fluttering around him.

“Trying to milk me, she’s greedy already.” You have no clue what he means, all you know is it feels even better, as he’s thickening inside you. “Question.” He huffs out then, panting over you, his chiseled body dripping in sweat.

“G-go ahead.”

“On birth control or I gotta get plan B?” You nervously bury your face into his throat, and he’s laughing softly, stroking your hair as his strokes slow. “Baby gotta let me know, I’m not gonna pull out, wanna fill you up.”

“I’m on the pill. And t-take it on time.” He sighs, tilting your chin up then, smirking deviously, eyes bright fucking blue and insane.

“I’d cum in you anyway, you’d be cute pregnant.”

“What now!?” He’s slammed his lips on yours again, pressing your thighs up, and then he’s fucking harder, sounds of your skin smacking mixing with your wetness, as he fucks you so hard your tits are bouncing, the headboard is smacking. “Taking it easy, huh!?”

“This is easy, love. Oh fuck… gonna cum…” He moans then, his hands cupping your face, and you feel him throbbing inside you, thickening, you are filled with hot ropes of cum, coating your walls, and you cum just from that, earning his groan. “Oh you’re such a good girl.”

He’s gently pumping, gasping as he pumps even more cum, and your muscles are already pushing it out. He sighs then, smacking kisses on you over and over, every inch of your face, making you so blissful, as he’s fucked any thoughts out of your head, you feel like you’re floating, clinging to him, nails digging in.

“This better not be just once.” He says with a glare, and you grin, shaking your head and brushing his hair back.

“Absolutely not just once. Oh! Ouch.” You hiss a bit as he eases out, and you go to look down, but he tilts your chin up, shaking his head.

“Don’t look, you’re always scared of blood. Gonna faint.”

“It’s that much!?”

“No, but you’re sensitive about that. I’ll be right back.” Satoru hops up and you look at the ceiling, you hear a shower running, see the steam rolling into his room, and then he’s back and cleaning you up, before picking you up in his arms. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah, I would love that, Toru. Sounds so good.” He has you under the scalding hot water then, sudsing you up with bubbles everywhere, forming little puffy clouds on your breasts then rinsing them, laughing like he’s having a blast. You shake your head as you watch him.

“I used to jerk off when you’d take showers here.”

“You what now!?”

He just grins, pushing the shower head even lower. “Picturing you, did you ever… you know…”

“Satoru!”

“Did you!?” You look at his shower head nervously, then him, and he’s grinning even wider now. “Oh, you’re a bad girl.”

“Oh stop it, silly. Maybe once or twice. You have great water pressure. Ah, Toru!” Satoru is now on his knees in the shower, looking up at you and rushing that hot shower water against your clit. You gasp at it, as he wraps an arm around your hip to steady you.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

Gojo Drabbles/ one shots - Masterlist

[imaslutforcuddles]

DUMB DUMB

EDDIE MUNSON X FEM!READER

Summary: Your a cheerleader at Hawkins high, Jason trusts you exclusively. Well mainly because your his childhood bestfriend. Yet there is something that no one In the squads know. Your a fantasy lover, and hellfire Is the best fucking thing you’ve ever joined. After being tired of Jason’s bullshit, you decide to mess everything up between the two of you. Best thing yet, he never even saw it coming.

Warnings: Swearing, substance use, smoking, angst (jason), bullying, fighting, loss of virginity, SMUT, p in v, oral (f receiving), squirting, unsafe sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), little bit of Dom Eddie :), praise, subby reader, good girl and shit like that, a lot of orgasming lmfao, overstimulation, Eddie is big.

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: OMFG ITS FINALLY DONE. BTW people HAVE SEX IN THIS SO MINORS BE AWARE!!!!!! I’m not in-charge of your media consumption so i can’t make you click off. I WILL BLOCK YOU THOUGH- The title is a song that i found from a movie called Do Revenge (maya hawke acts in it). I fucking love It, def recommend. HERE Is the Spotify official playlist for it, also recommend listening to while reading this. A smut fic bc eddie deserves some pussy.

You reach into your bag grabbing a twenty, “Is it going to be more expensive because I’m friends with Carver?” Eddie chuckles grabbing the cash and hands you a bag of pre-rolls, “Nah, you get a member discount.” You pause looking down, “Well damn.” Eddie raises his brows, “I guess i can’t leave hellfire then.” The both of you start laughing uncontrollably.

You wipe a stray tear off your face while you both get up from the bench you were sitting on. Sighing, Eddie comes closer to you, “Why are you even friends with him?”

“Because I’m going to make him hurt, like he hurt you.”

Eddie widened his eyes and huffed, “Jesus. h. christ.” He cleared his throat and looked away, trying to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. Smiling, you grabbed your bag. “Hey Eds i think we should head back, I don’t want to miss out of the worst fucking school lunch i’ve ever eaten in my life (we can all agree school lunches are vile).” He frowned, but then grinned not wanting to seem too vulnerable. 

“Yep.”

-

Eddie picked through his lunch as always, head in his hand. 

“Hey Eddie are you okay?” Dustin frowned as Eddie raised his head and grinned. “I’m just fine Henderson.” Mike and Lucas looked at each-other sharing a knowing look, “Are you sure Eddie because you kinda look like shit,” Dustin continued. Eddie glared at him, “What did you just say?” Dustin widened his eyes and looked away gulping, “I j-just mean you look a bit tired that’s all!” Eddie shook his head scoffing, “Yeah okay Henderson.”

He looked around and caught your eyes. You winked and smiled at him as he looked away embarrassed. 

“Hey peach who are you looking at?” You winced at the cringe pet name and your grin became a thin line as you realized who had started talking to you, “No one Carver.” He stared down at you for a minute waiting for a different answer before it turned into a glare, “I fucking saw you wink at him.” He huffed. You kissed your teeth and sighed, “Who are you talking about jason?” 

He scoffed, “You fucking know who the fuck I’m talking about Y/n.” Rolling your eyes you turned to meet his, “I actually don’t Jason that’s why I asked.” He tensed up realising you weren’t going to confess. “You were looking at the fucking freak!” He whisper-shouted. Pressing a hand to your temple you sighed, “He’s not a freak Jason.” 

“Oh-ho yes the fuck he is! Why are you defending him?” He fought. “You know what jason?” Pausing you huffed out air you didn’t know you had held in. “The only freak here is you.” You looked everywhere but at his face as he frowned.

As you started to walk off, you turned your head hearing one word fall out of his mouth, “Whore.” You widened your eyes and shook your head. “NOW I KNOW YOU DID NOT JUST FUCKING CALL ME A WHORE JASON CARVER!” If looks could kill, he would be dead on the cold and dirty cafetera floor. His tense figure softened a bit as he started to cower at all the eyes laid on the two of you, “I’m sorry Y/n.” Scoffing at his lame apology you waved your hand and walked off, “Yeah you fucking should be. God you disgust me.”

-

Being in that school was so suffocating that the second you walked out your breath returned to your body, and you could finally breathe.

You dropped your head and closed your eyes. How could he have called you that? He was far from the truth, you were a virgin. You normally don’t take any sort of offense to being called slutty or anything like that, but Jason wasn’t the type you would pin for slut shaming. Or so you thought. And you couldn’t stop the naging words in the back of your mind.

Jason Carver isn’t a good person. He deserves to pay.

-

“The hooded cultists chant, hail Lord Vecna.” You scoff and look over at mike. ‘tf is this dumbass saying?’ You mouth, mike grins at your comment and shakes his head with you. “Hail Lord Vecna. They turn to you,” His eyes jolt to you and you freeze, ‘God damnit i can’t fucking die first again, Hegla is too precious to me.’ You cry to yourself. “Remove their hoods, you recognise most of them from makbar. There is one you do not recognise, his skin shriveled,” He turns his focus onto jeff and your breath steadys a little as Erica gulps next to you. “Desiccated, and something else. He is not only missing his left arm, but his left eye!”

Your face drops and you look to your right, “WHAT!” you shout with dustin. You have already lost so much to Vecna, and you thought he was killed by kas!

You lift your hands up to your face and start fake crying. though you believe you might actually start to cry, “Venca is DEAD.” “He was killed by kas!” Mike agrees. You rub your temple in defeat, “So it was thought my friends, so it was thought. BUT VECNA LIVES.”

You gasp again and drop your body weight into your chair, “We’re fuckin dead, doomed, through. Pack it up people!” 

Eddie chuckles and continues on while others groan and huff.

-

“You are scared, your tired, you are injured. Do you flee Venca and his cultists?” You grip your chair fuming and hopped up on caffeine and adrenaline, “Or do you stay and fight.” 

-

You all sit in silence for a while, even Eddie gets impatient. “Come on,”

You think deeply about the consequence of running away, ‘you’d be a coward. but, you’d live.’

Dustin holds his hand up, debating a wise choice. “I say we fight;” You look over at him and nod a little, “To the death.” You nod and smile throwing down your pencil, “To the death!” Mike and Erica agree and soon everyone has joined in chanting. Eddie starts laughing and lays back in his throne as you all slam your hands on the table shouting, Dustin leans back while yelling “TO THE DEATH!”

-

Erica rolls her D8 and D10 while you all lean closer in anticipation; soon your all shout “YES!” and grinning at the roll. 

Mike rolls his D20 and you all hiss and yell in agony when he fails.

Jeff’s turn ends up with Eddie smacking his character off the board.

-

Win to loss to loss again and again, and again as Eddie laughs maniacally at you all.

-

A timeout is called and as you huddle up gareth says, “Guys i hate to say this but we have got to flee.” Jeff nods and another says, “I concur.” (His name isn’t specified anywhere he literally is just called ‘freak’) 

Erica shakes her head, “Didn’t we literally just say ‘to the death’?” “That wasn’t literal!”

Jeff continues, “Vecna just decimated us, we can’t kill him with three players!” (we’re going to pretend your precious Helga survived) Dustin scoffs, “You too?! He only has 15hp left, don’t be pussies-!” Gareth makes a face, “Pussies, Really? Cause were not delusional?” He whisper yells. You slap a hand to your face to try and stop a laugh, “Gareth i swear to god-” “Delusional? How about not cowards.” 

“Hey.” Eddie shouts, “If i may interject gentlemen, ‘Lady applejack/Knight Hegla’. whilst i respect the passion, you’d be wise to take Gareth the greats concern to heart. There is no shame in running.. Don’t try to be heros, not today. Kay?” His grin widens. You look from Erica to Dustin as he raises a finger, “One second.” Back to your huddle, “What do you think mike?” “How many hp do you guys have left?” He asks, “Twelve.” You three say in unison, “It’s risky as hell, but your the ones on the battlefield. So it’s your call.” You try not to smile as Gareth's face contorts the hole time mike talks.

Dustin inhails, “What do you say girls?” Erica looks from you to Dustin, “Do you really gotta ask?” Dustin then looks at you, you smile and raise a brow. “Do you think i look like a bitch to back down from an ass whoopin?” Dustin takes a second, “Screw it.”

“Lets kill this son of a bitch.”

Jeff huffs and you all get closer to the table, “Chances of success are twenty to one!” Dustin points a finger, “Never tell me the odds.”

“Give me the D20.”

Eddie smirks and tosses him the dice.

Your all huddled around the table and Dustin as he rolls, eleven. You groan as Eddie waves his head up and down, “That’s a MISS.” You all hiss as you barely miss, it’s all up to Erica.

All eyes are on Erica as she rolls the D20, Gareth crying, Dustin shouting, You slamming your fist into your palm. Eddie leans closer to the dice, twenty! Your all shouting in victory. Eddie was yipping and jerking, his hands clapping while he smiled in surprise and also he’s just a proud DM.

-

You decided to stay back with Eddie to help clean the room after the campaign was over and everyone else went home. Eddie came over to you and grinned, “Helga’s still alive ay, you should be proud.” Your mouth hung open and your eyes widened as you punched his arm, “You fucker! It’s not my fault you love to kill us all off like daisies.” It’s true, this is the first campaign you’ve survived. You’ve been in hellfire just over three months. 

Eddie chuckled and nudged your shoulder, “I know i’m proud.”

You stopped picking up pieces and dice looking over at Eddie, blushing when you realise just how close he was to you. “You mean it?” He smiled stepping closer, “Of course, Its difficult to survive such..” Eddie started leaning in, to the point you could feel his hot breath against your face, “Difficult campaigns.” Your breath hitched when his lips almost touched, “Eddie?” You felt something warming up in your stomach, “Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

His eyes widened as you put your lips on his. His lips felt so right connected to yours and you felt a moan building up as he deepened the kiss. Eddie groaned into you as you pressed your body up against his, “God your so beautiful,” you smiled, “I bet i’d look prettier naked on top of you.” 

He froze, “Are you okay Eds?” “Never been better.”

-

So here you are in his bed with butterfly sheets that he never bothered to get rid of, naked. 

Eddie kissed you on the lips savoring you, “Can i taste you baby? You look so good.” You moaned and nodded, “Please Eddie.” 

“Please what? I want to hear you beg.” 

You clenched your thighs together, “Please eat my pussy Eddie.” He grinned, “Of course, how could i refuse my good girl? Your going to be my good girl aren’t you?” He looked into your eyes sending shivers down your spine, “Of course Eds!” You nod your head, eager to be touched. He chuckles at your obedience and starts slowly kissing down your body, his touch like fire against your skin. It felt too good to be true. The boy that you’ve liked for years, is going to eat you out? You whined as his lips teased your thighs, he kissed everywhere but where you need the most. “Please Eddie.” He looked up at you from in-between your legs and you melted, this fine-ass man was willing to fuck you. Your whines soon turned into moans as he began to kiss and suck your clit. 

You slid your hands into his thick curls and arched your back, “Oh yes! Please!” You almost screamed and he dipped his tongue into your wet cunt, “Fuck Eddie!” He hums into your cunt, “Your pussy is fucking heaven baby.” The flick of his tongue driving you insane and the was his thumb rubs your clit makes you orgasm quicker than you’ve ever cum before. Legs shaking and eyes rolled back you squeal as he continues to eat your cunt like a dessert, “E-Eddie too mu-” He shuts you up with his two fingers sliding into your wet hole. 

Moans are the only noise you make, Eddie smiles into your cunt and keeps sucking and kissing your clit. You cry out and start clenching hard on his fingers, “Are you gonna cum for me again baby?” You can only answer with a whine. He laughs at your answer and starts pumping his fingers faster, hitting your sweet-spot every time. 

Your second orgasm wasn’t the same as the first, when you snapped a liquid starting spilling out of you in heaps. You hadn’t realised just what made Eddie so surprised and wet. “What?” You whine out, he doesn’t say anything for a solid five seconds and then he pounces on you, attacking your lips. “Please let me fuck you, f-fuck i don’t think my cock could take not fucking your pretty little pussy.” You widen your eyes and nod vigorously which makes Eddie smile, “Your so needy for my cock aren’t you?” You shake your head again, “Say it baby. Be my good girl and say you want my cock inside you.”

“Please put your cock inside my pussy Eddie. Oh please!” He groans at your eagerness to be spread open by him.

He starts to pull his cock out of his boxers and you almost cum on the spot, his dick was HUGE. Like pornstar big, at-least nine inches. His smile becomes wider when he notices your reaction, “Is it too big for you baby?” You frown and shake your head no, “N-no way! I can take it.”

“Good.”

Eddie rubs his tip on your clit and you squirm a little, but Eddie grabs your hips. “Be a good girl and stay still.”

When Eddie first pushes into you it burns, you hiss and he pulls you into him rubbing your back. “Are you okay baby?” He looks into your eyes trying to search for something, “I’m okay Eddie, just keep going. Don’t stop.” After the first couple thrusts it becomes completely crumbing, you feel like you could melt away into nothing. The way the Eddie whispers, “Taking my cock like such a good girl.”

He spreads your legs open wider and you moan loud into his ear, “Oh such a good girl, keep moaning. Let me know just how good i’m making you feel.”

You start getting closer with every thrust into your sopping cunt, and he can feel it. He starts to pound you faster and you scream, “That’s it, cum for me.” You shake and squirt all over his chest and dick, he groans and your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Can i cum inside you baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, “Please give me your cum, i need it!” 

He cums with a loud grunt and lays beside you, “I think i might love you.”

[weareapackofstrays]

A New Kind of Love: Chapter III

Genre: Non-Idol college au, slight enemies to lovers (more like they annoy e/o at the start), friends with benefits, smut, angst, romance, drama

Pairing: Minho x F!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Cigarette Smoking, Mention of Weed, Nonconsensual touching, Cussing, Spanking, Rough Sex, Physical Violence (Minho punches a guy), Degradation, Reader is a bit of a brat. Let me know if I forgot anything! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 5,377

Summary: You didn't grow up with great examples of love. Your parents were always at each other's throats. As a result, you have struggled with expressing your true feelings and can come off cold or defensive. After your boyfriend of 2 years cheats on you during freshman year with your childhood best friend, you decide to swear off love for good. Now in your second year of college, you move into the basement apartment of a house full of college boys. Inevitably crossing paths with one of them, Minho quickly gets under your skin in more ways than one. Despite your differences, you can't stay away from him.

A/N: Apologies for the lengthy chapter. I am also realizing that I have written a lot of parties into this story haha, but it's college. Side note/fun fact: I based the campus and house off of Penn State and where I used to live. Feedback/thoughts are always welcome!

Chapter III: Those Are Mine Now Prev | Next

Fall semester was coming to a close and the first snow had fallen on campus. You loved the smell of snow and the sound it made when it crunched under your boots. It rarely ever snowed back home. A few weeks had gone by since your library encounter with Minho and as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His touch, his tongue, they were haunting your dreams both day and night. As you replay the moment in your head, you miss Yuqi and Momo walking up to your table at the usual meet up spot. Yuqi sits down across from you and exchanges a look with Momo as they notice your spaced out state.

“Ground control to Major Tom?” Yuqi waves at you to get your attention.

“It appears we've lost connection,” the two girls mimic speaking into an intercom. You banish Minho from your head and smile at them.

“Sorry.”

“Damn, where did you go?” Momo, your other best friend, slides into the booth next to you wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Nowhere…” you shrug your shoulders. After placing your orders, the girls turn their attention to you.

“So are you going to Max’s party this weekend?” You look between Momo and Yuqi blinking.

“I guess she hasn’t heard,” Momo says. “Max is throwing a party at the Theta Chi house Saturday night to celebrate the end of finals. You have to come!”

“Jisung is going so he’s bringing his roommates with him,” Yuqi adds.

“Wow I guess you two are really hitting it off.” You mindlessly flip through the sugar packets for something to add to your tea.

Yuqi bites the tip of her thumb and scrunches her nose. “Yes.” She starts to giggle.

“Ew, okay.” You stick your finger down your throat, jokingly.

“Stop, I really like him!” She covers her face shyly.

“They’re all over each other, it’s gross.” Momo rolls her eyes in gest. 

Yuqi scoffs. “Whatever, you just can't stand how cute we are.”

“That is accurate.” You laugh at Momo’s comment before changing the topic.

“So you said Jisung and his roommates will be there?”

Yuqi is scrolling through her phone mindlessly. “Yeah.” You pick at your napkin trying to act nonchalant. 

“All of them or just-”

Yuqi lets out a frustrated sigh. “If you’re trying to ask if Minho will be there then just say so.” She places her hands on her hips and gives you a pointed look. The waiter walks over interrupting to drop off your food. 

Momo takes hold of her plate and turns to you, “Minho? Who is that?” 

“No one. He’s no one.”

“No one doesn’t fuck someone in a library, Y/n.” Yuqi raises an eyebrow, casually taking a sip of her coffee.

Momo’s eyes go wide as she shouts, “ What?!” You look around at the other restaurant patrons and try to shoosh the girls. Yuqi lets out a cackle. “What the hell, Y/n. Spill!” Momo drops her hand from your shoulder and nudges you for an explanation. 

“Sorry, it’s nothing really. We just kinda hooked up a few weeks ago.”

“Minho went down on her in the stacks.” Yuqi says with a mouthful of food.

“In the stacks?” Momo lets out a whistle. “Yeah, sure sounds like nothing.” They both laugh and you kick them under the table. 

“Ouch!” They cry out in unison. 

Yuqi rubs her calf, still laughing. “And to answer your question. Yes, he will be there.”

“I didn’t ask.” You take a sip of your tea and shrug. Yuqi kicks you under the table now, but you don’t react.

“What are we going to do with her?” Yuqi sighs.

Momo looks at you coyly, “I can think of a few things.” She winks at you.

“Okay, now it’s my turn to be grossed out,” Yuqi feigns disgust as she looks at her meal. “And in front of my salad.”

“Speaking of tossed salad.” You choke on your drink and start laughing along with Momo. Yuqi throws her fork down. “I just lost my appetite.” She raises her finger in the air, “Check, please!” 

-

On your way to the arts building to take your last final of the semester, you see Minho talking to a very pretty girl. Shoot. You had definitely been avoiding him at home and on campus recently, but curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly ducking behind some students, you settle behind a tree to get a better look. Minho stands leaning against a wall of a neighboring building. He’s dressed in utility pants, crewneck, and a beanie. He looks good. Too good. What a dick, you think. He’s laughing with her and they seem to be close. You feel an unfamiliar pang in your chest at the sight of them together. Minho looks in your direction and you flee into a crowd, sprinting to your final. 

Minho chats with his dance partner, Mel. They break out into laughter as they recall something funny their dance instructor said earlier during their final. They have known each other since the start of Freshman year and while they weren’t best friends, there was still a closeness between them as dance partners. Minho was blown away by her skill the first time he watched her dance and knew he had to make her his partner after that. Mel has really helped him grow as a dancer and maybe had an influence on his patience too. While going over their plans for Christmas break, Minho feels the back of his neck tingle and senses eyes on him. He turns to look for the source and thinks he spies you, but you’re gone before he can confirm it’s you. He looks back to Mel to continue their chat when Mel’s girlfriend, Leah, joins them.

“Hey, you two.” Leah plants a kiss on Mel’s cheek. Minho greets her with a nod.

Leah looks at Minho and pats his arm. “You going to Max’s party this weekend?” 

“Yeah, Jisung is making us go.”

“Making?” Mel questions.

“A girl he’s sweet on will be there so all the guys are going as moral support.” He shrugs.

“Sweet on? Are you from the past, old man?” Leah tries to poke Minho in the rib teasingly, but he immediately flinches, avoiding her. She turns to Mel, “We should get going, love.” Mel nods and gives Minho a wave. 

“See you this weekend!”

He watches them leave admiring the two of them as they walk hand in hand. Minho catches himself imagining the two of you similarly walking around campus and gives himself a slap.

“Stop that!” he chastises himself and leaves for his next class.

-

Momo, Yuqi, and you stand at the base of the stairs of the Theta Chi house and look up. There are colorful lights blinking in the window and you can hear the base of whatever song is blasting. Yuqi pulls you both into her side and you ascend the steps. As soon as you open the door you're greeted by a flood of people dancing and chatting. Yuqi helps guide you through the crowd for a meeting point she had pre-planned with Jisung. Jisung and Felix spot all of you and Jisung jumps in the air to capture your attention. Yuqi sees him and shrieks excitedly. Still holding onto your arm, she starts running in the direction of the boys. You quickly grab Momo’s hand as you are pulled through the sea of people. Jisung pulls Yuqi into a hug and places a peck on her cheek. They stare into each other’s eyes fondly as they say hi to each other. It makes your chest tighten a little.

“Oh my god. They really are whipped for each other,” you whisper into Momo’s ear. She laughs and nods back.

“Hey, Y/n!” Jisung pulls you into a hug next, followed by Felix. Felix lingers a little and you notice he is staring at something past you. Minho watches the four of you from across the room and meets Felix’s eyes. Felix releases you.

“Hi Felix," you smile at him.

“It’s good to see you again,” he says, giving your arms a gentle squeeze. 

You look at Jisung. “Hey, neighbor.”

“I feel like it’s been a while since we’ve seen you,” Jisung says. You laugh uncomfortably and Yuqi turns away to hide her knowing giggle.

“Just been busy I guess.” You turn to Momo, bringing her forward. “This is our friend, Momo, by the way.” 

“Momo! We finally meet!” Jisung grabs her and gives her an unexpected tight hug. Yuqi’s face lightens up with the biggest smile. Momo looks at the two of you with a shocked face and laughs. Jisung releases her and Felix takes her hand as they exchange hellos. After Felix offers to grab beers for everyone, the four of you settle into a corner and comfortably chat. Felix eventually returns with drinks and joins in on the conversation. 

You take a few sips, nodding your head to whatever Jisung is saying while you casually scan the room for someone. For him. Right on cue, the crowd parts and directly across the room in front of you, stands Minho. You notice his hand holding a red cup and find yourself staring at his fingers, then your eyes drift up to his arm admiring the tattoo covering most of his forearm. You make a mental note to get a better look at it later. Minho feels your gaze and looks in your direction. He thinks you’re staring at him at first, but then follows your eyes to his arm. He tilts his head and a grin spreads across his face. He takes a sip of his drink purposely pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyes meet. A warm sensation trickles through your body. Minho turns his attention back to someone. It’s her. The pretty girl from before. Did he come here with her? And who the heck is she? Are they sleeping together? You want to ask Jisung or Felix who Minho is talking to, but worry you’ll only get more questions back from them. Minho puts his hand on the girl’s shoulder and you feel an emotion akin to jealousy ignite within you. Momo notices you looking distracted so she nudges you.

You face her and arch a brow. “What?”

Momo leans into your ear. “Let’s dance.”

Felix asks to accompany the two of you and the three of you walk out to the makeshift dance floor in the living room. Minho watches you curiously, but remains chatting with Mel. Felix and Momo sandwich you between them while you jump around dancing and shouting the lyrics of the song playing. You try to forget about Minho and his pretty friend and get lost in the music. A girl you recognize from one of your art history classes taps on Felix’s shoulder and asks him to dance. He looks at you and Momo for permission, but you both wave him away.

“Go, have fun, babe!” He leaves the two of you to dance together. Momo gets distracted by someone behind her and chats them up so you now dance alone. Minho catches your eye again and you see him with another girl. You turn around growing further annoyed. Why isn’t he coming to say hi? Minho looks at the back of you wondering what game you're playing. He turns to Mel’s girlfriend, Leah, and excuses himself for a moment. He starts to make his way onto the dance floor when another guy steps in instead. He’s unsure what’s said, but he assumes he is asking to dance with you. You wrap your arms around the guy and start moving together. Minho feels anger boil under his skin, but decides to go find his roommates before he does something dumb.

Momo finally returns her attention back to you and gives your new dance partner a get lost look. “My turn,” she shouts as she grabs hold of your waist possessively. You thank your dance partner and turn around to face Momo. The two of you dance in the middle of the makeshift dance floor while taking more swigs of beer. She takes hold of you pulling you in closely. You both get into the rhythm and her warm body feels good against yours. You wrap an arm around her neck gently grinding into her. She takes that as a signal and brings you in for a kiss. It wasn’t the first time you had messed around with Momo. The two of you usually end up making out at some point whenever you attend parties together. Momo slides a hand down and gives your ass a squeeze. You slap her jokingly, but she doesn’t relent. Instead, she slides her tongue further into your mouth and you can feel her moan. Excitement rushes through you.

Minho finds Jisung and Yuqi in the backyard. They have been joined by a few of his other roommates, Hyunjin and Changbin. Jisung’s hand is wrapped around Yuqi’s back, holding her closely to his side. Minho hasn’t seen Jisung look this happy in a long time and it makes him swell with joy. He bumps beer bottles with the boys, greeting each other. 

Yuqi leans into Minho’s side. “Have you seen Y/n?” 

“She’s on the dance floor with your other friend.”

“Momo?” she asks. Minho nods and looks back in the direction of the dance floor.

“They’re somewhere over-” he cuts himself off when he spots the two of you making out. Yuqi and Jisung follow his gaze curiously. Yuqi sees the two of you embracing each other and rolls her eyes. Jisung stands with his mouth open like a fish and Yuqi smacks his chest. He laughs, but nervously looks to Minho for his reaction. 

“I guess it’s that time of night then,” Yuqi says jokingly. “They’re like that sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?” Jisung says surprised. “Aren’t they friends?”

“Yeah, of course, and it’s just two drunken friends having fun. Don’t read too much into it.” She says that more for Minho’s benefit, but notices his fist balled at his side. 

“There’s nothing between them. It doesn’t mean anything, I promise.” She places a hand on his forearm to reassure him. Minho looks at Yuqi and gives her a quick smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. He takes the last sip of his beer and walks away. Changbin notices Minho leaving abruptly. 

“Where is Hyung going?” He asks Jisung. 

“Probably to get another drink,” he lies. Minho hadn’t really told anyone about the nature of his relationship with you, but Jisung and Felix knew something was happening.

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew there was a chance Minho would see the two of you together. You didn’t know where he was, but you could feel him near. Were you doing this for attention? Maybe. Did you know why? Your buzzed state convinced yourself no. Momo weaves her fingers into your hair, pushing you closer together. Her kisses were becoming more desperate. You try to enjoy the sweet taste of your silly friend’s tongue in your mouth while you both sway to the upbeat music together, but Minho’s potentially disappointed face keeps interrupting your thoughts. You decide it is time to stop. You disconnect your lips and Momo whines when you try to step away. She pulls you back and nuzzles into your neck, licking your sensitive spots. She was definitely tipsy and the two of you often got touchy feely, sometimes more in the privacy of your apartment, but things were getting borderline public indecency now. 

“Babe, we should stop,” you reluctantly push her away. 

“Fine.” she says exasperated. “I’m gonna go grab another drink.” You could tell she was disappointed so you call after her.

“I love you!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves you off.

Alone in the crowd you look around for Minho, but accidentally bump into someone else. You face the person you assailed and see a gorgeous dimpled man smiling back at you.

“Y/n?” It takes you a moment to connect the dots. 

“Oh! Chris?”

“Yeah!” The two of you had recently seen each other in passing, but hadn’t spoken much. You look down to inspect him. 

“I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Nah, nah you're good.” The two of you start to casually dance together and chat when Momo finally returns with a new drink in hand. She looks to Chris then you.

“Is this the famous Minho?” Your eyes widen in mortification. Chris coughs and laughs, which makes you wonder if Minho told Chris about what had happened between you. You brush it off and recover your composure. 

“Uh, no, this is-”

“I’m Chris,” he puts a hand out and Momo takes it. “I’m one of Y/n’s neighbors.”

“Oh, how fun.” She looks at you and smiles while waggling her brows. Still holding hands, you notice the two are definitely attracted to each other so you use this as an opportunity to escape.

“Alright, well, why don’t you two chat. It looks like I am in need of a refill now.”

“Later!” Momo waves without breaking eye contact with Chris. Pushing through the crowd of drunk college students, you look back and see Momo wrap her arms around Chris’s neck as they start to dance. Good. You love Momo, but you sometimes worry that if the two of you keep things going too long, feelings might get skewed and you don't want to risk losing her friendship…even if it was a lot of fun. 

The kitchen is surprisingly sparse of people and you take a moment to soak in the quiet. You pour some punch into a solo cup and lean against the counter to sip. Minho knocks on the wall to announce his presence.

“Hey.” He stands with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing black jeans with a white v-neck tee and jean jacket. You can feel your heart start to race so you look into your cup for a distraction.

“Hey,” you say casually. He takes a step into the kitchen and hovers. Minho can tell you’re trying to avoid him. Unable to take these games he finally speaks.

“Look, we need to talk.” 

Before he can say what he wants to say, Kyle enters the kitchen and greets you, completely unaware of Minho’s presence.. 

“We meet again, sweetheart.”

A slight panic sets in as your two hookups stand in the same room together. You can feel your cheeks warm from embarrassment. “Hi, Kyle,” you say awkwardly. 

“I was hoping we’d run into each other.” Minho feels anger climb up his spine as he sees Kyle swoop you into an embrace. He walks out of the kitchen in defeat. You peer over Kyle’s shoulder and watch him leave. The pang in your heart returns. Kyle releases you and pins you to the counter. 

“I’ve missed you.” You look away from the empty space where Minho stood then meet Kyle’s eyes. You cock your head to the side amused. “Sure, you have.”

He leans in and whispers. “I’m serious. I miss the way you feel, baby.” You’re annoyed at his words turning you on. Are you really this horny or just tipsy? You chastise yourself.

“Why don’t we take this upstairs, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, Kyle.” You attempt to deny him.

“Are we really going to do this same dance every time?” He takes hold of your hand and heads for the second floor. Minho watches as the two of you disappear up the stairs and decides he’s had enough.

The two of you walk into the hallway where a few other couples had escaped to for some privacy. Kyle pushes you against the wall and kisses your neck. You place a hand on the back of his head as you feel your body give in to his caresses. He starts to pull you towards a bedroom, but the pang in your heart gets even louder. This isn’t right. You place your hands on Kyle’s shoulder and push him off of you.

“I don’t think we should, Kyle.”

“Come on, baby. Just a quickie.”

You roll your eyes and laugh as he starts to kiss your cheek. You push him away again.

“I’m being serious, Kyle. I don’t want to do this.” He ignores you and tries to guide you into an open bedroom, but he’s interrupted when he’s ripped from your arms.

“Get off her.” Minho yanks Kyle off of you pushing him into the other wall. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Kyle shouts.

“Minho, what the hell are you doing?” Kyle interrupts you and lunges at Minho. Minho anticipates the move and decks him, knocking him down to the ground. 

You look down at Kyle in horror. “Minho, what the actual fuck?” Minho doesn’t hear you and instead throws you over his shoulder. Kyle attempts to stand, but Minho whips around with you in tow and threatens him to “stay down.” Kyle slumps back on the ground. Minho’s punch dazed him a little. He holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, she’s all yours.”

“Gee, thanks, Kyle,” you say sarcastically as you and Minho walk down the stairs. You try to wriggle out of his grasp, but this just makes him grip onto your exposed thighs harder. He takes you outside to the front of the house and cautiously places you on the ground. You see him hover closely, anticipating your escape, but you just cross your arms and scoff.

“What? Do you think I’m going to run away?” The two of you stare each other down before he takes hold of your elbow.

“We’re going home.” It’s not a question, but a demand. 

You pull your arm from his grasp. “You’re not my dad, Minho! You can’t tell me what to do.” 

He laughs at how childish you sound. He gets in your face and you have to lean back so your noses don’t brush. You forgot how good it felt to have him this close. Minho thinks the same, but he tries to remain focused. His voice lowers and he repeats himself, “We are going home.” A shiver runs through you at the shift in his tone. You bite your lip as you feel warmth shoot through your middle. Minho grabs your hand and you don’t fight him this time. 

Finally in front of the house, he releases your hand and you walk past him, but he reaches back out for you and grasps your wrist before you can get too far. You swing back at the force and face him. Minho is looking to the ground when he speaks. He looks calmer now, a little unsure.

“Were you really going to sleep with that guy?”

You shrug, “Probably not.” He shoots air out his nose and shakes his head. He lets you go and leaves.

“Where are you going?” you shout.

“To bed?” He looks at you incredulously.

“You’re such an asshole.” 

He stops in his tracks, turning to face you. 

“I’m the asshole? Me?” He cannot believe how bratty you are being. He also hates how turned on he is.

“Yes.” You stick your tongue out at him. That’s it, he says to himself. His eyes darken and he takes long strides back to you. He grabs hold of your forearm and pulls you into the alleyway beside your shared house. He cages you against the cold brick wall and all you can do is stare at him in bewilderment at his sudden actions.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/n?” he growls. His anger sends a pleasant sensation through your body again.

“What?” you ask. Doe eyes on full display. He laughs and releases a hand from the wall to run through his hair. The smell of his shampoo invades your senses and you have to keep yourself from purring. Minho looks back at you, all amusement gone from his face. Goosebumps visibly spread across your skin.

“So were you just going to fuck everyone at the party until you got my attention?” Your mouth drops in surprise. He wasn’t…wrong, but you also weren’t expecting him to call you out. You look down at your shoes and shift on your feet. Minho grabs hold of your chin and forces you to look at him.

“You’ve got my attention now, princess. Are you happy?” You don’t answer. “What, no retort? You’re usually so opinionated.”

You try to look away again, but Minho keeps you in place. 

“And what about you? You’re not so innocent.” Your voice shakes as you try to cling to a shred of your dignity. 

“Me?” he asks.

“You were flirting with a few girls yourself!”

He takes a moment to think of who you could be talking about and realizes you mean Mel and Leah. It dawns on him in that moment that it was you he caught watching him on campus earlier in the week. He blinks a few times. “Is that why you were so misbehaved tonight? You were jealous?” You don’t know how to answer him. His eyes drop from yours to your lips. He gently moves his thumb over your bottom lip before slowly sliding it into your mouth. He watches you intently as you accept his digit and start sucking. You swirl your tongue around his finger, but he stops you when he pushes down on your tongue forcing your mouth open. He leans in and swipes his tongue across your own and you moan. He licks your mouth again before forcing your lips together. His hand drops from your chin and slides down to your waist. He takes in your lips fully. Minho’s other hand grips the back of your head pushing you further into your kiss. Your tongues wrestle for dominance, teeth clashing.

You grip the hair on the back of his head and tug, making him moan at the painful sensation. His moan vibrates through your mouth and down your spine. Minho takes his free hand and gently climbs your thigh and up to your waist. Goosebumps spread across your body from the touch of his hand. You have been craving this for weeks. He finds the band of your thong and snaps it against your hip. You both smile against each other’s lips as he pushes his tongue back into your mouth. He then traces the top of your panty line before slipping the tips of his fingers underneath the fabric. His fingers are cold in contrast to your warmth. He separates from your kiss and looks into your eyes for permission.

“Please,” you whisper. Still holding your gaze he slides his fingers down and through your folds. He collects your wetness and pulls out to admire his slick digits. You purr at the sight. He sticks his fingers in front of you. You take hold of his hand and push them fully into your mouth, tasting yourself. Minho swallows hard. There is only hunger in his eyes.

He grabs hold of your neck and crashes back into your lips so he can taste your arousal on his tongue. Minho’s hand returns to your panties and begins to trace circles around your clit. 

“More,” you whisper into his mouth.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to demand, princess.”

“Please, Minho.”

“Better.” He pushes two fingers inside of you and begins to aggressively finger fuck you until you hear your wetness. You missed this feeling. He pants into your mouth as moans spill from your lips.

“You like the way my fingers feel inside you, baby?”

“Yes, Min, yes!” 

“I fucking missed you, Y/n. Did you think of me?” He curls his fingers inside you and you cry out. 

“Every day!” 

You feel yourself about to come. “I’m so close, Min.” Minho removes his fingers from you leaving you empty. Your eyes fly open at the loss. 

“Turn around.” You acquiesce and face the wall. “Hands on the wall.” You place your palms on the cold brick while Minho rustles through his pockets. He pulls out a condom and tears the packet with his teeth. 

“Hurry up, Minho.” He gently slaps your ass and you yelp. “Patience, princess.” Minho slides the condom on and lifts the skirt of your dress. He gently rubs the skin of your cheek where he tapped you and gives it one more slap, this time harder. He pulls your thong down your legs and spits letting the string of saliva slowly fall onto you. He uses a finger to spread his spit through your folds, not that you need the extra lubrication.

“Minho, if you don’t stick your dick in me I am going to-” Minho tugs your hair pulling your ear to his lips.

“Never thought I’d see the day when you would be begging for my cock.” He slaps your pussy.

“God, I hate you,” you choke out. Minho just chuckles. 

“Liar,” he whispers. Losing patience himself, he aligns his tip with your entrance and pushes in allowing your body a moment to adjust. After he bottoms out he pauses taking in the feeling.

“Fuck, Y/n, you feel amazing.” You can’t help, but preen. You’ve thought of nothing else than this moment.

“Minho, move!” you demand. 

“Such a fucking brat.” He feels you clench on him. “Of course you’d like that, slut.” You clench again and he lets out a strangled moan at the sensation. He finally rolls into you and fireworks flash before your eyes. With absolutely no regard for your surroundings, Minho slams into you repeatedly. His hands grip your hips so hard, you’re certain he’ll leave bruises. You look forward to checking the damage in the morning. The heat begins to climb up your body as your orgasm approaches. 

“Min” thrust “ho” thrust “I’m gonna” thrust “come ahhh!” He grabs hold of your mouth to muffle your screams as you cream on his cock. He looks down where the two of you are connected and groans seeing your come trickle down his dick and your legs. He continues to ride you through your orgasm before he finally grunts and releases. Remaining inside of you, he leans into your back and removes the hold on your mouth, gently sliding it down to your back and around to hold your breast. You place your hand on his as he gently massages you. You feel his warm breath on your back. The two of you remain holding each other against the wall until your breathing calms. After your high dissipates you pull away from him and turn around to push Minho off of you. He pulls off the condom, ties it off, and throws it into a bush. While he’s pulling his pants back up, you bend down to grab your thong.  

“Leave them.” 

“What?” You look at him confused.

“Those are mine now.” 

You snort. “You’re kidding me, right?” He holds out his hand and motions for them. You throw them at his face, but he thwarts your efforts and quickly catches them, placing them in his pocket. You tug your dress down, feeling completely bare to the elements, and walk away. 

“Good night, Minho.”

“So she does have manners.” Minho smiles expectantly.

“Crawl into a hole,” you say with a sickeningly sweet smile on your face.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” he blows you an air kiss. You bat his flying air kiss away dramatically. Minho just sighs and follows closely behind you to the front of the house. 

“By the way, the girl you saw me with earlier is my dance partner, Mel.” You face him surprised at the sudden confession. He continues. “And the other girl is her girlfriend, Leah.”

“And I care because?” Feigning disinterest, you look at your nails. Minho says nothing back so you turn on your heel and leave. Minho shakes his head and laughs to himself. 

Silently, the two of you head for your separate doors. He pauses at his entryway and waits for the sound of your door shutting. Once he hears your door close he goes inside the house wearing a smile he hasn’t been able to wipe away since meeting you.

MASTERLIST

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Tag List: @linocz @queenmea604

xx

[pavdaily]

Do you have any headcanons for Pav? :)

yes

war and motherland

termina is anachronistic of course, so i am allowing any holes to thrive comfortably

i place his age during termina at 33 and his enlistment in his teens. i play around with him enlisting at 16. this would mean 17 years of service, which makes sense for a lieutenant colonel. this would also mean he enlisted sometime in the late 1920s when doing so voluntarily was possible and when kaiser was rising to power.

pav is the funger equivalent of belarusian. this is because i know more about belarus than other former soviet nations, and i am more comfortable writing what i know. (he speaks russian in one of my old posts, and i wish i could change it) this headcanon is also why i was very happy to draw pav in vyshyvanka for anon

we know that pav lost his family through an invasion during the first great war; belarus was invaded by germany in WWI, and many lives were lost.

youth and family

i believe pav's parents had him when they were older, and that he has an elder sister who left home as soon as he entered adolescence. his friends and relatives lived in the village with him. he spent his childhood roughhousing with his male cousins. the women he knew best were older women with traditional worldviews he had disdain for and a hormonal teenage sister he did not get along with. with these combined factors in mind, he developed sexist attitudes in his youth.

pav was easy to get along with as a child. he was brave and adventurous, even if he was not very talkative with strangers. he was happy with his village & the forests that surrounded it. he didn't really dream of travelling beyond. his teen years were soured by the great war and he underwent a transformation into a jaded and disconnected person. because, really, he would have gone crazy otherwise

i think it makes sense for him to be raised by worshippers of alll-mer but that his family's religion isn't very relevant to his upbringing besides sundays at the orthodox church and of course it fostering some core tenets of his worldview. as religion does. i do believe if this was the case, he would lose faith during the war or at least would not hold back his criticism of the religion.

gender and sexuality

there is a joke on my blog that pav is aroace. i did this because i am aroace. i do not believe it is true for him, but i do think he would have an aversion to sex & romance and that his behavior in the game is performative and caricaturistic. so that's where the joke comes from.

i believe pav is a cisgender man with attitudes typical of the time and a strange flamboyant flair that he easily abandons under duress. his sexuality could really be anything; it isn't very relevant to his character overall.

random

he likes nutty ice creams, nutmeg and chocolate

his favorite color once was green

he doesn't like alcohol much

he remembers people's names but not their faces. this is the case for one of his late friends

if he lived long enough to see the beatles he would not like them

he likes elk

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); unprotected sex (p in v); vivid recollection of forgotten childhood trauma; feelings of betrayal; jealousy; anxiety; panic attacks; mentions of therapy; mentions of an absent parent; sam is an idiot; abandonment issues; light mention of being under the influence of weed (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.6k+

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: much to my disdain, this chapter has to be chopped in half. :((( ugh. the last part of this chapter has been a mf monster to write, and since i already finished up this entire first half today (a little more than half, actually), i figured i might as well post it. so, without further ado, here is the first part of chapter 8. . .

thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w my ass. you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

Two Weeks Later

Friday, August 26, 2022

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose. 

His thrusts were getting desperate, his heavy breaths were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your drug-induced haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him. 

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine. 

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully.

You wanted it. Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It was worth it to feel him in that way. 

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of your life. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Present Day

Saturday, August 13, 2022 

“Yeah. Not too bad,” you shook your head, as if it were nothing. But you knew your expression was still sunken and weird.

He studied your face for a bit after you’d spoken, his expression said he wanted you to say more. 

But you weren’t going to, and he knew it.

“What if I make you dinner, then we watch a movie or something?” He requested, his brow raising at the prospect. 

He’d do what now? Your tummy did somersaults at the idea of him taking care of you. . .and especially like that. Cooking for you?

Surely he had an ulterior motive. 

“What do you want in return?” You asked suspiciously, your tears evaporating as you squinted at him. 

“What do you mean?”

“You want sex after you cook me dinner or something? An even trade?”

He blanched at that, drawing his head back a bit to observe you. “Even trade?” He scoffed, scratching his chin. “What the fuck even happens inside that brain of yours, y/n?”

Going into defense mode, you placed your hands on your hips to square up. “I’m still learning you, Jake. I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“The worst, per usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and flicking at the tip of his nose with his index. “Your favorite thing to assume about me is the worst. Always.”

“Not true,” you scoffed, flushing. He wasn’t wrong. . .you were regularly unfair towards him. But. . . “You haven’t exactly been trustworthy the entire time I’ve known you. Think back.”

“I don’t have to. I know I was an asshole and I wish like hell that I could take it back,” he revealed, sending earnest eyes your way, swiping a sweet thumb across your cheek, taking time to appreciate your left cheekbone. Then, he moved to bashfully tuck his hair behind his ears, taking a moment to untie the hair tie from his finger to pull his hair into a bun. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

You got momentarily sidetracked by watching the action of him pulling his hair up, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it, just as you liked to do.

Then you noticed him, waiting for a response as you drew your eyes from him. 

Clearing your throat, you refocused your thoughts. “Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, not wanting to harp on it for too long, for fear of putting your foot in your mouth. “It’s whatever. Really.”

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t kind to you at the beginning, and I’m sorry,” he continued, looking you directly in the eye, showing sincerity in his deep brown irises. “I was going through a lot and took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

Nodding, you took the bait. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. But,” you walked a couple steps forward, closer to him. Then, reaching a hand out, you held the side of his face. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what an ass he’d been before. He’d proven that he wasn’t truly like that. And you understood hurt feelings making a person act irrationally. “I get it. I’ve been through some shit, too, and I reacted in ways I shouldn’t have.” Smirking, you looked past him and thought back to your therapy sessions from years ago, reciting a few of your counselor’s words that’d stuck with you. “‘All that matters is that you see it, own it, and then grow from it.’ That’s what my therapist always told me when I was a kid, anyway.”

Swiveling your eyes back up to see his expression, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes had softened significantly at your vulnerability, seeming to take your words in. His eyebrows dipped and lips tilted in concentration. 

It always took you by surprise just how much his eyes showed his emotions. And how interested he always seemed in the things you would say.

“Very wise words,” was his response before he reached out to grip your bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he was moving towards the kitchen, calling back to you. “I’m gonna go make some stir fry. Chicken?”

You watched him leave, wanting to follow him wherever he went. 

But you didn’t. 

After responding in agreement to his suggestion, you made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wind down before dinner.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you woke up, curled in a fluffy pallet of blankets on the floor. 

Both of you, still in sweats. You, in a t-shirt, him, wearing no shirt (fuck yeah). 

No sex had happened the night before. Jake’d thought it would be a good idea to do dinner and a movie, but you’d had the bright idea to make a pile of blankets to lay on to watch the movies. And, of course, you’d let yourself fall asleep next to him. 

And. . . As much as you knew you shouldn’t admit it, it was fucking wonderful just falling asleep next to him. The act was so domestic that it should scare you. . . But all it did was make you want more. 

More you couldn’t have. 

But for now, you’d pretend you could.

Your head was resting on the same pillow as Jake’s, abandoning yours in your sleep for the sake of being closer to him. 

Though, rather than pulling yourself away, you did the complete opposite. You rolled onto your belly and wrapped yourself around him, one arm over his abdomen, a hand splayed on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to let yourself feel so tied to him in the midst of your sadness. It completely abandoned the idea of not being emotionally dependent on him. . .

But you also weren’t so oblivious to not see that you’d broken a few rules already. 

And, after your anxiety attack (because that’s exactly what it had been) last night, you decided it was better to just let yourself have this time with him now and not worry too much about the rules.

Rather than stressing about making sure you were following every fucking rule, you figured it would be worth it to appreciate the time you still did have with him. Because this wasn’t going to last forever, you felt it was a good idea to make the most of it while you could. 

It was going to be gone soon (too soon), and you weren’t going to take for granted the time you had left.

So, when you woke up, instead of immediately initiating sex, you took time to admire him. 

You propped your chin on the hand you’d put on his chest. Trying to memorize every freckle on his handsome face, tilted to the side, perfect for your line of sight. You studied him . . .his features, sharp, yet delicate. His tanned skin was perfectly sunkissed from spending the day in the sun at Sam’s AirBnb. His pretty lips, partially open like always. . . 

You’d learned that he didn’t snore a bunch. But, every now and then, like this morning, he’d let out the occasional, slight snore in his sleep. 

Usually, snoring of any kind annoyed you. Elsie was the worst snorer in the history of all mankind, and it always aggravated you. And any man you’d ever slept with who did it was always immediately woken up and kicked out of your bed.

But when Jake did it, it was nothing but endearing to you. It was something that he did that just made him him. 

You pressed your body closer to his- he was so warm. It felt so overwhelmingly natural to be so close to him.

You watched the way his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids as he slept, wondering what he dreamt about. Did he dream? And were they vivid like yours? 

Then, you absentmindedly ran a thumb lightly against his cheek, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt beneath your fingertips. 

Just as your pointer finger went to trace the cupid’s bow on his upper lip, he started stirring, showing telling signs of waking up. You stopped yourself before he could possibly wake up with your damn finger on his lip. 

Don’t want him to think I’m a fucking weirdo, you thought, resting your hand, again, on his chest. And I definitely don’t want him to know I was watching him sleep either. That would be embarrassing as hell.

This time, you laid your cheek on top of it, deciding to feign sleep for the duration of time it would take for him to wake up.

Not too long after, you felt a big breath lift your hand, then you heard his voice. 

“I know when you’re watching me,” he commented, his voice deep from just having woken up. 

You didn’t say anything, just lifted your head, an apologetic look on your face as you opened one eye at him in defeat. 

He had a soft smile resting on his lips.

“It’s cute,” he said, reassuring you, sitting up a bit underneath you to lean his head against the couch, balancing on an elbow. He reached a hand up to come gently through your hair with his fingers. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

He shook his head, his face thoughtful as he continued to look at you. “Not at all,” he replied. Then, a smirk grew on his lips. “The morning after we fell asleep in your bed—.”

“What?”

He raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ “When you fell asleep on the couch, I got you to lay down and try to sleep. Then, you yelled at me from your room—effectively freaking me out, by the way—and then asked me to sleep with you?”

You blushed, feeling stupid that you momentarily forgot. “Oh. Yeah.”

He raised his brows with a hum, the same grin appearing on his lips again. “I watched you the morning after. You slept later than me that morning, and I was so glad you did,” he watched his movements as he tucked a lock of bed-head hair behind your ear. 

“Why?” 

“Because you look so fucking ethereal when you sleep,” he said. “Not that you don’t all the time. . .but when you sleep? Dammit, you just look so peaceful. And I love that you feel that peace in those moments. Not all of the stress.”

It was your turn to hum in response, completely caught off guard by his kind words. You didn’t know why it still did surprise you to hear him say such things. It wasn’t out of character to hear sweet things leave his mouth, but it still felt like a gentle surprise anytime he did say something like that.

Then, something in your heart told you to open up. Let him in. 

And so, without considering anything else, you did. 

“You know, I don’t always sleep peacefully,” you commented, your hand now tracing circles on his chest. “That’s a sort of new thing. Good dreams. Peaceful sleep.”

His brow raised, questioning your words. 

“I haven’t always been able to sleep so well,” you started, apprehensively. But when his hand kept combing through your hair, and his eyes opened up to learn more, you decided it was safe. He was safe. You could share this. “There are things that happened in my past that caused a hell of a lot of pain, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried those painful things into my sleep with me. They’ve haunted me. Another thing my childhood therapist confirmed. The trauma caused me to have restless, terrible sleep.” You paused, remembering some of the nights you were too scared to be alone, sobbing and screaming in your bed, crying for help. Your eyes naturally watered at the memories, your voice wet with your next words. “Some fucking terrifying nightmares.”

You sniffled, trying to alleviate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him two days in a row. But, here you were. Jake brushed more hair behind your ear, then put that arm behind his head to lean up. The other strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He massaged shapes with his thumb, into the hip he held. 

Your eyes closed on their own, relishing the feeling of him reacting so gently to you. 

They reopened when you heard him clear his throat. His deep chocolate irises were shadowed with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he pointed out, continuing to rub your waist. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that may hurt you.”

You considered his words for a few seconds, but ultimately decided what you wanted to do.

“I want to tell you.”

“Okay. I want to listen.”

You’d only ever opened up about all of this to Elsie (because she was there), and then Josh when you became his friend. But the urge to tell Jake about all of it was far too overwhelming to ignore. It felt as though you had to tell him. 

“Where do I even begin?” You pondered aloud. “What do you want to know?”

He hummed, smooshing his lips together in thought for a few seconds, squinting his eyes in thought as he peered up to the ceiling. You tapped your fingers against his chest, waiting for his input. 

“When did the bad dreams start? Can you pinpoint an age or anything?”

“After my mom left,” you replied, curling further into his body. 

He accepted your motion, encompassing you, keeping you close. 

“How old were you?” 

“I was ten. Left me sitting on the front porch as she left in a string of curse words. . . Blaming Els and me for all of it,” you stared into the space just past his head, thinking back on it. You felt brave revisiting it at this moment, for whatever reason. “I can’t recall everything she said that day or before, but what I do remember both from that day and before that day. . .,” you stopped, your face flinching a bit at the dark thoughts. “. . . It’s not good.”

Your skin crawled, and you weren’t liking the feeling. Needing to center yourself, you decided to look at him again to gauge his reaction. 

His face was rather relaxed, keeping a consistent air of calm to support you through your responses. “You doing okay?” He questioned, checking in. His brows dipped in concern for a moment, waiting for you.

Your lips lifted, back in the moment with him. 

This is the present time. He is what’s happening. The past is the past and I’m bigger than it, you recited. 

Some of the words were those advised by your childhood therapist. Truthfully, the lady had had some wise words. Jake’d been right when he’d come to that conclusion the night before.

A quiet, content smile was on your face when you responded. “Yeah. I promise. I want to tell you this.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice quiet like your smile. “Who did you live with after?”

“My grandparents,” you said. “And Elsie.”

“Stayed with them until. . .?”

“Until I moved out to go to school at Pratt. When I moved here.”

“And you’re going to school for. . .?”

You grinned, appreciating his variation of questions. “Majoring in writing,” you groaned as the last word fell from your mouth. “And minoring in music.”

“Don’t like writing anymore?”

You sat on that for a second, then answered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. . . It’s that it’s not my passion,” you paused your motion on his chest and reached down to grab his hand that held your body. You lifted it up from under the fluffy blanket that covered you both. Holding his hand, you traced his calloused fingertips. “I admire how you went after your passion when you had the chance. I wish I’d gone after my own.”

He watched you, seeming to measure your words. “And yours is music, too.”

“Mhm. . . But not playing it,” you added. “Just listening to it– studying it. Learning more about it. I love writing, but I breathe those melodies.”

He smiled in response to that. “Me too. And I like that you feel that way, too,” he commented, letting your fingers play with his. “But who’s to say you couldn’t combine the two? Become a music journalist? A lyricist?”

For some reason, you’d never considered the latter. But it felt as though a fresh breath of air had been breathed into you. “I’ve never thought of being a lyricist, but that sounds. . .”

“Incredible?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I wonder how you get a job like that, though.”

You let go of his hand to fold both of yours on his chest, your chin on top of them. He moved his hand to encircle your waist again. “I’ll help you find something,” he assured. Your belly buzzed. The idea of him helping you with something so personal to you . . . it made you feel everything all at once. “Somewhere. You live in New York City. . .I’m sure the possibilities are endless.”

“I’m sure you’re correct,” you agreed, admiring the way his breaths would lift your chin, the way his bicep flexed as he moved the bent arm behind his head. 

A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, him so obviously watching you– admiring you. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. 

His next words confirmed it. 

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

Not sure what to even begin to say to that, all you could utter was, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, was a surprise, though. 

“Has no one ever told you?”

“Well, Josh says sweet things like that. And Elsie is great at encouraging me, too. . . But hearing you say something like that. . . those words. It just feels good. I don’t know,” you shook your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he cleared his throat. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you sniffed, for the second time that morning. More tears fell onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they left your mouth. 

“I want to tell you those things,” he said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

“Thank you,” again, was all you could say. 

“But the sex is pretty good,” he smirked as he said the words, his eyes glinting mischievously as he skirted a hand up the back of your shirt, skating fingers along your bare back. His eyes found yours when he got closer to your shoulders. “No bra?”

“You know I don’t wear one when I sleep.”

“So I’m assuming you knew we were gonna fall asleep out here?” 

“Mhm.”

“And you still let it happen?”

I did. . . And even though I shouldn’t, I keep breaking all of my own stupid rules, you thought in defeat.

“Wanted it to,” you remarked.

He hummed, watching you with a curious look in his beautiful eyes. You knew he was most probably thinking the same thing as you. 

But, all he said next was, “Can I ask you more questions?”

“Yeah,” you whispered in the quietness of the morning. The rumbling of thunder outside, followed by the pitter-patter of rain droplets against the living room window made goosebumps grow on your skin. “Nothing better than a quiet, rainy morning.”

“You are correct,” he replied in an approving tone. “So. . .your mother. . . Is it okay if I ask about her?”

“Yes,” your lips quirked. “I’ve already told you as much, silly.”

“I know, I know. . . It’s just a lot, I’m sure.”

You nodded to confirm. “It is. But I want to share this with you.”

“Thank you.”

“For trauma dumping?” You giggled. 

“For trusting me,” he said, serious in his reply. His eyes flicked to every inch of your face, taking you in. His hand, now massaging the tension from your neck. 

Miraculous that he just seemed to know the place where your tension settled. 

Not that it wasn’t a common place for tension to reside. But you wondered if he’d noticed you favoring the bottom of your neck during tense situations, over time.

Your heart hammered at the intimacy of the moment. You were so close to just leaning up and kissing him, but you didn’t want to cut conversation short. It was too enjoyable for you. 

It felt so freeing.

Trying to bring you both back to the topic at hand, you inquired. “What was your question about my mom?”

“Oh, yes,” he refocused, his hand now moving up to massage the roots at the base of your head. More goosebumps grew at the sensation. “Do you still talk to her?”

“Uh, no. Haven’t even seen the woman since she left. She hurt me so bad back then. . .I’ve kind of closed off the fact that she even exists,” you said. “She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s true. I’m just glad for the family I do still have,” you paused, deciding if you wanted to tack on the other words you were thinking. There was no reason not to, you’d already bared so much to him in a span of minutes. “Glad I have those people who want me.”

“I want you,” he wrapped a hand at the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head as one thumb rubbed over your pulse point. His eyes bore into yours, begging you to understand the words.

The next few moments were quiet and filled with everything left unsaid. What it was that remained unsaid, you didn’t know. Or maybe you did know.

He eventually let go, clearing his throat to show he was moving on. “Does Elsie feel the same? Closed off and all that?”

You blinked a couple times before responding. 

“Y-yeah. Pretty much. She and I are on the same wavelength about 98 percent of the time.”

“Imagine 100 percent of the time,” he blew out a breath, his eyes getting big as he stared off. 

“Twin life?”

He looked back at you, a grin on his pretty lips. “Twin life,” he confirmed. Pensiveness painted his features, then he spoke again. “Speaking of . . . Did you meet Josh at the record store?”

“Yes,” you responded. “Almost 4 years ago.”

“I’m jealous.”

“That I had that time with Josh while you missed him so bad?”

“Psh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No. I’ve spent enough time with that fucker through the years,” he snickered, winking at you. “I’m jealous that he got all that time with you. Getting to know you while I was in Illinois, wasting away.”

Your tummy lit up with butterflies again. But you treaded carefully with this topic. You didn’t need him making any assumptions about Josh again.

There was no reason for him to be jealous. And honestly, you wanted to show him as much.  

“Well, you shouldn’t get too jealous,” you said, moving from laying down. You positioned your legs on either side of his hips, then sat your ass on the tops of his thighs, opening yourself up to him. 

He took in a sharp breath, and smoothed his hands over the tops of your thighs, then slipped his hands past the waistband of your sweats, giving your ass a generous squeeze.

“Why’s that?” He asked, his brow lifting in question. He brought himself up a little more, leaning against the couch. As he moved to sit up, he used his hands on your ass to push your crotch against his hardening cock. 

The wet arousal in your panties pressed against you. You gasped at the feeling. 

His lip curled to show his top row of perfectly straight, white teeth. 

So fucking handsome.

“Well,” you ground your hips against him, his head lolling back momentarily. He got back by bucking up into you, just the slightest bit. It caused a breathy moan to leave your lips. “He will never have me like this, for one,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to your chest. “I only want you like this, Jake.”

Fuck. That felt so genuine slipping from your lips. And you wouldn’t tell him this (you could barely admit it to yourself), but you really did only want him. Like, in general. Out of all other men, he was the only one you craved. 

When did that even happen?! Your incredulous thoughts could have taken over had he not effectively distracted you.

He moved his hands up under your shirt, abandoning your ass. His eyes were glued to your hardening nipples as his thumbs pressed into your tummy, massaging your hot skin. 

It was getting harder and harder to believe there’d been a time that you would have stopped this—out of fear and a bunch of shit. Leaving him on his own, and you sulking, feeling conflicted as hell.

Though, these days, you couldn’t leave him. 

There was nothing that could pull you away from him in moments like these.

(And that was a scary thought you could consider later.)

Your body was drawn to him, putty under his touch. Bending down the slightest bit, you curled your hands comfortably in his ever-growing locks. Your nose nestled into the part of his hair right behind his ear. One of your favorite parts of his body was that little crook behind his ear. You didn’t know why. . . 

But dammit— he always smelled so delicious. His cologne held hints of sandalwood and amber. . . And something so delectably Jake.

And God, you loved his hair. The citrusy smell of his shampoo. The softness of the locks. The length.

Fuck, the length.

Silly as it may’ve been, you were so glad he was growing it out. The longer it got, the more his heat scale increased. And at this point, he was getting dangerously hot.

His cock nudged against you, leaving nothing to the imagination underneath the layers of clothing. Anytime you’d move your hips to entice him, his cock throbbed beneath you, making your panties more and more uncomfortable with how wet they were. 

You felt his hands flatten, traveling up your tummy slowly. But just as he was about to touch your breasts, he switched directions, running his calloused fingertips down your back instead. 

“Asshole,” you whispered in his ear. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. 

The little raspy laugh beneath you gave him away.

Your skin grew goosebumps at the sensation of his rough fingertips making soft shapes on your back. 

But you wanted his hands headed back in the direction they were before. 

Your nipples were blatantly expanding the fabric of your t-shirt, begging for him. 

And, when you pulled away to observe his face, he was already waiting for you, his eyes burning into yours, all the way down to your heart. 

Though. . .he didn’t stay there for long. He let his gaze travel back down to your breasts, his pupils dilated, filling his iris almost completely black. 

He looked hungry and your hips were moving of their own accord at that point. Every bit of him you got was making you need more, more, more. 

“I love your fucking tits,” he growled, wrapping one strong arm behind your back and effectively placing you beneath him. 

Your breath momentarily left your lungs, making you release a huge sigh as he arranged you so your back laid nicely against the soft blankets and pillows. 

“What do you like about them?”

He groaned, smoothing his hand up your stomach again. His hand cupped the underside of one breast. You sighed at finally feeling his hands where you wanted them.

“I love that they’re yours,” he started, reaching his thumb to rub and pinch at your left nipple. “I love that the color of your nipples is the same color as your pretty lips,” he lifted your shirt the slightest bit, sucking one bud into his mouth, kissing it like he would your mouth. Then, he replaced his mouth with his hand, squeezing your breast as you arched into his touch. 

Finally, he connected his mouth with yours, his bottom lip slipping between your lips to deepen it just a bit. You moaned into his mouth as he did yours. Then, he pulled away, leaning on his forearm. Switching between tits with one hand, he cupped the bottom of each, moving his hand under them enough to watch them jiggle. “And I love watching them bounce as I’m fucking you.”

“Shit, Jake,” you moaned, pushing yourself further into his hand. You were aching for him to be inside of you. “Fuck me so you can see what you like, baby.”

He sat up, slipped his sweats (there having been no underwear underneath, apparently) down his thighs, thick cock springing free. The sight made your belly swirl and your center wet with need. 

Once he was completely naked, he repositioned above you. 

But your skin was itching with the feeling of still being clothed. You needed to feel his warm skin against your own.

“Move,” you motioned for him to back up. You sat up as he took the hint, sitting back on his knees beside you.

His eyebrows wrinkled and his eyes grew worried. “Where are you go—?”

But he went silent as the t-shirt left your body and your bare chest flashed at him. And as you stripped yourself of the shirt, your boobs bounced a little, just as he liked. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching for himself. You watched, your throat tightening, as he looked down at his shaft, his mouth falling open, just slightly, as he gave himself a couple of short, quick pumps. 

Dear God.

But he seemed dissatisfied.

And when you’d normally stop him and tell him to let you do it instead, you didn’t this time. 

But it seemed he still wanted your help.

You just sat in awe as he stretched his hand out to you. You were still as a statue as he gripped your chin, pulling it down the slightest bit. You followed his lead and opened your mouth more with his gesture. Then, you watched as he moved the hand, palm open, in front of your mouth. 

“Spit for me, baby,” he nodded at the hand in front of you. 

You didn’t argue, doing as you were told, heart racing as you spit in his hand. 

After you’d done what he wanted, he wrapped the hand around the base of his thick cock, giving himself a few long strokes from his skilled hand.

Though, as soon as he threw his head back with one particularly generous, tight-fisted move, you decided that it was officially past time to get naked.

You made quick work of your sweats, his eyes flicking up to watch you pull them off in a flurry. Then you hooked your fingers into your soaked underwear, getting them off as fast as possible.

You wanted to be the one to please, rather than his hand. 

You were growing jealous of the fist, as it held his pretty dick the way your pussy was aching to. 

When you were finally just as bare as he was, you laid on your back again. You spread one leg wide to open up for him, keeping the other flat, against your heap of blankets. In this position, he’d be able to see the bottom curve of your ass, your full breasts, and your slick pussy.

He didn’t see you, though, as he’d gone to focus on pleasuring himself, eyebrows drawn and whimpering a bit as he continued to watch his hand work at a steady pace. 

“Jake,” you called quietly, urging him to look at you and come to you. 

As soon as his name left your mouth, he looked up from where he was watching himself work his cock. After one hungry once-over from his dark eyes, he bit his lip.

“You ready?” You asked, slowly spreading both legs a little more for him, reaching two fingers to slide through your wet folds, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched. 

“Want me to eat your sweet pussy, baby?” He questioned, his voice a velvety rasp. 

Ready to please, his hand left his thick cock in order to move the short distance it took to be closer to you. 

“I want that pretty dick inside of me,” you responded, your voice exuding all of the need you felt running through your veins. “Now.”

And in a flash, he was on top of you again. His tip, damp from your saliva, nudged its way to the place it knew so well. 

Before any more words could be spoken, he pushed inside of you in one swift take. The two of you sighed in unison, relief flashing over his face, as you were sure it did yours, too.

He leaned both forearms on either side of your head, keeping his handsome face close to yours as he fucked you, thick cock stretching you well with each deliberate, hard thrust. 

His eyes were trained on your heaving tits, doing just what he wanted them to.

“I was starting to get jealous—,” you paused, whining with one particular snap of his hips, his dick hitting your secret spot. “Of-of that hand,” you said, your voice shaking on the words. 

His forehead was beaded with sweat already, ever-energetic in his pursuits—whether it be playing music or in the bedroom. 

“Don’t be,” he responded, pinning you with a stern look from his eyes, tone firm. “Your pussy feels better than anything else.”

The telling sounds of your bodies connecting only added to the ecstasy of the moment.

“Took-took y-you too long to get the hint,” you panted. 

“It was a few seconds,” he said, rocking his hips extra hard with the last word. 

Your toes curled with a moan. 

“Still too long.”

“Impatient.”

“No, I just know what I want,” you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting to lick further into the other’s open mouth. 

With one final swipe of his tongue against your teeth, he pulled away. “You’re high maintenance.”

You were suddenly self-conscious, overcome with a feeling that you weren’t good enough for him. That you annoyed him.

You covered it up with a defensive, haughty tone. “So?”

“I fucking love it.”

Oh.

Your body opened up at that, seemingly on its own. You bent your knees, spreading your thighs even more, letting him sink deeper. 

You grabbed at his biceps, gripping them to give yourself some sort of grounding as he started giving all he had, each thrust of his harder than the one before it. 

It was painful and delicious all at once. 

Fuck he felt so good.

The way he filled you was unlike any man before him. He fit so fucking well, and your center never failed to grip him just right.

“I also love the way your pussy feels,” he said, breathing heavily. “You like how I feel?”

You grinned, feeling drunk on him. Your belly clenched, simultaneous to your center with each rock of his hips. Sighing, you let your hands move to hold onto his strong shoulders. 

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you sighed, looking down to where your bodies met. It was almost too much. When you went to look up, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You squeezed his shoulder. “Jake.”

A concerned look painting his features, he stopped, checking you. “What? What’s wrong?”

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek, rolling your hips once, needing the pressure of him moving inside of you. “Nothing at all,” you went to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, reassuring. “Just got an idea.”

He picked up his movements: languid strokes, this time, making you forget about everything besides him momentarily. “And what is that?”

You kept on when you could find the words. “I—uhhh,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as he moved to lay his belly against yours, knowing the friction would be perfect for your swollen, throbbing clit. “I want to pl—oh!,” you sucked in a breath, seeing stars for a moment. Once you were able, you continued. “Wanna play a record.”

“Right now?” He grunted, making one hard rock of his hips into yours. 

Your toes curled, still feeling the softness of his tummy on your tender bundle of nerves as his tip repeatedly hit your secret spot. “Yeah.”

He came to a slow stop, eyes trained on yours. He stayed there, watching you with an unspoken question in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought deeply. 

“Is that okay?” You asked, trying to break him from his reverie, nervous you’d freaked him out with the odd request. 

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, hair effectively falling from where you’d tucked it. “That sounds incredible, actually.”

Butterflies let loose in the pit of your stomach. Of course he’d like the idea. He loved music just the same as you did. 

He pulled out, and you instantly missed him. But you watched him lazily, dreamily as he stood up smoothly, and walked to the shelf of records (now a mixture of his and yours, of course). “Which one?” He wondered aloud.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

As he searched through the albums, you let your mind wander with your eyes.

His body was a work of art. 

His thighs, muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage. 

The perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods. 

And those broad shoulders that were strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he turned a bit towards you, his eyes quickly scanning the back of a vinyl, your eyes instantly found his straining dick. His tip, still swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched, seeing how it now glistened from your dripping pussy. Dammit you needed him to hurry. 

But most of all, damn this idea for taking him away from you.

Once he turned to you fully, an Aretha Franklin vinyl in hand, you found his eyes. They were questioning, but you looked away from them to admire your most favorite parts of his body. 

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle. 

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature. 

His aura was compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks, and sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in. 

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. . . And in moments like these, you wished more than anything that he was yours. 

But he wasn’t. 

And that bitter thought helped to snap you out of your trance, finally looking at him to answer. 

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

You flushed, rolling your eyes to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Glancing briefly at the record, squinting to truly recognize it, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew you’d made the right choice. 

The sound added to the bliss you were already feeling on this quiet, rainy morning.

The combination of watching him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit.

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you. 

You smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.” 

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

When he went to lean over you to pick up where you left off, you scooted over, motioning for him to lay down instead. 

Without question, he did as you wanted, and as Aretha sang of a man making her feel like a natural woman, you sank onto him, letting him stretch you so well. 

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . . 

But, in moments like this one, when one hand would be holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like this made a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation. 

And, as you listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

This song perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had been the bane of your existence so recently was now a light on your darkest days.

And, as you watched him, his hips beginning to move on their own, making you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

And not just because of the sex. It was him. Having him around made you feel . . . whole.

Without evening knowing or trying, he’d been helping you find missing pieces to your puzzle. 

Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good. Some bad. But all you. 

Pieces you’d forgotten even existed. 

And by just being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man. 

As you rode him, leaning down on your forearms to get close to his face, you gave him a long kiss. A kiss that you hoped said thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him. 

But as you separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you looked into the deep pools of his eyes that held so much. And you knew you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand as you felt new tears cloud your vision. Your hips were moving on their own, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You were holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the song as you had this moment.

He held your gaze, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match your own. Both of you stayed there for a minute, taking the other in. 

You kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you focused on finding a release for you both. 

Just as another favorite of yours came on. 

The opening chorus resonated with you just like every time you’d heard it before, but this time it was different—better—as he laid underneath you, holding you. . . Staring at you with eyes that held the motherfucking world.

Like the sweet morning dew, 

I took one look at you,

And it was plain to see you were my destiny.

With my arms open wide, I threw away my pride.

Feeling everything all at once, you spread your legs wide, thighs stretching out on top of his to get as close as you could to him. Then you bent your legs at the knees, and leaned toward him, laying on top of him and nuzzling into that sweet spot behind his ear. You made yourself comfortable as you knew this would be your undoing. 

It always was from this position. 

And this song was just feeding into the emotions coursing through your heart, intensifying all of it at once.

Your favorite way to finish was in this exact position, and you knew at that moment, that it would take you no time. 

Fucking him at that moment felt extremely dissimilar to all of your times before. The damned music was untying every string you’d used to close up your fragile heart. 

While lost in your sudden wave of thought, he took over, knowing all the moves. He’d grown familiar with this position, just as you had. He knew your body. What you liked. 

He grabbed a hip and a handful of your ass, and moved your body down forcefully to meet him while also thrusting his hips up. 

The contrast of motion and the tugging at your heart helped every piece of you to get the much needed stimulation. And fuck if it didn’t make your thighs shake.

You whined, your toes curling as, simultaneously, his tip hit your g-spot and your clit nudged against the lower part of his tummy. 

“Jakey,” you moaned. 

“I know,” he breathed hotly, not letting up on his motions in the slightest. “I can fucking feel you pulse around me, baby.”

“You like it?” You sighed, still next to his ear, needing to hear the affirmation from him.

“Best fucking feeling in the whole world.”

Your tummy lurched at that, butterflies fluttered their wings. 

That’s how you feel for me, too, you thought.

And with one more strategic move of his hips, you saw stars. You felt every nerve ending light up. Your skin felt like static.

“Oooohhh,” you moaned, your body shaking. 

He groaned, whining a bit. “Y/n—I’m—.”

You felt far away as he tapped your hip, sinking into all things Jake, Jake, Jake.

You jostled back to reality right as he lifted you off of him, depositing you as carefully and quickly as he could on the covers next to you both in no time.

Just as you laid down, he was instantly on his knees, warm seed spilling onto your tummy, right where he’d placed you. 

You blinked and shook your head, registering what’d almost happened. Your thoughts were flying— going crazy. 

“Fuck,” he said, flopping down next to you as he slid a hand down his face. “That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” was all you could mutter, your heart beating hard against your chest.

Before much more could be said, he sealed the interaction with a slow, sure kiss and got up to fix you both breakfast.

Now that you’d had his cooking the night prior, you were really looking forward to the breakfast. You’d learned the man was extremely gifted in culinary— just as he was in music. 

But, even as the bacon crackled and the vanilla-laced smell of fresh waffles wafted in through the open layout of the apartment, you weren’t really thinking about his cooking. 

No; inside your mind, you were swirling back and forth with how close you’d felt to him. How sex was starting to feel so effortless and all-encompassing with him. . . And that coupled with how much you’d been feeling in the moment?

It was obvious he’d carved a place in your heart.

A big one.

But you’d worry about that later. 

Because. . .what was clawing at you more was one particular thought. 

You now had a nagging curiosity of what it might feel like to have him actually finish inside of you. 

How in the hell had you let it come to this?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Every year, it was tradition to have a family dinner at your grandparents’ house to celebrate a new year of school. 

But this year, on a whim, you decided to make it a little different. . . You acted on impulse and invited Jake to it. 

To your surprise (and excitement), he’d agreed with no hesitation.

And before the annoying voice in your head could say anything, you reassured it that him coming with you wasn’t a couple-y thing. 

Not at all.

You’d had time to think back on the way you’d started cracking during sex the other morning. 

And you had already started the process of tying your heart back up, protecting yourself from a whirlwind of unnecessary, surely unreciprocated emotion.

He liked having sex with you, that was it. And it could be that way for you, too. It had to be.

The flash of feelings you’d felt during sex a few mornings back honestly meant nothing— you chalked it up to just being caught up in the moment. You had simply gotten far too ahead of yourself.

As you got ready that night, you thought back on the few times your grandma and grandpa had asked about your roommate. You were sure you’d only thought to invite him, because you’d been subconsciously thinking it would appease your wondering grandparents. 

You also just really enjoyed spending time with him. That much you could come to terms with. And, admittedly, you really wanted him to meet your grandparents.

Of course, you were a little nervous at the prospect of him meeting your them (more your judgmental grandfather than your grandma). But, nonetheless, you were really looking forward to having him there with you. 

And, the cherry on top: Elsie would be there to alleviate any weird tension your grandparents may add. . . So, truly, it was the ideal time to have him come meet them. 

At 5:00, thirty minutes before it was time to leave, he still wasn’t home. You knew he had a few lessons today, but he’d assured you that he would be home on time. 

Though, you couldn’t help feeling nervous that maybe he’d regretted saying yes, and he was going to run late on purpose just to get out of going to dinner. 

Before your thoughts could get too crazy, you got a text from him. 

Jake, 5:10 p.m.: so I’m still working with this fuckin client :( 

But at the sight of the text, your stomach sank. 

I knew it, you thought, downhearted. He’s gonna try to get out of it.

Then, another text came through.

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: and I think it’s the time of day

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: but I’ve had like 3 Ubers in a row cancel on me for my scheduled time

He’s really pulling out all the stops, you thought, feeling your chest tighten, anger coming into play. Just say you don’t want to go.

While you were sulking, you noticed one more text pop up in its gray bubble. 

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: I hate to ask you to do this 

Here it comes.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: but can you pick me up on your way to your grandparents house? I really don’t wanna miss it

You could’ve sighed with relief. In fact, you did. Watching the screen for a few more seconds, you contemplated waiting a bit to respond. Play the classic ‘hard-to-get’ and ‘make-sure-he-knows-I-don’t-take-this-too-seriously-game’ and keep him on the line. . .

But you couldn’t wait. And probably too quickly, you texted back. 

You, 5:13 p.m.: I’d be happy to. I’ll be there soon. Just send me the address.

And within five minutes, the address was sent as you were scooping Stevie some fresh food in her dish. And as soon as you saw it, you were making your way out the door, hurriedly making your way to the car. 

Why am I so anxious to see him when I literally just saw him this morning? You thought, as you started the car, hearing your soul music playlist take over the car’s stereo. Calm the fuck down, y/n.

But you couldn’t help it as you pulled quickly out of the parking lot, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

When you pulled up to his client’s house, you suddenly saw the appeal of the private lessons. You were sure he got paid good fucking bucks to give lessons to whoever it was that lived in this mansion of a place. 

You were busy admiring the giant home, when you felt your stomach flutter at the sight of him, carrying his acoustic guitar case. 

Though, your gaze didn’t stay on him for long as you caught sight of the beautiful woman with flowing, jet-black locks, walking out of the door behind him, her pristine black dress. Her full ass, big tits, and small waist accentuated perfectly in the outfit. You saw her blatantly checking him out and saying something as she followed behind him. 

Whatever it was she was saying, it made him laugh. Truly laugh. His dimples were showing and his mouth was open wide, then he said something back. 

But he was seemingly oblivious to her glances at his ass as he continued walking ahead of her. The perfectly straight, gleaming white smile on her glowing caramel skin was wide with whatever he said and whatever it was that she was saying in return. 

Your blood was boiling. And it just got worse as you watched her come up behind him and lightly grab his bicep, turning him gently to face her. 

For a few brief seconds, you watched in terror, afraid that you were about to witness a kiss between him and this woman. 

Thankfully, you didn’t. 

But what you did see still made tears climb up your throat. 

You watched him sit his case down, and then saw an extremely genuine, heartfelt hug take place between the two. It wasn’t a quick, friendly side hug, it was a full-on hug. She was grasping him tightly, holding the back of his head as she clung to him. Her eyes closed as she continued speaking over his shoulder.

At one moment, her mouth closed and you saw just how beautifully shaped and plush her soft lips were. She was strikingly gorgeous. Everything about her. 

Was this her house? Was he giving her lessons? Or did she have a kid that he was giving lessons to? 

Whatever the case may have been, you had to swallow back every tear that was threatening to escape as he started walking toward you, case in hand again. 

She stayed on the sidewalk, watching him walk down the steps to the curb where you’d pulled up. 

Right as he got to your car, he turned around to wave at her once more. 

And then, what you heard him say through the closed door made your heart fall to the very pit of your stomach.

“It’s my favorite part of the day!” He laughed heartily, before finally opening the door to the backseat. 

His favorite part of the day? Was it being with her? Fuck.

You turned to face the front of the car, gathering yourself as you stared out the windshield. You were so embarrassed. For a variety of reasons. 

Your hands shook as you held tightly to the steering wheel. 

The back door shut, and you prepared yourself for him being close to you by clearing your throat and reminding yourself of a few important things.

We are not together. I don’t love him. God no I don’t, you shook your head at the idea of that. And he can be with whomever he pleases. It’s none of my business. 

But when he opened the door to the car, all thoughts from before vanished. The musings from your self-mantra and your worries of the girl had dissipated as soon as he spoke in his ever-raspy, sweet tone. 

“Hi, beautiful.”

You glanced over at him, a tight smile on your lips working to mask any worry that there may have been. Working to convince him and yourself that things were okay. 

You couldn’t help but ask. “Is she a client or does she have a child taking lessons?”

He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his nose. “Oh, she’s the client,” he said, his smile matching his tone as he spoke of her. “She’s doing really well. I’m proud of her progress.”

The next question slipped from your lips out of pure curiosity, nothing more. “Does she live in that giant house all by herself?”

“Yep. Single. No kids,” he affirmed. “Crazy, huh? Oh! I almost forgot,” he reached over the armrest and into the backseat to click open his case and get something from it. 

His proximity to you was overwhelming, the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and amber infiltrating your senses.

Please want me more than you might want her, you pleaded silently. 

When he was sitting in his seat again, he lifted to reach into his back pocket, getting his wallet out.

“What did you almost forget?” You inquired, trying to mask your ridiculous thoughts with a plain tone.

“This,” he held up a guitar pick, before opening his wallet to put it inside. “My lucky pick. I always use it at my lessons. Forgot to put it back in my wallet today. Got carried away talking to her.”

Fuck. 

Then, without meaning to, you caught his gaze. The a/c blowing against your hair and face, cooling you off from your distressing thoughts.

But your bearings were almost lost again with the sincerity you found in his eyes, and with the hand that fell to squeeze your thigh as he leaned over the console to kiss your cheek. 

Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned your attention back to the road right before you put the car in drive.

We are not together. Everything is fine. Whatever we are— it’s fine. Stop worrying, you chanted all of this internally as you increased the volume on Victoria Monet, gearing up for your playlist to serenade you for the duration of the drive. Drown out your ridiculous train of thought.

“I actually like this,” Jake commented, his hand still on your thigh. His thumb sweeped wide circles on your inner thigh, burning through your jeans. “What’s it called?”

Coming to the stop sign at the end of the street, you waited for the car on your right to go as you responded. 

“We Might Even Be Falling In Love,” was your simple response, right before you took your turn at the four way stop.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The car ride to your grandparents’ was slightly tense at first, but eventually you got over it as Jake started making his regular small talk. He was the same as always. Anytime you talked with him, he reminded you of his brother with how intent and caring he was about every word that left your mouth. 

But, for you, it meant more coming from him than it did Josh.

Jake was just. . .special to you. And you wanted to be special to him.

It was a relief. And by the time you pulled up to the quaint, familiar house, everything felt the same as it always did. You were feeling better. . he was him and things felt normal. Felt okay. 

As you walked up to the front door, him following you closely behind, you felt comfortable. And when you entered the house, it felt so good to have Jake in tow, the never-changing atmosphere of the home combining perfectly with having him near. 

You were giddy with the fact that he was there.

And it just continued to get better as the night wore on. 

Both of your grandparents greeted Jake with open arms, real welcoming smiles adorned their wrinkling faces. Your chest, warm with contentment as you watched the three of them interact. Jake, continuing the theme of coming out of his shell, as he made smooth conversation with your people. 

As you’d been standing in the entryway chatting, Elsie’d rounded the corner from the kitchen. And to your delighted surprise, Josh had been in tow behind her. 

You knew they’d decided to take it to the next level after the night at the bowling alley. They were becoming the power couple. So it made sense that he’d be here tonight, too.

Everything was absolutely perfect. Elsie and Josh being there made the ideal mix of people for Jake’s first time meeting your family. 

Then dinner came.

“Joshua, I will never get over how sweet it was for you to make the drive to us with Elsie a few weeks ago,” your grandmother commented as she poked some salad with her fork. “Didn’t leave her alone on that late night drive.”

“She is in good hands with you,” your grandfather agreed, making sure to catch Josh’s eyes to emphasize his words. 

“I’m lucky to have her,” Josh smiled in response, kissing Elsie’s cheek. 

Everything was going great, conversation flowing until your grandmother spoke next.

“Y/n, honey, how long have you been seeing Jake?” 

Your eyes stayed trained on your plate, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. You heard Jake clear his throat from where he sat next to you. Fuck. Of course she’d ask this. Assume that you two were dating.

To your relief, Elsie started speaking for you. 

“Grandma, they aren’t together,” she said, covering smoothly with a giggle to top it off, trying to alleviate any tension.

You took that as your cue to look up, monitoring the situation. 

“Oh,” your Grandma responded, a little smile on her face as she put an aged, perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. “Silly old me. I guess I just assumed because you were here together tonight, sis,” she looked at you, her eyes apologetic. 

“You sure act like it,” your Grandpa chimed in, motioning with his fork at you two sitting next to each other. 

“Howard, quit,” your Grandmother defended. 

At your Grandpa’s comment, you finally found your voice. 

“Elsie’s right. We are not together,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “He’s just my roommate.”

“Harsh, kid,” your Grandfather interjected. “Not even a friend?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, looking over at Jake who seemed to be trying his best to stay focused on his plate, dodging any involvement in the conversation. “But mostly just my roommate.”

For some reason, the awkward air persisted, hanging in the air around you. 

Your words felt wrong. You knew you were friends (and more than that), but you didn’t want to get too mushy, for fear of being questioned further. You were trying your best to diffuse the tension, fixing it so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

You were so fearful of somehow exposing your current predicament—especially to those in the room. You hadn’t even told Elsie of your whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation. Shockingly. 

She’d known about you two having sex that first time. . . But you had never told her anything further than that.

Honestly, you’d been too focused on Jake the past few weeks to even think to inform her. It was something that only you and Jake shared and you mostly liked it that way. 

You also didn’t want to tell her because you were positive she’d question the situation. Make you admit things you didn’t want to. Things you couldn’t admit. Push you to say too much. You didn’t need her to make it anything more than what it was. 

It was your little secret. And you intended on keeping it that way. 

Josh swooped in seamlessly, taking over the conversation with talks of all things music and film. 

Eventually, Jake tuned in to the music talk. He’d stayed quiet for longer than you’d anticipated . . . surely feeling the awkwardness of the initial question with you. But he’d played it off well. 

And as you watched him interact with your grandparents, the version of him that you witnessed made your heart flutter. Your senses were filled with all kinds of happiness. 

Eventually, you, the twins, and your Grandpa had migrated to the living room as Elsie and your Grandma went to prepare dessert.

You sat there, across the room from him. You, on the couch, him on the ottoman next to your Grandpa’s chair. Why he’d sat so far away from you, you didn’t know – but you didn’t care. You just enjoyed watching him talk. 

The way he got along with your Grandpa made you light up with joy considerably. 

Your Grandfather was a hard nut to crack. Not to compare the two, but you wouldn’t ever put it past Josh to get through to your Grandpa (because Josh was, quite possibly, the easiest person in the world to talk to). So seeing his easy talk with your Grandpa was expected. 

But Jake? Jake was just a quieter person by nature. Not in a bad way, by any means. . . He just was. You liked him that way. He was thoughtful and kept parts of himself hidden. . . revealed more of himself the more he trusted someone. You really liked him for all of his ways. 

But the way he was bonding with your Grandpa? It was just astonishing. 

By just being himself, Jake was making your Grandpa open up more than ever.

You’d never seen your Grandpa this way.

As you watched the three of them, Jake’s efforts to connect with your Grandfather honestly seemed to flow more smoothly than the other twin’s. 

Josh had even ended up leaving the conversation, going to join your Grandma and Elsie in the kitchen, as the other two seemed to be venturing into their own conversation. Neither Jake nor your Grandpa needed a buffer. But you’d stayed anyhow, too intrigued by them to want to leave. 

And, you just really liked being where Jake was. He made you feel so calm and happy.

You also just couldn’t miss out on the moment in front of you. . .you’d never seen your Grandpa talk so animatedly.

The way he talked about music with Jake was shocking to you, as you didn’t know he loved music to the depths that you did. 

But apparently, Jake knew how to bring out that side of him. The smiles exchanged with the topic of conversation were exhilarating— so joy-filled.

Then, to your complete shock, your Grandpa brought up how he’d played guitar for years before your mother had been born. 

“You played guitar, Grandpa?!” You couldn’t help but ask, as you quite literally sat on the edge of the crisp, floral sofa. “How come you never told us?!”

“Well, I never really felt the need to revisit that part of my life,” he said, sighing. “You two girls didn’t need to be privy to that. It’s all in the past.”

You shook your head. “I love that about you, Grandpa. . . I wish you would’ve told me.”

He just looked at you with his eyes, so much behind them, left unsaid and filled to the brim with an unnamed emotion. A sad smile came to sit on his face.

“Did you have a favorite to play?” Jake asked, looking at him. 

“I did. I feel like all of us do.”

“Yeah. That’s the truth,” Jake grinned, nodding. “Do you still have your favorite one?”

“I sure do,” he looked at your roommate, a big grin spanning his usually-sunken cheeks. “I’ll show ya.”

Jake offered to go get it for him as he watched the old man try to stand. But when he was finally on his feet, he waved him off. 

“Nah, son. It’ll be good for me to get up and around to get her.”  

As he left to grab it, you waited for Jake to turn to you. But, he didn’t. 

Instead, he just looked at all of the photos on the walls rather than anywhere in your direction. The living room was so quiet, you literally heard every breath he took as he looked at the pictures of you and Elsie as children. 

You cleared your throat, trying to get a reaction from him.

He kept looking around the living room, not paying you any mind.

It was awkward.

Why was he avoiding looking at you? You weren’t used to him acting in such a way anymore. 

Unable to take it any longer, you cleared your throat again, harsher this time. 

But he still ignored it.

“Jake,” you sharply stated his name, irritation seeping through your tone at his behavior.

When he finally looked at you and you met his eyes, he looked distant. But after watching you for a long minute, his eyes started lightening a bit, seeming to come back to himself just a little. 

You tentatively grinned at him and shook your head. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, your eyes searching his face. 

“Nothing,” he stated, his voice sounding far away, jaw clenching.

“Jake.”

He just ran a quick, stiff hand through his hair, looking ahead of him for a few seconds and then back at you. 

You didn’t tear your focus from him, trailing your eyes past his face and watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. 

When you looked back into his eyes, your heart beat rapidly as his eyes seemed to sink into your own. He was observing you so intently, your nerves sparking to life under his attention. You shivered a little under his stare. His gaze was dark, something hiding behind his amber-brown irises. 

You felt vulnerable and stark naked.

Instead of shying away, you kept your eyes on him. And the more you studied him—challenged him—an urge started creeping from below the surface. You watched him swivel further to face you.

You let your eyes drift again. Down his body, where his legs were spread. 

And just as you were about to take him somewhere private to talk, maybe even offer him a tour of your childhood bedroom. . .

Your Grandpa reappeared. Jake’s eyes quickly averted from yours, growing huge at the gorgeous white guitar your Grandfather had in tow. 

“A White Falcon?!” Jake asked in astonishment, his eyes growing bigger the closer it came. “Holy sh— wow.”

Your grandpa gave a belly laugh, handing this hidden, prized possession over to the long haired man. “You can say it, son. Holy shit is right. She’s a beauty.”

“A 1960. . .?”

“She’s a ‘67,” your Grandpa replied, admiring the nearly spotless guitar. The gold accents practically sparkled under the yellow glow of your Grandmother’s lamps. “A rare one.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jake said, inspecting the relic. “These are worth thousands these days. Especially in a condition like this,” he commented. “But I’m glad you kept it. I would have, too.”

Your Grandpa made his go-to clicking sound with his cheek. He seemed to be agreeing and disagreeing. (Normal behavior for the aging man.) “I debated getting rid of her a few times here and there. . .but ultimately, I decided she was far too precious to me for me to ever give her up.”

You couldn’t help but feel every single emotion you’d been (uselessly) working to bury, rise to the surface. He had you completely enraptured. . . he was driving you crazy.

Back to observing him and your Grandfather, you lost yourself in thought at the man in front of you. He’d done the impossible. Not only had he started cracking your hard shell, he’d brought out something you’d never seen in your Grandpa. He had helped you to discover this bright side of your Grandpa that you’d doubted for years even existed.

An easygoing, free-minded person that had apparently been lurking below the surface your entire life. 

But it made sense that Jake had been able to do it.

He really had done it for you, too. You’d trusted him with countless things. Your emotions. Your body. Your home. Your TV shows. Your cat.

Jake held the guitar so delicately. But his hands were simultaneously strong and purposeful, making sure to protect the guitar. It was so similar to how he handled you. 

The thought made your blood feel hot in your veins and your legs weak. You crossed your legs, watching his hands hold the keepsake just right. 

The rest of the words exchanged were technical terms about the original price, what it’s currently worth, how it played. . . 

But you weren’t really focused on all of the technicalities as you observed Jake’s fingers on the body of the guitar. How intensely he stared at the instrument as he kept steady conversation, his voice, deep and raspy. . .

You didn’t want to expose yourself with how entranced you were by him at that moment. 

So, you decided you needed to escape as soon as possible. 

“I’m going to search my room for something,” you said, glancing at Jake— who, yet again, wasn’t acknowledging you speaking. What the fuck? “I’ll be back shortly.”

Your Grandpa acknowledged you, giving a little wink before going back to his discussion with Jake.  

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d walked the couple of short hallways to get to your childhood bedroom, you sort of regretted using your bedroom as the excuse to get away.

You hesitated to open the door for a few long moments. 

You hadn’t been back to this room since that day in the car where Elsie had brought up the parts of your childhood that you’d forgotten. 

If you were being honest with yourself, it was intimidating to stand before the door as memories flooded back. 

There was the unnecessary screaming at your sister, coming back to you first. And as you thought back on that, you outwardly cringed at the words you now remembered saying to her. Terrible, hateful, completely untrue things. 

Then, you saw yourself throwing objects. Only ever at Elsie. With her being the person you felt safest with, naturally she was also the person punished most. In particular, a dent in the wall, adjacent to the door, reminded you of this. It was something that your grandparents and Elsie had always dismissed, saying it had ‘always been there.’ 

How in the hell had you blocked these things so intensely? Looking back on it now, it seemed as if those things had happened almost as soon as you’d moved in with your grandparents. 

To be fair, you had been very young and very recently grieved by the things which had occurred at your mother’s house.

Had it been a bad case of disassociation which had made you lose these fragments of time? 

Trauma-induced memory loss? 

Your childhood counselor had used the terms. You remembered that. 

Based on what you could vaguely rehash from those sessions, you probably had disassociated to protect yourself from the dark things. 

Disregarding what happened after moving to your grandparents’, there were several other things you literally couldn’t remember from your time with your mom. Distant flickers of barely-there echoes from a much darker, secret life. 

You were apparently an extreme pro at blocking out anything that may hurt you, and times with your mom and the things you’d done as a child were just that. 

Your eyes tracked the old wooden door, contemplating opening it when you saw the hole at the bottom of it. 

Another thing that had ‘always been there.’ But, right then and there, you could recollect the moment it happened. Clear as day. 

You’d been home alone with Elsie. Something had happened that had you screaming at her. Throwing things at her. Chasing her. If you were seeing the memory correctly, you had even managed to hit her with something. She’d gotten scared and the place she’d thought to run and hide had been your room. She’d been so stricken by the incident, sobbing for you to ‘stop, please!’ But you hadn’t listened. When she’d escaped behind the door, she shut it and locked you out. It had angered you more, making you release every last bit of bottled emotion with several hard kicks to the bottom of the door, resulting in the obscurity that now faced you, taunting you.

Then your grandparents had returned home, observed the incident, and decided that you both needed to immediately start counseling.

Without even realizing it, you were beginning to choke on dry sobs. Your breaths were becoming short and hard to catch. You couldn’t breathe. 

Your vision was fuzzy as you held to the door frame to balance yourself. But seeing it as pointless, your body going limp, your arms shaking, you slid down the wall to the floor. Putting a hand to your chest, you focused on taking deeper breaths, working to count each one you released. 

You pinched your eyes shut and tried to think of something to calm you down. 

Long hair that smelled like citrus. Smooth, tanned skin, glowing in the sun. A kiss underwater. A hand smoothing over your cheek, catching your tears. Soul-filled eyes, like dark whiskey, watching you closely and carefully. A body around yours, protecting you in the most quiet and intimate moments. The smell of sandalwood and amber.

But, right now, that smell was more present than it just being a figment of your imaginings. 

You slowly opened your eyes, still focusing on breathing, to find him right there, next to you. 

He was crouched down, a hand on the wall next to you, using his body as a shield around you. 

Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. It was like he knew you needed him.

“You were gone for a bit longer than what seemed normal,” he said, worry evident in his words. “What’s going on?”

Tears were escaping down your cheeks steadily. He took his flannel off, clad in a black t-shirt underneath, collar torn (on purpose?). Then, started dabbing at your cheeks for a few moments with his flannel. Once finished, he handed it to you, for you to wipe at your face with it. 

“Nothing's going on,” you gasped on a breath, almost bringing the flannel to your face when you stopped. “I don’t want to get it dirty with my makeup, Jake,” you gasped, still trying to calm yourself. But the relentless crying was making it near impossible. 

“I don’t care,” he went from crouching, to sitting against the wall, right beside you. His shoulder was a couple inches from touching your own. You caught yourself naturally leaning into it. “I want to help you. Let me.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that, letting the heartfelt words hang in the air around you two, laying your head on his shoulder. Bringing his flannel up to your face, you closed your eyes at the wonderful smell of him that lingered on the shirt and wiped your face with the plaid material.

Keeping your eyes closed, you used his steady breathing as an aid, trying to breathe in time with him. Anytime his shoulder would lift your cheek with a breath, you took one, too. It worked well, your chest feeling less tight, the tears subsiding. 

After a bit, you heard him speak again. His voice, causing a comforting rumble against your cheek. “What happened, honey?”

Honey. Your heart lurched in your chest at the name.

You slowly pried your eyes open again, focusing on the light beige of the walls and the way the textured paint on the wall made a sort of pattern.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. You feared bringing up the details of the way you used to behave. The idea of saying anything was embarrassing. It was daunting to think of exposing yourself like that. “Stuff from the past that’s embarrassing and awful.”

“Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

“Wrong.”

He snickered, placing a hand on your thigh. His trusty black hair-tie, wrapped around his middle finger. You traced the long digit, his knuckle, and then picked at the hair tie, pulling at it to see the skin beneath the band. 

Before you could do any more to his hand, he removed it from your leg. You watched, your head still leaning on his shoulder as he took the black rubber band off. Suddenly, you were moving from his shoulder as his body shifted. Peering up curiously, he motioned for you to turn your head. You did so, and within seconds, your hair was pulled up and away from your hot face. 

You looked over your shoulder at him, growing goosebumps as his fingers lingered on the skin of your neck. “Thank you.”

Situating yourself in your position from before, you decided on a whim to wrap your hand underneath his arm. You continued until you were lacing your fingers through his, his calloused fingertips wrapping around to rest on the top of your hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” he started, voice low, as if keeping a secret. “But I’m here. I need you to know that. Whatever the case may be, I am here for you.”

“Thanks,” you hummed, squeezing his hand. “Jake?”

“Hm?”

“How did things change between us?”

He chuckled. “Well, it started when you walked into my bedroom the night of—.”

You shushed him, not able to hide your light giggle as you used your other palm to hit his hard chest. How was he able to turn things around so quickly for you? Your body felt so light and airy now, calm and at peace. The foggy memories weren’t so scary when he was with you.

“I mean. . .how are we like this now? Cordial?”

“We started trusting each other, I guess,” he said, all joking gone from his tone. 

“Yeah. . .,” you agreed. “And as silly as it is, I think you were onto something with mentioning the first night we. . .”

“I don’t think it’s silly, honestly. . . If we are being honest with ourselves, sex changes everything,” he stated, his thumb tapping a light beat against your hand. He was right. It truly did change things. For good or for bad, you didn’t know. 

“And those Aretha Franklin songs the other morning. . .,” he pushed a breath from his lips to follow his words.

You gasped. “You felt it too?” Finally looking up from his shoulder, you ignored the voice that was telling you to not give into the moment as you turned to him. Because when you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes were familiar, honest, and real. You couldn’t help but let them be your safe place. That was what they’d become. 

It can’t be this way forever. Stop while you’re ahead, the voice warned. Stop giving in.

But you kindly told it to fuck off as you swam in his irises.

“It was impossible not to. The music and the moment. . . ,” he grinned, a dimple presenting itself in his cheek. Then he raised a brow, turning his head a bit, keeping his eye on you. “But, don't forget. We’re just roommates.”

You flushed. “I had to say that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hearing them from his mouth, you realized that your Grandpa had been right about your words being harsh. “Didn’t want anyone catching onto anything? I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes, but still there. His eyes traveled the walls around you. You could tell his mind was still looming on how he’d found you in the hallway, only minutes ago. 

The column of his neck hypnotized you, the muscles that flexed beneath the flesh so strong and sure. You were aching to put your lips on the skin, then his eyes found yours, caught you watching him, yet again. He lifted a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, staring at your mouth as you licked to wet them. 

When he bit his lip, it was over.

You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart was racing. . .

Without even worrying about getting caught, you angled yourself towards him until your lips met his in a kiss. You had to be near him. Needed to be closer, closer, closer. 

He gave it back, matching the force behind your kisses.

It continued like that for a few short moments, but right before you could slip your tongue between his lips, he placed a hand to your cheek, gentle as he held your face steady, pulling back to study your features.

He waited for you to speak. You both knew why he’d put a stop to it. 

And as if to drive the point home, Josh’s laugh echoed through the entire house— a blatant reminder of why you couldn’t do this here.

You looked down to see where he was situating himself in his black skinny jeans, your skin heating all the more. 

As much as you wanted to leave at that instant, you didn’t want to seem abrupt or strange by doing that. You knew it would be best to eat dessert and then leave. 

You tucked a couple of loose strands, having fallen from your makeshift ponytail, behind your ears. Then, you asked. “Wanna eat some pie and then get out of here?” 

“Sounds perfect.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Laying in his bed later that night, sweaty limbs pressed together and chests heaving, your head resting on his chest as he twirled fingers in your hair, now loose around your shoulders. . . You decided to tell him.

“Earlier tonight, when you found me,” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words. “I was trying to recover from a panic attack.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you said, pausing. As much as you wanted to look at him when you told him the next part, you decided it would be easier to keep your eyes on his SG, sitting on its stand across his bedroom. “I get them sometimes.”

“Why?” He asked, voice light and calm. 

“Different things. . . tonight, it was because I started having these extremely vivid flashbacks from my childhood.”

“About your mom?”

“Not necessarily— not this time,” you cleared your throat as tears pricked at your eyes. It hurt to think about the nasty, younger version of yourself. “This time, it was more about what I used to do when I was younger.” Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him. 

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beating of his heart. 

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

This time, you were crying from his words and the way his skin felt against your own. He was your safety. He was here. He was real.

He was here to help. Let him.

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to settle your breaths, focusing on the way his heart beat rhythmically under your hand. 

So, you opened up. You told him about everything that Elsie had reminded you of that day in the car; told him what seeing the door had done to you – and everything that had reared its ugly head all at once tonight.

“Wow,” he let out a deep breath in response. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I was such a fucking demon,” you muttered sadly, your heart breaking as the images and sounds were once again coming back. “And I can’t escape it.”

“Why can’t you?”

You wrinkled your brows, resituating to lean on your arm beside him. His eyes followed you, open and honest and Jake. “I caused severe trauma for others– just like my mom did. I made mistakes that I can never take back.”

“You said you were ten?” He asked. You nodded. “You were a child.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But you need to give yourself some grace.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re human.”

“But so were the people I hurt.”

“Who would you say you hurt most?”

“Els.”

“And has she forgiven you?”

“I think so,” you muttered, remembering Elsie that day in the car.

“I’ve moved on. Anytime you did any of that stuff, I moved on as soon as you’d done it.”

“You were in pain and somehow, I just knew it. . . I knew then it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold something against you that you probably didn’t mean. I knew the only reason you were acting that way was because someone else had hurt you. It wasn’t all your fault. It was mostly mom’s. You just didn’t know how to react to it.” 

“Then you need to forgive yourself,” he said, moving some tresses of hair behind your shoulders to be able to put an open palm to your chest, right where your heart laid beneath the flesh. “Your heart is beautiful. That’s what matters. Always has been, always will be,” he gave you one kiss, deep enough to emphasize the words. It left you dizzy as he went back to his spot, never letting his hand leave your chest. “I just want you to understand that people make mistakes,” he smiled, reassuring. “I’ve made a shit ton.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, both of you sharing a knowing laugh. 

“But," you started, feeling the need to encourage him as well. "That wasn’t you. You were hurting.”

“So were you, back then,” he reasoned, his voice soft. 

“I guess,” you relented slightly. “Elsie told me a lot of this, too, but I just couldn’t believe her. It’s hard to see the good in myself from back then, though, knowing all of the horrific things I did,” you stated simply. You held his hand to your chest as you laid on your back, not wanting him to move it. “I just can’t shake how I let myself forget it so easily. I’ve gone all these years not truly knowing who I was– who I am.”

“Have you ever considered going to therapy again?”

“No,” your heart beat faster at the prospect.

He could feel it, and reacted as such. He came closer to you, his chest and stomach pressing into you, more skin-to-skin to help calm you. “Would you consider it?”

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hand and his, still over your heart. “Depends, I guess.”

He hummed. “Okay,” he answered, relenting from the hard questions. “How about you work on forgiving yourself and I’ll look into different types of therapy? Let you know what I come across?”

Your heart slowed down, the tiniest smile lifting your lips. Your hand gripped his. Your anchor. Your safety. “Alright.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

A couple days later, you sat on your couch, mesmerized by Jake, who was sitting next to you. 

Well, kind of. He was on the cushion at the opposite end of the sofa as you. 

All you wanted was to be closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself.

These days, if he was close enough for you to touch him, you were going to be touching him. Whether it be rubbing his shoulders, playing with his continuously growing hair, or laying on top of him (sometimes naked, sometimes not).

But you were appreciating your vantage point tonight. Watching closely as he played through some new songs with Josh. Josh would sing, and Jake would play the same thing. Jake would play, then Josh would sing it verbatim. 

It was interesting to watch them, bouncing off of each other creatively like that. 

Twin telepathy at its finest.

You were stuck in a trance, trying your damnedest to give equal attention to Josh, so as not to raise any suspicion. But it was getting harder and harder to resist watching Jake– being near him, day by day. 

Trying to find other things to focus on, your eyes floated across the room, observing all of the men around you. They’d all been growing their hair out as well. And, normally, a guy growing his hair out was not a huge deal. 

But with these guys? It seemed to you, it was a visual for their changing life. The longer their hair got, the more it was obvious that they were moving onto a new stage of life.

They were becoming rockstars. Truly.

Not only were they making music day in and day out, playing it live every week, preparing for a humongous music festival that would feature many huge bands. . . they were looking more and more like it, too. 

But they were still your boys. 

Never changing.

Sam’s ever-nasally voice interrupted your rambling thoughts, as if on cue. You smiled in his direction, pointing your attention to him. 

“Jake,” he started, excited as he looked intently at his phone screen.

“What, Sam?” He responded with a slight growl to say his younger brother’s name. “Can’t you tell I’m creatively processing?”

Danny let out one loud laugh, his eyes sparkling with a laugh. Josh joined in momentarily, then went back to humming

“Oh, fuck off, Jake,” he rolled his eyes, a smile still adorning his baby face. He trotted his lanky legs over to the couch, sitting between you and your roommate. “Look at this picture of Maya,” he angled the phone so it was right in front of Jake, but turned just right so you couldn’t see it. 

You giggled at Jake having to pull away from the bright screen to get a better look. “God, Sam,” he said, annoyed, grabbing the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Turn your fucking brightness down.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Jacob,” he responded, flipping his hair and rolling his eyes. He turned in your direction for support, throwing a thumb behind him at Jake. “He’s annoying.”

You were still laughing as you asked your question. “Who’s Maya?”

“Jake hasn’t told you about Maya?!” He wondered aloud, his voice raising a decibel or two. 

“No, I haven’t, Sam,” Jake said, his tone clipped, holding the phone tighter in his firm grip, long fingers flexing around the device. “Shut the fuck up.”

Your brows drew in at his behavior. Now you were dying to know who Maya was and why he was suddenly acting so weird about her.

“I ask again, who is Maya?”

“She’s asking Jake,” Sam stated, as if he’d won. “I’m telling her.”

“Sam–.”

“Maya is Jake’s super hot client that he used to fuck. When he first moved here,” Sam clarified. “Still does, I think. I mean, who wouldn’t?!” Then he laughed, hitting Jake’s stiff arm with the back of his hand.

He was doing what, now? 

Chancing a look at the man in question, you noticed he was angry.

Seething was a better term. 

You could tell as he gripped the neck of his guitar, his chest rising with constricted breaths, nose flaring, staring at Josh, who was simply shaking his head in return. 

Sam took his phone from Jake’s hand, gaining it with some effort. But getting it in his grasp anyway. Right as he’d done so, the hand Jake’d been holding it in clenched to a fist, his jaw tightening. The hand on the neck became dangerously tight.

“Sammy. . .,” Josh tried intervening. His eyes jumped back and forth between each brother, desperate for there to be peace. 

Social cues apparently off, Sam was still smiling wide. 

“This is Maya,” he said, flashing the phone in front of your face, holding it there for you to get a good, long look. 

No. Couldn’t be.

The air left your chest, your vision zeroing in on the bright screen of the phone, everything else blurry around you as your head suddenly felt extremely light, body heavy. 

Surely not. . .

You squinted, taking a closer look at the phone before you jumped to any sort of conclusion. 

But the house behind her, as well as her long, dark black hair. . . 

You knew you were correct in your assumption of who it was. 

The joy that the youngest brother exuded was the exact opposite of how you were feeling. The giant stone that had fallen to sit at the bottom of your stomach was suddenly weighing you to the couch. 

You nodded at the screen, pushing the device away from you, hands shaking slightly. “You really do need to turn your brightness down, Sam,” you said, clearing your throat as it got painfully tight.

Play it cool, play it cool.

You were working so hard to hide your emotions. A small smile twitched at your lips. The tears in your throat made them wobble a tiny bit. 

Stop it, y/n.

Jake’s voice cut through, directly to your ears.  “It meant nothing—.” 

You didn’t look at him, only focusing back on Sam as he spoke. You tried hard to keep your eyes wide and clear of anything concerning.

“He still sees her for lessons,” he said, wiggling his brows. “What happens at guitar lessons, stays at guitar lessons,” he elbowed Jake’s arm, tense as the muscle in his bicep flexed, fist still bunched. “Am I right, brother?!”

Sam was the only one smiling in the room. 

The room was tense, Sam tucking his phone back into the pocket of his silky, vibrant button down. He pushed his sunglasses further into his hair.

You were frozen, not even daring to look up at Jake’s face. You studied your hands, then grabbed your phone off of the coffee table to pretend you were checking it. The frenzied emotions in your gut were not trustworthy. If you looked at him, you were sure you’d fall apart.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they’re still fucking, you tried to reassure yourself. Right?!

But then, you thought about him taking a while at her house. All of his excuses were adding up. 

Had three Ubers really canceled? Or had he just been too busy fucking her and lost track of time?

It made sense, considering the way she’d watched him leave. The hug. 

And what he’d said to her right before he got in the car. Talking about his ‘favorite part of his day’ . . . Fuck. Your chest hurt, the words making so much more sense now. . .

His favorite part of the day. . . 

Your vision got cloudy. What were you? Sad? Angry? Both? You couldn’t fucking tell.

You just needed to get out of the room. 

As you stood up from your spot, your legs wobbled a bit, your mind scrambling for the first excuse that could come to it. “I’ve gotta pee.”

Still not looking at Jake, you walked as fast as you could to the bathroom. 

The last thing you heard before shutting the door to the bathroom was Danny’s voice, trying to break the air-right atmosphere.

“How about dinner?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: uh oh. . .

alsoooo, you'll notice that we haven't even gotten to the scene from the sneak peek yet. . . all of that will come to you in part 2. . . see you again soon, loves ;)

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[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things 13 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: brief meltdown; subdrop/panic attack during sex; death of guardian (not wayne don’t worry); grief; mentions of child abuse & childhood trauma

“No, I’m just saying you’re turning into a slut,” Robin says lightly, her voice garbled from the gummy bear between her teeth as she tears its head off. She’s laying on her bed with her legs up against the wall, her hair spread around her head.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

“How many times have you had sex now?” she asks, rolling her head to look at him, nibbling at the body of the gummy bear now. He shrugs.

“I don’t know. A few.”

She raises her eyebrows.

He raises his back.

���Is it good?” Robin asks lightly, reaching back to the bag of gummy bears that’s resting on her belly. “You’re not getting bored of it?”

Steve scoffs, his head falling back against the wall.

“God, no. Don’t think I could get bored of it.”

She hums for a moment, looking at the ceiling.

“Maybe the guy I was with was just really bad,” she says thoughtfully, and Steve lets out a laugh. “Because it was real boring.”

“Have you considered having sex with a woman?” Steve questions sarcastically.

“Oh, yes, I have,” she says. Steve giggles, reaching over to take some gummy bears. “I just need a woman that also wants to have sex with me.”

“Hm.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Steve thinks. He doesn’t know very many women.

“Is Nancy dating Jonathan?” he wonders aloud abruptly. “Or like…”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Robin says. “I keep thinking she’s dating Jonathan, but then Argyle will come over and kiss her to say hi, and then Nancy wears one of Jonathan’s shirts but she’s got Argyle hair ties around her wrist… I don’t know.”

“You don’t wanna just ask?”

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Not really a big deal. They’re all happy, you know?”

Steve hums and looks at the ceiling again. He thinks some more. Maybe Chrissy is single.

They’d like each other, he thinks. They’re both silly, funny in their own ways, and they don’t really match exactly, Robin’s rough flannels and mismatched socks and choppy hair that she cut with scissors in her own bathroom compared to Chrissy’s frilly blouses and manicured nails and pink lipstick. But Steve has a feeling they’d like each other.

“Do your parents know about you?” he asks after a moment. She’s quiet.

“Yeah.”

He looks at her. She isn’t eating the gummy bears anymore, but she’s holding one in her fingers, squeezing and squishing it, brushing it against her lips absently.

“How did that go?” he asks quietly.

She sighs heavily, clearing her throat.

“Uh…” Another exhale. “I don’t know. I just told them at dinner one night. Kinda randomly, I just… couldn’t keep it hidden anymore.”

“What did they say?”

Robin looks at the ceiling blankly.

“‘…Don’t tell Grandma.’”

Steve blinks, waiting for her to continue, but she just lifts the gummy bear to her mouth and tears its head off with her teeth.

“That’s it?”

“Mhmm.” She takes another breath. “We don’t talk about it. It just kinda hangs out with us, I guess.”

He looks across the room and thinks some more. About what it might be like if his parents knew. If the fact just dangled around their heads, unaddressed, ignored. If they could do that, just ignore what they would surely despise.

“Are you gonna tell your parents?” Robin asks softly, like she can read his fucking mind. He scoffs.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Don’t know if it’s worth it.”

She looks at him, lifting her chin to see him.

“They won’t understand,” he says quietly. “They won’t get it.”

She sits up. Swings her legs around to rest across his lap, letting the gummy bears fall to the side. She’s looking at him curiously, silently.

Steve sighs, letting his head fall to the wall.

“…They raised me to be God-fearing,” he says quietly. “And… pure. They raised me so, like, intentionally… good. And if I tell them, I…” Steve scoffs, laughing humourlessly. “‘Hey, by the way, I’m an atheist and I like it when my metalhead boyfriend shoves his cock up my ass and puts his fingers down my throat.’”

Robin lets out a laugh, and he half-smiles.

“They don’t have to know all of that.”

“That’s all they will know, though,” he says weakly, his smile falling. She looks at him in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows, frowning. He sighs.

“They view homosexuality as… disgusting,” he says after a moment. “It’s just sexual to them. It’s just sin on sin.”

His fingers twist together, and then he reaches for the cross around his neck, lifting it to touch his lips absently.

“If I say I have a boyfriend…” He pauses, his voice weak and soft. “They won’t think about us holding hands or teasing each other or being sweet with each other. They won’t think about…” He cuts off, his throat tightening. “About how he wipes my tears away like he’s scared he’ll break me. Or the way he pulls me closer even when he’s, like, fully asleep. Or the way he cooks for me when I mention I haven’t eaten, or the way he kisses my temples when I have a headache.”

He looks at the ceiling, blinking tears back rapidly when his eyes sting. Robin reaches and holds his forearm.

“They’ll think about us sinning,” he says weakly. “They’ll think about— about him corrupting me, or manipulating me, and— and it’s bullshit, because he hasn’t. He’s— He’s so great.”

“He sounds really great,” Robin says, and her voice sounds thick now, and he hates this, this bullshit that unites the two of them.

“They’ll never see how great he is,” Steve says heavily. Robin’s hand is warm on his arm. “They’ll never get it. They’ll take one look at him and do the fucking Sign of the Cross. I don’t…”

He sighs again, reaching over to take her hand, twisting their fingers together.

“If I tell them… I don’t know what they’ll do. But I think… I don’t know. If the love they have for me is worth keeping. You know?”

She nods. Sighs. Squeezes his arm.

“It sucks,” he says softly, whispering. “Knowing your parents don’t love you the way you want.”

He glances at her when he hears a sniffle, and there’s a tear falling down her cheek. He wipes it away, but she doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes downcast and glassy.

“It sucks,” she says, her voice breaking a little bit. “My own parents don’t love me. Don’t know who can.”

It sends a shard of glass through Steve’s chest. That Robin fucking Buckley can’t see how loveable she is, how precious. How amazing and perfect, and…

“I can,” Steve says quietly.

She looks at him, her eyes shining, gleaming, her lips pursed like she’s trying to stop them from quivering.

“…Really?”

He nods, tilting his head at her.

“You’re my best friend,” he says softly. “You’re so cool.”

She scoffs, sniffling, and her hand tightens on his, squeezing his fingers. Her eyes close, and another tear falls down her cheek, and then Steve’s eyes are burning, and he tugs her closer by her hand.

Their arms wrap around each other, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in her neck. Her shoulders shake when she sobs quietly, and he runs a hand down her back, over the wrinkles in her sweater.

And he feels kind of like he did when Eddie first started being sweet on him, touching him lightly, calling him pet names. It’s different with Robin, of course. Still warm. Familiar. Entirely platonic but somehow more.

They stay there together, arms around each other, legs tangled, as they talk. Robin tells him about every girl she’s ever had a crush on. Steve runs his hand through her hair until it’s untangled as he listens, feeling the way her jaw shifts as she talks and chews the gummy bears. The sun sets outside, the sky dimming, and neither of them moves except to flick on the lamp on Robin’s bedside.

It’s warm here. Safe. Steve lets himself exist quietly with Robin, lets himself become sleepy and giggly and a little bit childish, because she’s doing the same, wrapped in a blanket and rocking back and forth as they laugh about nothing. He thinks that even if their parents can’t love them properly, maybe it doesn’t really matter at the moment. It doesn’t really matter if they have each other.

─────────────────

Steve wakes up before the sun rises.

It’s Saturday. Eddie had been working at the Hideout, but he’s in bed now, hair damp from his shower, eyes closed peacefully. Steve looks at him in the dark, rolling onto his side to face him.

He hadn’t woken up when Eddie came back after work. Eddie must have been as quiet as possible, taking off his jacket and setting his keys down, getting fresh clothes and taking a shower, all while Steve slept peacefully in bed. He isn’t even touching Steve right now. There’s a space between them, a chasm that makes Steve ache.

He pauses, looking at Eddie. At the fan of his eyelashes across his pale cheeks, at the metal studs in his skin. At his cheek that’s squished against his hand, tucked between his face and his pillow. At the strands of hair on his skin.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers softly, hesitantly. He doesn’t expect a response, but Eddie’s eyes flutter open slowly after a moment, and he looks at Steve blearily, tiredly, his eyes not quite all the way open.

“Hm?” Eddie shifts, closing his eyes for a moment before he blinks them open again. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve gazes at him. “Missed you.”

Eddie smiles sleepily, humming, lifting his chin a little bit, and Steve moves closer, close enough that their noses nudge together. Eddie exhales slowly, and Steve thinks for a moment that he’s fallen back asleep, but his arm moves, sliding from between them to wrap around Steve’s waist. His hand presses into the small of his back, and he tugs him closer.

Steve kisses him, smiling, tucking his hands between them, shrinking against Eddie’s body as their lips part. Eddie hums again, fingers spreading over Steve’s back.

“Sweet baby,” Eddie murmurs when they separate, his lips brushing Steve’s. Steve smiles again, his cheeks flushing with warmth. He sighs, nuzzling into Eddie’s throat as Eddie rubs his back once more.

He could whisper it right now. Right here. Lips pressed to Eddie’s tattooed skin, Eddie’s heartbeat against his hands.

He doesn’t say anything.

─────────────────

Steve sits on the sofa while Eddie finishes putting away the groceries.

He’d cried in the grocery store. He doesn’t know why.

His cheeks are still tacky with tears, and he feels fucking exhausted for no reason at all. All he’s done today is go with Eddie to the grocery store, and he’d managed to ignore the way the overhead lights buzzed and made his head ache, the way the squeaky wheels of other peoples’ carts scratched at the inside of his skull. Until someone passing bumped into him, their shoulders knocking together, and he just burst into tears like a child.

Eddie almost dropped their basket, setting it down and quickly, gently, pulling Steve aside, his voice hushed as he asked what was wrong, what happened, but Steve didn’t have an answer. Nothing happened. Nothing was wrong. He was just crying.

Eddie gave him the keys to wait in the van while he finished up shopping, and Steve took them quietly. He’s been quiet since. Stared out the window in the car as Eddie drove, only tearing his glassy eyes away from the world going by when Eddie’s hand landed on his thigh gently, squeezing and holding him.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as they start to sting again, his head falling to the back of the sofa. He’s tucked into himself, arms crossed over his belly, knees drawn up, and he listens to Eddie in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, balling up plastic bags and stuffing them into a drawer.

It goes quiet after a few minutes. And then the couch shifts as Eddie sits next to Steve carefully.

“Hey, baby.”

Steve opens his eyes and looks at him, rolling his head, before he lifts his head.

“Hi,” he says softly, whispering.

“What’s goin’ on?” Eddie asks gently, leaning against the back of the sofa. Steve looks away, across the room, shrugging. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Steve chokes, eyes watering again. “I just…” He shrugs, sniffling. “Feel like shit today. I don’t know.”

“What do you need?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve is quiet, shrugging again, and Eddie just waits for him.

“…Hold me.”

Eddie moves without hesitation, wrapping his arms around him tightly, pulling him close and running his hand over his head carefully. Steve falls against him, squeezing his eyes shut again. His breath shudders. Eddie hushes him gently.

“Breathe for me,” he whispers softly. “Nice and slow, baby, you got it.”

Steve takes a deep breath, reaching to cling to Eddie’s shirt, and Eddie’s arms tighten around him, his hands pressing to him firmly before one of them slides into his hair and tugs.

Steve sags against Eddie, exhaling sharply.

“Harder.”

Eddie’s fingers twist into his hair and pull so it hurts. Steve exhales again.

“There you go,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s it, baby.”

Steve whines weakly, face burning as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, but Eddie just holds him. Pulls his hair. Rubs his back.

“Just want you to touch me,” Steve says when he can speak again, whispering.

“You wanna get off?”

Steve pauses. And then shakes his head.

“Just want your hands on me.”

“C’mere.”

He pulls Steve closer, shifting to sit sideways on the sofa, legs outstretched, and Steve lets him manhandle him gently, lets him pull him so he’s laying on his chest, their legs entwined.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs. His hands run over Steve’s back gently, tracing his spine. “Good?”

Steve hums, nuzzling into his neck, hands tucked against his chest.

“Harder,” he says softly.

Eddie’s hands press more firmly, pushing Steve against him, and Steve bites his lips to stifle a groan.

“Let it out,” Eddie murmurs. “‘S okay.”

Steve whimpers weakly, pressing closer as Eddie’s hands squeeze his hips firmly. It hurts a little, but Steve likes it. It makes his mind go a little fuzzy, makes whatever is squeezing his chest so tight a little looser. He hums.

“That’s okay?” Eddie checks after a moment, his hands loosening. Steve nods, reaching back to find Eddie’s hand blindly, and he leads it down to his ass, pressing firmly. “Right here?”

Steve nods again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses the side of his head, and his hands are strong as they press into Steve’s flesh through the fabric of his pants. Squeezing and pushing and gripping like he’s massaging his ass and his thighs, and Steve melts against him, brows furrowed as he focuses on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers on him. He presses his hand to Eddie’s chest and then slides it up to his neck, pressing against his pulse.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“‘S, like… grounding,” he mumbles, his hand falling lax on Eddie’s neck loosely. “Like it.”

Eddie hums quietly, his voice rumbling above Steve’s head.

“Bet you’re having fun,” Steve mumbles after a moment, and Eddie scoffs, a sound that makes Steve smile.

“I definitely am.”

His hands squeezes again, and then one of them lifts and taps Steve’s ass lightly, absently, but Steve fucking lights up inside. He hums, his back arching.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, sounding a little surprised.

“Mm. Yeah. Please.”

Eddie laughs softly, doing it again.

“You want me to spank you, baby?”

Steve nods desperately, back arching again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses his head again, his fingers tightening on his ass, squeezing hard.

“You’re so sweet.”

Steve nods absently, letting out a weak yelp when Eddie’s hand lands on his ass abruptly, hard.

“Color?”

“Green. Again. Please.”

“I got you, baby.”

He does it again. And then again. Alternating hands, rubbing and soothing in between slaps, and they’re both hard, but Steve doesn’t think it really matters. He feels like he might fucking fall asleep here, despite Eddie’s hands forcing feeling into him, despite the way particularly hard hits jostle him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks after a few minutes, hands rubbing over where Steve’s ass is blooming with warmth.

“Please don’t stop,” Steve mumbles weakly, sleepily. “Feels so good.”

Eddie’s hands squeeze tightly. And then one retreats before it slides under Steve’s pants, pressing to his bare skin. Steve whines, nodding before Eddie can ask.

Eddie pushes his pants down carefully, smoothing his hands over Steve’s ass.

“Color,” he says softly, whispering.

“Green.”

“‘S gonna hurt more without fabric in the way.”

“I know,” Steve mumbles. “‘S okay, I want it.”

“Tell me why first.”

Steve exhales sharply, swallowing the lump that’s formed in his throat, and he takes a slow breath.

“Just…” He pauses, pressing his cheek to Eddie’s shoulder, gazing at the bat’s wing around his neck. “Wanna feel it.”

“Why?” Eddie whispers.

“Need it,” Steve says, almost whining. “Need to feel it. When we were in the— the grocery store, there was too much,” he says, his voice softening. “The lights, and the noises, and my— my jacket, and the guy bumping into me, it was just… too much. When it hurts, just— just a little, I can feel it. ‘N I don’t have to feel anything else.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathes.

His hand lands on Steve’s ass with a sharp slap, and Steve jumps with a startled Oh!

Eddie’s hand smooths over the skin gently, squeezing and soothing, and Steve nods, breathless.

The skin of his ass feels hot when Eddie finally stops, rubbing his hips and sliding a hand under his shirt to press into the small of his back. Steve is shaking a little bit, breathing hard into Eddie’s neck, fists clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

“Okay?”

Steve nods, letting out a weak whine.

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. Eddie turns his head to kiss his temple, humming softly.

“Of course, baby,” he whispers. “You know I’d give you anything.”

Steve nods again, smiling.

Eddie starts to pull Steve’s pants back up, but the fabric scrapes over his no doubt reddened skin, and Steve hisses, wincing. Eddie lets out a thoughtful noise before he holds Steve’s waist, pushing him to the side carefully.

“Stay here a moment,” he says, shifting to get up so Steve can lay on his front on the sofa. Steve groans, reaching for him half-heartedly as he stands, and Eddie laughs lightly, catching his hand and bending down to press a kiss to his knuckles.

He comes back with a bottle of lotion, and he sits on the edge of the sofa next to Steve’s legs. Steve closes his eyes and sighs as he listens to the click of the bottle before Eddie's hand, cold with lotion, smooths over the hot skin. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he hums.

“So beautiful,” Eddie murmurs, leaning to press a gentle kiss to his ass. “My perfect boy.”

He pulls Steve’s pants up carefully, slowly, tugging them so they don’t slide over his skin, and he smooths out the waistband of his underwear by tucking his fingers under it and running them along the elastic.

“Maybe we need to get you some silky panties so it doesn’t hurt.”

Steve giggles into the sofa, cheeks warm.

“Could be cute.”

“It would be very cute,” Eddie says lightly. He smooths his hand over Steve’s ass gently, tenderly. “You feel okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve sighs. “C’mere.”

Eddie moves back onto the sofa and Steve shifts to give him space, settling with his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie runs his hands through his hair and then over his back, more gently than before.

“Wanna stay here for a little while?” Eddie asks softly. “And then I can go start lunch?”

Steve nods, sighing.

“Yes please.”

Eddie kisses the top of his head, and Steve suppresses a smile, sliding a hand down to slip it under the hem of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie hisses a little when his cold fingertips find his skin, and Steve snickers.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Mm.”

Eddie plays with his hair. He breathes.

Steve likes it when he breathes. Which is probably the most insane thing he’s ever thought to himself, but it’s true. It’s almost reassuring to hear Eddie’s breath, to feel the rise and fall of his chest. Steve wishes he could listen to it all the time, wishes it could play on repeat in the back of his mind. He wishes it was possible to get a sound tattooed.

“Do you wanna go out this weekend?” Eddie asks abruptly.

“…Out?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds shy all of a sudden, like he’s nervous. “Like— Like on a date.”

Steve lifts his head, looking down at him. Eddie’s cheeks are pink.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, glancing away, taking a breath. “I just… I just realized we’ve never actually been on a date, and…” He looks up at Steve, his tongue flashing over his bottom lip. “I know a place that’s… that’s, like, queer friendly.”

Steve blinks, smiling slowly.

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie smiles, tilting his head at him like he’s fond, like Steve is a cute puppy or something.

“You wanna go out with me?” he asks lightly. Steve suppresses his smile but he can’t, and it grows into a bright grin, and it’s the first time he’s actually smiled all day. Eddie’s eyes drop to his mouth, his expression lighting up like he’s realizing it too.

“Yes,” Steve says, shifting to lay on top of Eddie’s body, their legs entwined, their chests pressing, and Steve’s heart feels like it’s beating harder, like it’s trying to reach Eddie’s through their skin and the fabric of their shirts. “I wanna go out with you.”

Eddie suppresses his own smile.

“Okay.”

He lays back down, kissing Eddie jaw and then his neck, biting teasingly when Eddie’s hand tugs at his hair.

The date is on Friday. They go to a diner that’s just outside the city, on the corner of a block in a colorful neighborhood. Eddie parks the van out front as Steve looks at the building, at the glowing OPEN sign in the window. It looks quiet, a little bit empty; there are a few people sitting at the bar, sipping from white mugs and looking at newspapers and notebooks, and there are two women sitting behind one of the windows, across from each other, laughing. There’s a pink triangle on the entry door.

Eddie holds the door open for Steve, tilting his head politely as Steve passes by him with a suppressed smile, and the woman behind the counter glances up at them when the bell above the door dings cheerfully. Eddie’s hand takes Steve’s, lacing their fingers and pulling to lead him to a booth in the back.

They sit across from each other after taking off their jackets, and Steve looks around again. There are flashes of color everywhere he looks even though it’s mostly brown inside; the seats of the booths are a muted teal, and there are glowing neon signs on one of the walls, reading things like girls girls girls and soups & sandwiches. There are gumball machines and a pinball machine and there’s bunting draping in the air over the door to the kitchen. It’s made up of small American flags, but when Steve looks a little closer he realizes the flags are upside down.

When Steve looks at Eddie again, he’s resting his chin on his hand, watching Steve with a small smile.

“Hi,” Steve says shyly, leaning over the table to look at him, mirroring him with his chin on his hand.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly. “What do you think?”

Steve glances around again.

“‘S nice,” he says before hesitating for a brief moment. “You don’t think they’ll mind that…”

“That they’ve got queers for patrons?”

Steve scoffs.

“Yeah.”

“Nah,” Eddie says softly. “They don’t mind.” He looks past Steve, hesitating before he gestures with a tilting his head. “See those ladies over there?”

Steve looks over his shoulder at the women sitting by the window. They’re holding hands across the table, and their ankles are locked, and Steve can only see one of their faces from where he’s sitting, but she’s beaming so brightly it’s like she’s reflecting the other woman’s expression.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Steve looks at Eddie again, biting his lip, and he crosses his arms over the top of the table, hiding his hands. His eyes scan Eddie’s content smile, his hands resting on the tabletop and holding his chin. Steve starts to pull his hand out from where it’s tucked against himself but he stops, hesitating, his stomach flipping. Eddie’s smile grows.

“Go ‘head,” he says softly.

Steve suppresses a smile, biting his lip again as he pulls his hand away and reaches across the table, grabbing Eddie’s and pulling it toward himself. Eddie bites back a laugh, amused. Their fingers twist until Steve is holding onto Eddie’s middle and ring fingers, holding them loosely before he squeezes absently, nervously. Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s fingers gently. Steve looks away.

“Hiya, boys.”

Steve jumps at the sound of the waitress’s voice, looking up as she approaches their table and sets two menus in front of them. He starts to pull his hand away, but Eddie squeezes, tugging it back in place.

“Can I get you started with any drinks?” she asks lightly. She’s smiling at them, like she doesn’t even see them holding hands.

“Uh,” Eddie says, looking at Steve with raised eyebrows.

“Do— Do you have orange soda?” Steve asks, looking up at her again, and she nods before looking at Eddie.

“Ginger ale.”

She nods.

Steve exhales as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her, her shoes clicking on the floor, and Eddie squeezes his hand again.

“Hey,” he says softly, and Steve looks at him. “We’re okay.”

Steve nods, taking a deep breath, squeezing his hand.

“We’re okay.”

They only let go of each other’s hands when their food comes, and Eddie immediately kicks at Steve’s feet to prompt him to move them forward so they can lock their ankles together. Steve feels like he’s thirteen or something, his cheeks flushed with heat because his crush is touching him. It’s ridiculous. But Eddie keeps grinning at him across the table like he knows.

They get pie to share. It’s stupid. Almost embarrassing, especially when Eddie grabs a paper napkin and reaches over to wipe Steve’s chin himself. Steve rolls his eyes and snatches it from him as Eddie giggles. His lips are stained red.

Steve is fucking obsessed with him.

He clings to Eddie’s arm as they leave, no longer scared of being seen, almost wanting it now. Wanting people to look over their mugs and hovering forks to see these two boys, these two men, fingers laced, cheeks warm. Wanting people to see exactly how Steve feels, exactly how his heart beats in time with Eddie’s, how his veins are twisted and tangled in the shape of Eddie’s name.

Eddie holds his hand in the car. Steve can barely tear his eyes away from him, gazing at the side of his face, at the lines in his skin that deepen when he smiles after glancing back at Steve.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice light as he slows at a stop sign and looks both ways, leaning to see past Steve.

Steve shrugs even though he isn’t looking at him.

“I really like you.”

His voice is small.

Eddie’s smile widens.

“I really like you too, baby.”

Steve squeezes his hand, grinning, and he sighs heavily, waiting. Eddie pulls his hand away from Steve’s to turn the van into the parking lot outside his building, and Steve whines petulantly, which just makes Eddie laugh.

“Gimme a second, honey.”

Steve sighs, waiting, and he could swear Eddie is doing this on purpose, pulling into a parking spot and then pulling out again, straightening the van, pulling in again, pulling out. Steve scoffs and hits his head against the headrest, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t wanna take up someone else’s spot.”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie is smiling as he finally stops the van and pulls the keys out the ignition, and he turns to look at Steve, eyebrows raised.

“You’re pouting?”

“…No.”

“Baby.”

Steve looks at him. And kisses him, leaning across the center console and crashing their mouths together. Eddie laughs, turning to hold his face. He reaches to unbuckle Steve’s seatbelt;t before doing his own, and Steve just tilts his head to kiss him deeper and he scrambles out of the seatbelt. Eddie hums, caressing his cheeks.

“Wanna go inside?” he mumbles between kisses. “Hm?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, nodding, but he doesn’t pull away, his breath catching when Eddie tugs on his lower lip.

“C’mon.”

Eddie holds his hand as he leads him upstairs, their fingers locked. It’s a little dark, the lights lining the stairwell dimmer than they should be. They’re quiet, not even whispering to each other as they ascend the stairs, and Steve steps up close to Eddie as he’s unlocking the door, pressing his face against his shoulder.

They’re kissing before the door is even shut behind them, before Eddie’s even flicked the lights on, and they kick their shoes off, shove their jackets off, clutch at each other. The inside of Eddie’s mouth tastes like cherry pie, sweet and sugary and fucking delicious.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck and lifts onto his tiptoes, groaning when Eddie grabs his thighs and lifts him up. Eddie grabs his ass when his legs wrap around his hips, reaching to put one hand on the wall to steady himself as he makes his way to his room with Steve clinging to him.

They pull the clothing off each other’s bodies, breathing hard, touching and kissing and licking, and Steve keeps thinking there’s no way he can ever feel what he’s felt before, what he felt the first time Eddie pressed into his body, but the sun is somehow shining down on him even though it’s the middle of the night and they’re hidden in Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie holds his hand, clutching tightly as he opens Steve up tenderly, as he sucks kisses into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

Steve’s hand is tight in Eddie’s hair, holding on like he’ll float away if he lets go of him.

He’s whimpering, whining and moaning, and Eddie’s fingers feel so fucking good inside him, moving slowly, gently, carefully, fucking in and out of him, forcing soft noises into the air. Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply.

When he opens his eyes, he can’t see. His vision is blurred, the light from the lamp suddenly brighter than it usually is.

He opens his mouth for a breath, but there’s something on his chest, keeping his lungs from filling, and a tear escapes his eye. His hand clenches in Eddie’s hair hard.

“Baby?”

Steve exhales sharply.

Eddie moves up over his body, hovering over Steve, and Steve can’t let go of his hair. His hand is clenched tightly, shaking, and he can’t let go. He’s gripping so hard he’s probably, definitely hurting Eddie, and he can’t let go.

“What’s your color?”

Eddie’s voice is muffled, like Steve is underwater, like there’s something between them. Steve’s eyes blink, stinging,

“Steve. Color.”

Steve exhales again, and his voice is weak, cracking like a thin layer of ice when he finally says, “Red.”

Eddie’s fingers pull out of him, and Steve wants to protest, to whine Come back, but he can’t get any other words out.

“Come here,” Eddie says softly, kindly, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling down his face, into his hair. Eddie holds Steve’s hand where it’s stuck in his hair, and Steve tries to let go, but he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, almost whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—”

“Steve,” Eddie says firmly, pulling him to sit up. “Don’t apologize, baby, it’s okay. We’re all done.”

Steve takes a stuttering breath, opening his eyes to look at him desperately. Eddie is looking at him tenderly, nodding when Steve inhales, and he’s so beautiful Steve starts to cry again. Eddie reaches up to gently detach Steve’s hand from his hair, and Steve closes his eyes tightly, trying to loosen his hand. Eddie holds his clenched fist in his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly. “Look at me.”

Steve opens his eyes.

“You wanna get dressed?”

Steve pauses, looking at him, and then he nods.

Eddie leans to grab their clothes from where they’re discarded next to the bed. He sits up with a hoodie in his hand, one that was on the floor within reach. He lets go of Steve’s hand to help him get dressed, to help him pull his boxers on and tug Eddie’s hoodie on over his head before he dresses himself as well.

Steve covers his face in his hands, trying to hide, and he weakens even more when Eddie touches him, when he runs his hands over his arms gently, squeezing.

“Stevie, baby…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, his voice muffled. “I’m so sorry, baby, I— I don’t—”

Eddie shushes him gently, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“Steve, sweetheart, come here.” He pulls him in so their foreheads press together, and he caresses his cheeks, nudging their noses together. “Breathe,” he says softly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Steve sniffles, reaching to hold his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to breathe, to inhale slowly, normally, but it doesn’t work, and his breath gets caught in his throat, choking him.

“You got it,” Eddie murmurs.

When Steve exhales smoothly, Eddie lifts his head and looks at him, smoothing his hair out of the way carefully, gently.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathes. Eddie shakes his head patiently.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“But…”

But it was a good night.

They’d gone on an actual date, and Steve had had fun, he’d held his boyfriend’s hand in public without worrying, without being scared. He’d kissed him in the car and giggled and blushed, and everything was fucking fine.

“Look at me,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve lifts his head, his vision blurring. Eddie is looking at him intently, tenderly. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you understand?”

“But…”

“But nothing, baby,” Eddie says, leaning forward in emphasis. “You did so good for me, okay?”

Steve’s eyes flutter as he blinks tears out of his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie whispers. “I’m not upset at all, Stevie, okay?”

It must be clear on his face that Steve doesn’t believe him. Because it doesn’t make sense that Eddie wouldn’t be upset; Steve’s ruined their night. There’s no way Eddie isn’t at least disappointed.

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “Baby.”

Steve looks at him again, letting him wipe his tears and cradle his jaw.

“I would be upset if you didn’t say anything,” Eddie says gently. “If you didn’t stop me, and you just… let me keep going even though you didn’t want to.” His voice sounds tight. “Okay? You never, ever have to apologize for stopping anything. If it’s… If it’s sex, or if you don’t feel like talking, or if you don’t feel like being touched— anything. You understand?”

And something about the way his voice sounds, so firm, almost demanding, almost authoritative, makes Steve feel a little lightheaded. Makes him melt into his hands.

He’s so nice.

“Stevie,” Eddie says softly. “If you decide that you never wanna have sex with me ever again, that’s okay.”

Steve almost pouts, his head tilting, and Eddie smiles weakly, his thumbs brushing over Steve’s cheeks.

“That’s okay,” Eddie says adamantly, shaking Steve’s head gently, playfully. “You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? ”

Steve nods weakly.

Eddie leans in again, nudging their noses together.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for not wanting something,” he says softly. “For saying no or telling me to stop or asking for more time or fucking anything, you understand me?”

Steve nods, his eyes fluttering again. Eddie holds his jaw and shakes his head playfully again, and it’s kind of condescending, kind of mean, but it makes Steve’s mind go blank.

“You understand me?” Eddie asks again, more intently, waiting for a verbal response.

Steve isn’t thinking. His skull is full of static.

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie blinks.

And Steve’s own voice catches up to him. His face flushes with heat, and his eyes burn.

“I’m—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Eddie says, half-smiling now. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Steve scoffs weakly, but he’s crying again, embarrassed, and Eddie wipes his tears away, leaning in to kiss his forehead before he lowers his head to press his forehead to it.

“Is that what you wanna call me, baby?” he murmurs. Steve’s stomach flutters. He nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice weak again. It’s almost a whine.

“That’s okay,” Eddie whispers. “You can call me that.”

“But it’s weird,” Steve says quietly, shyly, and Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“You know I don’t mind weird.”

Steve smiles weakly.

“I like it,” Eddie whispers softly, the end of his nose brushing Steve’s. “I love taking care of you, baby.”

Steve nods, closing his eyes, exhaling slowly, and their noses brush again.

“I love taking care of you,” Eddie repeats intently.

Steve tilts his head and lifts his chin to kiss him softly, and Eddie lets him, humming quietly and holding his face like he’s something precious.

Eddie guides him to rest on his shoulder when they part, and Steve sighs, melting against him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“…Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, baby boy,” Eddie murmurs, and he kisses Steve’s head, running his hands over his spine, and Steve think he might be fucking fine.

─────────────────

Steve’s hair is damp with rain as he makes his way up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment. He feels heavy; his jacket is almost soaked, and his jeans are sticking to his legs, and his bag is weighing his shoulders down. He lets it drop to his elbow before dropping it to the ground as he stops outside Eddie’s door.

Eddie answers within just a few seconds, and Steve smiles, tilting his head at him as Eddie steps aside for him to come inside, but something is off. Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, dropping his bag next to the pile of shoes by the door, letting Eddie take his jacket. Eddie scoffs, his expression lightening.

“Nothing?”

Steve gives him a look as he toes his shoes off, kicking them aside.

“What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Eddie sighs, an eyebrow raising as he looks Steve up and down, half-smiling. “You don’t have an umbrella?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Steve says lightly, moving closer, setting his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and playing with the curls that have escaped the bun his hair is in. Eddie holds his waist easily. “Also yes, I do, but I forgot it.”

“Ah.” Eddie sighs heavily, slowly, his eyes skimming Steve’s face. “Wayne called.”

Steve blinks. His stomach twists.

He’s never met Wayne. Never even talked on the phone with him. But he loves him.

Eddie has endless stories about it, about his collections of mugs and trucker hats and bottle openers, about his banjo and the quilts that litter his living room. About how he’d stay up with Eddie to help him with his homework or to listen to him rant about whatever book he was reading or whatever campaign he was planning. About how he came home one day and threw a brand-new hairbrush at Eddie a while after he started growing his hair out. About how sweet he’s always been, how loving.

“Is he okay?” he asks, his eyes widening. “What happened?”

“He’s fine,” Eddie says quickly, smiling, shaking his head, pressing a hand into the small of Steve’s back. “He’s fine, it’s just…”

Steve stares at him as he hesitates, his lips parted like he’s going to speak even though he doesn’t say anything. Steve touches his face, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes look a little bit red.

“It’s Linda,” Eddie says after a few moments, his hands holding Steve’s waist firmly like he’s steadying himself on him. Steve freezes. “She, uhm. She had a heart attack. She didn’t make it.”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, nodding his head absently. His eyes are glassy.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie inhales, laughing humourlessly, letting out a shaky, “Uh…”

“Baby,” Steve says, and Eddie meets his eyes. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks tears back, and his tongue swipes over his lower lip briefly. Steve slides his hands down to his arms.

“Come here,” he says softly, reaching for Eddie’s hand, and he pulls him along gently as he goes to the living room. Eddie follows quietly, sniffling, and Steve’s chest hurts. He pushes him to sit on the sofa, and Eddie falls on it heavily, looking up at Steve helplessly as Steve lowers to sit on his lap, his knees on either side of his hips. “Okay?”

Eddie nods, his mouth quirking into a tired smile. Steve sets his hands on his neck, tracing light lines over his skin.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a slow deep breath, relaxing against the back of the sofa and lifts his hands to rest them on Steve’s thighs.

“I, uhm…” He opens his eyes, but they’re hazy, glassy, trained on the collar of Steve’s shirt. It’s a plain t-shirt, grey and loose-fitted, but it’s nothing Steve would ever have worn even a year ago. The cross on Steve’s necklace is hidden behind the fabric. “I don’t know how to feel.”

His hands are kneading Steve’s thighs gently, absently, like he’s fidgeting.

“What are you feeling right now?” Steve asks softly. Eddie pauses before he shrugs.

“Just… I don’t know.” His voice cracks. He looks at Steve, looking into his eyes for a moment before he looks away again, squeezing Steve’s hips. “I’m… Sad. But. I don’t know.” He shrugs again, shaking his head. His head falls against the back of the sofa.

Steve brushes his thumb over his throat lightly, his heart aching.

“I feel angry?” Eddie says after a moment, his expression shifting into confusion. “I don’t— I don’t know why, it— it’s like she slighted me or something, I don’t…” He does that laugh again, that awful laugh that grates on Steve’s skin, that laugh that’s void of joy. “I don’t know.”

“You’re allowed to feel angry,” Steve says quietly, tucking a loose wisp of hair behind his ear. The tunnels through his earlobes are black today.

“It’s not just anger,” Eddie breathes, his hands sliding up to Steve’s waist like he’s pleading with him. “I… I feel relieved.”

He whispers it. Like it’s a secret. Like he’s ashamed.

“That’s okay,” Steve whispers back, but Eddie shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

“It’s not,” he breathes. Steve takes a breath to say something, but Eddie speaks again. “She’s dead. I— How can I feel, like, content with it?”

“She was cruel to you,” Steve interrupts, leaning down with emphasis. “She was mean. You have every right to feel relieved that you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Eddie’s head falls back again and he sighs, looking at the ceiling. His eyelashes are wet. Steve traces the bat on his neck, caressing its grotesque face, its intricate wings. Eddie’s hands squeeze his waist, kneading and holding him tightly.

“Talk to me,” Steve says after a few moments. Eddie takes another deep breath.

“Uhm,” he says. His voice wavers, and Steve hates seeing him like this, hates seeing him sad. “I saw her a few years ago.”

Steve nods, caressing his neck.

“I was nineteen. Wayne had… Wayne had had an accident at the plant,” Eddie continues, steeling himself. “He was injured. It wasn’t, like… He was on bed rest, you know? And when he called me, I just… I panicked. I’d only lived away from him a little while, and I just… I went to him. Just in case.”

Steve smiles fondly, nodding. Of course Eddie would go to him.

“He couldn’t really walk. He was still… I mean. Wayne’s a character. He kept tellin’ me I didn’t need to go all the way down there, but he… I could tell he was happy I was there.”

Steve’s smile grows. Eddie’s accent always grows heavier when he talks about his hometown or Wayne. Steve likes hearing his accent.

“So one day, I was…” Eddie sighs. “I was in the kitchen fixin’ up some tea. Wayne was in bed with a book. He took my room after I left town.” Steve nods. “And, uhm… There was a knock.”

He slips a hand under the hem of Steve’s shirt, pressing to his skin. His hand is warm.

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a neighbor, or— or one of Wayne’s work buddies, but it was—” He cuts off, choking on his own voice, and Steve’s stomach hurts. “It was Linda.”

He pauses for a moment, slipping his tongue over his lips, kneading the soft flesh above Steve’s waistband.

“She didn’t recognize me at first,” he says quietly. “I, like, froze when I saw her, and she— she just stared at me. And I could— I could see the exact moment she realized who I was, I mean she, like… Her eyes went all wide. And she looked me up and down, and I— I remember I was wearing just a black hoodie, but she looked at it like…”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly when he doesn’t finish.

“I’d had these done,” Eddie says, lifting a hand and touching one of the piercings on his lower lip. “And I had, uhm, one here,” he says, touching the side of his nose. “I let it close a while ago, but it was, uhm, just a silver hoop.”

Steve nods, smiling.

“She… She just stared at me, and neither of us knew what to do.” Eddie looks at Steve’s chest again, his eyes glassy, and it’s like he’s zoned out completely, like he’s barely even there. “She had a, uhm, like a casserole dish, and a— a Bible. And I just kinda stared for a moment. And then she, uhm, like, snapped at me about… You’re not gonna let me in?”

Steve sighs.

“And I just said no.”

Steve scoffs, and Eddie’s expression lightens. He looks up at Steve’s face, his hands tightening on his waist.

“And I asked what she wanted, and she told me she heard Wayne was hurt so she came by to see him, and I… We started arguing. And Wayne came out of his room to see what the fuss was, and he was— he was limping, and hobbling, and Linda and I both, like scolded him for getting out of bed. And for this… brief moment, we were… one in the same.”

Steve’s expression tightens. His lips purse.

“Wayne saw the Bible she was holding,” Eddie continues. “And he…” He half-smiles, tilting his head fondly even though he’s just staring into space. “Goddammit, Linda,” he says in a clear impression of Wayne, his voice gravelly, his accent thicker. Steve smiles. “I told you I don’t want that shit in my house.

“I helped Wayne back to bed,” Eddie continues. “And Linda let herself in. Started to heat up the casserole. I told Wayne to stay put, you know, that I’d deal with her.”

“I assume she didn’t go easily,” Steve says. Eddie shakes his head.

“She, uhm… She argued. Told me she just wanted to speak with Wayne, say a prayer for his health. I told her Wayne wasn’t interested.” He trails off into silence, chewing on his lip. “…She said she wanted to help me, too, but… but that I was already too far gone.”

Steve blinks. Recognizes the words from Eddie’s thigh.

“I told her to leave.” Eddie blinks, looking up at Steve. His lip trembles, and his eyes fill with tears. “That was the last time I saw her.”

Steve touches his cheek. Eddie turns his face into it, taking a stuttering breath.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly. Eddie blinks his eyes open, shrugging again. “Eddie.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie says, a tear falling down his cheek, his voice shaking. “I hate feeling like this, like— like I’m fucking vindicated or something. Like this is justice.” His eyes are wide like he’s desperate to say this, like he needs Steve to hear him. “She’s dead. I should be, like, grieving, but I’m not,” he says despite the tears on his face, despite the trembling of his hands.

“Eddie,” Steve says firmly, holding his face. Eddie’s tears run down his fingers, dampening his skin, and Steve thinks he could use the tears as holy water, could use them to bless himself, to purify himself. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling.”

Eddie’s breath shudders as he exhales. He looks up at Steve like he’s helpless, like he’s listening like his life depends on it.

“She abused you,” Steve says after hesitating for a moment. “She was cruel. She used God to use you. You have every right to be glad she’s gone. Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter. Steve wipes his tears away tenderly.

“Whatever you’re feeling is fine,” Steve murmurs. “You can be angry, and you can be sad, and you can be happy, it’s… It’s all fine.” He looks him in the eye. He looks tired. “Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes blink at him. His hands are still trembling a little bit.

“…I love you.”

Steve almost startles, blinking, freezing, and Eddie’s expression doesn’t change; he’s still gazing up at Steve, looking at him like he’s fucking reverent.

“I know it…” Eddie pauses, taking a breath. “I know this is really bad timing, but I…” His eyes flutter, and he presses his lips together, hesitating.

Steve leans down and kisses him. It’s a slow kiss, gentle and lingering, and Eddie’s hands slide around to the small of his back, holding him close. When Steve pulls away, he stays close, their noses nudging, their foreheads pressing.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Eddie exhales shakily, and he lets out a quiet sob, and it tears through Steve’s body, rips him to shreds right in Eddie’s lap. He kisses him again, holding his face gently, pushing a hand into his hair when Eddie gasps into his mouth. Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, holding him tightly, pressing them together so close Steve feels like their skin might melt together.

Eddie makes a soft noise, a weak groan that slips between Steve’s lips and rumbles into his chest. Steve whines back, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, his back arching when Eddie kisses him harder, biting and sucking on his lip, and it’s like the air in the room has suddenly become hazy. Eddie lifts a hand to grab Steve’s throat, holding him in place as he licks into his mouth.

Steve hums, keening, slumping against him, nodding when Eddie pulls away for a brief moment to look at him. He doesn’t let go of Steve’s throat, squeezing a little bit as his other hand slides around to his back, pushing under his shirt and rubbing his skin. Steve reaches to hold his wrist, gasping for breath, cheeks warm. Eddie is harder under him, and Steve’s blood is rushing.

“Eddie,” he gasps when they part.

“Mm.”

“Do you… Do you wanna have sex?” he asks breathlessly. Eddie grins, his teeth nipping at Steve’s lip.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, pulling away to look at him. His hair is already a mess, and his cheeks are pink, and his eyes are glassy again, but it’s a better shine than before.

“Yes,” he says softly.

“Can we do it here?”

“Do you want…”

“I’ll go get it,” Steve says quickly when Eddie’s hands set on his hips like he’s going to nudge him to get up. “Wait here.”

Eddie smiles lazily, softly.

“Okay.”

Steve goes quickly, tugging his shirt off on his way and tossing it aside as he grabs the lube and a condom from Eddie’s bedside table. They’re sitting in plain view, next to a half-full glass of water and a book Eddie’s been reading, and the sight of them, so casual, so easy, makes Steve happy somehow.

Eddie is pulling his own shirt off when Steve goes back to him, and Steve tosses the lube and condom to the sofa next to him before unzipping his jeans as Eddie watches, hair even messier than before, frizzy and staticy from his shirt. It’s a relief when Steve finally peels his jeans off his legs; they’re still a little damp, but he hadn’t noticed the discomfort until now. Eddie lifts his hips to pull his jeans and boxers down his hips, pushing them to his knees before reaching for Steve, who takes his hand as he kicks aside his clothes.

He falls onto Eddie’s lap again with a sharp exhale as their bodies meet. Eddie’s skin is warm.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, pressing their foreheads together as Eddie reaches for the lube and tugs at the small of Steve’s back to make him arch it. “I love you so much, sir.”

“God, I love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers. The lube bottle clicks twice, and Steve lets out a weak sound when Eddie’s finger presses to his hole, cold with lube. “I’m so fucking grateful for you.”

Steve whines, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, hiding his face, groaning when Eddie squeezes at his ass, spreading him open. They’re both quiet as Eddie fingers him open, his fingers pushing and prodding, spreading his fingers and making Steve ache in the best way, except the occasional whisper, the soft brush of Eddie’s breath on Steve’s bare skin.

Is that good?

Fuck, yes, sir.

Steve groans when he feels ready, when the heat in his stomach is threatening to overflow, and he reaches back to swat at Eddie’s hand, whining a weak Please.

He lifts onto his knees for Eddie to roll the condom on and spread lube over himself, and he looks down at Eddie, who looks back up at him. They just look at each other for a moment, eyes shining, lips parted as they pant. And then Steve kisses him so hard their teeth clash, and Eddie groans, squeezing his ass. They don’t pull away, feeling blindly for Steve to lower himself onto Eddie, and he moans into Eddie’s mouth as he does.

“Mm, God, Eddie.”

“Fuck.”

Steve lets out a sound that’s high in his throat, breathy and weak, and Eddie’s hands spread over his waist, holding him in place for a moment. He’s trembling now, shaking as he clings to Eddie’s shoulders.

“Shit,” he breathes sharply. “You’re so— You’re so fucking deep—”

Eddie hums, gripping Steve tightly, and they pause there, staying for a moment.

Until Steve shifts on his knees with a weak whines, rising and then lowering, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he might get a headache. He sounds pathetic.

He moves faster after a few moments, arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, face buried and hidden, his voice muffled as he whines and pants and groans as Eddie touches him, holds him. Eddie’s hips shift for a brief moment, rising to meet Steve’s movements, and it presses him even deeper, and Steve lets out a fucking wail.

“You okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, pausing. Steve grinds down against him, whining, breathing hard, nodding into his neck.

“Green, fuck, Eddie,” he whines. “Please, sir, please, please—”

Eddie slides down the sofa a little bit, holding Steve’s hips tightly, keeping him in place, and he fucks him, looking up at him, watching closely, carefully. Steve whines. He’s rambling, mumbling fucking deliriously even as he listens to Eddie’s soft voice, murmuring to him.

“My good boy,” he says softly, so fucking softly. “My baby boy, you’re so perfect.”

Steve sobs, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it tightly as he gasps for breath, moving against Eddie’s body, winding his hips, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his shoulder, warm and soft and comforting.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Eddie says roughly, hands gripping Steve’s hips so tightly it might bruise, when Steve moves again, up and down, and Steve groans at the sound of their skin meeting, soft slaps that fill the air like mist. “That’s my boy, there you go, baby.”

Steve whines, and there are tears on his face now. Eddie tugs at his hair to make him lift his head, and he gazes at him for a moment before he pulls him in, and he licks Steve’s tears away, and maybe he thinks the same about Steve’s tears that Steve thinks about his. Steve groans, his eyes closing again as Eddie’s tongue slides over his cheek, as his hand pulls his hair and his other hand squeezes his ass.

Steve grinds against him, reaching up to hold Eddie’s face weakly, his fingertips pressing into his cheeks.

Their faces are pressed together, breath mixing in the air, bodies moving desperately.

“I love you,” Steve breathes. “I love you, sir—”

Eddie whines, licking his jaw before his hand lands on Steve’s ass sharply, the sound ringing out around the room like it’s empty, like there’s an echo.

“I love you too,” he whispers roughly. “Fucking beyond words, baby, I can’t even fucking tell you—”

Steve comes with the words caught in his throat, choking on them as he repeats them again and again and again and again, like a mantra. Like a prayer.

Eddie says it back. Again and again and again and again.

They get dressed slowly. Quietly. Eddie pushes Steve’s hair back after helping him pull on a sweater, and Steve pushes him gently so his back is to Steve, so he can pull his curls back into a ponytail.

Eddie makes coffee. Steve hugs his waist as he pours it into two mugs, resting his face against his back between his shoulder blades, his cheek squishing against him. He can smell the fabric of his shirt, and it’s nice.

They sit in the living room, on the sofa, and then Eddie looks up at Steve, his eyebrows taut.

“Do you… Would you mind if I smoked a cigarette?” he asks. He looks shy.

Steve shakes his head, smiling, and he reaches to set his mug aside.

“Where are they?” he asks as he gets up. Eddie looks up at him, and his eyes are shining again as he smiles.

“Uh, I have a pack in the drawer there,” he says, gesturing to the table by the sofa. “There’s a lighter there too. I’ll open a window.”

They sit on the windowsill, blankets wrapped around themselves, mugs set between them.

Steve holds up a cigarette for him, and Eddie leans to take it between his lips, suppressing a smile. Steve fiddles with the lighter for a moment, staring at it, and Eddie reaches silently to show him, moving his hand so he can flick the lighter and tilt his hand without burning his thumb. Steve tilts his head as he holds the light out, as Eddie leans in and inhales, puffing smoke out of his mouth as he leans back again.

Steve sips his coffee as Eddie smokes, leaning against the window. The glass is cold even through the fabric of his sweater and the blanket that’s wrapped around him, but he doesn’t mind. He gazes at Eddie, watches the end of his cigarette glow brightly, watches the smoke drift around his head and out the window that he’s opened. Eddie drains his coffee and tapes the cigarette ash into the empty mug.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly when their eyes meet.

“Better,” Eddie says. His voice is soft, quiet, almost shy. He smiles.

“Do you wanna talk about her?”

Eddie shrugs, taking a drag, sighing the smoke out of his lungs.

“I just…” He’s quiet for a moment, looking out the window, watching the world outside for a moment. “I was so young when I lived with them. And it just feels like… like there’s still this little boy somewhere inside me that went into hiding because of them.”

Steve nods, holding his mug to his face so the steam is on his skin. He wishes he could take it all away from Eddie, wishes he could reach into his chest and pull out all the heartache and sadness. Eddie is quiet, looking at the windowsill between them. It’s white, the paint chipping at the corner of the wood.

“I keep having to remind myself that I didn’t deserve it,” Eddie says quietly. “All the shit they gave me.”

And Steve doesn’t know what to say.

He’s reminded of the things Eddie’s said to him about Steve’s own parents, about the way they talk to him, the way they touch him.

“They turned me into someone else,” Eddie says quietly, tapping the cigarette on the mug again, sighing. “I wasn’t the same when I left their house as when I moved in.”

He looks up at Steve, and he looks like he wants to laugh like that again, to dismiss it and change the subject, to pretend he’s fine. But after a moment, his eyes are gleaming, watering again, and his lip quivers even as he twists his mouth to suppress it. He shrugs, blinking his eyes, tilting his head, and he looks so small Steve wants to tuck him into his chest to keep him safe.

“I was so soft before them,” Eddie says, his voice just a breath, and Steve’s chest splits open.

His eyes burn suddenly, and he nods, blinking tears back.

“I’m sorry they stole that from you,” he says softly.

He pauses for a moment before he leans in, through the air that smells like cigarette smoke, over his mug, and he touches Eddie’s face with his free hand, holding him as he kisses him gently. They linger there, eyelashes fluttering against each other’s cheeks, before Steve pulls away and looks at him, touching his cheek.

He takes a deep breath, looking at Eddie’s piercings on his mouth, looking at the bat on his throat, at the subtle reddish bruise that’s hidden in the bat’s wing from Steve’s teeth. He slides his hand down to Eddie’s chest and presses over his heart like he’s trying to feel the heat of his blood.

“He’s still in here,” he says quietly, looking at his hand pressing over Eddie’s sweater. “Little Eddie.”

Eddie suppresses a smile, sniffling, putting his hand over Steve’s like he’s holding it in place.

“We can… We can make him feel safe now,” Steve says, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “He can exist without being scared now. At home.”

Eddie’s smile wavers. His hand presses harder over Steve’s.

“I love you so much.”

Steve kisses him again, tasting coffee and cigarettes on his tongue.

“I love you so much too.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 1: Before the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.

warnings: It's the Daisy Jones and the Six!AU, Enemies to friends to lovers, Love triangles, sex, drugs, rock and roll, etc., fake relationships, bad parents all around, era-typical misogyny and sexism, mentions of reader's looks (as being very beautiful), partially interview format, no use of YN

AN: Hi, if you're a longtime TCGU reader, please read this note from me explaining this new format. If this is your first time coming across This fic, welcome! Please enjoy my attempt at a Daisy Jones and the Six!AU with some Fleetwood Mac-messiness thrown in.

MASTERLIST🎸

Prologue 🎤

WC: 8.6K

***

STEVE: Right, so I just start talking into this microphone thing?

INTERVIEWER: Yes, but you need to introduce yourself first.

STEVE: You know who I am, we’ve known each other for—ah, okay, okay sorry. I’m Steve. Harrington, obviously. Former lead singer and guitarist of The Downsides. So, uh, where do I start?

INTERVIEWER: The beginning—tell me about how you first got involved with music.

STEVE: Right, okay, I can do that. I grew up kinda lonely. My dad was this big real estate investor but we lived in Indiana of all places, so he was always traveling. I don’t think I remember him ever being home for more than a month straight growing up… and my mom was there but she wasn’t there, ya know? She drank a lot and spent a lot of time in bed, that sort of thing.

***

1962-1972, Los Angeles California

Your childhood is a lonely one but it’s also a boring and predictable one.

Born in sun-soaked LA to a movie director father and his much younger model wife, two people who didn’t know each other well enough to either love or hate the other. They maintained a similar distance in their marriage as the one they tried to uphold in their individual relationships with you, their child.

So, your infancy was spent in a rotation of different nanny’s arms with your parents’ presence only dotting the periphery of your life. Who could blame them, after all? Infants are so contrived and boring compared to the big, wide, world of art that was Los Angeles in the 1960s.  Your parents were far too busy trying to cement their legacy in the art they created and inspired to spend too much time looking after you.

(Much later in life, you would find yourself wondering if your parents ever saw the irony  in the fact that your art ended up eclipsing their entire existence in the end and their only legacy was that of being your parents.)

As a child, however, you spent little time thinking of legacy and instead spent your time trying to feel less lonely.

***

STEVE: When I was a kid I would wonder why my parents even had me. Sorry, that’s like a total bummer thing to say during an interview. But it’s true. And you said to tell the truth. I never felt wanted by them. Until I got famous, and even then… but that’s not new,  a lot of kids grow up feeling lonely, right?

***

The employees who raised you were nice enough, but they saw you for what you were: a means to an end. A paycheck with big, sad, beautiful eyes that may beget sympathy, but they couldn’t get too close to.  The children you came to meet at your elite California private school seemed palatable enough at first, but the more you interacted with them, the more you found yourself at a loss. It was like they spoke a secret language you did not know—a language of price tags, and ever-changing hierarchies and thinly-veiled insults. One that your mother spoke perfectly, but never bothered to pass down to you.

You end up turning to books instead. The home library your father kept up for appearances’ sakes became your favorite room in the house and your teenage growth spurts were fed by any and all novels you could get your hands on from historical biographies to soapy romances, you read them all.  You loved them all, but you loved poetry the most— emotive and raw in ways you were unfamiliar with. You liked the way the syllables rolled gracefully into one another and how each word served a purpose—compact with meaning and so unlike the people around you who were so careless with their words.

As you began to age, and the meaningless mess of childhood shifted into the sharpness of adolescence, you began to write yourself. One day, somehow you had the idea of putting your poetry to music. If you could write songs good enough to be played on the radio then maybe you could earn people's adoration through your art like your parents had, you reasoned. Maybe you could even earn their adoration. You beg your parents for piano lessons, and they scoff at the thought.  “But what’s the point of having one if no one can play it?” You ask, referencing the piano in the grand foyer.

“That piano is not meant to be played,” your mother explains, slowly, “it’s meant to be admired by our guests.”

She walks away from the conversation before you can even protest.

Instead of giving up, though, you went to the library and borrowed all the books you could on music and piano playing and slowly began to teach yourself. You were not very good, at first, and both your parents made a habit of reminding you whenever they were around to hear you practicing. Luckily, they were rarely around.

***

STEVE: My parents signed me up for every single activity and extra-curricular you can think of: karate, basketball, pottery.   The one that really stuck though, was guitar lessons. Soon, that was the only thing I wanted to do it was something I was actually good at. Not something I had potential in, not something I was passable at. It was something I was good at. My dad did not like the idea of me going into music at first—he wanted me to take on a “manlier” hobby—but even he couldn’t deny that I was talented, and he sent me to this specialized music school in Indianapolis. That’s where I met Robin. That’s when I stopped feeling so alone.

ROBIN: Robin Buckley, brass, bass, and synth for The Downsides.

I met Steve when we were thirteen, I think, at this fancy music school in Indianapolis. I was there on scholarship.  I’m not going to lie, he was obnoxious, but most thirteen-year-old boys are. Even then, though, there was something about him that made everyone want to be his friend. He was also really talented. He never had to work very hard to be good at something, but he worked hard anyway. I hated him at first, but he wore me down and we eventually became best friends.

***

1978

Your music became a good outlet for all your loneliness and anger and disappointment, but it was not a cure for any of those things. You craved friendship and commonality and to be liked beyond the surface.

One day, when you were towards the end of seventeen, you decided to go exploring. You had heard Emily Cooke whispering salaciously in the girls’ bathroom at school about sneaking into the Whiskey A Go-Go to see The Six playing and an idea began to blossom.

Your home was only a walking distance from the Strip, the aptly named piece of street that was lined with clubs and musical venues, so that day, after hearing Emily’s plan you decided to try your luck at the Whiskey. You loved music, after all, and you wanted to be good at it, like the musicians that played there. Plus, there were others that shared those interests and the was a chance that some of them would be more tolerable than Emily Cooke.

You waited in line, by yourself, donning an outfit that you hoped made you look older than you were in an organic, cool way. When you made it to the doorman, you smiled trying to look more confident than pleading. His eyes raked over your body once, then twice and you resist the urge to flinch away. You had known then that you were beautiful—mostly because it was the only thing your mother valued in you— but what you hadn’t known was how far just being beautiful could get you. The doorman had let you in the club, not even questioning when your voice wavered while you had told him you were older than you actually were.

***

ROBIN:   Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Steve was my first kiss.

INTERVIEWER: Uh, Robin?

ROBIN: Oh, right…. Well, whatever, Steve Harrington was my first kiss. He was also the first person I told that I liked girls. I knew from a really early age that I didn’t find men attractive but when Steve kissed me at our high school dance I had this immediate realization and I sorta burst out, “Steve, I like girls.” It was a really great moment of self-awareness for me—growing up as a girl, they always try to put you in this box of like feminity and being whatever men wanted you to be, including an object to be looked at or pawned over. I didn’t know how being gay fit into all that, until that moment.

I don’t think it was that great of a moment for Steve, though.

STEVE: She told you about that? Well, for the record, it wasn't that I wasn't happy for her, it's just when you're a teenage boy and if your first crush admits she's a lesbian moments after you kiss her for the first time, well, it does not do your ego any favors, does it?

***

The moment you walked through that door, your life became severed in two: the before and the after. You watched, from the fringe of the crowd, as Billy Dunne crooned soulfully, and the audience sang his own words back to him.

You briefly imagine yourself on the stage, being someone that people would actually want to come see, someone that people would listen to. Someone people would love.  

***

STEVE: I always knew I wanted to be in music. It was the only thing that ever made sense. Wait, no, that’s not right… It’s the only thing that ever made life make sense. So, I started working at it, like seriously working it at, when I was 16. I bought as many records as I could, figured out what I liked, what I could do, and I practiced all the time. Like all the time. Robin did, too. I would play the guitar and sing, and she was insane on the trumpet and bass. I don’t think we ever sat down and had a conversation about whether we wanted to form a band or even what we wanted for ourselves in the future. We just always knew it was going to be the two of us, and we were going to be making music. Of course, you can’t have a band with only a guitar and a trumpet, so we had to start looking for more members.

***

1980

From that point on, your life had purpose.

You began to study everything about music—obsessively. You collected records, you played the piano until your fingers became cramped and sore or until your mother yelled at you to stop.

You filled notebook after notebook with lyrics, some good, many bad.

But you also kept your eyes on the tabloids and the gossip rags and the fashion magazines. To be a successful musician, you had to be good of course, but you also had to be well-liked. Growing up in the environment you did had given you a very unique perspective on this. Since infancy, you had seen hopeful artists-to-be approach your father for a chance, or ask your mother for advice. The most successful of them were not always the ones who had the best things to say, but those who said what they had to say in the best way.

 You practiced giving fake interviews in front of your mirror and in the shower. You stayed on top of trends and bought the best-fitting clothes. And most importantly, you tried to associate yourself with all the right people.

By the time you turned 18, you were well-known, even beyond the Strip. Photos of you standing next to the bass player/drummer/guitarist/lead singer of whatever band might have been riding a momentary wave of popularity at the time began to appear in tabloid magazines.

Most of them were men. Most of them wanted something out of you. You became a master in the art of giving just enough for them to think they had a chance with you if it meant that you could learn from them or convince them to listen to one of your songs. But every time you would even mention the idea that you wrote music, you would come hit a wall of patronizing, feigned interest followed by a grab at your chest.

Then came Jason Carver. Lead singer of the Letterman’s, Jason Carver. You dated him for a few weeks, right after you had turned 18. He was 25 and just charming enough for you to overlook his frequent condescension. Plus, he had promised that he would teach you a few chords on the guitar.

One day, you had come over to his apartment and he was getting all worked up because the band’s label was on his ass about writing a song and he couldn’t quite get it right. He needed to write a love song, something introspective and sweet but Jason could only churn out party anthems and songs meant to be played in dive bars.

Eventually, after hearing him gripe for what seemed like an eternity, you sent him off to take a shower and in the meanwhile compiled all of his shreds of half-lines and began to work filling in the gaps. Forty minutes later, you had a solid chorus and first verse to present to him for a song you thought should have been called “All At Once”. You thought that this would’ve made him happy, after all, you had gotten him one step closer to a possible song. (And maybe, you had secretly hoped, in all of his gratitude he could be swayed to give you a writing credit on the song).  Instead, he laughed at you like you were a child pretending to do an adult task and asked you to leave with a hasty promise that he would call you later that week. He never called. The hurt you felt was only a pin-prick. Six months later, you heard The Letterman’s on the radio: a new song by them called, “All At Once”. You tried to convince yourself for a moment that there would be no way that Jason could blatantly steal your song after having mocked you for even trying to write. But, boy, were you wrong. Those were, in fact, your lyrics, on the radio. Yes, the band had added another verse but, ultimately, your lyrics were all there. The same lyrics Jason had so easily dismissed six months prior.

That was when you realized if you were going to get ahead in the industry, you were going to have to play dirty, like Jason Carver.

***

 ROBIN: We met Argyle in Chicago. Once we graduated high school Steve and I started working as subs for small bands in the Midwestern circuit. Yes, it was as grim as it sounds, but it paid the bills and helped us meet people. Argyle was the drummer of some Reggae band that needed a bass player for a few weeks when their bassist got arrested on possession charges. I subbed in and was immediately super impressed by his skills. People always underestimated Argyle, to this day, because of the whole vibe he gives off, you know? But he’s smart and adaptable. Anyway, when his bassist lost his case, the band broke up indefinitely and I tried my best to convince Argyle to join Steve and me. There were two of us, we’d never played an official gig, and we didn’t even have a name, but Argyle said yes. Next was Nancy. We held open auditions for a keyboardist once Argyle was onboard. After five passable auditions, Nancy Fucking Wheeler walks in in this long skirt and bows in her hair. She had a book of Debussy sheet music for God’s sake. I almost burst out laughing when I saw her because I thought she must have been lost but then, in true Nancy Wheeler fashion she blew us all away. Ugh, was that woman talented. And gorgeous. Steve’s jaw had to be crane-lifted off the floor, it was love at first sight.

STEVE: It was not. She’s exaggerating.

1980

Ironically, you met Murray Bauman at one of your parents’ parties.

You knew he was a music producer for Starcourt Records because he kept loudly boasting to his date about it. The same Starcourt Records that the Letterman’s were signed on to.

You waited until he was two gin martinis in and standing alone admiring your father’s latest art purchase before you approached.

“Hello,” you said, brandishing a dazzling smile, your whole body angled and ready to perform this familiar dance.

“Aren’t you the producer for the Letterman’s?”

He shot you a grin that borders on swarmy and said, “why yes, I am and you look like you’re out past your bedtime.”

You didn’t react to his statement and instead marched onwards, “I loved their latest song, ‘All At Once’ right? It’s so romantic.”

“Between you and me, I’m not sure how Carver popped that one out, he’s a bit of a meathead if you catch my drift.”

He didn’t wait to see your reaction before laughing at his own joke.

“Yeah, actually, I’m not surprised to hear that considering I dated him,” your eyes flashed in a way that you hoped came off as dangerous, “and that I wrote that song.”

He regarded you for a moment before breaking out in a laugh. When he saw your expression remained unchanged, he stepped back in assessment.

“Oh shit, you’re being serious.”

You only nodded grimly.

“Okay, well that’s a new one. Usually, girls come up claiming that one of those idiots impregnated them, not this.”

He regarded you again, searching for a trace of a lie. He sighed, “So let’s say that you did write the song, which, knowing what I know about those Neanderthals, I am willing to entertain the possibility of this being at least partially true, then what does that mean? You’re going to blackmail Starcourt? Do you want money?”

You gestured vaguely behind you, sure that he must have known who your parents were. “I don’t need money.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I write music. Obviously. I want to write for your label.”

A grin broke out across his face, “Oh, boy.” He started to laugh: a deep chuckle that floated up from his belly.

“You and every other Joe Schmoe in Hollywood, sweetie.”

“But not every other Joe Schmoe wrote a song for one of your most popular bands.”

Murray regarded you again, he gave you a look you’re all too familiar with. One that says he did not expect such a fight in such an unassuming package.

“Here’s the deal,” you start, taking his brief lapse to pounce, “all I want is for you to take my demo tape and listen to it, like actually listen to it. Do that and we never have to mention this again.”

“And if I say no to your little proposition?”

You smile at his question before offering a small piece of paper, “Then here’s the business card to my lawyer he’ll be reaching out.”

This, puzzlingly, makes the man burst out laughing once again.

“Let me get this straight, you just want me to listen to your tape? That’s the grand blackmailing scheme? No record deal, no music video?”

You shake your head in response, “No, I think my music speaks for itself. I just need to get it in front of the right person.”

Murray’s still chuckling to himself as he extends his hand out signaling for you to drop the tape you are now holding in his hands.

“Fine, but you are one shitty blackmailer.”

You were signed to Startcourt Records a month later.

***

STEVE: Once Nancy joined, we were a band, and so we needed a name. I suggested the Steve Harrington experience but the girls shot me down like, right away. We ended up fighting about names for like an hour. It was actually Argyle who ended up coming up with our name. The Downsides, he had said, since we were all so negative about everything. He had said this after Robin had said I was 'all hair and no brain'. Not the best of origin stories, I guess. But we liked it and that’s how we became The Downsides.

***

NANCY: Nancy Wheeler, former keyboardist for The Downsides.

  I had been playing piano since I was eight, it was just one of those things my parents signed me up for to make me more well-rounded for college applications but I ended up loving it more than they had hoped.

I auditioned for the band on a whim, I was going to Indiana State at the time, getting my teaching degree but I loved playing the piano more than I would ever love being a teacher. To be honest, when I auditioned, I didn’t think they were going to take me, not even after I saw they had another girl in the band. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I had the talent for it, I just didn’t necessarily give off Rock and Roll vibes, but they accepted me anyway.

  I had a feeling Steve liked me from the moment we met, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him then. He’s Steve Harrington for God’s sake. Girls had posters of him up on their walls for the better part of the 80s. I just—I didn’t want people to think I got the spot because I was involved with the lead singer. I wanted people to know that I earned my place through talent. Steve was really disappointed when I turned him down, but he was always really respectful about it.

  That didn’t mean he stopped being interested or that I didn’t feel his eyes on me during every rehearsal in the summer of ‘81.  

1981

Of course, you knew that when you had been signed to Starcourt Records it wasn’t completely because of your talent.

You had started to wonder, however, if Starcourt had given you a shot because they didn't want to risk litigation or maybe because those record execs had seen your name floating around in a magazine or, more importantly, your picture.

The more you thought about it, the more insecure about your place you had felt, like an imposter among others who had earned their spots. But, after one week of rubbing shoulders with the musicians over at Starcourt, you realized that to be able to make it, you were going to have to ooze confidence, even if that confidence was fake.

***

NANCY: We started playing gigs together around the Midwest. In the beginning, we mostly played covers but eventually, we started writing our own music. I’m not a great songwriter and, to be frank, neither is Steve, so a lot of the stuff we were coming up with was pretty simple but it worked for us. We went from playing weddings to actually getting gigs that paid money. I mean it was barely enough to cover gas to get there but it was something. I guess, for the sake of transparency, there is one more thing I have to talk about while we’re talking about this time in the band’s life.

Steve and I spent a lot of time writing music together. It was great, being able to get close. I thought we were becoming friends. He was still a bit hung up, though and one night, when we were up late writing at his tiny apartment, he kissed me. And I kissed him back.

The next day, I told him that that couldn’t happen again. I gave him my reasons and he respected that but still, I could tell he was crushed. I think that between the kiss and us having this talk, he had begun to hope that something would happen between us.

I think that’s what made me and Jonathan hurt him so much more. 

1982

You didn’t necessarily like Murray when you first began to work with him but you did trust him. In the professional capacity at least. He never tried anything with you, which you appreciated although that bar was abysmally low.

You hadn’t known what to expect on your first day in the studio but you had a feeling that as far as the music was considered, you were in decent hands.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

The moment you had stepped into the studio, Murray had handed you a stack of music, all unfamiliar and definitely nothing you had written.

“What’s this?” You had asked, eyes crinkling in confusion.

“A few contenders for an EP. The team over at marketing came up with some branding concepts and this is what we landed on.”

He then pulled out a thick folder overflowing with pictures of what you assumed the studio had wanted to mold you into. It was all bubblegum and teased hair and not at all what you had envisioned.

“Wait, Murray, I don’t understand.  I have a brand, one that I've spent a lot of time curating along. This isn't me and this is definitely not my music.  You said I could sing the music that I’ve written.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Murray hummed, condescendingly, “I never said that.”

“Well, if I can’t sing my music then I just won’t sing at all.” You were the full image of a petulant child, arms crossed and lips dangerously close to a pout.

Murray feigned concern for a moment before hunching down so that he was at eye level with you.

“You signed a contract,” he spoke slowly, “Starcourt owns you, and if you don’t like it, then talk to a judge.”

He turned away from you, leaning against the mixing console. He speaks again after what seems like an eternity.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not saying it’s ethical or right, but if you want to make it in music, you got to play the game. You can’t come in here, swinging your metaphorical dick around, calling the shots when you haven’t proven you can rake in the dough.

“Sure, you’ve got talent, but who doesn’t? Right now, there’s a line of girls around the block who can sing and write and are probably better at following directions, waiting to take your spot.

"Plus, I read the songs you sent over, you have some good lines but there's not a single song worth attaching Starcourt's name to. Take this as an opportunity to learn, to be better, to actually work for something for the first time in your life. You have nothing right now, so nothing is below you, not even this pop dribble they're giving you to sing.

"I’m not saying it’s always gonna be this way, but you have to prove to them that you can play before they take you seriously, and then if you got what it takes, you can start writing your own music. Hell, if you make them enough money, they’ll let you play the fucking didgeridoo and go out in a nun’s habit… well, maybe not the habit, but the point stands. So, can we stop acting like the spoiled princess we are for just one afternoon and get to rehearsing?”

You snatched the book of songs from his outstretched hand and with a smile on your face, tore it down the middle before stomping off.

It had taken five days of Murray, along with various other executives at Starcourt, pounding on your door at the Chateau Mormont—the hotel that was your permanent residence since you had turned 18— before you had even considered setting foot in Starcourt again.

All it took was a gift basket full of Champagne and half a dozen threatening letters from their legal team.

***

NANCY: Jonathan came on as our second guitarist. I remember when he came to the audition he was this quiet, super shy kid who barely managed to make eye contact, but once he had a guitar in his hands, he had this way of coming alive. He wasn’t a showman like Steve, but he was electric when he played.

We—I never meant for things to turn out the way they did but with Jonathan, it wasn’t much of a choice. I know this sounds so cliche, but we were drawn to each other. I remember, during rehearsals, even before we really knew each other, he and I would lock eyes from across the room and I would know exactly what he was thinking.

Soon, we were sneaking around together. We were getting more and more serious, it was only a matter of time, honestly, before the others found out. Jonathan wanted to come clean early on, he could tell it was causing me so much stress, but I didn’t want to tell anyone else. Part of it, was Steve, of course, but also, what Jonathan and I had felt precious and personal and ours. I wanted to stay in this bubble we had built for ourselves.

Of course, it was Steve and Robin who eventually caught us, making out in Jonathan’s car after rehearsals one day.

To say that Steve took it hard is probably an understatement. He skipped rehearsal for five straight days and when he showed up he had this new song he had written, this ballad called, “Regret You”.

“If I never had you, then why can’t I forget you / I hate myself because I could never regret you.”

Yeah, that was an awkward one to rehearse but, to his credit, it was a great song. It was the song that got us noticed.

1982

You had spent months recording your first EP, a five-song collection the studio had decided to name “The Setlist”. It was meant to be a play on your groupie status, or at least that’s what some intern over in the marketing department had claimed, a little too proud of himself for your liking.

While you couldn't ignore the sense of accomplishment that bubbled below the surface, you mostly felt empty. 

The whole thing made you think of your father, whom you hadn't spoken to in years but had a very staunch view on artistic integrity. He despised artists who 'carelessly churned out poor imitations of real art for money'.  "To make art is as close as one can get to being god," he had explained to you once, with self-important tears in his eyes, "why would anyone sell that off? Art should mean something to the artist. Otherwise, they are a peddler of fake divinity." 

Your father had never had to worry about money a day in his life. 

That empty feeling was only exacerbated when, the Friday after you had officially finished recording, Murray had invited you to lunch with a particular proposition in mind.

“No, Murray, not gonna happen. Over my dead body and all that,” you spat from across the table.

“Listen, I don’t want to pull the contract card on you, but I will,” he warned with no real heat as he swirled his gin martini in one hand.

“Nice try,” you mirrored his pose, martini and all, “but the contract doesn't cover this, only original work. Not duets. You know that, I know that, so why don’t you try again and give me one good reason why I would even consider a duet with The Letterman’s.”

Murray gave you a look you had come to familiarize yourself with—one that was equal measures of pride and annoyance. It was the look he gave you whenever you bested him.

“How about the fact that they’re one of the hottest acts right now and being on a track with them would guarantee you a spot on the charts which is a great place to be at any point in time, but especially when you’re about to release an EP?”

Your face dropped in the way it only did when you knew Murray was right about something you didn’t want him to be right about. A look he had been starting to familiarize himself with.

"Fine, I’ll do it, but I want to spend as little time as possible with Jason. He’s a pompous ass.” “No disagreements there, sweetheart.”

The day you were scheduled to record with Jason and the rest of his band, he was an hour late. You hadn’t doubted for a moment he had done this on purpose.

When he finally had shown, he pretended not to know you, a game you had quickly caught on to, and made sure to respond with, “It’s so nice to meet you, Jackson” after he made a show of introducing himself to you which made the rest of his band and Murray guffaw.

Jason narrowed his eyes at you, his voice struggling to stay level, and said, “Watch it. We’re the ones doing you a favor here, remember?”

“I did you one first,” you responded, your eyes meeting his gaze, “remember?”

It had taken 20 minutes for his bandmates to calm him down, but eventually, the two of you got into the booth.

Your only priority had been to do your best job in as few takes as possible because you did not know how much longer you could tolerate being in Jason’s presence.

In the end, after a two-hour session, Murray had sent you both home, either happy with the finished product or at his wit’s end with the tension. Either way, three weeks later you had a duet with The Letterman’s called “It Was You” and just as Murray had predicted, it was quick to climb the charts.

You were getting noticed.

***

NANCY: Not long after Steve wrote “Regret You” we got noticed by a scout from Starcourt Records. I think at first we thought it was some sort of scheme, but it was legit. They had us record a few demos and in something like six months, they moved us to a house in Culver City.

The whole thing had felt like some sort of fever dream. I had to quit school and tell my parents. They didn’t even know I was in a band. Or seeing anybody. Needless to say, they didn’t take any of it well. When we got to LA, we did more test recordings and they even had us playing some shows at a few clubs on the strip.

Like I said: total fever dream.

But, when you’re under the thumb of a label like that, there are certain stipulations. One of the first things they told us was that they wanted to make our sound more modern and pop. We kinda

had an alternative, experimental sound back then. They said synth was going to be the new thing so they wanted Robin to learn how to play the synthesizer which meant that on certain songs, Jonathan would have to take over for bass. Also, they wanted Steve to be more of a frontman and less of a guitar player. Steve could always work a crowd, and they wanted to use that, especially with this new sound they had envisioned for us. All of this meant we needed another guitar player and, believe it or not, the label already knew who that was going to be. Eddie Munson.

***

EDDIE: Okay, here we go.

 I’m Eddie Munson, lead guitar for The Downsides.

 I  grew up trailer trash in some town that no one’s ever heard of. My mom died when I was eight and my dad was in and out of jail pretty much my entire life--well, until those royalty checks started rolling in, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

  People always use the dead mom/jailbird dad thing to either turn me into a sob story or villainize me, so I generally tend to avoid talking about it but since it's you, I'll say this: the thing I remember most about my mother is her absence and there is not a single redeeming thing about ole' Munson Sr. but I don't think they're responsible for any of the ways I've fucked up over the years. Nah, kid, that was all me.

Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?

At the tender age of ten, I was gifted an old beat-up guitar by my uncle. Clearly, something he had picked up at the local Goodwill to try and keep me occupied and out of trouble. The neighbors hated us after. They hated us, even more, when it turned out that I could actually play.

When I was 18, Uncle Wayne got the idea that I was ready to commit to a life of indentured servitude over at the factory and that did not sit well with me, at all. I wanted to be a musician. But, instead of talking to him about it, you know, like a rational person? I just ran.

I sold my van and got a one-way ticket to LA. The metal scene was starting to pop up on the strip and music—metal—was the only thing I was good at, so I thought, ‘what the hell!’ and booked it. I slummed it for a few months and then, through some stroke of luck, I heard about a band that was auditioning for a new guitar player since their last one got hitched and quit. The Metal Gods smiled down on me the day of the audition because that same afternoon they called me back and told me they wanted me on as lead guitar.

1982

“It Was You”, your duet with The Letterman’s peaked at number 6 on Billboard’s Top 100 in October of 1982.

Suddenly, everyone wanted you to be featured in their songs. Your EP did well enough, but it didn’t even crack the top 30. That didn’t keep you from being the hot new thing on the scene and a

huge part of that was your reputation.

Of course, people knew who you were because of your groupie days, and you unintentionally built a reputation for being romantically involved with different musicians. So, when you broke out on the scene with a romantic duet, people started talking, and the tabloids began to spin stories about you and Jason being romantically linked which only caused a buzz for the song. You, of course, hated this and vehemently denied being involved with Jason to anyone who would listen. Jason, meanwhile, played it coy with the press, only fueling the rumors and your rage.

“Listen, I hate the guy as much as you do, sweetheart, but you got to respect the strategy,” Murray had said after hearing you gripe about one particularly salacious headline.

Before the year was through, you had been featured in five other duets. All with male artists. All resulting in more and more outlandish dating rumors. And all enjoying a lengthy stay on the top of the charts.

Starcourt had begun to push you to take it a step further and Brenner had asked for Murray to arrange outings between you and whatever male artist you were collaborating with. The meetings—you refused to call them dates—were always somewhere that was strategically public, somewhere where there was always at least one paparazzi with their cameras locked and ready. The pictures they would take would always make it to at least one gossip magazine, which resulted in even more publicity for the song.

Your partners—you refused to call them dates—were, at their best, cordial and business-like, one or two of them even asked for your permission before holding your hand. At their worst, though, they were handsy, entitled, and rude. None of them ever tried to ask you out on a real date and you weren't sure what that said about you.

Soon you were racking up duets and notoriety in equal measures. Radio DJs would make jokes about you every time they would play one of your songs—and they played your songs a lot. Once, while you were walking around Rodeo, a woman stopped you in the middle of the street and told you, very brazenly, that you needed to stop sleeping around so much. Before you could even tell her off, though, she proceeded to gush about how much she loved your duet with The Letterman's.

It seemed like everyone seemed to see you in a similar light though: they thought you were some sort of despicable maneater but all they wanted was more of a reason to talk about how you were a despicable maneater.

Murray had his work cut out for him, “We just need to find a way for you to have this same buzz all the time.”

***

EDDIE: Things started to pick up with Corroded Coffin. We were playing shows pretty much every night.  As I said, metal was on the rise and we were at the forefront. Eventually, record label bigwigs had no choice but to acknowledge that.

Some of them got smart and started poaching bands early on, like Starcourt. Corroded Coffin signed with them in ‘82. We thought we were hot shit after that.

There’s a certain lifestyle that goes along with that, though, you know? A reputation that you have to uphold.

I'm not trying to make excuses for myself here, trust me. I'm just...trying to explain myself.

People always love to talk shit. They'll call you all sorts of names before they see you as an actual person. Trust me, I would know. But, these interviews are an opportunity to set the record straight, to finally be seen as an actual person.

So, there I was, a nineteen-year-old kid from Bumfuck nowhere, finally making it big, finally feeling like I belonged somewhere--like for the first time I wasn't a freak whose mom died or some trailer trash high school dropout--of course, I was gonna get swept up in it all. Of course, I was going to start picking up the bad habits and doing drugs. There was no one there to tell me otherwise.

It started out as something to get us through the madness that was our schedule: between the live shows and the studio time, we needed uppers just to keep us on our feet. Then, obviously, you needed the downers so you could fucking relax because the uppers made you so tense. 

I stopped enjoying the drugs pretty early on, but at that point quitting wasn't something that I was willing to put that much effort into. 

1983

The first time someone asked for your autograph, you were at a show at Whiskey a Go Go. Murray, acting as a sort of manager, had set up a photo opp with Charles Riva, your latest duet partner. He hadn’t shown that night but you never walked away from a live show.

Two girls, not much younger than you, appeared behind you as you were ordering at the bar and tapped you on the shoulder.

“See, I told you it was her,” the shorter one, a strawberry blonde with severe bangs whispered excitedly to her friend, a taller brunette.

Before you could ask either of them exactly what they wanted, the strawberry blonde spoke again, “Can we have your autograph?”

You could only nod dumbly as they handed you a cocktail napkin and a pen. You tried to think of something meaningful to write, but in your shock, could only come up with “Best wishes, xoxo”. You didn’t even ask them their names. The best you could do was offer to buy them a drink, which they happily accepted.

You regretted the offer as soon as you registered how young they looked underneath all that makeup, an observation that made you unsettlingly sad. You were reminded of your first days on the Strip: lonely and young and wanting someone to notice you for the right reasons.

Your thoughts became too heavy to deal with at that particular moment and you abruptly excused yourself, leaving the two confused girls behind. A shame, you thought to yourself, in another life you might’ve all been friends, but no one really wants to be your friend these days. They just want to tell people they’re your friends. Walking away saves everyone the disappointment.

You needed a drink.

By the time the main act had taken the stage, your vision had started to haze at the edges as a result of the multiple drinks you had procured for yourself. You watched, half-interested as a band you’d never heard of, Corroded Coffin took the stage, your eyes tracing after each member, eyeing the things only a fellow musician would: the models of equipment they had, the way the band queued each other up.

You didn't know enough about metal yet to know whether you'd consider yourself a fan or not but even with the little familiarity you have, you can tell this band is good. Their playing is unpolished but overflowing with energy and the crowd is feeding into it, screaming the lyrics along with the lead singer.

All of it reminds you of your first show at the Strip—what seemed ages ago—and that memory summons a whole other thought entirely: the reason that you had gotten into music was to actually make music you liked, not to be a topic of discussion in a gossip magazine, getting no say in the music you created.

You don't even remember the last time you had even written a lyric.

You think to yourself that maybe you should wander backstage after the show, like you once did and talk to the band. Maybe you could pick their brains about songwriting. They clearly didn’t care about mass appeal if they were making metal music which means they were probably doing it for the art.

At the very least they probably had a decent stash of pills.

Either way, it would be worth it.

***

EDDIE: It was pretty much love, at first sight, the moment I saw her in the crowd that night at Whiskey a Go Go. I remember seeing her for the first time halfway through our set and it was like I went blind for a moment. I had completely forgotten what I was doing, I think I even missed a cue. After the show, I made a beeline for the bar where she was standing, trying to act as cool as I could but I was shitting it.

***

Once that band had wrapped up, you made your way to the dressing rooms. You maneuvered to the dressing rooms like you had dozens of times before, but the band wasn’t there.

You milled about for a bit, before growing bored and leaving wondering if maybe they had seen you coming and left.

***

EDDIE: I ordered a drink just as an excuse to get closer and it worked. She was even more beautiful up close and so, so kind. Told me she loved our show and even pointed out specific guitar solos of mine that she liked. She always had a way of making you feel special like that. Chrissy Fucking Cunningham. Even her name was perfect, not a syllable too few or too many.

I asked her for her number that night and we went on a date two days later, I could hardly keep it.

together having to wait two days to see her again. Then, after a few weeks, we were going steady, as the kids say. It was perfect. I never really had anyone to myself, you know? She was the first person that ever made me feel seen and cared about.

I remember one time; she was hanging out at my place while the band was in the studio. When I came back, she had done all my laundry. When I asked her why she had done that, she just said “I dunno, just because” then, all of a sudden there were tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like that for me “just because".

My life had never been better--so of course, I fucked it up.

***

While you did not manage to meet Corroded Coffin, you couldn’t stop thinking about them, even days later. It was like seeing them play had awoken you from a daze you didn’t even know you had been in.

You spend a few days getting incredibly drunk by the pool after that. But no matter how much you drank or how many pretty dresses you bought yourself or how many pill you took, you could not shake the feeling.

A few mornings later, you had called Murray, “This stops now, Murray. No more duets or features or whatever else. I want to meet with Brenner. I want to do this my way.”

Murray, not used to being awake so early, gave a weak attempt at talking you down.

“No,” you urged on, “you said once I started making money, I could have a say. Well, now I’m making money and I’m tired of Starcourt just using me for that. So, I want something permanent and I want to write my own music, got it?”

“You have a contract,” Murray parroted back, half-heartedly.

“Yes, I do, and I plan to honor that contract but so help me God I will make life a living hell for you and for Brenner and any other exec that tries to get me to do another duet with Jason fucking Carver. In fact, I will find a way to lose Starcourt money if you don’t get me out of this. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Great, I’ll see you at lunch Murray.”

He signed, “See you then.”

***

EDDIE: My drug use was getting more out of hand. Chrissy hated it, but I couldn't bring myself to quit. Especially the things that I thought I needed to make it through the day.

Chrissy was a saint throughout the whole thing, until one night when she caught me in the dressing room of Whiskey with a girl who was not her. She walked away and I don’t really blame her. Out of all the regrets of my life—and trust me, kid—that was one of the biggest.

She moved out that day and refused to take my calls, moved in with one of her friends and I spent days just calling her, sending her flowers, the works.

She told me she wouldn’t budge unless I got clean. So, I checked myself into rehab. She was a good enough reason to quit. 45 days later, I checked out, clean as a motherfucking whistle.

Chrissy was gone though, I had no clue where she had disappeared to, but wherever she went, she didn’t want me to find her.

On top of that, my band was fucking pissed. I left the band for 45 days without telling anyone, right as we were finishing recording our debut album. Yeah, they weren’t happy. I was in something called “breach of contract” with the suits over at record label and they wanted to take me to court, and not the Star kind.

I definitely didn’t have lawsuit type of money back then, so it was in my best interest to work something out with Starcourt and jump back on fulfilling my contract. Problem was, Corroded Coffin didn’t want me back anymore, even though the guy they replaced me with wasn’t half as good as I was.

I thought that because my old band didn’t want me, that meant that I would be free of my contract. I was wrong. What actually happened was that my fate was then put into Starcourt’s hands and they could place me in whatever podunk production or band they wanted. They owned my ass.

And that’s how I ended up with The Downsides.

PLAY NEXT TRACK

[2af-afterdark]

How I feel About You (Hint: Fuck You)

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Content: Minhyeok/Sitri, hate sex, mc is referenced to be amab, first times, oral sex, they are squabbling like petty bitches (affectionate), dubious consent (basically fuck or die trope) A/N: Is this canon? Not in any possible way. Is it fun as shit? Yes.  There is some time jumping in this fic represented by italics. If they are too difficult to parse from the normal text, let me know and I will try to figure out another way to represent present and past events. Word Count: 1817

"Even with his Majesty Satan's generous gift, you cannot manage yourself."

The words were harsh and clearly laced with spite, but Minhyeok overlooked them in favor of focusing his attention elsewhere. Specifically, he had to focus on trying to wrap his lips around Sitri's reluctant hard-on.

Neither of them wanted to do... this, but desperate times called for even more desperate measures. And times were desperate indeed.

Minhyeok was disappointed that he'd barely spent any time with his childhood friend/the love of his life during his brief visit to hell. He'd spent far more time getting attacked, tossed around by angels, and glared at by terrifyingly powerful devils than anything else. Plus, he was told he wouldn't even remember the brief visit.

Still, even if he didn't remember seeing them and their time together was short, he's glad that he'd been able to see them at all. Although, he admitted that he could do without the angels continuing to attack him as he made his way toward the portal back home. He could also do without Sitri's constant glares toward the back of his head, but he pretended not to notice, if only for his own sanity. Of all the devils his friend could have met…

As he thought that, the air of Hell suddenly felt heavy in his lungs, like breathing through a straw filled with peanut butter. His skin burned as if set ablaze and his eyes watered in discomfort. He couldn't focus on anything but the way his muscles strained and fought to keep him upright -- a fight he was quickly losing. Minhyeok had no choice but to fall to his knees.

Sitri said, in a tone that clearly conveyed he thought himself more worldly and knowledgeable than Minhyeok and was trying to show off that humans could not stay in Hell freely. Because they were of a different world, their body belonged to that world. Existing in a different one than they were born into was too hard on their bodies and they would need energy belonging to the world they were visiting so that it could regulate itself. Although, under his breath, he added that he had been certain the unwanted guest -- Minhyeok assumed that was him -- would be gone before his body suffered those consequences.

"What do I have to do?" Minhyeok asked.

"You would have to-" Sitri started, then went silent and grimaced as if realizing a terrible truth. "We should get you to the portal as soon as possible."

"I can't walk," Minhyeok reminded him, even going so far as to try and immediately falling back to his knees when he couldn’t stand upright.

"I will carry you, if I must."

First of all, he hated that idea. A lot. Second, "And if we're attacked?"

"I will manage to defend us both." Begrudgingly in Minhyeok's case.

"While carrying me?"

"If I must."

Not to doubt Sitri, which Minhyeok more than did, but that plan sounded terrible. Plus, he didn’t trust Sitri not to drop him the second he felt mildly inconvenienced. 

"What are our other options?" He asked despite his heavy tongue.

Speaking was getting harder and Sitri could see the sweat starting to bead along Minhyeok’s brow as his body fell apart under the weight of being in Hell.

"That's our best one."

"But what are the others?"

"There are no-"

"Don't lie to me!" Minhyeok finally raised his voice, feeling more and more nauseous with every passing second and desperate for it to end. "Your king loaned me his powers, didn't he? He chose to trust me that much, so why can't you?"

Sitri appeared to consider what he said, but only countered with, "He loaned you a fraction of his power."

“A fraction of his trust is still trust.” Minhyeok was too ill to keep up his usually cordial facade. "What are our other options?"

Sitri seemed reluctant, but he eventually answered. “You need devil energy for your body to regulate itself.”

“Great.” Now Minhyeok had an answer, even if he didn’t know what that was. “How do I get devil energy?”

Again, Sitri went silent and Minhyeok knew he was going to hate the answer.

And he was right about how much he hated the answer. 

Having the dick of some man he barely knew and felt nothing for (and who clearly didn’t like him either) in his mouth before he even got to touch his best friend’s/(hopefully) future spouse’s was a terrible way to spend his time. If there was any positive to this situation, it was that Sitri wanted to be seen doing this about as little as Minhyeok did, so he had the decency to find a secluded spot where no one would catch them in the act.

“Can we please finish this,” Sitri complained in the most sophisticated way one possibly could.

“Maybe if you could keep it up…” Minhyeok muttered.

He had been staring at Sitri’s dick for far too long. Long enough to analyze its features in detail at the very least. Like the fact that it leaned toward length rather than girth, or that it was bent slightly to the left and had a gentle upward curve. And Minhyeok hated that he had been staring long enough to know that. If only it was his precious friend’s dick instead. That one he wouldn’t mind staring at all night if need be. 

“I assure you that I’m doing my absolute best,” Sitri said but Minhyeok didn’t believe him.

Rather than continuously arguing, he took a deep breath and leaned forward to push back the foreskin covering the tip of Sitri’s barely erect cock. It was still on the softer side, but he would make do with Sitri’s terrible attitude and blatant reluctance if only for the sake of getting the entire ordeal over with. It wasn’t as if he wanted to do this either, but he needed to so they could safely make their way to the portal home.

Minhyeok closed his eyes and gently sucked at the head of Sitri’s cock to try and coax it to get harder, circling his tongue awkwardly around the base of the glans and feeling it pulse in his mouth as it finally started to respond to his efforts. His heart hammered in his chest, mostly from embarrassment and rage at the entire situation. He said nothing as he swallowed down more of Sitri’s length, trying not to gag on it as he let it slide into his throat. He sucked at it with vigor in hopes to finish as quickly as possible.

Minhyeok glanced upward for a moment – he couldn’t understand why other than the fact that he didn’t want to keep looking forward at the same pale patch of skin staring him in the face – only to see that Sitri seemed to be as disinterested in this as he was. He was sitting calmly, the picture perfect model of decorum, but his face showed his true feelings. His eyes were shut, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his lip bitten so fiercely that it seemed like it would bleed. Somehow, it was more insulting that Sitri looked so off put by this situation when Minhyeok was the one with a dick in his mouth.

Minhyeok pulled away and flashed a smile so sickeningly sweet that it was clearly antithetical to his real mood. “I apologize if I’m boring you.”

Sitri was quiet for far too long before answering. “You lack skill.”

That statement was a slap in the face. He didn't expect to be good at giving a blow job considering his only practice until now was on ice pops and he always expected his first encounter to be with his crush, but a bit of encouragement wouldn't have hurt.

Minhyeok could hear his own heart beating in frustration. His blood was boiling so fiercely that his cheeks felt as if they would melt. He was incensed. 

But when he looked at Sitri, the man looked euphoric. His eyes were still closed and he wasn't paying attention to Minhyeok's ministrations, but his face was as red as it could be. 

Somehow, that was even more annoying.

He refused to give Sitri the satisfaction of controlling his emotions though, so he returned to the task at hand. His mouth and lips focused on sucking at the head of Sitri’s cock while one of his hands wrapped around the base. He could feel every twitch of Sitri’s dick against his fingers. When a bead of something salty dripped down onto his tongue, Minhyeok could feel the taste of it circulating around his system, all the way down to his own cock which he could feel beginning to strain against his pants.

His heart was racing.

His head was spinning.

He was getting dizzy. 

Minhyeok closed his eyes as he tried not to focus on his own growing erection or Sitri’s expression as he went back to his work, rolling his tongue around the very spot that was leaking and lapping up every drop spilled. He couldn’t explain the urge that overtook him, but it was as if his very body craved it. It made the nausea and sickness wane. He assumed that was the power of the devil’s energy that Sitri had so reluctantly told him about.

As he thought about the ramifications of the information he had acquired and the firsthand experience he had just gained about it, he felt that small trickle against his tongue turn into a flood. Warm, thick, salty liquid poured into his mouth, pooling against his tongue.

Minhyeok pulled away in a frenzy, letting Sitri’s dick fall out of his mouth and spitting globs of white onto the ground below. The taste lingered long past the point that he no longer had anything to spit out. It was like it refused to leave his mouth.

“You’re exaggerating.” 

Minhyeok looked up, only to see that Sitri was standing and had already fixed his clothing back into place as if nothing had transpired. He picked himself off the ground and dusted himself off. He pushed his white bangs out of his face and tried to breathe to center himself. At the very least, he indeed felt better than he had earlier.

“Are you well enough to keep walking?”

“Yes,” Minhyeok said, trying not to think about what it really meant to feel better or how he got that way.

“You should be able to use His Majesty’s power without issue then.” Sitri said and began to lead the way toward the portal out of Hell again.

Minhyeok followed without a word, choosing not to delve into a conversation he didn’t want to have in the first place.

If there was one good thing about knowing that he wouldn’t remember this day, it was that he also wouldn’t remember this series of events either. Although, it would prove a confusing experience when he had dreams of a man he had never met in a place he had never been, and the taste of something foul lingering in his imagination. And, of course, the unexplainable rage that he awoke with after the dream was done.

[rjmartin11]

I'm Aaron

Chapter Two

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: You're a workaholic who decides to take a private mini vacation in Las Vegas. While there, you stumble into and befriend a handsome stranger at a bar. This handsome stranger is more than meets the eye. He wants to show you a great time... privately. It's an experience that you've never had before. You soon realize that you're in over your head, and your heart is falling fast.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warning: A bit sad. Mentioning of death. But the smut is here! I repeat, the smut has arrived! Sex, oral (f. receiving) slight fingering (f. receiving). Only for mature audiences. Viewer discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: Welcome to Chapter Two! I'm so pleased with all the re-posts, likes, and follows I've received! Y'all are the sweetest! It's all done for the love of E.P. That gorgeous talented man! Have mercy! If you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter, leave me a message. What happens in Vegas stays in the bedroom! 😉

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"Aaron. Were you also raised in a strict Christian home, Aaron?"

"Well, not as strict as you but yes. I was raised Penecostal, but my folks let me listen to old rock n roll all the time. But I love Gospel the most. Why do you ask?"

"Well, your name is Biblical. I find that most of the children with Biblical names grew up with strict parents. How do you spell it?"

"With two A's. My folks originally spelt it with one, but when I turn 25 I changed it legally after I came home from the service."

"You were in the military? For how long?"

"I spent two years in Germany."

"That's very noble, and how did you meet your boss?"

"My boss?" He said with a questionable look.

"Yes. Elvis."

"Oh yeah. He and I go back a ways. Childhood. I've seen him through it all and then some."

"Is he nice? Does he treat you well?" You pondered trying to understand why all these women loved him so much.

"He has his moments. He tries to remain good. Be the good boy his mama raised him to be. It seems like the world's closin' in on him and he's nervous about the show tomorrow. He wants everything to go right. What if they don't love...him...anymore."

"He's not too short on supply there. I was listening to his music on my drive here this afternoon, and the taxi driver told me that I needed to get tickets to see him. The receptionist at the front desk, too. They are head over heels for him. They describe him as a god."

"He knows better. There's only one God. One King."

"Amen." You say taking another sip of your drink.

"Enough about Elvis. What about you, Y/N? Where are from? And if you aren't here for the show tomorrow night, why are you here?"

You move your daiquiri away from you and think of the right words to say. "I'm on vacation. I've never really taken a vacation, and I thought it was about time. I'm originally from Florida. Deep in the Bible belt. My mother worked her hardest to try to get me free from my father's house. His boundaries. I turned 18, and I left. I moved to Atlanta, Georgia. I wanted my mama to be proud of me. She passed on two years later, and I plunged myself into work. I made friends, and we spent time together. But they have husbands, and I'm lonely. I'm the only one without a love. The only one without a significant other."

"You lost your mother? I'm so sorry. I lost mine too." Aaron spoke with unshed tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Aaron."

"Are you here alone, baby? No friends? They left you all alone?" He pondered.

You nodded your head at your new found friend with a tear trickling down your cheek.

"You know, you aren't alive if you aren't in love." He said grabbing your hand softly.

"Then I'm as good as dead." You said wiping the tear from your eye.

"No, you're not. I believe this is amazing grace. I believe you've been found." Aaron said placing his hand to his lips to kiss it. You feel goosebumps surge through your body and your face blush. You can't look him in the eyes now.

"You came to Vegas for a good time, right? Let me show you a good time." He asked lightly grabbing your chin to look you in the eye.

"I don't know."

"I won't hurt you. I just wanna hold you. Maybe steal a kiss or two. Or three. You're so beautiful."

"You're sweet, but I'm... inexperienced."

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "Meaning that you've never been touched? Ever?"

You look down defeated. In your mind, a man runs away from a virgin. Men want women with experience which you lacked. Surely, Aaron will run for the hills now.

"Your room or mine, baby?" He said with a sexy smirk on his lips. Your eyes shoot up to look at his hundred watt smile. "On second thought," he pauses considering his actions. "Let's go to your room. I'm not too sure about my boss and the guys would feel if I bought you up there."

"I don't want to get you into trouble."

"This is Vegas. If you're looking for trouble, you came to the right place." He laughed. Leading you away from the bar and to the elevator.

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He held your hand all the way up to your floor. You didn't look at the entire ride up, trying to slow down your heart rate.

"You know what my fear is?" Aaron says as you both enter the room. You look at him, waiting for his answer. "I'm afraid that I'll never be loved for me. I feel people love me because... b-b-because of who I know. I swear I get so lonely sometimes."

You grab his hand and lead him to sit on the bed. You look him in the eyes. "I see a beautiful soul with soulful eyes. I don't understand why any woman would not give you a chance. You have a great sense of humor, you're open about your life, handsome, and honest. I'm still confused as to why you want to spend time with me."

Aaron grabs both your hands and looks deep into your eyes and says, "Because I see you. You are a beautiful soul. You're a beautiful woman. I know what it's like to be alone and lost. Hoping someone can see you. When a lonely soul finds another, they make peace and find joy in each other's company."

You smile removing your eyes from his and bit your bottom lip. You feel you face heat up and your heart soars. He takes his hand and places it under your chin so he can look you in the eyes once more.

"Baby, have you ever been kissed?" He asks with wonder in his deep voice.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Then reply, "So, because I'm a virgin, that means I've never been kissed?"

"Yes and no. I want to know if you've been kissed properly. On the lips."

"Yes, I have."

He tilts his head at you and quints his eyes as if he doesn't believe you. Then he asks, "What was his name and where did he kiss you?"

You look down. Remember that one special time of your childhood. It was a special moment but it's also tainted with hurt. You take a breath and say, "His name was Gabriel. I was fifteen and..."

"You were at church."

You look at him with shock and disbelief. He finished your sentence like he saw it first hand.

"How did you know that?"

"Well, you told me that you were raised in a strict Christian home. I'm guessing your daddy didn't let you go out much, but to church where there were boys."

"Well, yes. I bet you don't know where though." You look at him with a smirk on his face changing him.

He placed his hand on his chin to play your little game. "Hmm. Let me guess. You two made a plan to sneak off. But to where? My guess is the bathroom."

"Nope. We snook off behind the church!" You laughed.

Aaron snaps his fingers and jolts his wrist. "Damn! That was my next guess! I swear that or the nearest cemetery!"

The two of you laugh at the thought. You shake your and and finish your story about your first kiss. "Yes, well, I was nice and innocent. He was sweet. It didn't work out cause my father didn't believe in me dating. He moved on to the next available girl."

"Was it a French kiss?"

You shook your head and answered no.

"Show me how he kissed you."

You move closer to him on the bed. You look into his blue eyes and notice they're darkening somehow. Then you glance at his pouty lips. He doesn't move. He wants you to come to him. You position yourself closer to him, solely focusing on his eyes as you place lips on his. Your eyes flutter close as you embrace the feeling of his soft, pouty lips. You almost lose your breath. You feel his magnetism it's almost overwhelming.

You pull away, you wait for his judgment on your kiss. He opens his eyes and says, "That was kind and sweet. The way a first kiss should be between kids. Truly innocent." He pauses.

"But?" You ask impatiently waiting for his response.

"I think we can do better than that. You deserve to be properly kissed and fucked."

You blink and advert your eyes for a moment. This is about to be your first time. You hear your father's voice in your head, "Fornicators go to hell and it's worse for women." But you believe differently. You like Aaron. Since you bummed into him at the bar, he has tried to make you comfortable. If he's only looking for a one night stand it may crush you but you'll risk it for a good time. Get it out your system now.

Aaron tilts your head up to him at him. "Ready to try a French kiss, baby?"

"Sure."

He grins slightly and tells you, "Open your mouth just a little bit and place the tip of your tongue at the bottom of your lower. Over your teeth."

You do as instructed feeling extra shy under the gaze of his ocean hues.

"Relax and close your eyes."

As soon as you do, you feel his soft lips against yours, and his tongue glides across your tongue. You aren't sure if you're doing it right, but you like the feeling. He has his hands gently holding you face, and you softly moan in his mouth. Your stomach drops, and you feel a sensation between your legs. It's all new to you.

He pulls away, and you chase him for another kiss, but he places his index finger lightly on your lips.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you, baby?" He speaks to you low hushed tone as his finger slides down your lips.

You are speechless. All you can do is nod your head. Aaron smirks and kisses the end of your nose. "Baby, have you ever been touched? I've asked you this once, but I want to be sure."

You take his hand and place it over your breast. He laughs at your gesture. "No, Y/N. I mean your special spot between yourself legs. Where your pussy lies."

You blink yourself into reality realizing what he's asking you. The way he says pussy makes that sensation come back between your legs. That word on his lips is the ultimate sin. You shake your head no.

He nods at you and slides his hand down from breast to your tummy and pauses. "May I touch you there?"

You nod your head and he quints at you. "Y/N, I need you to use you words, baby."

"Yes, please. Touch me." The excitement is too much. You feel that sensation between your legs begin throb and you start to breath heavy.

"Okay. Lay back."

As lay back on the bed, Aaron slips his hand under your dress and under your lace panties. The touch alone sends you sky high. You audibly inhale and moan at his touch. You feel his fingers explore your pussy.

"You are so wet. So needy. You've never touched yourself have you, baby?"

"N-no." You answer in a breathy tone.

Aaron grins at you and says, "Let me introduce you to your clit. Right here is your special friend. Your bud. Can you feel that?"

"I've been feeling that since you kissed me."

"Let me show you a real kiss." He said, removing his fingers from vagina. Licking the slick away from his fingers, he grabs your hands to sit you up in the bed. Aaron proceeds to remove your dress and toss it to the side, leaving you in your bra and panties. "I do love this dress."

He examines your body. Admiring your curves and ways as he lightly traces your thighs and hips with his hands. You feel quite shy under his gaze and cover your breasts with your hands and arms. He takes one of your hands and kisses it, cupping your hand to his face.

Aaron places your hand back to your chest and begins to work your curves once more. He eases his finger tips into the upper sides of your panties and carefully pulls them down your legs.

Your heart races because you believe this is the moment of truth. The moment he fills you up with his hard dick and fucks you into oblivion. But no. He humbles himself before you and kneels. Spreading your legs apart, he lightly plunges his head into your pussy and licks your clit. A delayed breath escapes your mouth and you gasp. This man is showing you things you never known existed. Blowing you mind lick by lick.

He needs you to be closer to him, so he roughly pulls you closer to him, placing your legs over his shoulders. "Look at me." He says before circling his tongue back to your clit. Your head jolts back at the sensation and you moan loudly. You feel him stop.

"I need you to look at me when do this, baby. Can you be a good girl and focus, Y/N?"

You prop yourself up on your elbows once more. "Yes, Aaron. I can." You speak nearly out of breath, rocking your hips slightly at him.

He grins at you and lightly kisses the top of your clit. His eyes never leaving yours. He sticks his tongue out and gets back to working on your clit.

You are absolutely hypnotized at this moment. Just focusing on him has you reeling and moaning. Then he surprises you by slipping two of his fingers inside of you. The surprise is too much, causing you to jolt your head back yelling loudly. "Oh my...fuck!"

You slowly feel yourself coming undone layer by layer. All those excuses of why you haven't done this before are out the window as you grind into his face. All your resolve, gone. Your virginity? It won't be long now.

As his fingers work furiously on your pussy and his tongue glides across your clit rapidly, you begin to combust from the inside out. The flame that ignited inside you is now quenched. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you collapse on the bed. All your strength is gone. Your mind is blown. You place one hand on your face and rake your fingers through your hair with your other hand as you catch your breath.

"That's a real kiss, honey." Aaron says, pulling you back into reality with his deep Southern drawl. You feel giddy, and you begin to breathy giggle. He crawls on top of you, and you can see his lips drenched with your rain. You calm yourself as he glazes into your eyes. You see his eyes have completely darkened to a stormy black. As if it's the calm before the storm. He places his lips on yours, and you taste yourself. It's enough to drive you nuts! You wrap your legs around his waist to hold him in place. You then wrap your arms around his neck and head, grazing your hands into his hair. You never really touched his hair. You realize in this moment how soft and fine it actually is.

You lose yourself in his embrace. He moves away from your lips and kisses your cheek, and then down to your neck before looking at you once again. "Uh-oh, I think she likes it. How do you feel?" He says, tracing your lips with his fingers.

You blink trying to find your words, but nothing comes out. When they finally do all you can muster up is, "I'm ss-speechless. That was the best kiss I've ever had. Thank you."

He kisses your forehead and leans into you, resting his head between your neck and head. He's so warm. You take your hand rake it through his hair. You don't know it, but this comforts him. You're afraid to speak and ruin this next to perfect moment. "Aaron, this is a great way to end the night."

He moves his head to look at you and says, "End the night? Baby, the fun has just started. I'm not done playing with you yet." Your eyes widen at his words in surprise. "There's more?"

"Yes, baby much more." Aaron entices you, kissing your lips once more.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @plasticfantasticl0ver @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates

#Elvis x Y/N #Elvis x reader #Elvis #ElvisPresley #ElvisinVegas #Vegas

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

In Your Dreams

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Epilogue

AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

He says, “Ooh, baby girl, you know we’re gonna be legends. I’m the king and you’re the queen and we will stumble through heaven.”- Halsey, Young Gods

“No way,” Lea’s younger sister, Ari, screeched over the phone. “I’m getting on a plane to New York right now—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” their older sister, Lina, cut in firmly. “You’ll stay in California. Your semester is starting soon.”

“I figured he was an Otherworlder,” Ari continued as if Lina hadn’t spoken, “like, obviously, look at his face, but an incubus, oh my god—”

“It’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be,” Lea said into the phone, which was currently on the dining room table of Lina’s apartment, with Sam, her best friend since childhood, and Lina—who liked to think of herself as the family’s voice of reason—seated around it.

“It sure sounds like a big deal,” Sam countered. “I didn’t know incubuses had mates that they, like, had to feed from or they’d die.”

“I didn’t, either,” Lea said.

At the same time, Lina interjected with, “It’s incubi, not incubuses.”

Ari groaned. “Don’t be such a know-it-all, Lina. Now is so not the time.”

“Yeah, Lina,” Sam snarked playfully, sticking her tongue out at the older girl.

“Are you guys not freaking out?” Ari demanded shrilly. “How are you guys not freaking out? Lea is the mate of a movie star who is also apparently a fuckin’ sex demon, and he will literally die without her, and oh yeah, let’s not forget, she’s also pregnant with his demon spawn!”

Lea groaned miserably, burying her face in her arms. “Don’t call it demon spawn,” she pleaded.

“Why not?” Ari demanded. “That’s what it is! He’s a demon, you’re carrying his spawn—“

“You’re embarrassing her,” Lina scolded.

“Maybe you should be at least a little embarrassed,” Sam pointed out. “Not about who you’re dating, ‘cause that’s dope and you’ve got bragging rights—“

“I don’t have bragging rights,” Lea muttered. “That would be weird, plus it’d draw attention to us both.”

Sam, however, continued on as if Lea hadn’t spoken at all. “—But ‘cause you’re pregnant at twenty years old, Lea, for fuck’s sake—“

“I didn’t exactly plan it,” Lea snapped. “I figured my birth control would work just fine!”

“Shoulda had him pull out, girl,” Ari chimes in. “Always have the dude pull out.”

“How is it fair that you lost your virginity before I did?” Sam whined. “He must be, like, so good, too—”

“Oooooo, yeah!” Ari exclaimed, clearly excited. “Tell us how he was! Spill, bitch!”

“I do not want to hear this,” Lina said, grimacing in distaste.

“Two against one,” Sam declared without hesitation, raising her eyebrows at Lea expectantly.

Lea fidgeted awkwardly. “He was, uh… good, yeah. Very good.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Ari said dryly. “I could’ve told you that. What else?”

“Like… intense, y’know?”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean by intense?”

“He’s, uh…” Lea gulped anxiously. “He’s very grabby. And, like, rough or whatever.”

Lina frowned. “Rough? Does he hurt you?”

“Chill, Lina,” Ari told her flatly. “Good rough or bad rough? Did you like it?”

“I did, yeah,” Lea said quietly, flushing and twisting her hands in her lap.

“Good rough, then,” Ari decided.

Sam stared, perfectly manicured brows furrowed in confusion. “How is there such a thing as rough being good?”

“I’m not explaining sex to you, virgin,” Ari said, and Lea could practically hear her nose in the air.

“Hey—”

“Oh my god, who cares?” Lina groaned. “Lea is pregnant, she’s gonna live forever, don’t you guys wanna talk about that instead of whether or not you’ve had a dick up you?”

“Wait,” Ari cut in, “what’s his dick like?”

“Big, I’m guessing, ‘cause he’s a freakin’ sex demon,” theorized Sam.

“Well, yes,” Lea admitted, examining her hands and trying her best not to picture the barbels along the length of her boyfriend’s shaft.

“I know that voice,” Sam said suspiciously. “What else is there?”

“W— well, um…”

Even Lina looked interested now, leaning forward. “What is it?”

“He, uh… he has, like. Piercings.”

Sam blanched. “He has piercings on his—”

“No way!” Ari screeched for the second time that afternoon. “Timothée Chalamet has a pierced dick?! For real?!”

“Yeah,” Lea squeaked out, blushing to the roots of her hair.

“What kind?” Ari demanded. “Is it a Prince Albert or something else?”

“What the fuck is that—” Sam squawked, aghast.

“I dunno what they’re called,” Lea admitted, squirming in her seat. “He’s got these, like, metal bar… things… in there.”

“More than one?” Ari gasped. It took a lot to shock Ari.

“Uh. Yeah. There’s a few. Like, three.”

“What does that even feel like?” her younger sister wanted to know.

Lea frowned, pursing her lips. “Normal, I guess?”

“You don’t know what normal is,” Ari insisted impatiently. “Can you feel it?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Okay,” Lina finally said, “I’m gonna need you guys to stop right there before I throw up.”

“It’s not our fault you’re a prude—“ Sam whined, displeased at having her eavesdropping interrupted.

“Some of us actually like dick and wanna hear about this—“ Ari was saying.

“Too bad,” Lina said firmly. “Have your dick discussion in earshot of someone who isn’t me.”

After several beats of silence, Ari decided, “Okay. Lea, your homework is to draw a picture of what it looks like. I want detailed photorealism here.”

“W— what—?!” Lea sputtered out in horrified shock. Sam was nodding with a determined expression on her face while Lina looked like she had smelled something particularly distasteful.

“It’s important,” Ari insisted.

“Uh, no,” Lea said firmly. “Not gonna be doing that. Nope.” 

“Oh, come on,” Ari whined.

Just then, a text came in.

Tim

When will you be home again ? I miss you so much and I really really need to be inside you, if you come home I’ll make you cum at least four times before I even fuck you and then…

Sam squealed with delight, grabbing for Lea’s phone. Thankfully, Lea was fairly used to this sort of thing and intercepted the movement, to which her friend pouted.

“What, what happened?” Ari demanded.

“Timothée sent an obscene text to your sister,” Lina declared as if the three of them didn’t have the same parents.

“Ooooo, what’s it say?”

“I dunno, she won’t let me see!”

“Okay,” Lea cut in, “I’m gonna go home.”

“Yeah, so your demon boyfriend can bang you again, like you aren’t already pregnant—”

Lea’s face flamed. “Shut up, Sam, oh my god.”

“Lea,” Ari cut in, her voice sounding halfway between excited and desperate, “do the drawing! Send it to me! It’s for science!”

“No!“

“I missed you so much,” Tim groaned against her neck, having pinned her against the entryway wall as soon as she locked the door to the apartment.

“That doesn’t warrant essentially sexting me while I’m meeting with my sister and best friend!”

“Couldn’t help it,” he muttered. “I don’t even have any naked pictures of you, y’know. I must compensate by seeing you naked in person as much as physically possible.”

He was kissing her neck and fondling her breasts, and, well. When he was doing that, she couldn’t exactly argue with him, now could she?

“Where do you want me?” Lea breathed.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled. “Right here, baby. Gonna fuck you against the wall. Would you like that?”

Nodding eagerly, she wrapped her legs around his waist when he hoisted her up.

“So greedy,” he chuckled. “Gotta get your panties off first, don’t I?”

“I want it now,” she whined.

“Patience, sweetheart,” Tim scolded gently. “I promised you four orgasms before I fucked you.”

“I want your dick in me way more than I want orgasms,” she insisted with a rapid shake of her head.

He laughed outright at that. “Fuck, I love you. Okay. Whatever you want, baby. Let’s get your panties off.”

It felt like an eternity before he was sliding into her, but when he finally did, only then did it feel like she was home.

“You didn’t know you’d get pregnant?” Nicole asked, shocked.

Lea was sitting at a table in Tim’s parents’ house—the one he’d bought them fairly recently—with Sam and Lina for moral support in a discussion with her boyfriend’s—should she call him that when they were literally destined to be together for the rest of time?—mother and sister. Not that either woman was unpleasant, it was more that the topic was stressful.

It was weird being around Nicole, because she looked like she wasn’t any older than Lea herself was.

“Uh… no.”

Pauline stared at her in disbelief. “How did you not know?”

“Well,” Lea hedged, “there’s a lot of stuff about incubi that’s not really… common knowledge, so…”

“But he didn’t tell you?” Nicole persisted.

At this, Lina frowned and turned her gaze on her sister. “Yeah, why wouldn’t he tell you?” she asked, suspicion etched clearly onto her face.

“We didn’t discuss actually…” She wrung her hands anxiously. “When he told me what he was, he didn’t explain too much about what would happen if we— if I agreed. And then when he woke up, I didn’t think to ask.”

“And you didn’t know that hormonal birth control doesn’t work with Otherworlders?” Pauline clarified, eyebrows raised.

Lea shook her head, embarrassed. “I… I guess I never thought about it. Before I met Tim, I’d never known any others, really. Not well, anyway. Just kinda in passing, y’know?”

“What about Grace Robertson?” Sam asked, referencing a girl they’d gone to high school with. “Everybody said she was fae.”

“She wasn’t,” Lina said, her tone flat.

“How do you know?” Sam demanded, annoyed at being corrected.

Lina shrugged. “I dated her the summer after I graduated. Not a fae, she’s just like that.”

“There must’ve been some secretive ones, at the very least,” Nicole mused thoughtfully.

“No clue,” Sam admitted. “There’s not exactly a huge Otherworlder population on the North Carolina coast.”

“So…” Pauline began thoughtfully, but her mother cut her off.

“Where are you wanting to raise the baby?” Nicole asked.

Lea blinked, startled. “I… don’t know?”

“You should consider getting a few different houses,” Nicole explained. “Children need a great deal of space, and Timothée’s traveling constantly.” She waved a hand dismissively, as if this was somewhat of an annoyance to her. “With regard to what you should expect, he doesn’t know, as pregnancies aren’t terribly common, but it’s important you’re aware.” She fixed Lea with a look that was somewhere between amusement and sympathy. “He will be an absolute nightmare the entire time.”

Lea’s eyes widened. “W— what? Why? How?”

“He’ll enjoy that you are carrying his child,” Nicole began, the other four women listening with wife-eyed fascination—and mild disgust on the part of Lina and Pauline—as she explained. “He will want to feed off of you almost constantly—“ Lea choked at this, unused to such a pragmatic discussion of sex, but Nicole didn’t seem to notice, continuing, “—and then he will feel terribly guilty for making you tired as a result of feeding off of you. He will be ridiculously overprotective and will not want you to do anything at all, which I found particularly annoying.” She rolled her eyes at what Lea presumed was a memory. “For your sake, I hope he’s not having to do any work over the course of your pregnancy. He’ll be even worse then.”

Lea frowned. “Should I just… stay with my mom during it?”

Nicole’s eyes widened and she shook her head firmly. “No. He’d lose his mind if you did that.”

Sighing, Lea wrung her hands in her lap. “It sounds like he’ll be awful to be around,” she admitted.

“There are some upsides,” Nicole told her. “He’ll go out of his way to make you happy—even more so than normal—and will want to do things for you. He’ll be very excited for the baby, as well. It’s not so bad, overall. Neither of my pregnancies were particularly difficult; it generally isn’t too bad for the human mate.”

“Is there any, uh…” Lea gulped anxiously. “Weird demon-y stuff I should expect?”

Nicole shook her head. “The baby will be a normal human until they come into their inheritance in early adulthood. That usually happens around seventeen to eighteen.” After a moment, Nicole clapped brightly. “Now then! Let’s discuss what sort of house you’d like here in New York.”

Nicole, as it turned out, was correct.

Tim was a total nightmare.

“Lea, sweetheart,” he was attempting to placate, “we need a minimum of six houses.”

“We do not!” she insisted shrilly.

“I’m in Europe all the time,” he explained gently, “and I want you and our daughter to have a stable home no matter where we are—“

“You don’t even know if it’s a girl,” she groaned for the bazillionth time.

“I want a girl that looks just like you,” he reminded her. “And don’t change the subject. We need multiple houses.”

“It’s excessive,” Lea informed him. “It’s an unnecessary expense.”

“It’s completely necessary,” he corrected her, “and it’s not like I can’t afford it. What’s the big deal?”

Lea threw her hands up in exasperation. “Alright, alright!” She grabbed her purse and made to leave the apartment.

“Where are you going?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“To get some coffee.”

“W— what?” he sputtered. “Lea, sweetheart, you’re pregnant, you can’t have caffeine!”

“I can have a small amount a day.”

“Says who?!” he demanded.

“The doctor, Tim!” she finally snapped. “God, you’re driving me crazy!”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sounding sheepish. “I just… I love you so much, and I worry about you.”

Lea sighed, turning to face him with her arms crossed. “I know. I love you, too. Just… just try and let up a little bit, okay? I know you just wanna help and take care of me and stuff, but stressing me out isn’t gonna help me or the baby.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “How can I help you de-stress?” Then he perked up, a thought occurring to him. “I can think of a few ways, actually.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you can. Why don’t you come with me to get coffee instead?”

Tim grinned brightly at that, taking her hand and leading her out the door.

She was surprised when he took her hand, threading their fingers together.

“Aren’t you worried about people seeing?”

He shrugged. “You’re my mate and the mother of my child. They’re gonna find out at some point. I don’t see any reason to hide it, really.”

Lea frowned as they made their way out of his building. “You haven’t even told anyone what you are.”

“No one’s ever asked, to be fair,” he pointed out.

“Well, it’s rude to ask someone you don’t know,” she reminded him, “and anyone who does know you wouldn’t say anything.”

He hummed. “Lots of Otherworlders have mates, though. And I think most people kinda assume I’m something, anyway.”

“That’s certainly true,” she agreed.

“Our usual place?” he asked as they made their way out onto the sidewalk, the breeze ruffling the hemline of her pink Ciao Lucia sundress. When Lea nodded, he changed the subject with a smile. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

She laughed. “I’m only a few weeks along!”

He grinned down at her. “So? It’s best we decide these things as soon as possible; I’m planning on getting a house for us not too far outside the city as soon as I can—I considered doing it while you were out for winter break, but you’d be five months along, and I don’t want you going through a move when you’re that far along—so we’ll be fine on that. The sooner you make decisions about the baby, though, the better.”

They went into the coffee shop and got in line. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close to his side. She leaned her head against him, inhaling his scent.

The cashier stuttered throughout the process of taking their order, looking at Tim as if he were a ghost.

Once they’d ordered, they stepped back to stand against the walls of the coffee shop, nestling in close together. 

“Excuse me,” came a tentative voice to their side.

They both turned to look at the girl who’d spoken. Lea blinked. “Uh… hi?”

The girl’s eyes widened, as if she hadn’t noticed Lea was there. “H— hi,” she stuttered out before looking back at Tim. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but if it’s not too much trouble, could I have a picture?”

Tim smiled politely. “Of course!” He pulled his arm away from Lea. “Can you take it, sweetheart?”

When she heard the endearment, the girl’s eyes got even wider, if that were possible. She didn’t say anything about it, though, giving her phone to Lea with a small smile.

Lea smiled back, snapping a picture of Tim with the girl, who thanked him profusely before leaving.

As it turned out, paparazzi had managed to get a bunch of pictures of them. They hadn’t even been out that long, but Tim had kissed her on the way back. Even if he hadn’t, though, the arm he had around her waist was telling enough.

There was what amounted to an online manhunt for Lea’s identity, and it didn’t take long at all for her to be located. She privated all her accounts, but she’d gotten plenty of hate already.

Tim flew them down for Thanksgiving. She knew she had to tell her mom about the situation during their visit. There was no way around it.

The house Lea had grown up in was a yellow coastal style home with five bedrooms and a large porch. The front door was, technically speaking, on the second floor, but this was not uncommon for houses built right on the beach. The living room, kitchen, and dining room were all on the third floor, as was the small guest bedroom. 

Directly to the left of the front door was the master bedroom, which was occupied by the only full-time resident of the house: Lea’s mother, Rosalie. Ahead of the front door, on either side, were two bedrooms connected by a shared bathroom. Each one was decently sized and had access to the balcony, so Ari and Lina were quite content with the rooms. To the right of the front door were the stairs to the third floor, and next to the stairs were a door that, if opened, led downstairs to Lea’s bedroom.

Lea liked it because she had an entire floor to herself, complete with her own bathroom and a private entrance. Her room may not be as big as her sisters’, but the privacy more than made up for it.

This privacy, she knew, would be absolutely essential with Tim there. He’d offered to get them a hotel suite, but Lea had insisted that for his first visit as her boyfriend and father of her child, it was important they stay with her mom.

Lea had told her mom she was bringing a guest. She knew Rosalie was assuming that the guest was Sam, who would, of course, stay in the guest room.

Lea was not looking forward to telling her mom about Tim. Rosalie did not like or trust men, and she would be very upset indeed about Lea getting knocked up by an incubus.

“Mom?” Lea called as she shut the door behind her. Tim had just popped up behind her in his customary black smoke, suitcases in tow.

“Upstairs!” called Rosalie.

Lea stepped inside hesitantly, gesturing for Tim to leave their luggage in the entryway. She didn’t think her mom would disallow them from staying, but she wasn’t sure how welcome they’d be after Lea broke the news to her.

Neither of her sisters had gotten there yet, so it was just her and Tim. “My room is down there,” she told him quietly, pointing at the door to the right of the stairs. “C’mon. If she explodes, she explodes.”

“Do you really think she’ll be mad?” he asked. She could hear the frown in his voice.

Lea snorted derisively. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. More at you than me, most likely.”

“At least there’s that,” he hummed. “None of this is your fault, after all.”

“In the kitchen, honey,” her mother called out as they reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner towards the kitchen. “I figured you and your guest would like something to dri— oh!” she cut herself off with a gasp when she saw who Lea was with.

Rosalie Blanchard was nearly fifty. Like her daughters, she had brown eyes and curly red hair, though it was graying at her temples now. She wore it in a bun at the base of her neck.

“Who’s your guest?” she asked, her voice as tight as the curls she kept pinned to her scalp.

“Mom,” Lea began, “this is Tim. He’s my boyfriend.”

Rosalie’s lips pursed. “Your boyfriend.”

Lea nodded, and Tim stepped forward with a somewhat sheepish smile. “Hi, Mrs. Blanchard. I’m Timothée. Or Tim, whatever.”

“Hello,” she greeted stiffly.

“Tim,” Lea said brightly, “would you go take our bags to my room, please?”

“The door next to the stairs, right?” he clarified.

Lea nodded, and he squeezed her hand encouragingly as he went back down the stairs. She knew he’d give her and her mom space as she explained the situation.

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

Lea winced. “I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Is he good to you?”

“He’s wonderful, Mom,” Lea said quietly. “I love him very much.”

Rosalie’s eyes widened. “You love him?”

Lea nodded. “We should sit down.”

Rosalie looked scared now, swiftly crossing towards the living room and settling into a chair. Lea sat on the couch kitty corner from her.

“What’s going on?” her mom demanded in a voice that indicated she really, really didn’t want to know the answer.

“What do you know about incubi?” Lea asked after several tense heats of silence.

Rosalie’s eyes widened further. “Is… is that boy one?”

Lea nodded. “Yes. I’m his mate.”

Her mom shook her head rapidly. “No, you’re not. You can’t be.”

“That was my initial reaction, too,” she agreed, nodding. “I am, though. That birthmark I have, the one of the eight pointed star? It’s a symbol of a mate.”

Rosalie shook her head more. “It can’t be. Your sisters have the same one.”

“I know, yeah. I’m trying to figure out how to break that news to them,” Lea admitted with a wince. “But that doesn’t matter right now. I need to tell you about Tim.”

“Is he gonna come back up?”

Lea shook her head. “Not until I call him.”

“How long have you been with him?”

Lea twisted her hands in her lap anxiously. “Remember when I had to cancel my last visit during the summer?” When her mom nodded, she went on, “It was because I’d found out what I am to him. He was… he was very sick. He needed me.”

“Sick? I didn’t even know Otherworlders got sick.”

“Well…” Lea grimaced, trying to think of how to word what she needed to say. “You know what incubi feed off of, I’m sure.”

Rosalie made a face like she’d smelled something especially unpleasant. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

Lea looked down at her hands, still twisting anxiously in her lap. “Well… we met, you see, and we became friends. I didn’t want to have feelings for him, so when they developed, I just ignored them. But then…” She took a deep breath. “He wasn’t going to tell me. He just wanted to see me beforehand. One last time, he said. But he looked so sick, Mom.” She looked up at Rosalie then, trying to convey how strongly she felt about Tim, how scared she’d been. “I made him tell me what was going on.”

“What, exactly, was going on?” her mom asked slowly.

“He can’t feed from anyone but me now that we’ve met,” she murmured, looking away and flushing to the roots of her hair. “He was going to starve. He almost did.”

“And he never told you?”

Lea shook her head. “He knew I didn’t want a relationship with anyone, so he didn’t tell me. He said he didn’t want me to feel like it was my fault.”

Her mom hummed thoughtfully at this. “That was good of him.”

“I know.” Tears came to her eyes at the memory of how close to death he’d been. “He almost died because of me, Mom. He would’ve died if I hadn’t accepted him.”

“But you did,” Rosalie observed.

Lea nodded. “I did, yeah. I love him. I’m happy with him.”

“Aren’t incubi immortal?” Rosalie asked shakily.

Lea nodded. 

“How old is he, then? He looked to be not much older than you, but if he’s immortal…”

“We don’t know how old he is,” Lea admitted quietly. “He mentioned the Fall of Troy at one point.”

“So he’s over three thousand years old, then?!”

Lea shrugged. “At least that, yeah. Probably more.”

“You aren’t even twenty-one yet!” her mother snapped. “Besides, isn’t he sucking your life force away?”

She shook her head at that. “No, Mom. He lengthens my life, actually. If I’m with him, I could potentially just… never die.”

Her mother blinked at her. “Oh.”

Lea wrung her hands. “There’s something else.”

Rosalie tensed. “What else could there possibly be?”

“Well,” Lea began hesitantly, “there was a bit of a miscommunication, you see. When we… y’know…” Her mom winced, but she continued, “he had reason to believe I knew that hormonal birth control doesn’t work on Otherworlders. So we weren’t using anything other than that, and as a result…”

“You’re pregnant.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question.

Lea nodded. “I’m keeping it.”

“How in the hell do you plan on affording a baby, Amelie Juliana?” Rosalie demanded, using Lea’s full name the way she did when she was especially angry.

Lea hesitated. “Well… Tim can afford it.”

“He can, can he?” Rosalie scoffed.

“I know you’re not big into pop culture, Mom,” Lea began, “but Tim is an actor.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes. “Actors are just another brand of starving artists.”

Lea shook her head. “He’s not a small-time actor. He’s been in major blockbusters. He has plenty of money for us. He refuses to let me work, actually. Not that I’d want to anyway, but still.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Rosalie griped. “Alright.” She sighed. “Bring this boy of yours up.”

Lea nodded. “Tim!” she called.

He appeared in a puff of black smoke. Rosalie jolted.

“You told her, I take it?”

Lea nodded. “I explained everything.”

Rosalie stood then, striding over to Tim and completely ignoring the fact that he towered over her. “You got my daughter pregnant,” she accused, her voice sharp.

“I did,” he confirmed.

“Are you going to take care of her and the baby?”

“She’s my mate,” he explained. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

Rosalie pursed her lips, looking Tim up and down. She took a step closer to him, and he blinked down at her. “I don’t care who you are or what you are. If you hurt Lea, you’ll never see the light of day again.”

“Mom,” Lea groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I won’t hurt her,” Tim promised gently, glancing back at Lea.

Rosalie nodded, finally taking a step back. “Well then. I’m going to the store. Hopefully they’re not out of turkeys yet.”

Ten minutes later, he had her pressed up against the wall of her childhood bedroom as he kissed her neck and hiked her blue Burberry miniskirt up her thighs.

“This is a nice room,” he muttered against her skin. “Can I fuck you in it?”

Lea giggled mindlessly, snaking her hands up around his neck.

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t, actually.”

An hour and a half later, Lea was passed out—naked, which was how he preferred her—in his arms. It would be at least another hour or two before she’d rested enough to wake up.

Then, he heard the front door open from the floor above them.

“Lea!” a voice he didn’t recognize called, though it was slightly muffled. “Where’s your boytoy?”

Tim extracted himself from Lea’s embrace and quickly pulled a pair of sweatpants out of his suitcase and yanking his t-shirt from before over his head.

He gave Lea a swift kiss on the forehead and left the room as quietly as he could. Taking the stairs two at a time, he smiled at the pair of women. One he recognized as Lea’s older sister, Lina, and the other, he figured was her younger sister, Ari, whom he hadn’t met.

“Hello,” he greeted politely. Both girls looked so much like Lea—and her mother, too, if he were honest—that it was startling. They had the same curly red hair, the same dark eyes. They were even of a similar stature. “Nice to see you again, Lina.” Then he turned to the younger of the two. “You’re Ari, right? I’m Timothée.”

Ari stared up at him with wide eyes. Lina merely pursed her lips, unimpressed and asked, “Where’s Lea?”

“Taking a nap,” Tim explained. “She’s very worn out.”

“From an hour long flight?” Lina asked skeptically, an eyebrow raised.

“Errrrrr…” Tim grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Finally snapping out of her trance, Ari rolled her eyes and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, Timothée. Lea’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” he remarked with a good-natured smile.

Both girls opened their mouths to respond, but whatever they would’ve said was preempted by the front door opening again. Rosalie stepped through, carrying several bags of groceries.

Tim immediately rushed over to take them from her. “Here, let me get those. Are there more?”

The woman nodded once, then said, “Girls, unpack these, if you would.”

When Lea woke up a couple of hours later, she was surprised to find that Tim had successfully charmed her mother and sisters.

“I dunno how you did that,” she admitted that evening as he climbed into the shower behind her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mom smile at a guy before. She doesn’t even let Ari bring home anyone.”

“Dunno,” Tim said with a shrug, leaning his head forward to wet his hair. “All I did was help with the groceries and cooking and whatnot.”

She leaned back against his chest with a grin. “Maybe they just could tell how much I love you and decided to give you a chance.”

He hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist, one hand on her barely protruding stomach.

“They kept asking about the baby, y’know.”

Lea smiled. “And what did you tell them?”

“That you’re fifteen weeks along and refuse to accept that it’s a girl.”

Laughing, she turned slightly so as to kiss him. “We don’t know what it is yet. It could be a girl.”

He hummed. “We’ll have more either way.”

“Yeah?” She leaned up to kiss him again.

“Mhm,” he confirmed. “Ideally, you’ll be pregnant a fair amount of the time.” He trailed his hands up her torso to cup her breasts, teasing her sensitive nipples.

“Tim,” she said breathlessly, arching into his touch, “can I suck your dick? Please?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, squeezing her breasts roughly. “Anything for you, baby. Anything you want.”

She turned around and sank to her knees without hesitation, completely disregarding the shower beating down on her. She was unable to resist him long enough to even tease him before she took him into her mouth. His hand found her hair, and he guided her up and down his length, the barbels catching on her lower lip.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned. “Suck me so well, baby. Make me feel so good.” He was watching her, and she knew from the red in his eyes that he was feeding from her, too. Excited by the thought of this, she reached between her legs and started rubbing her clit. “Oh, fuck, Lea,” he said hoarsely. “Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” she hummed around him, moaning softly.

“Like sucking my cock that much, huh?”

She moaned again, eager for more of him.

“Like that, baby,” he groaned, the hand in her hair clenching. “Suck it like that, fuck. Good girl. Such a good little slut, all for me.”

She rubbed her clit faster, loving how he talked to her.

“You gonna make yourself cum for me, baby?” he demanded. “You gonna cum with my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours?”

She moaned mindlessly around him, wishing he’d pin her down and fuck her, right there in the bathtub with the shower running.

“That’s it,” Tim encouraged. “Make yourself cum, sweetheart. Such a good little slut for me, aren’t you? Getting off on sucking my cock.” When she did nothing but moan, her hips rocking into her hand, he continued, “C’mon, baby. Cum for me.”

She moaned again, this time long and loud, and the vibrations must’ve been too much, because he spilled into her mouth.

She was dazed as he pulled her up, kissing her slowly, leisurely. She kisses him back, leaning into him as she did.

“C’mon, love,” he told her gently, “let’s get you clean and into bed, okay?”

“Mmkay,” she mumbled sleepily, her eyes drooping.

He washed her hair and body, keeping it surprisingly nonsexual—for the most part, anyway; he hadn’t been able to stop himself from squeezing her breasts as he lathered them with soap—before quickly bathing himself, too, and then drying them both off. He settled her into bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her naked body close against his own.

“Wait,” she mumbled against his chest. “Did’ya lock the doors?”

“‘Course I did, baby,” he told her with a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Top of the stairs, back door, and bedroom?” she clarified.

“Mhm,” he confirmed. “Sleep, Lea.”

“Mkay,” she mumbled, nestling in closer to him. “Love you.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“You mad it turned out to be a boy?” Lea asked, glancing up at Tim from where she was bottle feeding their newborn son in their bed.

He settled down beside her. “No,” he promised with a smile. “I’d’ve been happy with anything. You know that.” After a pause, he added, “Besides, it’s not like we can’t have more.”

“Lea,” Tim said one day after she had put Theo down for a nap in the nursery they’d set up at their French estate, “why haven’t we gotten married?”

Lea froze in her tracks, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Uh… because you haven’t asked me?”

He stared down at her. “Oh. Alright, then.”

Approximately a month later, Tim took her out to dinner at Guy Savoy in Paris. He had rented out a private dining room for them, the way he usually did, and when he got down on one knee and told her that if he could’ve crafted the perfect mate for himself, he would’ve made her just as she was, she teared up. When he told her that as far as he was concerned, she already was his wife and that they just needed to make it official in the eyes of the law, she cried, nodding eagerly.

He slid the ring on her finger, and then he’d insisted upon finding a bathroom to fuck her in.

She’d needed some coffee after that.

As it turned out, Tim had several cousins. Shockingly, Ari and Lina turned out to be the mates of two of them.

Lina in particular was skeptical of this, concerned that her Mark indicated that she’d end up bound to a man, an incubus, but it turned out to be a succubus.

Ari, on the other hand, had zero issues with the whole thing.

Sam fell in love with a fae who was friends with Tim, who regularly gave her nectar to keep her from aging, and Lea’s mom insisted upon being turned into a vampire, refusing to leave her daughters behind.

It eventually got out that Tim was an incubus. He hid it for a very long time, but nothing remains a secret forever. By that point, however, it was quite clear that he wasn’t human; humans aren’t in the public eye for several hundred years without aging, after all. Still, he generally didn’t discuss his personal life, and that suited Lea just fine. No matter how long things went on, no matter how many lifetimes she lived, she never really got used to the idea of publicly being the wife of a celebrity.

Not that people weren’t aware, of course. She attended events with him and everything, he just wouldn’t discuss their relationship.

They had a lot of kids. Not all at once, or course. Their first five were in rather quick succession—over the course of eighteen years, if one could count that as quick—and then they waited a good long while to have more. But after awhile, when all five children were grown with lives of their own, he convinced her to let him get her pregnant again.

Family reunions were very hectic indeed. Eventually, Tim had to purchase what Lea insisted was a palace. To be fair, a house—though referring to such a large estate as a house was more than a bit of a stretch—of that size was a necessity if they were to house their entire family—their children, descendants, and relatives—at once.

“Oh, goddammit,” she muttered as she stared at the results of the pregnancy test.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” came Tim’s voice. He’d only just strode into the room.

Irritated by his apparent inability to control his jizz, she tossed the test at him.

He caught it without thinking, fumbling with it for a moment before examining what she’d thrown at him. He looked up at her with wide, shocked eyes, a grin slowly splitting his face. “Again?”

“Yes, Timothée,” she snapped. “Again. Learn to control yourself, for fuck’s sake! We have great-great grandchildren!”

He pouted, almost whining when he said, “It’s not my fault! You’re just so sexy, you don’t look nearly old enough to warrant adult children, after all, let alone anything beyond that—“

“No,” she told him slowly, “the issue is you’re a glutton.”

He frowned outright then. “Do you… do you not want it…?”

She pursed her lips, turning around and going towards her closet. “I didn’t say that.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry. I honestly don’t mean to. I just… I love you so much, y’know?”

Lea put her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. “Yeah, Tim. I know.” She sighed. “I love you, too.”

“Does that mean you’re keeping it?”

Lea snorted softly. “Of course I’m keeping it, stupid. It’s ours; yours and mine.”

“You’re mine,” he murmured, tilting her head up so as to kiss her.

She smiled against his lips, threading her fingers through his hair. “And you’re mine.”

Tag list

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake

To be added, please ask 💗

[ruubric]

Horny for The Holidays

NOTE: Minors Do Not Engage (please save your innocence). There is swearing and explicit sexual content. Takes place during the timeskip.

~~degragation, teasing, risk of getting caught (so slight exhibitionism), fingering, competitive themes, both parties are cute brats, switch themes, but mainly dom Kuroo, oral pleasuring for both parties, female pronouns and parts referenced~~

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

This is my submission for the sexy winter collab, and is my first ever smut here so enjoy ;)

WORD COUNT: 17832 (I got a lil carried away)

Kuroo runs up the rickety stairs, careful not to spill any water from the glass he's carrying. He is about to dart into the bedroom when Martha spots him, just having exited her bedroom.

Fuck.

Despite him being able to charm most people easily, Kuroo is still wary of his future mother in law, feeling the need to always be perfect around her, especially since he is to spent the Christmas holidays at his girlfriend's childhood home. Being around the older woman just makes him nervous.

"Ah, Kuroo, how are you?" She beams brightly. But there is something suspicious behind her eyes.

"I'm alright. Just taking this water to (Y/N). She's not feeling too hot."

"Yeah, that is too bad. But hopefully, she'll be better by tomorrow. I want you and her to come with me to the annual Farmer Festival."

Kuroo inwardly winces, "oh. I dunno. She seems pretty out of it. I think I may have to stay with her if she still isn't well." And he doesn't want to be alone with his fiancée's mother all day.

"You really don't want to miss this, Kuroo. (Y/N)'s old elementary school teacher sells the best lemon squares in town. She also has an array of embarrassing (Y/N) stories she would happily spill."

Hmmmm. Now, that's actually tempting. Having a load of embarrassing stories and delicious desserts doesn't sound bad at all.

"I could probably go." He gives in.

Martha claps happily. "Great. Oh, thank you. You won't regret this." She continues to make her way down the stairs, but as Kuroo's hand is on the doorknob she turns back. "One more thing."

He raises his eyebrows, "yes?"

"The walls are thin."

Then she continues down. Kuroo blinks, what did she mean by- ohhhh. Right. Okay.

He opens the door and sees (Y/N) on her phone in bed. Earphones are firmly placed in her ears. She smiles weakly when she sees him, taking the earphones out.

"Baby," she squeals. "You're here."

"I am. And I brought you water. How's the headache?" He sits by her feet on the bed, placing the beading glass in her hands.

"How'd you know I have one? I tried to hide it," she murmurs after gulping down most of the glass.

"You can't hide from me. Besides, I know a myfamilyisdrivingmecrazy headache when I see one. I've experienced my fair share of those," he chuckles.

"I can imagine." She grins, "but what took you so long? You left me a while ago."

"Well," Kuroo sighs. "I thought I was home free when your mom caught me in the hallway."

(Y/N) winces, her mother has the habit of being quite backhandly polite, planning out everyone's moves and always calculating. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Oh no. What did she want?"

Chuckling, he responds: "looks like we're going to the Farmer's Festival tomorrow morning."

She groans. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. I've heard a teacher of yours is selling lemon squares. And you know how much I love geometric citrus desserts," he teases, deliberately leaving out all the embarrassing stories bit.

"I'm so sorry, babe. I know the last thing you want to do is spend hours in the hot sun with my mom bargaining for avocados."

"Aw, c'mon, (Y/N). It's all good. You'll be there too, so it won't be too bad." Kuroo pokes her nose. She giggles. "Oh, and also your mom told me that the walls are thin."

"Oh my god." She covers her face in total embarrassment. "She did not."

"She absolutely did," he laughs. "So, I know you wanted to have loads of hot, raunchy sex in your childhood bedroom but I think we may need to hold off."

"That's asking for the impossible." His fiancée pouts.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow, "wait…babe, I was just kidding. But if you really want to, I guess I could gag you-"

"Me? And what about you?" She crosses her arms defensively.

"What about me?" he smirks, "I can keep quiet. You're the one who goes crazy."

"I do not!" (Y/N) pushes Kuroo playfully.

"Oh yeah?" He crawls over her, trapping her between his arms. He lowers himself on to her a little, ghosting his lips over her neck. "There's a reason the mailman knows my name, (Y/N). And I'm not even talking about the one on our street."

Her cheeks heat up, and if she hadn't been so horny, she'd be embarrassed as all hell. But she'll leave that for later.

She wraps her arms around his back and pulls him closer. They peck each other. Then another one. Then another one. Then another.

Then (Y/N) gets bold and holds him closer, sucking on his bottom lip. Kuroo opens his mouth and their tongues meet in a hot, sloppy embrace. She tugs on his hair slightly and he whimpers.

She smirks against his lips before muttering: "challenge."

"I'm sorry?" Kuroo pulls away a little, still tantalizingly close.

"It's a challenge to see who can stay quiet then."

"Ohhh," he chuckles. "You sure you're ready to lose, honey?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over me winning." She teases.

Her cocky fiancé snorts, "you are so on, (Y/N). So who goes first, me or you?"

"Me!" She says a little too eagerly.

Kuroo laughs. "Yeah. Sounds about right." He immediately gets started on hiking up her skirt.

"Prepare to eat your words." (Y/N) says, rather breathy.

"After I make you squeal as per usual, right?" He whips off her underwear. And dangles it over her face. "You can stuff these in your mouth, just as a precaution."

"Har, fucking har, Kuroo. You're such a- ohhh," she breaks off into a moan as he painstakingly slow swipes his tongue along her slit. "That's not- n-n- uhhhhhh. God. Not fair. Ohhh."

He pulls away, smirking as he gently runs his hands down her thighs. "That's quite a moan you let out there, baby."

"N-no. Just..fuck, shut up." She stutters out as Kuroo goes back to work. He dips his tongue in and out her warmth, enjoying every lap of her musky juices that he can. He's kinda enjoying this a little too much. He adds two fingers at once, watching them disappear inside her tight, slippery walls and come out completely soaked. He chuckles wickedly, which only makes (Y/N) more aroused.

She squirms furiously, covering her face with a pillow to muffle her noises, feeling Kuroo pump inside of her. "More."

The pillow is ripped off her face, he is above her. His long fingers still inside her, unmoving. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

She looks away, but still trying to grind herself against his hand. Kuroo holds down her hips with his free hand. "Tell me what you said. Louder."

"Nice tr- ah!" (Y/N) breaks off into a long moan as Kuroo curls his fingers inside. "You're an asshole."

He chuckles. "And you love it." He pumps his fingers in and out faster, soon adding a third. He dips his head down and kisses her neck, wringing a particularly desperate whine out of her. He pulls his fingers out and immediately starts rubbing her clit. She yelps out in surprise and mad arousal. "Do you like this, huh? Tell me how much you like this? Tell everyone in this fucking building how much you like me touching you like this."

(Y/N) is almost about to explode. "Swap!" She hisses out, biting down on Kuroo's neck. Her family might see the bruise tomorrow. But she'll deal with that then.

"What did you fucking say, you horny bitch?" he growls, knowing this kind of degradation only sets her on fire more.

"Swap. Please." Her voice is in a hoarse whisper. Kuroo does hear her, but he doesn't immediately stop. He goes on for a good while before halting his devious actions.

He watches her while she takes a breath. Then she sits up, all wobbly. "Alright." She huffs. "Your turn."

(Y/N) clambers over to Kuroo and rips off his belt and jeans. She's working rather quickly. Soon his pants and boxers go flying; he's up and at attention.

She lightly runs her fingers down his dick, he hisses in pleasure and closes his eyes. She rubs the precum all over the tips of her fingers and continues to run up and down him. Seeing that he's gotten used to it, she tightens her grip around his hard member.

"Mmmmm," is all he says. She'll have to up her game. She slowly goes up and down. And up. And down. In a slow and steady rhythm. Kuroo obviously becomes desperate because he bucks his hips up frantically to speed it up.

With every buck upwards, a very deliberate lick is aimed at his tip. He lets out these little cute moans, but nothing too damning.

Until, his phone rings. "Oh fuck!" He exclaims, reaching into his pants pocket and fishing out his phone. He checks the ID. His eyes widen. "It's my mom."

(Y/N) almost laughs despicably. Perfect. She nods for him to answer, her hand still around his shaft. Kuroo narrows his eyes at his fiancée almost threateningly as he presses accept.

"H-hey, Mom." His voice is so high pitched. He already seems suspicious. (Y/N) still waits. "Yeah, I'm fine. (Y/N)? Uhh, she's fine too." She winks at him, he rolls his eyes. "Yeah. I'm coping okay. I mean, c'mon. You know parents love me. I'm- oh fuuuuckkk," he whispers out as (Y/N) wraps her mouth around his dick and sucks. "Uh.. nothing. Nothing! I just…I stubbed my toe, is all." She hollows her cheeks more. Kuroo is practically pulling his hair out at this point. "Stop, stop!" He snaps at her, under his breath. That only encourages her to take in more of him. "Ahhh..w-what? (Y/N)? She's…uh, she's n-not here." She bobs her head faster and can hear his's breath hitch. "She's in the shower…God. Why do I sound weird? Well…uhhhh. I'm a little sleep deprived….okay, I promise I will. Bye, Mom."

Kuroo quickly hangs up and groans. "You evil bitch. You're so crazy. I love you."

With a loud pop, she separates, "I love you too."

"Good," he grabs her chin, smiling. "Now, get on your knees."

(Y/N) doesn't even put up a fight. She gets on all fours. Kuroo stays behind her and aims a good slap to her ass.

She yelps and subconsciously leans closer against him, her body asking for more. "You said no noise."

"I'm sure we're allowed the one," Kuroo says all cocky. "Now, hold onto the headboard."

She does so, he positions himself right against her. Their juices already mixing. He rubs his tip against her, driving them both wild.

"Kuroo," she moans, pleading.

"I'll go slow to let you adjust, okay?" He kisses her neck. She nods enthusiastically. "Okay, one, two- unh."

He lies, he shoves himself in front of her fully. (Y/N) stifles a moan, whipping back to him. "The fuck? You said you'd go slow."

A sexy, mischievous smile graces his features. "Oh, did I? Oopsies."

He grabs her hair, gently but slightly roughly yanking her head back as he pounds into her. She wants to moan. So badly. But she can't. The feeling of being filled and emptied is too euphoric.

"T-take it easy," she begs.

Kuroo's other hand snakes away from her hips to her neck and lightly squeezes. A moan seeps from her lips. "You think I'm gonna take it easy on you? This is a fucking competition. There is no playing nice."

"Oh, Kuroooo. Uhhhh.."

"Say my name again."

"K-Kuroo. Please..more." she whimpers.

"Oh, fuck," he grunts. Then suddenly, he stills.

(Y/N) notices this and glances at him, "wha-?"

"Shh," his eyes dart to the door, but he doesn't move. The young woman's heart drops to her stomach, which is no longer burning with desire. Being caught in such a compromising position would be the end for her. After a while, he relaxes.

"Kuroo? What was that?"

He shakes his head and turns back to her, "fuck, I dunno. I thought I heard something. Like someone walking around."

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, all this for a false alarm. "Wow." She squeezes down on him.

His knees buckle, "ohh. Sorry, I just didn't want to be yelled at."

"Yelled at? Dude, we're adults."

"So? I still don't want to be yelled at by your parents. I don't want this to be their impression of me."

"Balls deep in their daughter?" She chuckles.

He laughs, "yeah- uhhh." Another squeeze.

"You gotta admit the danger of being caught is kinda hot," (Y/N) grinds against his dick.

Kuroo growls in agreement and resumes pounding into her. Pulling her hair, choking her and digging his nails into her hips.

"You're gonna scream for me, (Y/N)," he rasps out. His movements are becoming sloppy, the closer he comes to coming.

"I'm not!" She pants out. Their wet bodies are slapping together, soaked in sweat.

"Oh, yes you are. You don't have a choice. You're gonna scream for me. Or else, I'm not gonna let you come."

"What? Fuck!" A particularly hard thrust jostles her a bit, slamming the headboard thumping loud against the wall. "No. You can't do that."

He chuckles. "Uh, yes I can. It's my dick."

"No. I'm not screaming."

"We'll see." He reaches his arm to the front and expertly starts rubbing her clit. She whines and wriggles against him. Moans clawing at her throat.

"Ohhh, (Y/N)," he whispers into her ear. "You look so sexy right now. But God, you'd look so much sexier moaning. Shaking the walls. Letting people know who's pleasing you like this. You'd feel so much better."

"Shut…uhh, up."

"Oh, fuck. You're close." He feels her walls tighten around him.

"No." She wheezes out her lie.

"Fucking liar," he hums against the hot skin of her neck. "I can feel you about to come." And abruptly he pulls out and leans back. "I guess I should stop then, huh."

(Y/N) huffs and faces him. She's not happy.

"Aw," Kuroo's lips loop into a grin. "Why do you look so upset, baby?"

"Why did you think?" She snaps.

"Is it because I didn't let you come?" He cooes, "looks like you should've given me what I wanted."

"Look, I don't need you. I can make myself come." she narrows her eyes, triumphantly.

"Uh, sure," he half laughs. "You could do that..instead of me doing it, reaching in all the right places and giving you the physical closeness that you love so much. Instead of me choking you and nibbling on your ear and rubbing your clit. Until you come so fucking hard on my dick you forget your own name."

(Y/N) isn't so triumphant any more. "I-"

"So. Yeah, I guess you could get yourself off but would you really want to?"

"Ugh, Ku-"

"No. Of course not," he ignores her. He crawls over her, making sure he's rubbing dangerously close against her. "So let's end this cute back and forth, shall we? And you can do what I want so I can fuck you the way you want- no, the way you need." She whimpers. "Wouldn't you like that?"

"Okay, fine." She pouts, "I'll do it."

"Yeah, you will." He plunges into her and wastes no time slamming against her repeatedly. "Yes, baby. Oh, fuck. Just like that. Uhhhhh. Beg for it."

"Kuroo, please, please fuck me harder."

"Louder, (Y/N)." He demands, "fucking louder."

"Uhhhh! Kuroo! More. More. Ahhhh."

"Yes," he rasps out. "Uhh, scream my name and what you want me to do to you."

She obliges, way more energetically than they both expected.

They approach the climax together, releasing at the same time and slumping against each other. Their breathing is sloppy and their bodies are sticky but they don't care.

"Thank you, baby." Kuroo pants, "you might get in trouble for this. But thank you for indulging me."

"You didn't give me much of a choice," she jokes.

"I'm sorry." He kisses her. Then he edges a little away. "I still fucking beat your ass though. I win. And I deserve an award."

"Ugh, fine. I'll buy you lemon squares tomorrow. If my mom doesn't disown me."

"And sex in the kitchen? When we get back home?"

"Keep dreaming, buddy." (Y/N) says deadpan.

"One day," Kuroo mutters menacingly. Before his partner can work her sleepy brain enough to speak some more, his phone rings again. "Jesus, is it call Kuroo day today?"

"Seems so." (Y/N) closes her eyes with a sleepy mumble.

"Oh, fuck." He snaps.

"What?" Her eyes snap to him.

"It's your mom."

(Y/N) frowns, suddenly feeling very worried. "Why is she calling you?"

"I don't know. She probably heard us…well, heard you. Wait," he answers the phone on speaker before (Y/N) could smack him. He flashes her a goofy smile. "Martha, hey. How- how are you?"

"I'm alright." She sounds chirpy considering all she heard leave her daughter's room. "(Y/N)'s father and I have gone to pick up her sister from the airport. We'll be back before Tom gets back from his baseball practice. Just keep looking after (Y/N), okay?"

"Uh, will do." Kuroo flashes a relieved wink at his fiancée.

"Thank you. We'll see you in about half an hour. Bye."

"Bye." he hangs up and breaks into laughter, "dude, we could've been so screwed."

She runs her hands through her hair, "I know. Lord, that was too close. I guess those footsteps you heard were my parents leaving."

"Yeah- whoa! Watch where you're touching, I'm still sensitive," he shifts off of her.

"Sorry. Sorry." She pauses, "actually not sorry, you absolute cheat. You cheated, you don't deserve sympathy."

"Wow. Fucking harsh." Kuroo rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, "do I get kisses at least?"

(Y/N) smiles at him sweetly. "All the kisses. But you owe me a rematch."

Kuroo smirks cockily. "You got it, baby."

<3

A big thanks goes to @nyaaaaanma and @blueparadis for making this whole collab and allowing me to be a part of this.

[good-to-drive]

The fact that people have romanticized or even sexualized your childhood trauma is disgusting. I'm genuinely so sorry that happened.

Can I tell you why I think it's important that talking about Paul McCartneys childhood trauma and it's effects on him become just as mainstreamed as talking about John Lennon's childhood trauma and it's effects on him has always been in Beatles fandom?

First, on a personal level. Have you heard of Ruby Franke, the Mormon momfluencer who has been charged with child abuse? My parents were A LOT like her and though my friends always recognized that we were "one of those" Mormon families, what they did was very normalized and justified. So, naturally, I don't like seeing abuse normalized or justified.

But more importantly on a public level. If we don't get comfortable talking about the truth of Paul's childhood and the effects of it on his thought processes, behaviors, and traits, and therefore him as a person and artist, we are going to have a flawed understanding of the Beatles music, group dynamics, and story.

Obviously none of it should be romanticized or sexualized. It needs to be taken seriously.

Yeah, I feel like that's my point.

Aside from the "it is your moral duty to hate John and if you don't you're as bad as he is" camp most people are capable of talking about John's experiences in a reasonable way, but with Paul there's a lot more resistance. I think that's partly because Paul has received a lot of undeserved criticism and hate over the years so (some of) his fans are a bit hypersensitive to anything that smacks of negativity, completely ignoring the fact that acknowledging someone's pain and trauma is not, in fact, negative or insulting (and it's arguably insulting to say that it is). And it's also probably that Paul's issues in particular are cartoonishly vilified in pop culture right now, to the point that it's almost impossible to even have a conversation about them (try talking to the average internet user about narcissism and you'll see what I mean).

But, frankly, it's also to do with deep misconceptions about the cycle of abuse and what it means to exist within it (which sounds like something you understand as well) and the savior complex a lot of people have about their faves that makes them really, really want Paul to be a poor precious kitten who just needs lots of cuddle sessions and weepy sex to fix his "issues." Which, like I originally said, is basically fine if that's what you want to do. It's essentially fiction, after all. But I wouldn't consider romanticizing abuse or infantilizing survivors to be the same thing as raising awareness around abuse, and I don't honestly think it helps us understand the group dynamic either. (I do agree that we'll never understand Paul and John's relationship if we can't accept that Paul is a human being with a past and a complex inner life just like John. That's something I've been bitching about for ages.)

I hope this isn't too nosy, but I've noticed you saying in tags that people jump on you and accuse you of "woobifying" Paul sometimes. If you're just trying to acknowledge that Paul faced trauma and deserves actual compassion and understanding then of course those people are out of line and I'm sorry that's happened, but if your idea of acknowledging this is "oh poor precious baby let me kiss it better" then, well.... You do you, but I don't think you can fairly claim there's any value in that. Yes, it's talking about abuse, but not in a way that I think we can reasonably claim is compassionate or productive.

No hate, though -- I haven't seen the posts you're referring to so idk what people are criticizing you for.

This is a really thoughtful and interesting take and I really appreciate you sending it to me.

[congregamus]

TW: Abuse — physical, emotional, sexual

I'm eventually going to have to settle on a narrative for a new therapeutic relationship, so I might as well figure out what I mean. Anyway, here's "Wonderwall"

++++++++

Sing, muse, of the childhood tumultuous; first of love, abuse-heavy and denied, the same red as the blood-colored earthen clay from which this Adam-Eve was formed; of promises, broken and innumerable; sing also of poverty both feigned and real, material and spiritual; of trust betrayed; sing loudest of all in praise of cocks, over-large and mysterious as Life itself.

For one of my first memories is of cock. I don’t remember which of us decided that my neighbor’s penis, squished between his fingers and through the chain-link of the boundary fence, ought to be near my mouth. I remember only that “the kiss” intended for it did not last long, for it was interrupted by my mother’s harsh two-named cry towards me, reserved for when I was in the greatest of trouble. She had apparently seen from the small window over the kitchen sink where she washed dishes. 

I was in fact, as her tone indicated, in great trouble, and that neighbor and I were not allowed to see each other for (I think) a 6-week period – what I remember was that it seemed like an extraordinarily long period of time to my child-brain. I was probably 5 or 6 years old when this happened, and my neighbor was my same age.

I don’t remember if the event caused me to get a beating, but it certainly seems likely, as my sister Toni and I were beaten very regularly, and for entirely arbitrary reasons. For example, when I was around 10 years old, my father’s friend group rediscovered “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir,” culture, and the way we were taught the habit was that every time we failed to answer a question directed to us with “sir” or “ma’am”, we received another beating. 

My sister and I were summarily beaten when it was determined that we needed it – she until she married and moved into the home of another man who continued to beat her, and who added rape to the list of things she had to survive. I, on the other hand, bent the knee only until the age of 16, at which time I ripped the belt he’d aggressively taken off out of my father’s raised hand and threatened to use it on him. That was the last time my father tried to beat me.

I do not remember the trigger for the beginning of my liberation from my father’s abuse. I only remember that it happened, eventually, when I almost became the abuser in return. I am very thankful that I did not hurt my father in response to his constant abuse, however unintentional.

Even still, I am tempted to apologize for my abuser. He was not a “bad man” as determined by our culture – self-identified “country” folks in Morgan County, Alabama, the Pride of the Deep South, during the late 1970s, 80s, an early 1990s. 

My mother describes my birth in August of 1977 in the following way in her memoir:

The baby was due August 3, so I worked until the last of July, and then took maternity leave. I had decided I wouldn’t spend forever in the labor room by myself this time, so we took the childbirth classes so Gary could be with me through it all. He wasn’t real [sic] excited about the idea, but he was a sport and did it anyway. He was there when I got pregnant, so it was only fair that he was there when I got unpregnant."

[It ought to be noted here that my mother casually mentions her sex life in a way that I was never allowed. But that’s neither here nor there. She continues:]

The doctor gave me a shot in the twat so he could do an episiotomy and Greg was born with a scratch on his head where he was already trying to get out when I got the shot. Finally when I thought I couldn't stand it another minute, out he came. August 8, 1977 10:29 P.M. ****** Gregory ******* was born. 

The doctor delivering assigned me a male gender as was very traditional at the time, but it has become clear over the course of my life that gender is for other people. I don’t really need it. Mother goes on to talk about how there was no need to smack me as I emerged crying (“on key”, she opines). I would certainly get my share of smacks, but I seem to have avoided my first one.

[deleahtarte]

Because He’s Kenny [ Prologue ]

Pairing: Kenny / Butters - Marjorine

Content: Alt Universe - College, Aged up characters, Implied sexual content, friends to lovers

Summary: When your boyfriend can’t get it right, you can trust your childhood best friend to.

Note: To everyone who follows me on tumblr, thank you!! Please consider this as my service to you. This is a PROLOGUE, therefore not the finished fic! It’s supposed to be porn with plot and what we talked about when I did that poll with Marjorine. I’ll post the finished fic on ao3 officially, but everyone here deserves the first look. You guys mean the world to me and I hope I show that enough

Photo Creds: Alai Ganuza

“Are you feeling it?”

“Um…I’m feeling something.” As in a dull, consistent ache.

Creed sighed in frustration, making Marj’s mood drop, too. He tries moving his finger in a figure eight motion, just like what they read about, but that actually made it worse instead of better. “How about now?”

“No…”

With a loud groan that makes Marj jump, Creed reappears from between her legs with furrowed eyebrows. His whole face is practically scrunched up into an expression that could only be described as fed up. “Marj, darling, I think this is useless.”

She closes her legs, pushes herself up by her elbows. “R-Really?”

“Yes,” Creed rolled his eyes. It’s something he does very often at the slightest inconvenience. “why do you want to do this anyways? It’s not like I’m getting pleasure from it. This is just for you. And weren’t you the one telling me that sex should be good for both parties?”

Yes, she did tell him that—but only after Kenny told her that Creed shouldn’t be using her like a sex doll while giving her nothing in return. And she agreed. She got tired of opening her legs for him whenever he wanted and having to go to the bathroom to finish the job herself. It made her feel…like a toy.

“Well, yes, but—“

“But? There’s a but? So you’re a hypocrite.” Creed snapped. “Listen, I really don’t think I need to learn how to eat you out if I’m the one doing all the work when we actually fuck. You lay there like a dead fish and take it, meanwhile I’m tried the morning after because I always have to do every-single-fucking thing! How is that fair?”

Stunned silent, it takes Marj a moment to process what Creed said. He can be mean, borderline cruel even, but it's not often raised his voice with Marjorine.

Seeing her reaction, Creed sighed once again. He didn’t look any less annoyed. “Marj, I…I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

The damage was done nevertheless. Marj stands up, fixes her skirt, and rushes for her bag. Being around Creed when he’s like this is never a good idea. He’s the type of person to feel the highest when he’s high, and to be at rock bottom when he’s low. There’s never an in between. No happy medium.

“Are you seriously mad?” He asked when she makes her way to the door. “I already said I was sorry.”

“We’ll talk later. Preferably when ya aren’t bein’ unnecessarily mean.” As soon as those words left her mouth, she squares her shoulders in pride. Not being afraid of fights is something Kenny also taught her. And even though she is terrified, she can have those bouts of moments where she pretended otherwise.

The door to Creed’s dorm clicks shut behind her. In a matter of hours, Marjorine is sure her phone will start blowing up with apology texts, all which she’s heard and seen before.

The breeze is especially cold tonight. Creed and her had been trying for hours, but it’s just starting to dawn on her how long it’s actually been since they first began their…lesson.

Well, if it could even be called that. It’s hard to learn something when there’s no teacher present. Marj knew how to make her body work just as much as Creed did, which is not at all.

But she knows someone who does…

Her feet naturally takes her to his home, almost instinctively. She bypasses the closed shops and avoids the streets Kenny tells her is dangerous, all the while making sure to keep watch and listen for man made sounds. She owned a mace that went with her everywhere, a Fox Labs one that she knew like the back of her hand. Marjorine first learned how to use it when she was 12 years old and Kenny got worried that, ‘a cute girl like her’ would be targeted by bad people, especially men. So they practiced and practiced until the art of pulling the spray out and aiming became flawless.

Soon enough, Kenny’s apartment comes into view. It’s not on the safest side of town, and a little far from their college, but it was cheap and right within Kenny’s budget. He split rent with his roommate who interned at the hospital, so most of the time, Kenny had the place to himself. Marjorine hoped this was one of those nights.

The elevator dinged to signal her arrival. She steps out onto the 8th floor, stands in front of room 202, and gently knocks on it. Kenny was a late sleeper and an early riser, (none of which he wanted to be), so she doubted he was in bed right now.

A minute later, the door swings open—Marj’s face drops at who she sees.

“Ugh, seriously. You again?” Bernie Kaplan rolled her to the back of her skull, reminding Marjorine of Creed. “Will you ever stop?”

“Heya, Bernie.” Marjorine flashes her best smile, hoping it would ease the lines of irritation on Bernie’s face. “Is Kenny here?”

“It’s Bernadette to you, Majorine. And of course he is. This is his place.”

Bernadette Kaplan is the president of Chi Omega, in the Fellowship Committee, and known to be the most wanted girl at their college. None of that mattered to Marjorine though, because in the end, she only knew Bernie as one thing—Kenny’s girlfriend.

“Can I talk to him?”

“About what?” She asked with gritted teeth.

“Um, well gee, that’s priv—“

From above, a jacket is thrown over the top of Bernie’s head. She scrambles to get it off and turns around, facing— “Bern, don’t answer the door in just your underwear. That shits dangerous.”

Kenny is standing there, every ounce of him wet from the shower. He has a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and a small one hanging around his neck. Marjorine quickly adverts her eyes even though she’s seen this sight a millions times before, and a lot more.

“How about you stop answering the door in just a towel?” She pushed him slightly back as he laughed. Kenny, ever the gentlemen, helps her put his jacket on. It successfully covers her lacey bra that she greeted Marjorine with.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Kenny eyed Marjorine’s disheveled dress. “Something wrong?”

“No, why, I just wanted to talk.” Marjorine meets Bernie in the eyes, sees the fire in them, and quickly adds, “If you have the time.”

“Course’ I do,” Kenny replied easily. He pats Bernie on the back. “Bern was just about to leave. Is your driver here?”

Glancing down at her phone, Bernie nods. “Yeah.”

Kenny turns to Marjorine. “Let me walk her to the car and I’ll be right back. Go sit and make yourself comfortable.”

Marjorine enters Kenny’s apartment, brushes against Bernie by accident upon doing so. She looked like she wanted to fray Marjorine alive on an open fire and stomp on her charred remains.

Kenny and Marj’s closeness must bother her, Marjorine deduced, because they’ve been childhood friends since they could walk. Maybe even before then.

When Kenny got accepted into college on a soccer scholarship, Marjorine got accepted into the very same one and they left South Park behind together. They likely would’ve lived together as well, but their college didn’t allow students of the opposite gender to room together. Which was why Marjorine resided in the dorms, while Kenny settled into a small apartment here.

In a blink of an eye, Kenny changed to his pajamas; a plain t-shirt and sweatpants he’s owned since junior year of highschool that barely fits him anymore. From the couch, Marjorine watched as Kenny tied Bernie’s shoes laces. He was real careful about it too, knowing they were Golden goose. As he ushered Bernie out the door with his hand resting in the middle of her hip, he turns back and gives Majorine an acknowledging wink. Marj smiles until the door shuts behind him.

Kenny’s apartment is a simple two bedroom with the bare necessities. A tiny kitchen, a machine and a dryer that didn’t work too good, a slim bathtub that Kenny said could barely fit two. All those things might have just made the apartment simply bad, but the good is just as great. The walls are relatively thick, there’s a balcony with an amazing view, and the air conditioning had no trouble going full blast. All in all, Marj deemed it a cozy little place. That may be simply because Kenny’s scent was everywhere here.

Walking to the window, Marjorine made it in time to see Kenny and Bernie walking to the car. It scared her for a bit, because from the back, her and Bernie looked similar. They had the same mellow blonde hair that was often curled.

The two stop short in front of the BMW. From what Kenny told her, Bernie hated to drive, so she insisted on having a personal driver that came at her beck and call. She’s saying something to Kenny, a hand on his chest, and he shakes his head at her. Bernie’s eyes widened in equal measure of shock and anger. She pushes Kenny away slightly, before trying to enter them vehicle, but that’s when Kenny grabs her arm, says something, and kisses her hand the way a prince from a fairytale would. Whatever he said pacified Bernie, because her expression morphs into something so soft that Marjorine could hardly believe it. She didn’t know Bernadette Kaplan was capable of making such a face.

Seemingly from nowhere, Marjorine feels a sharp pain od hurt in her chest. It turns into something dull and aching. It comes from time to time, though Marj has no idea what the cause is.

Kenny and Bernie haven’t been dating long. A month at most. Personally, Marjorine saw it coming from a mile away. Kenny—handsome soccer star bounded for the league. She of the glossy blond hair, regal face, and astounding proportions—Bernadette. Their relationship seemed as sure as the sun would rise. Marj wasn’t sure how serious they were with each other, but sometimes Bernie looked at Kenny as if she really liked him. The him that went past his looks. The Kenny that sings songs at the top of his chest even though he knows he’s got the lyrics wrong. Kenny who occasionally forgets to eat and needed the reminder to do so. Kenny who Marjorine loves and trusted from the bottom of her heart.

With a parting kiss, Bernie enters the BMW. As soon as it speeds off into the distance, Kenny turned and began walking back. Marjorine watched him closely until she jolted when Kenny suddenly looked up and met her eyes. Yikes. It’s almost scary how aware of his surroundings Kenny was.

They gave each other a wave. A minute later, the front door opens and in came Kenny.

“There she is.” Kenny opened his arms wide and Marjorine practically jumped into them. He squeezed her tight, face in her neck, before scooting back and letting his eyes slide down her body. “Is this the dress we rock-paper-scissors on?”

It’s a game they play when they couldn’t decide on something. After going back and forth on this dress, Kenny ultimately won and Marj bought it. “Sure is!”

“Give me a twirl, let me see.” Kenny spins her around as Marj giggled. “Oh yeah, you’re—that’s gorgeous. See? Floral and you is a lethal combo.”

Marjorine adored how the skirt was flowy and long. Kenny liked the small daisy prints of the fabric. When she showed it off to Creed (albeit without him asking), he told her she dressed like Becky. Marjorine didn’t know who that was until he broke it to her that she was his late-grandma.

“Aw, shucks. Thank ya, Ken.” Blushing from Kenny’s compliments will probably be something Marjorine will do for the rest of her life. He gives it out to her like candy, so you’d think she’d be immune to it by now—but no. It still makes her shy every time.

He winks. “Only being truthful.”

Her heart that was aching before soothed over as if Kenny had placed a healing balm on it. Marj couldn’t remember why it ever began hurting. If it even hurt at all.

“So what’s up? I thought you were supposed to be with Creed tonight.” Though Kenny said that with a smile, his words came off as gritty and restrained. Marjorine fumbled with the laces of her skirt.

“I was, but…” It was hard to put it into words. Where does she even began?

Sensing her hesitation, Kenny places a reassuring hand flat on her back, steering her towards the kitchen. “Okay, how about this? I make dinner—you haven’t ate since lunch, right? And then you tell me whatever you want to when you’re ready.”

A smile bloomed on her face. “Okay.”

It’s easy to settle into something that could almost be called routine. Kenny is an amazing cook, Marj—not so much unless she had clear instructions, so therefore it was mostly Kenny whipping something up in the kitchen. She’s sitting on the barstool swaying her feet, admiring how skillful Kenny was with a knife. Every food that’s been touched by Kenny was guaranteed to be good.

“Do ya remember how I told you I did research? On the uh…bed stuff?” Marjorine began slowly, trying to find her flow. Kenny stiffened up for half a second before he nods.

“Yeah, because Creed can’t fuck for shit?”

She opened her mouth to maybe defend her boyfriend, but then closed it due to her lack of a rebuttal. It was an established fact at this point. Neither Creed nor Marjorine knew the first thing about the bedroom.

“We tried mouth stuff today.” Marjorine continued quietly, face as hot as the scorching sun. She knew she shouldn’t be embarrassed—It’s Kenny. She could talk about anything with Kenny and he would never judge her for it. And though she knew that to be true, that still doesn’t stop her from fidgeting with her skirt.

“You sucked him off?”

Marjorine nodded. “Yes, and he came!”

“Good job.” Kenny replied with rather tense shoulders. The angle she was sitting at didn’t allow her to see what expression he was making right now. “He ate you out too, right?”

“Well…”

“Well what?” Kenny turned around, holding a spatula high as he stared at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Marj. Don’t tell me that fuck—guy didn’t show you how grateful he was.”

“He did!” Marjorine chewed her bottom lip. “Or at least he tried to.”

A mere second of quiet consideration passes before Kenny deadpanned, “…He didn’t make you cum.”

“Yes…”

Which wasn’t anything new. But it is because it wasn’t anything new that Marjorine and Creed (her more then him, truthfully), started taking the time to learn bedroom stuff. Creed was able to reach his orgasm just fine, it was Marjorine who needed that extra help. It barely came to her when she was playing with her own body, but with Creed, it never.

She’s never once been able to cum with him.

“Jesus.” Kenny runs a hand across his face, shaking it in disbelief. It must be hard for someone like Kenny to comprehend, because if the rumors were true—Kenny had never known bedroom troubles ever. “So what happened in the end? Did he apologize?”

“No, he got..,” Marj recalled Creed’s sour words, feels her mood plummet. “frustrated. He said he didn’t understand why he had to learn when I’m the one who lays there like a d-dead fish.”

There’s a rise of shame that wells up within her from admitting that, because she knew it was true. Apart from the typical blowjob, she didn’t do much else sexually for Creed.

“Did he call you that?” She could hear Kenny walking to her and stopping just in front of her, but Marjorine did not look up. She simply nodded.

Gentle fingers grab her chin, tilting her head up to meet narrowed baby blue eyes. “That asshole called you a dead fish? Like he has any room to talk, bastard can’t even make you come!”

His grip on her on her chin won’t let her look away, so she simply just murmured what she feared all along, “…Maybe it’s me Kenny.”

“Don’t say that.” Kenny said, and now he just looks sad. Marjorine wanted him to understand where she was coming from, though.

“No, maybe it really is. Maybe I’m the—“ Kenny hands move from her face to squeeze her shoulders in assurance, to ground her, maybe.

“Marjorine, baby, it’s not you.” A part of her melt at that nickname. Something Kenny only ever calls her during their vulnerable moments, like he’s trying to tug at her heart strings. It works every time. “I promise you it’s not you. Creed just doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, and that’s on him.”

She pursed her lips and admits, “But…I can rarely even make myself come.”

Every muscle within Kenny’s body stiffens. “…You can’t?”

It takes everything within Marjorine not to run out the door and die in embarrassment. It’s Kenny, she reminded herself, Kenny would never judge you.

“No, my fingers just don’t reach deep enough, I guess. It’s not…” She trails off, eyes landing on Kenny’s fingers; thick, long, adorned with a couple of silver rings they bought together at the pier because they were so cheap. It was Marjorine’s 18th birthday present to him, and she got to pick out the two of the five rings. “like yours.”

Jaw tight, Kenny swallowed before he asks rather hoarsely, “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doin’ what?”

“Okay.” Kenny’s head drops to Marjorine’s shoulder. He takes in a few deep breaths, inhales, before muttering, “It’s still not your fault. It will never be. Don’t blame Creed’s problems on yourself, okay?”

Things seem so much more believable when Kenny says it. The doubt that’s been gnawing away at her self esteem stops, if only for this moment, to let Marjorine breathe in his scent. “…Alright.”

Kenny gives her a smile, tucks her hair behind her ear. “Close your eyes.”

Wordlessly, she does it. She feels Kenny’s presence backtrack, followed by a string of noises that sounded a lot like dishes flashing and drawers opening. Whatever he’s been cooking smells amazing.

“Open them on one, two, three!”

In front of her was a platter of fried rice and an omelet. Marjorine’s mouth stretched wide into a smile. “You remembered.”

“Course’ I did.” Kenny nodded.

Back in South Park, the both of them would go to City Wok purely for the reasons that Marjorine adored their fried rice. And while Kenny wasn’t exactly a fan of anything Tuong Lu Kim made, he would still go with her and sit in the restaurant regardless. Just a week ago, she told him she missed his fried rice and the big, fluffy omelet.

Kenny pulls another bar stool to sit in front of her, focused on her first bite. “How is it?”

“Incredible.” Marjorine hummed. It’s not quite like the one from City Wok, but it’s delicious nonetheless.

“I took a basic recipe and tried to tweak it based off of the times I had it.” Kenny explained. Marjorine giggled.

“You mean all the times ya took a bite out of my plate when you thought I was distracted.”

Holding his hands up as if hes been caught red handed, Kenny amended, “I’ll let you know that the majority was you feeding me.”

A laugh bursted from her, she shook her head. That was true.

Kenny gets up from his seat while Marjorine continues to eat. When he comes back and sits down, it’s with a glass of ice cold water. Thank you, she told him. Kenny simply nodded and then dabbed the side of her mouth with a napkin.

She feels the air shift before he even said anything; a certain unmissable tension.

“…Marj, why do you like that guy? I mean, I know he’s decent looking and in Phi Delt, but how far can that go when he acts like he’s five-years old?” He shot her a coy look.

His wording nearly made her wince. Kenny wasn’t the biggest fan of Creed; had never been even before they officially met. “He opens doors for me and checks up on me. When I look nice, he tells me so.”

“That’s the bare minimum.” Kenny scoffed.

Should she tell him the main reason? Yes. It’s Kenny. “He…He likes me.”

“Okay?”

He doesn’t get it. Marjorine will just have to say it upright. “I like him because he likes me.”

Not only was Creed a vastly talented person who was bound for great things, but he is also the only person who showed interest in Marjorine. He treated her like she was special, not someone to be forgotten or lose in the background.

It takes a while for Kenny to process this. When he does, his eyebrows scrunches up with disbelief as he states, “A ton of guys like you.”

Marj set down her spoon, gives Kenny an unamused ook. “What guys are ya talkin’ about?”

“80% of the male population in South Park!” Kenny exclaimed, throwing his hands to make a point. Marjorine shakes her head and continues eating.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not. Marjorine, if it wasn’t for me, a hundred dudes would’ve come up to you and asked you out daily.”

“What do you have to do with it?”

Something akin to guilt flits through Kenny’s face, so fast Marjorine barely caught it. “They were afraid of me. Thought we were dating.”

“They did?”

Kenny nodded.

That was perhaps the most unbelievable thing Marjorine had heard all night. No, of all time. Sure strangers thought they were together, but they were strangers. South Park was so tight knit everyone knew each others grandma grandma’s—so they should’ve known better then to ever think someone like Kenny would ever go out with Marjorine of all people.

“Whatever gave them that idea?” She splutters.

“Yeah,” Lips pulled into a thin tight, Kenny was still refusing to meet her eyes. “good question.”

There’s a lull in their conversation. Kenny seemingly now has nothing to say. Marjorine squared her shoulders and prepares to defend her boyfriend, because that is what a good girlfriend would do.

“Creed isn’t always the best, yes. He certainly has his off days. But most of the time, he’s very kind to me. Just last Saturday he introduced me to his friends as his ‘precious.”

It was a special day for them, a good day, so long as Marjorine ignored how he left her standing at the corner for two hours. He claimed he didn’t forget about her, but Marjorine swore she almost see him leave.

Kenny made a face like he just ate something sour. “What is he, fifty? The Granny from Ice Age?”

“I thought it was very sweet.” Marjorine huffed.

Kenny drops his face into his hands. Marjorine knows that whenever he does that, it means he’s nearing his limit. He’s either frustrated and doesn’t know what to do, or he’s upset and doesn’t want anyone to see. Sometimes it could be both, most of the time it is. “I think—I know you could do better. He’s not the guy for you, Marjorine. No way in fucking hell.”

Better, Kenny said it so firmly, as if it was really that simple. But what was better then Creed Mossic, who treated her like a dime in a dozen. Who, despite the fact that he was set to inherit his father’s company, still chose Marjorine—a nobody? Someone their own parents couldn’t love?

“You mean you?" She asked in a way it sounded like a joke, with a hint of a chuckle, but she was picking at her fingernails and pulling at dry skin around her cuticles.

"No," Kenny said, stiffened and poker-faced. "I mean better.”

They fall into silence before Marjorine asked, because apparently they are being utterly open about their relationships now, “What about you and Bernie? Why are you dating her?”

A pause. “She’s fun.”

“Fun? How so?”

“She likes to…party?”

“You don’t sound too sure of that.”

“We’re not talking about me right now.” Kenny waved her off. They’ve been together for so long that Marjorine knows that just means he doesn’t want to answer. “I’m just saying you deserve better then some pencil dick fuck who can’t make you cum and treats you average. Because just average isn’t enough for a girl like you. You deserve world class. Like a prince from those fairytales you like.”

Something warm spreads through Marjorine’s body, from the delight of knowing how well Kenny knew her, to seeing the conviction he held on what Marjorine deserves. Kenny probably expected everyone to treat her like he did; with the utmost care and affection, gentleness but not fragility. Sadly, that wasn’t how the world worked.

“Fairytales ain’t real.” She learned that the hard way.

Kenny almost looked sad. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean your life should be an Edgar Allen Poe book.”

“It is not!” Marjorine exclaimed, horrified. “He ain’t as bad as it seems! Besides, I can live with the bad s-sex. I could handle bad sex for as long as I live!”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Kenny said firmly, before he makes a face and adds, “And you’re not spending the rest of your life with this dude. So this is only a temporary problem, but still.

“Ya sound so sure.” Marjorine said. Kenny lips tilt up into something that isn’t quite a smile or a complete frown either.

“That’s because I am.”