#end of goodwill gesture

[salmankhanholics]

★Salman Khan has decided not to work with his brothers as a goodwill gesture and is ready to experiment and try different scripts now. Salman is looking for the right script. I don’t mean action-packed or drama-driven. It has to be something Salman hasn’t done before, preferably something that is relevant and yet personal,” a very close friend of Salman told the portal. -July 4, 2023

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s4 episode 13 thoughts

before we begin: i’m gonna be upfront with you. this is another episode i did not like. this was scully’s 3, if you catch my meaning.

but i made a post announcing that i did not like this episode after a mere 10 minutes of viewing, and received some comments saying that others were big fans. as always, this is a place where i welcome discussion! PLEASE tell me what you think. you can try to talk me into liking it! tell me how you see it, and how it makes sense to you, and why you enjoyed it; maybe you’ll sway me. maybe not. maybe i’m cool and different for not liking things other people like, or maybe i’m basic because other people don’t like it as well. i have no frame of reference, which makes this blog so fun!

frankly, there are some things that i as a viewer just don’t want to see. i am not a fan of misogyny or watching THE hetbait of all time kiss other people.

here we are! so, i have been informed that in the timeline of canon, this episode i’m about to watch actually takes place BEFORE the last one. which i have noted. although it will be hard to distract myself from knowing what i do know now, i’ll do my best. 

(author's note: yeah i see why that clarification is important)

okay, the episode description. mulder? vacationing? i don’t believe it for a second. 

oh god, i don’t wanna see scully pine for some random guy. maybe there will just be an intellectual attraction here. i just don’t want to see it. i’m not sorry!!!!

okay. let’s go. still not believing in vacation mulder, but i’ll give it my best. 

some guy named jerse is getting divorced. wait. wait no. i recognize that name from a fanfic i read. NO.

i couldn’t remember what the hell this dude’s name was (jerve? juss?) because he only popped up BRIEFLY in a fanfic i read that had no seasoning relevant warnings. but because of this, i know what he is here to do. DAMN IT. let this be a lesson: read fic that is marked by the season!!!!

jerse is getting divorced. he is kinda handsome, i won’t lie. but he looks like a sick freak and he’s being weird to this bartender 

oh god, he has kids. scully STAY AWAY FROM THIS MAN- I’M NOT GONNA ASK AGAIN. pulling out a photo of him and the kids at the bar. a pathetic individual.

he burned himself out of the picture with a cigarette?? this is clearly well-adjusted behavior 

now he’s drunk outside a tattoo shop. in the rain. looking at a tattoo of a cartoon woman. and now he’s home? he has a tattoo he doesn’t seem to remember. ah. the cartoon woman. drink can do this to a man.

now he’s crawling on all fours? what do you want me to do about that. 

gooood, i know what’s coming because of that fanfic that accidentally spoiled me, and i’m gonna be so pissed. has my hater energy been distracting you lately? is this blog still enjoyable? be honest. but not too honest. i will cry.

mulder and scully are talking to someone about a UFO sighting, someone who is talking about explosions but no sound. she’s busy looking at the vietnam war memorial. NO there’s a little car that someone left for their dead brother :( she picks up a leaf and takes it with her…. i bet she is thinking about her own brothers and the sister she lost

back to jerse. he’s on the phone trying to sell stocks to a random woman who is fighting with her kids. 

oh. a disembodied voice calls him a loser. well, do it again for me. so he’s hearing things, including laughter.

OH no….. he’s blaming some random woman in the office for calling him a loser and confronting her. she was LITERALLY BUSY! leave her alone. he’s throwing stuff around. very professional (heavy on the /s). and he gets sent home which is good because i was scared, they were scared, we were all scared. 

scully is in mulder’s office, holding his name tag. awwww.

oh, my suspicions about mulder were correct- he did not want to go on vacation, but he was forced to! he is taking piles of x files with him. and he’s suspicious that they’re trying to get rid of him.

“gotta pay the rent” <- your dad had like 3 fucking houses i do not believe that for a SECOND you need this job to put food on the table mulder

“why don’t i have a desk?” she asks <- LMAOOO... i miss you s1 scully desk we saw that singular time that i always assumed still existed but i guess no longer does

(this seemed like a funny throwaway line to me at first, hence my lmao, but i later understood that this line was said with a Seriousness. however, i like to leave things as they were so you can really get a feel for my mind, all the wrong conclusions included)

AWWW he says we can get a desk and they can be really close and we can play battleship... LMAOOO i think….? i can’t tell if he’s being genuine and wants to help, or catty because he’s pissed he has to take a vacation 

OH! he’s pissed. what does he want her to keep an eye on? “that contact that we met last night at the wall, who had the distinction of being present for a first- that being you abandoning me during questioning” OHHHH he went there!!! damn! slim to no empathy when he is in alien mode.

“in the future, i’ll make sure that all those people being interviewed provide you with a multimedia laser show to keep your interest maintained” <- WHAT THE FUCK MULDER? DO I LAUGH OR WANT TO SLAP YOU? she looks so gagged. clearly something is on her MIND, you insensitive dolt.

so this guy they were talking to is named pudovkin, he’s from russia, and he has a doctorate in astronautical engineering, which is a term i have never heard before.

scully still seems distracted… but she asks if pudovkin’s reports on UFO crashes are for sale. which mulder confirms, but they are at a high price.

mulder tries to give her the assignment, and he made all these arrangements, but she says NO!!! LMAO (?) she says that russian guy they spoke with was recounting the plot of a cartoon. okay, queen is well-versed in her cartoons! i see you

oh my god, what is the tone of this episode…?

“so you’re refusing an assignment based on the adventures of moose and squirrel” “refusing an assignment? that makes it sound like you’re my superior”

oh, that pissed him off… “do what you want, don’t go to philadelphia, but let me remind you that i worked my ass off to get these files reopened. you were just assigned. this work is my life” <- HEY BUCKO. let us take a deep and calming breath. let us choose our words with kindness when talking to our friends.

“and it’s become mine” <- oh my GOD... that motif.... her getting pulled further and further into this...

so i can tell you right now, with confidence: i do not like this episode. why is he being mean? she is clearly thinking about something. i thought he was teasing at first, but clearly now he isn’t. if i were him i would say “hey, you seem distracted. is everything alright?” IS THAT HARD? IS THAT SO FUCKING HARD TO DO?

and it would still make for compelling TV!!! hey listen, i hear you saying "if they didn't have problems, there would be no plot" to which i say: there has been plenty of plot in the past when they have treated each other with kindness, no?

she says she is losing sense of her life- “this isn’t about you, mulder, or maybe it is in an indirect way”- and he says “maybe it’s good that we get away from each other for a while” <- WHAT IS GOING ON???

he seems so shocked to hear that the x files aren’t her whole life……… baby boy, let’s use context clues... yes, he is in ahab mode....

he says he’s going on a spiritual journey to discover something about himself…. and she sets the leaf she found from before on his desk. hmm. hmmmm.

back to jerse. he’s on the phone again. begging for his job back. doesn’t seem to be going well. oh my gosh, he just beat the phone. smashed it over and over again. i am frightened.

the evil tattoo is taunting him. so he is crawling on all fours to see if it’s coming from the floor below, which simply has a lady and some birds! those poor birds! 

(is this tattoo supposed to be a representation of mental illness? if so, which one? is it supposed to be insecurity? placed upon him by society? toxic masculinity?)

he’s talking to some missionaries who are trying to tell him that his downstairs neighbor is not involved in a plot to drive him insane…..

oh my god he broke into the bird lady’s apartment. OH MY GOD???????????

soundtrack this episode is killer though, i’ll give it that. put more music in my monster of the week content.

oh my god he’s like. dragging something. hard to tell because the screen is almost ENTIRELY BLACK. yes. he is putting a box in an incinerator. that presumably contains bird lady. real charming fellow, this jerse. 

(this is kinda like if little shop of horrors involved a tattoo instead of a plant. the tattoo says no one will hurt him again. sure, man. i’ve seen how that musical ends)

mulder is wet. on the road, outside his car. very wet. calling to see how scully is doing. he wants to know where she is!!!! but there is no answer.

scully is in philly, looking at the files about the russian space guy, watching him. she’s tailing him now into some convenience store. he is fighting loudly in russian and exchanging money……. hmm. that’s not promising. 

is he going into the tattoo shop? so goes the scully, in that case.

oh no. jerse is in there. he’s asking a separate russian guy who is the tattoo artist to cover up the cartoon tattoo…. 

oh god, he gets scully involved. “you like this, on his arm?” and now it’s winking. it has changed its design.

she says the coloring is nice (very thoughtful response to being sucked into a strange situation), and the russian tattoo guy is talking about how he learned how to tattoo in prison, while the creepy voice in jerse’s head is commenting on his new undying love for scully. but the actual russian space guy is in the back!!!

god, i don’t want to watch thiiiiiiis. but i must. i am a journalist, after all. she lies and says she’s visiting her aunt. and that she wishes she was impulsive sometimes. 

she says she’s leaving- but he gives her his number. god, is this gonna be a multi-episode thing???

OH MY GOD, MULDER IS CALLING FROM GRACELAND “i’m at that special place and i wanted to share it with you…. did you know elvis bought all of his furniture in just thirty minutes?”

wait. hold on. that’s cute. he wanted to share it with her. but also how DID he know where she was? it’s their usual spot… “i knew you wouldn’t abandon me” <- AWWW why were you mean earlier!!!!! you are being sweet now :(

(again, i ask: what IS the tone of this episode?)

she says there’s no case, no x file, the russian guy is involved in gangs and fraud and whatnot. she's handing it over to the philly bureau and that is that.

she is very pissed that he is ordering her around as always (well, i support that!) and he pulls his “what, do you have a date or something?” card. and then CONSPICUOUS SILENCE.

oh my god he’s STUTTERING “you’re-you’re kidding” (he sadly returns to graceland and makes some elvis moves) (we can hear the sound of his heart breaking)

jerse’s tattoo is still talking to him while scully looks at his business card. she says her flight is cancelled and that she can pick him up!!! oh my god. oh my gooood.

jerse is huffing his cigarette and also trying to burn out the tattoo with it. more concerning behavior. it's like when seymour throws the rat poison in audrey ii.

the jehovah’s witnesses are strategically knocking on the door of the now dead bird lady. and scully is here with jerse. she’s entering his apartment. 

you know what? this motherfucker looks like jeremy jordan. just an observation. sing, newsie boy.

she’s saying she doesn’t go out much…. but she noticed he’s bleeding. and also she says she’s a doctor. feels like that is relevant information to reveal before a date. don’t you want to know what a potential date does before you go out with them? well, i guess that is highlighting her desire to be impulsive.

oh god, she also finds the photo of him and the kids…. while he’s in the bathroom bandaging his wounds. 

she wants to go to the crummy bar??? okay. get out your inner rebellion i guess.

he says that this is a good place to go when you’re down, because everyone here looks like they have worse problems than him. fair enough. except for also NOT fair enough... because he killed a woman!

scully says she goes around in a circle when an authority figure comes into her life, and part of her wants it, needs the approval, but then… 

(it seems she is making a pointed reference to mulder here...? is that what he is to her? an authority figure?)

now she’s talking about her dad….  she would sneak out of the house and smoke the cigarettes. yes, i remember this from beyond the sea!!!! she did this because she knew that if he found out he would kill her.

he says the tattoo marked him never going back. SHE TRIES TO SEE IT AND HE GRABS HER???????

what the fuck what the FUCK. are we going to witness violence.

SO NOW SHE’S GONNA GET ONE TOO?? on her back???? the ouroboros she was looking at before! yes, the never ending cycle.

what the hell… i am deeply uncomfy. he’s watching her get a tattoo and it’s like erotic or something??? to him. and she’s breathing all weird. and then. there is a tattoo.

(this scene only reinforced my previous conclusions from earlier today looking up "am i asexual" quizzes)

god, is she gonna stay here with him? he says the weather is bad and he wants her to be safe and that he’ll sleep on the couch.

she says she feels different now after the tattoo. and he’s taking off the bandage. says it looks alright. but he’s bleeding again. and she’s taking off his shirt…..

the tattoo starts TALKING??? “you kiss her, and she’s dead” HEY WHAT

oh god……………………. the door shuts

pause. y’all. i don’t think i’m cut out for this.

okay, back to the FBI. mulder is here. trying to find scully. and he cannot reach her!!!

he sees the leaf she left on his desk…. and these two are waking up the next morning. his tattoo is still bleeding. dude, you should probably make some sort of appointment about that. 

scully’s in his giant shirt as she shows the detectives at the door (!!!) her badge. they want to talk about the disappearance of the bird lady. they are not taking her seriously, because she is in some random guy’s shirt in some random guy’s house. but she’s jotting some stuff down. 

things are clicking in her mind, about the disappearance. oh my god dial up noises! wow, that’s loud and annoying. shoutout to people who had to deal with that in the 90's.

she seems to be realizing that she has made a grave mistake. 

THE STUFF THE RUSSIAN GUY MADE THE TATTOO INK OUT OF WAS IN THE KILLER’S BLOOD????!!!

she grabs her tattoo because like. now it’s in HER blood too. oh my god the tattoo ink had DRUGS in it????

scully is trying to call mulder…. who runs to his phone. but she hangs up on him!!!! now why would you do all that? oh, because jerse approaches.

she tells him to sit down. very seriously. and she straight up says she thinks the blood the detectives found was his. well i guess honesty is sometimes a good policy.

so they might hallucinate stuff now from the ergot. and they might be dangerous. they need to get to the hospital now. 

he confesses to hearing things now…. “she talks to me. she hates women. my wife, my boss, you” ohhhh my god. i wonder how she is feeling....

she says they need to go to the hospital now. together. 

the tattoo's voice is talking to him about who she called…. and he presses the redial button…. and….

HOLY FUCK, HE’S ATTACKING HER. i mean, i knew it was going to happen eventually, but like. doesn't make it any more enjoyable to watch.

oh man, they are really going at it…. he knocks her out….. and he wraps her up to take her to the incinerator……………. ???????

but she stabs him with the scissors… and she’s trying to tell him to take control. so he BURNS HIS ARM OFF???!? to get the tattoo to shut up. 

BUT NOW THE MUSIC FLOURISHES OVER HER TATTOO???

girl if she has a demon in her now............. i need a cigarette

she’s coming back to the office with bruises on her face. “congratulations for making a personal appearance in the x files for a second time” says mulder. well, that’s gotta be a record. and that is exactly what he brings up next!

he’s trying to make a joke, but she’s grabbing the leaf on his desk………

he thinks this is his fault…… “not everything is about you, mulder. this is my life” “yes, but it….” (sighs)

end episode.

okay. so. what am i thinking. 

well. i am thinking many things. first of all- what is that tattoo supposed to represent? was it supposed to represent how misogyny poisons men’s minds? and turns them into people they aren’t deep down? is it about male insecurity, and how it turns into violence? and if we are taking that interpretation- doesn't that kinda just blame women for the scourge that is misogyny? like "look how you divorced that guy, guess you can't blame men for hating half of the population" because if that was what they were going for. i find issues with that.

second. i’m glad scully had her growth moment. if i were her, i would have told off mulder a long time ago for being too domineering. i don't think he intends to do it- i think he gets too caught up in his own quest for answers- but intention does not make his actions any less hurtful. and she clearly needed to have that rebellion moment. i’m glad she had it, even if it went terribly, at least she survived.

but the agents' dynamic felt… mean-spirited. i couldn’t tell what was joking and what was below the belt, and i’m not sure i’m supposed to be able to. he does take advantage of her, and i certainly don't oppose her pointing that out. i oppose him being mean to her- or at least, i find it hard to watch. i understand that the whole project does mean the world to him because maybe, just maybe, it will bring his sister back- but still. it is an infuriating characteristic of his, how little attention he pays to others.

and i don't necessarily think that aspect of him is written consistently, either. what about that time they were so incredibly close to answers and he let them go because he wanted scully to be able to see her sister again? what about every single time he's risked his neck for her?

i guess what i'm saying is, his fury at the start of the episode felt like it came out of nowhere, and was directed at her questioning his authority- and was over nothing beyond her tuning out one time. i find that idea of mulder as this authority figure that scully is chasing approval from in a manner akin to her own father (!!!) hard to reconcile with the mulder who held her in irresistible, who pummeled the doctor who maybe possibly might have hurt her in one breath, who runs every theory by her, and so on. you see what i'm saying? it felt as if this episode cast the whole series in the retrospective light of him only wanting her around so he can have a loyal henchman, and not that he valued her as an actual person- which we know he does. she zones out one day and he snaps on her? she goes on a rant about how she is always chasing authority's approval shortly after? i'm just not buying it. it felt like the rift era again. you could argue that it is scully's grief that is distorting her view of him, but even entertaining that possibility from a narrative perspective made me feel like i needed a bath. so... sleazy.

bullying aside- for an episode about breaking free from mulder’s influence, he seemed to really care for her and try and reach her, if we ignore the terrible things he said and just focus on his actions. on vacation and at work, he wanted to make sure she was okay. and it was sweet, but when cast in the light i mentioned earlier- in comparison to her father- it felt, like, paternalistic, which made my skin crawl. which is an understatement.

she needed to have that important character development, don’t get me wrong. it seems she’s worked so hard her whole life and has never made time to break some rules, except for when she was a kid. she needs to rebel at some point- but it was the framing of their dynamic that icked me out. and maybe i'm interpreting something in a different way than everyone else does. honestly, i hope i'm misunderstanding something. please feel free to correct me.

there was clearly something on her mind that distracted her from one interview, and the episode is trying to show us that her life isn’t just the x files like mulder's is. they’re different. maybe they spend too much time together. maybe they needed time apart, and maybe she needed to do the things she never let herself in the past. but… you can tell from reading this post that while i agree with some of the character choices- scully confronting him for being too controlling, letting herself let loose for once- i think they made sense in theory but less so in this particular execution. 

and yeah, there’s me the viewer who doesn’t want to see that shit happen, be it scully being attacked or sex outside the slowburn that gave us the term "ship". you can’t blame me there. i am a mere mortal. but also…… damn. something about the way jerse said he hated women and grabbed scully made me feel sick. 

i think that scully has a lot of grief and anger, and i think she reached a boiling point in this episode. and i think she won’t do the things she did ever again. but it still felt so out of character to see her do those things. and was she implying, with her whole speech about her father, that she seems mulder as this controlling force in her life? that their dynamic has been entirely unequal from the beginning? that he acts like a boss to her, and whatever the fuck it is they have going on (because it can’t be described in words, we both know that) has been an imbalance of power this whole time? that makes things feel…….. less warm and fuzzy, in retrospect, don’t you think? the idea that mulder only keeps her around as a foot soldier and doesn't really give a damn about her?

(again. it could be her grief talking. grief is not rational. but i had never seen it like that before, and it casts everything in a different light)

i think this episode had clear commentary on misogyny. the way that jerse’s thoughts were poisoned to hate women, how we explore mulder inadvertently taking the upper hand throughout their relationship, the way the detectives wouldn’t believe scully at her word when questioning her about the blood. i think it explored scully's frustration in being in a male-dominated field, and feeling like she always has to be perfect. but other than that, i'm not sure what i'm supposed to take away from the whole thing, unless i am to think that whatever relationship it is they do have is nothing more than one of uneven control. because that's the vibe i was getting from this one.

it felt out of character, and not just in the purposeful subversion of how we normally see scully- their whole fight felt off. and the tone was all over the place. first we're joking, then we're arguing nasty style, then we're joking, then sexy, then fight time violence against women, then joke? unresolved ending feeling i cannot explain? what do i make of this?!

idk. i don't feel like i'm wording my points well, but i'm not sure i want to really keep trying either. and i feel that if i did my usual thing, which is watch an episode, take notes, think it over for a day, and THEN edit the notes, i might be able to have a more coherent thought process- but given potential controversy, i want to get this out tonight.

i want to really hear your thoughts- if you ride or die for this episode, walk me through it! did you also not like it? is it mid to you? i'm listening. i want to know. i have no ill-intent, and i feel bad that i've been a bit harsh lately. let us discuss. it is all peace and love over here.

[hazeism]

Hiii @cringe-but-freee thank you for your permission to test some of your designs :D they are so fun and unique (both between themselves and amongst other interpretations)

since there's like four of us who still care about these novels we all have to make an olive wreath or something else equally lovely together <3

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill. 

Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting. 

“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.

“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”

“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”

“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”

“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”

“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives. 

This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.

“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.

“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”

You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells. 

There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way. 

“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”

You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.

When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.

After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.

It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t. 

“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.

Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.” 

“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”

She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this. 

“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand. 

You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin. 

“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”

“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot. 

“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”

“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl. 

“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”

“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend. 

“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.” 

“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him. 

“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.

“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”

“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort. 

Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment. 

“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”

He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity. 

“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”

The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair. 

Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.

“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world. 

When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”

Still no reply.

“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.” 

“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced. 

Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”

“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”

“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head. 

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something. 

“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.

“No.”

“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.

“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”

“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one. 

“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan. 

“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”

“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him. 

“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”

“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve. 

“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.

This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience. 

After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date. 

After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.

As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too. 

Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory. 

“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”

It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.

“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel. 

“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up. 

On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date. 

“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”

He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest. 

You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation. 

“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question. 

“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”

“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”

“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.

Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.  

“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”

“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”  

“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”

“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes. 

“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious. 

“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”

“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up. 

“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!” 

You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever. 

“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.” 

He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him. 

Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date. 

“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to. 

“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting. 

“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”

The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius. 

“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home. 

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”

“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”

Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n. 

Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into. 

“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”

“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space. 

“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”

“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment. 

“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”

“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”

“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble. 

“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”

“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”

“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”

“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly. 

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch. 

“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”

“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”

“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”

“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”

He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle. 

“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet. 

“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat. 

“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”

‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.

You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.

“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,” 

He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it. 

He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.

As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him. 

“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”

The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it. 

Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.

Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve. 

He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing. 

As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway. 

“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat. 

He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood. 

You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.” 

The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed. 

You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about  getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon. 

Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you. 

But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never. 

You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share. 

“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.  

After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home. 

“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.” 

You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view. 

He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?

On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again. 

He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date. 

Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’. 

You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago. 

“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it. 

“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend. 

The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection. 

“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.

“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”

He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”

To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according  to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.

“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”

Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section. 

After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic. 

Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides. 

You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.

Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you. 

As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos. 

“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure. 

“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.

“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.

“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass. 

“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears. 

Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic. 

“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”

Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches. 

“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.

Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else. 

You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake. 

“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.

“From bugs?”

“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”

“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”

You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.

“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.

“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh. 

“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”

You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.

After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did. 

It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom. 

The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless. 

Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you. 

Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.

What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. 

“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.” 

You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.

“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice. 

“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.

Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.

Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention. 

Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully. 

He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable. 

While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”

“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”

He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down. 

“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means. 

“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”

Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”

As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.

Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.

“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”

“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”

“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.

“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”

“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”

You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid. 

The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’ 

A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else. 

It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak. 

Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.

Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt. 

“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink. 

There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place. 

“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”

You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise. 

Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.

“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide. 

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.

Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“

“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.

Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.

“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.

He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”

“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question. 

“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”

“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”

A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time. 

“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”

You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts. 

“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”

“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.

“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him. 

He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board. 

“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts. 

As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways. 

“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been. 

“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.

You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder. 

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since. 

“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say. 

“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.

“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking. 

“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”

“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.

“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”

Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you. 

“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago. 

“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be. 

“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”

Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you. 

It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire. 

“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”

Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions. 

“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss. 

He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.

Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.

He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time. 

“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.

You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.

He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear. 

Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”

Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink. 

“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole. 

The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”

Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”

“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”

“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win. 

“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”

“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”

If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in. 

The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.

He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck. 

“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”

Jackpot. 

A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand. 

“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up. 

Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough. 

He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering. 

“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”

Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again. 

“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”

The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin. 

“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.

“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”

You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this. 

His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together. 

Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs. 

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.

“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”

He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this. 

Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van. 

“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes. 

“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”

“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”

You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap. 

As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh. 

“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret. 

“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”

You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass. 

“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him. 

You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.

He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.

The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door. 

Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.

You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right. 

And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.

“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding. 

You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.

Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level. 

Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting. 

He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times. 

You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.

You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach. 

All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him. 

The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.

“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips. 

After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon. 

You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.

Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you. 

“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.

He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft. 

“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”

Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants. 

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.” 

“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat. 

“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”

You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it. 

Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him. 

“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”

The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.

Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips. 

“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment. 

Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls. 

You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss. 

In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself. 

“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.” 

He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides. 

You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room. 

Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end. 

“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply. 

It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is. 

Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck. 

“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets. 

“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. 

In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going. 

The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets. 

He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.

Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch. 

His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips. 

Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees. 

He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you. 

He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most. 

Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder. 

“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.

“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.

“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch. 

His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt. 

“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”

The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls. 

“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair. 

Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter. 

Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other. 

Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.

“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”

Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head . 

“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“ 

A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core. 

As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit. 

He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face. 

When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate. 

“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds. 

“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked. 

“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.

“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.” 

“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.

He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you. 

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his. 

You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.

“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole. 

“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back. 

You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set. 

Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck. 

“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. 

He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain. 

“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach. 

And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.” 

When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line. 

“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”

With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you. 

The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent. 

Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment. 

He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.

Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again. 

“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper. 

“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”

Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose. 

“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means. 

“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”

His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him. 

The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up. 

When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up. 

His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.

Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you. 

You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you. 

You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle. 

You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal. 

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response. 

After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring. 

Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door. 

“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say. 

“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”

“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”

“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did. 

You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say. 

“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson. 

“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”

Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you. 

“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”

“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”

He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“

You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”

“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart. 

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”

You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”

“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”

“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”

Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties. 

Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom. 

“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.” 

You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy. 

“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”

You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up. 

Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin? 

Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.

At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.

And there he is.

In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.

"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.

"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."

You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.

"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."

He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.

"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."

You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.

"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.

"And I owe you a few dates, for real."

As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.

"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.

"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.

You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.

[mobileleprechaun]

The Pea

I'm very hung up on the symbolism of this dish, particularly with how it pertains to Eddie and his episode of severe emotional distress.

Eddie was all alone in his post office when we found him. Although he refused to state this outright, it was clear he was feeling excluded and forgotten by his neighbors. We have often seen him pushed to the margins of the community, only sought out for his utility to the others.

Barnaby openly delights in scaring and tormenting him, Howdy overworks him without sparing a second thought to his needs, Julie only calls upon him when she someone who's easy to drag into a game, Sally refuses to address him by name and treats his attempts at social connection with disdain, Wally and Poppy only have fleeting interactions with him, and Frank hides his burgeoning fondness behind a facade of cordial indifference.

The pea is alone, too, isolated on the stark white backdrop of the plate.

"Take care not to place them too close together." Even if there are more "peas" at this party, Eddie sits alone in Home's chair, denied the basic creature comforts of intimacy as he watches the others mingle.

The pea is also a pittance to Eddie. It is presented to him right after Sally's single, small attempt to show him goodwill, which she only bothers to do because it's a holiday.

She still does not address him by his name. The gesture, the pea, and the seat are all mere crumbs – too little, too late for a neglected outsider who struggles to make sense of the lonely, awful torment of his life in this Neighborhood, one which he cannot properly articulate for fear of sounding ungrateful.

Home stares him down from his lonely seat. Its presence is monolithic and ominous, a towering figure that only makes him feel more small and alone.

Is it intruding on his mind on purpose, trying to hurt him? Personally, I don't think so, though it still remains to be seen. His words to Frank at the end are telling, though. "I want to go home."

Whether it means to or not, Home torments him with its very being. It's both the elephant and the room. Eddie is an outsider. Eddie can't remember where he's from. Eddie sleeps in a post office after thanklessly running himself ragged every day. Home is the very reason for this holiday, and Eddie is homeless. It's staring him down because it's a symbol of everything he aches for, but cannot have.

Eddie is the single pea on Home's plate. Take care not to place him too close to anyone else.

[msmorningstaarr]

let me be yours | part II

ao3 | masterlist | < part I |

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x f!Martell Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Summary: You, a Martell princess who was recently brought into Rhaenyra's courtyard as a sign of goodwill to ensure the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. With time passing on, you feel trapped under the enticing aura of the Dragon Queen and sees yourself desiring her more and more. However, in a delicate situation, is it worth the yearn for your Queen? Would you give in to your needs to have your way with her and find some indulgence?

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), afab reader, bisexual rhaenyra, canon divergence, longing, age gap (you early 20s rhae mid 30s), fingering, masturbation, oral sex, sub/dom dynamics (rhae dom you sub), overstimulation, scissoring, queen rhaenyra targaryen, nipple play, possessive rhaenyra

a/n: well, it’s been a long time since I don’t post a fic here and I was considering seriously ending my blog (i still do low key and end totally my last social media but let’s ignore that) but I have fun here and I love sharing my stories with you guys. thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoy it <3 comments, reblogs, likes are very much appreciated.

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody @pet1t3

The next day, Rhaenyra summoned you to visit her again, and you brought your cloak to show her the sewing and embroidery you had completed. Her praise for your work and dedication was effusive, each word like a sweet melody to your ears. As she examined the intricate stitches and delicate patterns, her hand would occasionally brush against yours, a gentle touch that sent a thrill of warmth through your entire being. These fleeting moments of physical contact spoke volumes, conveying an unspoken tenderness and connection between you.

Her gaze remained as intense as ever, locking onto yours with a depth that stirred both admiration and longing within you. There were times when she leaned in closely to speak, her words brushing against your ear with an intimacy that left you breathless. Occasionally, she would press a lingering kiss to your cheek or temple, the softness of her lips leaving an indelible impression.

Each gesture, each touch, each word of affection stirred a flurry of emotions within you. You found yourself wondering if Rhaenyra's actions were merely those of a caring future mother-in-law, or if they hinted at something deeper, something that mirrored your own feelings. The uncertainty added a bittersweet edge to your interactions, blending desire with apprehension as you navigated the delicate dance between duty and desire in her presence.

And each night, you would touch yourself thinking about Rhaenyra.

Finger twirling around your clit.

Daring to play with your entrance.

Mumbled words desperately calling for your Queen.

Fingers down on your cunt until you come undone on your fingers.

Wishing it was on hers.

But after almost a month of engaging in your own pleasure, it came ahead of you the unstoppable moment of your life: your wedding. You remember yourself being a little princess in Dorne, waiting and counting your days to know how long it would take until she would be wedded to someone and there you were, now dreading this moment.

You wished to fulfil your fantasy, you wished to have a way with Rhaenyra. How could you marry her son and still think of her, every night? Marriage is just a piece of paper, Rhaenyra well said, however, would you ever be willing to be the one who brings pleasure, true pleasure, into your life?

There you were, five days away from your wedding, knocking on Rhaenyra’s door to spend your time with her. This time, she asked you to come in your evening garments, a cream nightgown with long, tight sleeves. Your hair was loose and carried no jewellery on your body. The Queen opened up her door for you with a soft smile, signing you to go inside her bedchambers.

“Your Grace.” You courtied her, bending your knee. Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, silently remembering you of her wish. “Sorry, Rhaenyra. I cannot help but treat you as you deserve.”

Rhaenyra held a smug smile after hearing you call her by her title. Her hands reached yours and entangled your fingers, greeting you in a more intimate manner. “Then as your Queen, I command you to call me by my name, little sun.” The Queen beamed at you, mischievously with her faint, playful smile. You laughed, although still a bit shy. “I apologise for summoning you in the night, my darling.” She began, walking throughout her room.

You followed her and one of her QueensGuard closed the door behind you and finally left the both of you alone. You were nervous, joining your hands on your back as you followed her, trying to disguise your anticipation around Her Grace. “I could not fall asleep and felt in need of your company. You lift my spirits.” The Queen said, sympathetically. Your eyes sparkled as she praised you, heart beating in anticipation and having a weird sense of validation, hence her sweet talk. “I hope I have not interrupted your sleep.”

As if you could ever go slumbering without touching yourself to the thought of Rhaenyra. You beamed briefly and shook your head, finding you a place to stay still, right after Your Grace. “You did not, as I myself have also been in some trouble finding my own sleep, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked at you after a long sigh and her eyes seemed more relaxed when around you. She looked so beautiful in that blue nightgown, honouring her mother, a Lady of Arryn. Her hair was long and thick, she took great joy in braiding it before sleeping, but you would rather see it all loosen down, giving her a more human aspect to her godly, ethereal appearance.

Rhaenyra approached you, involving your hands on hers and grinning, which you grinned back before she led you towards a small table with a jar of wine with two goblets beside it. “We barely had time these days to share our daily moments. It is a shame.”

You started drinking by the same window Rhaenyra teased you, being bathed by the moonlight, Rhaenyra seemed even more stunning when in a more natural state. Rhaenyra drank her own wine but her eyes were locked on you, as it would always be. “I have been missing you, but with the current state of your wedding, we have both been quite busy lately.”

You nodded, positioning your cup on the window to lean your chest over it, watching from afar the lights of Flea Bottom. You didn’t know what to feel or think about it. You had so much time to spend with Jace and he seemed polite, but rather distant from you.

Maybe it was your fault, you should stay away from the Queen’s web, perhaps make more effort to be in acquaintance with your betrothed before the actual wedding. It was a rare thing, to live amongst your future husband, could give some default to the life ahead of you. However, you wasted it. “What troubles your sleep this evening, my sun?”

Your hands were sweaty again, your eyes lowered, looking to the immensity of darkness on the ground. Rhaenyra grabbed your face with her hands and smiled, as a sign of her affection. “I am nervous, Rhaenyra, I must admit.” You started, hesitant. “I have been thinking about what you told me in a former encounter of ours.”

Rhaenyra stared at you, intrigued. Her eyes narrowed, trying to recall their older gatherings. “You have?” Rhaenyra said with a hint of surprise in her eyes. The Queen looked at you with curiosity, trying to remember the words she said in the last moments they shared together. “Continue, dear.” Rhaenyra encouraged you with her gentle smile and her eyes still on yours.

“About marriages, duties and happiness…” You started, taking a smirk from Rhaenyra. Her fingers caressed your chin after squeezing it gently.

“Ah, those words, yes.” Rhaenyra chuckled, nodding her head. She gently cupped your face with her hands, her fingers caressing your cheeks. She took a step forward, standing very close to you.

“That was... very interesting of you to bring it up again.” The woman hummed, staring into your eyes.

You hummed yourself, feeling her lavender oil scent invade your nostrils and involuntarily, you bite your lower lips, feeling the heat grow ridiculously fast as Rhaenyra preyed on you, like a dragon seeking out its food. “And why does Your Grace find it interesting?”

Rhaenyra smiled down in amusement, watching your teeth sink into your lower lip. She traced her thumb over your lower lip, tugging slowly to free it from your teeth. She looked into your eyes, her pupils wide and full of lust.

“Because... I wonder if you remember the words I said that evening…” She said, almost whispering it to you and she leaned in closer.

Your mouth went dry instantly with the pace the gap between your bodies was closing. You remembered it more than well, but lacked the confidence to say it out loud. Not for not trusting in her, but mostly out of fret for what could happen now. She was too close to the pyre and the chances of being burned were immense. Either way, you said it. “A marriage is just a piece of paper.” You mumbled, breathing against her fair skin.

Rhaenyra chuckled lowly, her eyes slowly moving all over your face. She took the time to take in your expressions and your reactions to her body being so close to yours. She saw the way your throat moved slightly when you swallowed. The Queen took another step forward, feeling your chest against her own. She could feel your heart beating against your chest and she had no doubts that you could feel hers too. Rhaenyra could almost feel your breath against her lips as she let out a soft hum. “Correct.” She said, quietly.

“Once we are in a marriage, we can still have our… preferences. I learned it well with my late husband,” Rhaenyra traced her fingertips on your soft lips, attentively staring at it. “Bedding is not the biggest of your problems, my dear, but the lack or opportunity to be vulnerable. It can be the greatest of our strengths or weaknesses.”

Rhaenyra introduced your thumb within your mouth and instinctively, you suckled on it and closed your eyes as she spoke. Your warm tongue licked and pulled her thumb closer in a sultry move. Your cunt was soaked, dripping for Rhaenyra. “Open your eyes and look at me.” She softly commanded and you immediately complied. Your reaction encouraged her and her thumb gently moved under your bottom lip. The silver queen gently brushes it across the plump surface.

“How can something so flawless and beautiful exist in this world?” Rhaenyra muttered to herself. Her gaze never leaves your face. It was surreal, was it really happening to you? Your head was free of thoughts, only living in the present and wanting more of that enticing woman. “You see, you make me quite vulnerable to you. I wonder if you will make a strength or a weakness out of it.”

Then, Rhaenyra got closer. Now, the fabrics were much thinner than the other dresses both women wore. You could feel the swell of her breasts, her waist glued against yours, her breath close to you again. You startled, feeling her fingertips grazing on your skin, gently and superficially.

Once the Queen took off her finger and muttered her words, you opened her eyes and stared at Rhaenyra. “You think this highly of me, Your Grace?” You asked, muttering back.

“A woman as beautiful as you has no right to exist. Perfection itself. An artwork the Rhoynar Gods made to torture men.” Rhaenyra muttered back, as her fingers traced along your soft jaw and down the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. “And they have. A vision so perfect and lovely has tempted me like no other. A true flower of the desert." Rhaenyra whispered.

“Do I tempt you?” You asked again, whispering as well. Your figures were now pressed against each other. Rhaenyra moved her head up a little, her lips ghosting over yours, not yet kissing, but close enough to feel her breath on your skin as she spoke.

Rhaenyra chuckled and lifted her chin slightly, feeling your body shiver slightly against hers as you let her touch travel down on your nightgown.

The material was soft and thin, doing a terrible job to hide how much it was affecting you. The blonde hummed when she felt your body shuddering under her touch. The Queen let her hand slide behind your waist, enjoying the heat of your skin under her touch.

“You have no idea of the power you hold, my sweet girl. No idea of how weak I am for you.” Her words caused you to silently gasp in front of her, you gave in entirely to Rhaenyra, your dream was coming true and fear grew as arousal spread through your body.

“Why do I make a weak of you?” You asked your possible lover, granting yourself the benefit of the doubt as you played naive for the cold truth: she wanted you as much as you wanted her.

“Because I long for you.” Rhaenyra muttered, still running her thumb gently across your bottom lip. She couldn't help but stare down at the mouth of this sweet thing. Just the thought of her kissing you was enough to send you the edge. The temptation was too much to bear.

“I long for you too, my Queen.” You finally admitted, mumbling at Rhaenyra. Ever since you landed on King’s Landing to be warded by the Queen, you find herself daydreaming of kissing her lips and being her own little Queen.

“Is that so, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra’s voice was low and sultry, her eyebrow arched in a mixture of curiosity and desire. A soft smile played on her lips as her thumb gently traced the contours of your plump, soft lips. Each stroke sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

Every time she looked at your lips, a deep hunger ignited within her, a yearning to taste you and make you hers in every sense. Your gaze lingered, filled with a fierce determination to claim you as her own, to explore every inch of your being and etch her presence into your soul. The moment hung heavy with tension and unfulfilled desire, as if the world itself paused to witness the profound connection between you.

“I wish I could be yours." You reply, your eyes burning desire for Rhaenyra. You pay no mind for any liability; you care not that she is your Queen, the mother of your future husband, a woman. You wanted Rhaenyra.

“You can.” Rhaenyra muttered. She brought her other hand to your face, making sure to be completely focused on every part of you, taking in everything about you. Every part of her was perfect. As her thumbs trace over the soft flesh of your face, her eyes flicker down to your parted lips and she cannot help but gaze down to them, feeling the need to feel them on hers. “Just say the word.”

You touched the hand of Rhaenyra that was resting on your face and bit your lips again while listening to Her Grace. Submissively, you replied. “Let me be yours, Your Grace.” You mumbled, in a disguised begging for Rhaenyra to claim you, to have her way with you.

The eyes of Rhaenyra brightened and she was in total bliss. Hearing your sweet words in that pretty mouth, in that sensual tone, was like music to her ears. Rhaenyra leaned in close while both her hands gently held your face. Her nose gently brushed your own and she looked deep into your eyes.

“You are mine. My sweet girl.” Rhaenyra whispered as her tongue gently traced over your lip. She was close. You moaned lightly and she hummed with your reaction.

“I’m yours, Your Grace,” You whispered back, with a trembling voice and a mixture of reverence and longing. The words hung in the air, laden with the weight of her surrender. Impulsively, you pulled Rhaenyra closer, her fingers grasping the fabric of her gown with a desperate need to feel her warmth.

Yet, despite the burning desire coursing through her veins, you hesitated, her breath hitching as she stopped just short of initiating the kiss. Your faces were mere inches apart, close enough to feel each other’s breath mingling in the charged air. She gazed into Rhaenyra’s eyes, finding herself lost in the depths of those piercing, commanding orbs.

Feeling you pull her closer, Rhaenyra had to act. She closed the remaining distance as she pressed her mouth against yours, kissing you. Her lips moved slowly against your own, enjoying the feeling of you beneath her, knowing you were hers. Her thumbs gently stroke the flesh of your cheeks as she begins to explore your mouth.

Her kiss was ethereal as her beauty. You explored the inside of her mouth with her tongues in an enticing dance, moaning between the kiss as her hand possessively wandered through your hair. Rhaenyra hummed again against your mouth, delighting herself with her reactions. Her arm possessively brought you even closer, as if it was possible and another hand of hers grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss.

Gently, the silver Queen pushed you against the cold wall of her chambers, causing an electrifying thermal shock on your body. Her fingertips traced through your jawline and she tightened her grip, feeling her smooth flesh, rubbing against yours and the feeling was beyond incredible. Rhaenyra parted her lips for a brief time, staring at you with eyes full of hunger.

“Do you want me, sweet girl?” Rhaenyra whispered, with a husky voice as her eyes darkened, burning with desire and need for you. She watched you closely, waiting for an answer from you, holding you on a firm grip. You nodded at her question, taciturnly responding at her.

“Say it.” The royal commanded again, filling the air with tension enough to explode the room. Her eyes were locked on yours, breathing heavily towards your lips, you were drowned in pleasure, your voice was about to falter, right in front of your queen.

“I want you, My Queen.” You whispered. Her lips curled into a devilish smirk, with one of her hands letting go of your waist to cup your cheek, brushing your olive skin in very gentle circles. Rhaenyra joined your noses and rubbed each other, teasing you. Your desire went over the edge. It was overwhelmingly good being claimed by Your Grace, you would make sure this night was perfect. Rhaenyra's tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Feeling the warmth inside and tasting you on her tongue.

“Are you mine, sweet girl?" She asked, moving from your mouth down to your jaw, sucking and leaving marks on your soft flesh. Her moves were quick and furtive, as a dragon should be. Her face roamed yours, examining your expressions with cunning and desire.

“I am yours, Your Grace,” you whispered, with a voice having a delicate blend of devotion and anticipation. A soft hum of pleasure escaped your lips as you felt the tender nibbling and gentle suckling on your skin, each touch sending delightful shivers through her body. The sensations were exquisite, drawing you deeper into a state of blissful surrender.

“You are mine.” Rhaenyra replied against your skin. You tilted your head back, moaning lightly as the Queen suckled on the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine nipples to instantly turn visible through your nightgown. Her hand travelled south, squeezing your waist and hips and soon after, your thigh. “Mine, mine, mine…” She continued, repeating the word like a prayer, still close to your neck.

Swiftly, she flipped your body and pressed the front of it against the cold wall, pulling your hair to the side and kissing your back as a contrast to her rough and sudden gesture. You purred with pleasure as Rhaenyra had her hands reaching the laces of your nightly garments and you moaned lightly, feeling her kisses on your neck. Your hands, delicately, pulled her head against your neck, beseeching for more action on her side.

“I am all yours,” You replied, faintly moaning with the motion of your dress falling onto the floor. “Yours, yours, yours…”

Rhaenyra mischievously smiled, out of satisfaction hearing your voice so submissive to her. Her soft hands wandered up and down on your bare back, admiring your naked body. Your neck was invaded with kisses, bites and suckles, mixing pain and lust at the same time and your moans were becoming desperate for her.

"I want to worship you, sweet girl. Will you let me?" Rhaenyra asked in a sultry whisper, her hands finding the lace of her own dress and revealing her pale skin. You agreed in silence, feeling her nipples brushing against your back. "Perfect." She muttered, her voice barely a mutter. One of her hands moved up to your breast, gently caressing it with her thumb.

And then, Your Grace flipped your body back to face your front. A brief silence rose amongst you two, her body screamed the yearn to devour you completely. Rhaenyra pinched your left nipple and you moaned in a low tone. "Gorgeous." Rhaenyra murmured as her mouth took in your pert nipple, her tongue flicking over it softly and your hands almost immediately reached her hair again, not allowing Rhaenyra to let go of your chest. Her tongue circled one nipple and alternated with suckling, kisses and bites on your nipple.

No one has ever seen you naked before. Yet, being all exposed for Rhaenyra for the first time was no hardship. You felt close to explode once her lips reached your breast and a soft cry came from your mouth. Rhaenyra hummed against your flesh, continuing to give your breast the attention it desired.

One of her hands lowered over your cunt as her lips suckled and licked your chest. Her other hand moved down across your torso before gently placing it between your legs and gently stroking a digit across your core, making you melt into her arms, exploding with her skilful manoeuvring.

Rhaenyra gently removed her mouth from your breast and looked up into your eyes. Her thumb continued to circle your core, picking up the pace as she watched you. "Does it feel good, sweet girl? Do you enjoy this?" The Queen muttered with a teasing smirk as she watched your hips bounce for her. You looked right into Rhaenyra’s eyes, moaning silently and crying out in pleasure against that wall, only nodding in response to her question.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed you once more as her thumb pressed down gently on your sensitive clit, delighting herself with your moans. "Say it." Rhaenyra whispered, repeating her command and wanting to hear you say out loud how much you like this.

“I-It feels so good… Y-your Grace…” You stammered, with your voice trembling with pleasure. You leaned in and pressed her lips to Rhaenyra’s, kissing deeply and fervently, as the Queen’s hands continued to explore her body with master, tender touches. Each caress heightened your senses, mumbling soft moans from her lips and making her pulse race with a mixture of excitement and desire.

The Queen vibrated in response and pressed down more on your sensitive apex, slowly increasing the pressure, watching closely for your reaction.

As she did this, her other hand moved up to wrap around your neck, gently squeezing you. You moaned, gazing directly into her eyes. "That's it, sweet girl. Let it all out." Rhaenyra whispered, her voice now husky and needy.

Not all times you touched yourself you could be as good as Rhaenyra was touching you. She knew how and where exactly to do it on you and it built an imminent desperation for release within your body. Your hands reached her shoulders, squeezing it as she grew closer to come on her fingers.

As your whines and moans grew, Rhaenyra knew you were close. Her thumb kept circling and pressing on your sweet spot, listening to the soft noises coming from your mouth. The sight of her in front of you was perfection. Rhaenyra squeezed your neck gently and whispered to you. "Come for me, my sweet. I want to see you fall to pieces in my hands... just for me."

With her soft command, you felt your legs faltering and a single tear of joy leaving your right eye, with a moan so similar to a whine leaving your mouth while your climax hit you, exploding just as the fourteen fires of the Valyria of Old. You buried your head on the crook of Your Grace’s neck, irregularly breathing and trembling your body.

Rhaenyra slowed her movements, taking her time to pull you through your orgasm. With each gentle rock of her thumb across your sensitive jewel, she kissed and licked up your neck. The sound of your moans and whines filled her ears and sent shivers down her spine. Feeling your body tremble against her sent a tingle between her thighs. "That's it, sweet girl. You've been so good, so perfect for me." The Queen muttered in praise as her arm wrapped around your waist.

You smiled, still in ecstasy from the aftershocks of that alluring moment you had shared with the Queen and kissed her lips gently while your body recovered. After the brief kiss, they stared at each other in silence and you proceeded to suckle on the finger that touched you, wiping all of your own wetness with her lips from Rhaenyra’s hand, who let go a groan as she watched you taste her on your fingers.

She could feel a heat beginning to burn deep within her core. You needed her. She brought her hands to your face and cupped your cheeks, kissing you deeply as she backed you towards the bed. The Dragon Queen pushed you down onto the soft silk sheets and hovered over top of you.

"I need you." She whispered against your mouth, her voice hoarse and desperate.

You felt the impact of falling onto the bed and kept kissing Rhaenyra and feeling the Queen alternating between her lips and neck. You spread her legs to accommodate Rhaenyra on top of you while Your Grace’s lips tasted your skin roughly and desperately.

“Then take me, Your Grace.” You whispered back, muttering ‘please’ onto her ear, which drove Rhaenyra to complete madness over you.

Rhaenyra lowered her body down, grinding her thigh against your wet core. You moaned a bit louder to the pressure and the sensation. She wanted to tease you, but you could not hold back anymore. "I am going to make you squirm, sweet girl." She muttered as her hand moved down your body, caressing your breast before her knee gently found your cunt. Rhae was gentle at first, pressing down gently as she rocked her knee against you. You, on the other hand, complied immediately to her promise, squirming and allowing your body to spasm under her touch. Instinctively, you grabbed her arse to keep Rhaenyra close.

Rhaenyra moaned as her body trembled, feeling your hands grab her arse and rock her. She leaned in close, biting down on your neck as she pressed her knee against you. "Feels so good, sweet...girl." She muttered as she continued to rub gently, her free hand gripping into your waist, as her own moans began to fill the room.

“Please, my Queen… more…” You pleaded as Rhaenyra kept rocking her knee against your sensitive centre, leaving moans from both mouths. You left one hand to the Queen’s hair, bringing her closer and the other hand kept squeezing Rhaenyra.

Your desperate moans made Rhaenyra go feral, her need and longing to hear more of your sweet sounds was overwhelming. "Say my name." She muttered, darkening her eyes and lowering your voice to a devilish tone, wanting to hear you utter her name on your lips.

You were torn, unsure if you should dare to call Rhaenyra by her name. It still seemed as a terrible lack of respect, yet the pleasure she derived from obeying her was overwhelming. As the sensations intensified, bringing you closer to the edge, you have decided to comply without question.

“My Queen,” you murmured breathlessly, opting to avoid using Rhaenyra’s name. The words felt both formal and intimate, a reflection of your submission and the profound connection you felt in that moment. Rhaenyra had her body trembling with anticipation, each touch and command driving her further into a state of astonishing surrender.

Rhaenyra listened intently as her thigh pressed and slowly paced against your intimacy, getting off your moans and whines. The queen smirked and kissed at your neck, gently sucking on the bare skin.

"No, my dornish sun.” She whispered in your ear, her voice sultry and seductive. “Say it... my name. I need to hear it from your sweet lips.”

“Rhae… Rhaenyra…” You moaned as Rhaenyra alternated between her fingers and knee on your intimacy. Your whines became more urgent as another orgasm began giving its early signs.

Upon hearing her name, Rhaenyra gently but firmly rolled her knee against your cunt, feeling your body tense slightly with your approach at climax. Wanting nothing more than to send you over the edge, Rhaenyra suddenly stopped and made you sigh heavily out of frustration for the denial of her release.

“Please, Rhae…” You pleaded, unable to finish her name, clenching your entrance around nothing and humping your cunt in the air.

"I want you to come on my lips." Rhaenyra groaned into your ear. Rhaenyra eagerly positioned her head between your legs, her mouth kissing along the inside of your sensitive thighs and making you arch your back, sobbing with the utter state of bliss. Rhaenyra moaned at the sight of your intimate spot, swollen, covered in slick and sensitive from the foreplay.

"So pretty for me, sweet girl." She whispered as her fingers gently parted your labia, exposing your jewel to her gaze. You moaned in anticipation by the simple act of having Rhaenyra kissing your inner thighs. Your lips were quick to be bitten.

Rhaenyra smirked at your moans, feeling her own desire building between her own legs. The sight of you squirming made her want you even more. She lowered her head gently, her tongue giving tentative licks to the sensitive skin on your thighs, biting softly into it. "And so responsive..." She murmured.

The more you moaned, the more desperate Rhaenyra was to hear more. She gently parted your lips further, exposing your sensitive intimacy. Slowly and gently, her thumb began to rub your sensitive bud, while her mouth returned to the skin above your cunt, suckling and biting at the flesh “Say my name, sweet girl." She whispered against your skin.

“R-rhaenyra…” You called her in a desperate moan. You pulled the Queen’s head closer to your damp core and her body arched back, feeling all the pleasure Rhaenyra had to offer to you.

Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of her name falling from your lips and leaned in closer as you pulled her head forward. Her tongue suddenly moved forward to brush across your sensitive bud, circling gently. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Does the Queen make you feel good?” You moaned as the royal returned back to gentle licks and circling motions.

“So good, my Queen…” You replied, humping your intimacy against Rhaenyra’s face.

The queen groaned out at the feeling of you rubbing against her, your soft noises making her heart beat faster in her chest. Your moans were the sweetest sound to her, music to her ears. Her tongue continued to move, the circles slowly becoming more and more erratic with her movements, her tongue adding more pressure to the side of your bundle of nerves.

You had your legs shaking once more and desperation built within you, a single tear leaving your eyes and Rhaenyra sped up the pace as she worked her tongue on you.

The sight of you beneath her only edged her on further. Rhaenyra felt her own desires and needs building within, her own core growing desperate for the same kind of attention. However, she continued with making you feel good. She wanted to make you cry, wanted to make you come undone. Rhaenyra leaned a bit closer, her pace quickening as her tongue flicked back and forth against your sweet spot.

"Are you close, sweet girl?" Her voice vibrated against your cunt, alternating her voice between eating your cunt out.

“Yes, my Queen…” You replied, agonisingly feeling Rhaenyra down on you, having you as if you were her last meal. Your whines were consistent and urgent, the warmth of her mouth made you feel even closer to your peak.

Rhaenyra groaned against your clit, feeling your body grow tense and more desperate. You were so close to falling over the edge, she could tell. "Come for me, sweet girl. I want to hear you call out my name when you reach your peak." Rhaenyra whispered before returning her tongue to your bundle of nerves, the speed in her circles increasing and becoming more frequent.

“Rhaenyra-…” You were quick to comply and let go, feeling your body convulsing under the overwhelming presence of your Queen licking your cunt and once more, you climaxed and now on her tongue. Rhaenyra groaned as your body convulsed under her mouth, her tongue continuing its ministrations through your peak.

The queen, however, hovered over you once more and kissed your lips hungrily, her face all covered in your wetness. “I am not done with you.” Rhaenyra groaned at the feeling of your bodies pressed together, her fingers digging into your skin slightly as she kissed your lips, her teeth gently biting over your pulse point.

“Mine.” She murmured against your skin, her breath hot yet soft as she whispered into the crook of your neck. The possessive edge in her voice and the way her teeth gently gripped onto your skin sent tingles down her spine, her body shivering against yours.

“I’m yours, Rhaenyra.” You muttered back, feeling Rhaenyra’s hand cup one of her breasts and taking a moan out of your lips.

Rhaenyra roughly squeezed your breasts at the sound of your moan, your breath shuddering softly against your skin as she moved her hand over your body, her fingers trailing over your hips, feeling again the mix between soreness and lust.

“Only mine.” She whispered quietly into your ear, her breath hot and shaky as she placed her legs between yours and pressed against you. Rhaenyra groaned at the sound of your moan, her body shivering as it pressed against you and her leg grinded against your centre.

“You feel that, darling?” She whispered her husky and shaky voice in your ear as her fingers trailed down to your hip, her leg gently and slowly rubbing against you. Rhaenyra’s hips gently grinded against yours, her breath shaky as she continued to rub her leg over you, her fingers digging into your hip slightly as she slowly began to rub at a steady pace.

She let out a low groan, her own need for you evident. “You feel so perfect, my darling.”

“Please yourself with me, Your Grace…” You said between moans as Rhaenyra rubbed her leg against your intimacy. Your mind rummined about her cunt against yours and it drove you straight into madness. Your body could barely understand the variation of emotions going through at this moment since you were close to come for the third time by that moment. Even still, you knew you could handle her, you wanted anything she had to offer you.

Rhaenyra gasped softly, her moans getting louder as her leg continued to rub against you, her hips shaking against as she listened to your moans. “I want you.” She groaned as her leg moved against you at a growing pace. “Gods, I need you.”

You wanted more, you wanted her to feel as much as you were feeling and perhaps it could be a risky move, but you pulled her body closer and positioned Rhaenyra’s aching core against your own cunt, mimicking a scissoring motion. “Please yourself with me, Your Grace.” She repeated herself, both moaning to the feeling of their clits against each other.

Rhaenyra gasped at the feeling of your bodies pressed in this way, her breath catching in her throat. ”Gods.” The queen gagged, her eyes rolling back slightly as a low and heady moan escaped her. Her hands grasped for your hips and gripped them as she listened to your moans. “S-sweet g-girl…” She called out your name, rocking her cunt against yours.

You bounced your hips and created more friction against Rhaenyra’s intimacy, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs, moaning in a perfect symphony.

Her whole body trembled as her hips rocked against yours, moans coming out of her mouth uncontrollably as she ground and rolled her hips into yours. Her breathing was shaky and uneven, her grasp on your hips tightening as she desperately tried to maintain her composure. Your moans and sighs of pleasure seemed to fuel her own, and she found herself moving faster against you, letting out a low, keening sound as she felt her climax building.

“I’m close…” You said, feeling that Rhaenyra was almost close as well. Both Queen and Princess moaned loudly as they rubbed their clits against each other and hips moved fast to increase their pleasure. You cried out, desperate for release.

Rhaenyra had her body shook, her breath coming out in sharp gasps and moans as she felt herself nearing her peak. She gasped and moaned loudly, her body arching into yours as they ground against each other, desperately chasing her release.

“Gods, I’m going to—“ The dragon queen gasped out, her whole body shuddering and shaking. Her fingers dug into your hips and held you tightly as her body twitched against yours.

Your body shaked violently through your climax as it hits the duo fastly. You moaned loudly on a desperate whine, trembling and rocking for the last time against Rhaenyra as the Queen peaked as well. Rhaenyra’s whole body arched as they both came together, moaning and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over her. She held onto you tightly, her breathing coming out in hot and shaky puffs as she rode her climax, riding it until her body fell, limp and trembling against you, completely spent.

As you finished, Rhaenyra gently kissed your cheek before pulling back and crawling closer to your face and body. Her own breathing was laboured and her body flush. "You're so beautiful when you fall apart, sweet girl." She whispered, leaning in to kiss your lips gently. You hugged Rhaenyra while you tried to recover from the intense orgasm. After it, you brushed her sweaty hair while Rhaenyra was still on top of you.

Rhaenyra laid against you, her body feeling heavy and limp as she slowly began to come down from her high, her breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal. Her hair clung to her face from the beads of sweat, her lips pressed to the crook of your neck as she tried to catch her breath. ”Gods.” She whispered breathlessly.

You breathed heavily and tried to regulate along Rhaenyra and smiled, wiping the sweat from the Queen’s face. “That was intense, Your Grace…” You whispered back, breathless as well.

Rhaenyra let out a faint chuckle, lifting her face from your neck and looking down at you, a small smile on her lips as she gazed at you. “Very intense.” Rhaenyra agreed. Her fingers lifted and traced over your face, her eyes full of adoration and affection as she looked at you.

“I’ve never lost control like that.” She said quietly, her voice low and full of wonder. You smiled coyly at Rhaenyra and kissed her chin gently, still gazing at her.

Rhaenyra groaned softly as she felt your tender kiss. Her own hand clutched gently onto your shoulder, her nails slightly digging into your skin. "You'll ruin me, sweet girl." Rhaenyra whispered, caressing your hair as she stared at you in bed.

Now was your time to smirk at her face. You grabbed her chin and kissed it, enticing her imagination and internally trying to see if that really wasn’t a dream. You had her. Your wish was conceded. And it was good as the fantasy you indulge yourself in. “Good.” You then said, whispering in her ear and enduring your mischievous face. Rhaenyra giggled and pulled you closer, giving a peck to your lips. “You are mine now.”

And finally, you could admit with happiness. “I am yours.”

[honkaimethrail]

Aventurine dating headcanons (part 1)

Nsfw under cut!

sfw

Contrary to what a lot of fans believe, I don't believe Aventurine would spend a lot of money frivolously on the person he loves

Forming connections with people, letting them use him as much as he benefits from them, is a talent Aventurine honed and polished as years grew by, letting it come naturally to him. If you were just normal friends, he would willingly hand out thousands of credits to you, simply replying to your surprised expression with a chuckle.

He is well-aware of his power and status as one of the 10 Stonehearts of the IPC, but Aventurine's actual self-worth is in shambles. The first time, you actually do something nice for him out of pure goodwill, you'll immediately recieve a few thousand credits as a "meagre" thanks. He's seen these genuine gestures in movies, but Aventurine cannot bring himself to believe someone would do it for him.

Anywayss, on to the dating part! I hope you're patient because it would take a LOT of time before you're actually close. You will learn about him, gradually, but it will be slow.

Which is why there won't be a difference when you first start dating him, with the exception of your relationship being strictly hidden, Aventurine is a private man after all, and he was already taking a big gamble as it is by dating the person who has his heart.

I personally hc him as someone who's attracted to a person who has the freedom to make their own choices, more of an explorer. Which is why he's more likely to fall for a Nameless! Reader than one of the IPC workers.

One of the easiest ways to get close to him is by texts and calls. The amount of texts you'll recieve will increase two-fold, with your conversations ranging from your work, friends to miniscule details, your habits, his habits, multiple promises on your side to visit different views with him by your side, and silences on his end, before changing the topic. In Aventurine's defense, he gets sentimental at night, you only laugh in return and immediately, Aventurine feels his heart leap in his chest.

Physical affection is alien to him. Aventurine has had experience, no doubt, but none of them felt as real as with you. He's lowkey scared of the person he will become if he comes to reciprocate your touches, or even encourage them,so you'll have to be patient, he's trying his best to accomodate you in his world.

It will take a long time for Aventurine to kiss you but that's fine, because he secretly feels himself bursting with adoration when you intertwine your fingers with his, brush his hair, or trace along the length of his nose with your index finger. He's a goner, he's much more in love than he believed and Aventurine unfortunately knows that.

nsfw

It's not that Aventurine would say NO to you if you imply to do anything sexual, he's had experience of course, but he would blank out during the experience. It would make hin feel even more shitty because he's doing it with you. Memories of his past experiences would swirl in his head and he would become instantly naseous seeing you beneath him. Needless to say, you learned sexual intimacy is something that will take time do it again.

Aventurine views sex as a tool, something that either has to be simply released, or used as a chip in his plan. He loves you, loves you a lot, and the idea of sex between lovers, being much more than two bodies would take a while to settle in his head. His mind would keep alternating between his past exploitative partners, to the current you, feeling all the more disgusted with comparing you to them.

So you both take your time. Make out with each, kiss his face, hands, and reverently tell him things that you would do to him once you have the chance to properly make love again. It will melt Aventurine to bits, but he's also assured that doing it with you will be different.

"It will be amazing. To feel a part of you connected with me, I want to see you make the most wonderful expressions, Kakavasha. I want to see your face when you c-

"I-I get it! You're enjoying this, aren't you? "

When it finally happens, Aventurine is absolutely moved. Sex finally became something that felt comforting and good to him, and he makes sure you know that with how vocal he is (someone posted aventurine moaning on yt and it's... without context it's... Open to misinterpretation.)

I don't headcanon him as having a high sex drive, it's fairly moderate, or maybe higher than average when he's around you but that's about it.

Sexting happens more often than you think. A lot of times you both are unable to be with each other because of work, which is why it's time for Aventurine to whip out a handy tool called a phone to see your face, and in much more needy times, use your voice to gently coax him to orgasm, which he gladly does too in return.

Imo, he's a switch, but a prefers bottoming. Can easily top too but i dont think he would prefer to be a hard dom. That's just not his thing.

After the first time you had sex, Aventurine was honestly quite surprised. At himself. He becomes much more needy at the prospect of being so close, with you, turning putty into your touch. He's easier to turn-on, and slowly it becomes a challenge at times to see who breaks first.

(To be continued because this was accidentally posted lmao)

[eccentricallygothic]

| Forbidden Fruit |

Description: Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

Pairing: Pedri | Naive Rodrygo's Gf!You. 

Disclaimer: This is merely a fanfic which does not represent anyone mentioned in any way. It contains mature content and morally grey themes so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.  

Warning: Possible angst, infidelity (you), rough sex, unprotected p-in-v, Pedri is mean, doggy style, dirty talk, hair pulling, cunnilingus, Pedri’s beard, Pedri is morally grey, the Barca/La Masia boys are a bunch of meanies, minor exhibitionism, Daddy kink, minor spanking, hair pulling, deep throating. 

Note: I am an outrageous slut.

. 

It was supposed to be a harmless little term; a gesture of goodwill. 

The rivalry had gone on between the two clubs for too long. 

After careful deliberations and many dialogues, you were handpicked as the answer. 

The very private girlfriend of Rodrygo Goes who just happened to be one of the best English instructors available in the country as you had found employment in Spain since you didn't like to depend on others -like your dear boyfriend- too much. 

You.

Plain old little you; 

Gullible, naive, sweet, kind, helpful and passionate towards your profession. 

An attempt at peace, for good. 

Although your boyfriend and his club mates were dubious to let you go into the ‘enemy's’ den, you had innocently assured them that it was your duty as an instructor and that you would be fine since you were a big girl. 

… Until you walked through the doors of the room that had been made into a classroom for you and the relentless younger line like the La Masia boys had you teary-eyed under 10 minutes. 

And so you learnt the hard way that you weren't that big a girl after all.  

Hushed whispers, chuckles, taunts, snickers, anonymous yells and the like were thrown at you one after another. 

“You telling me this little girl will teach us English?” You looked around the many faces to see who it was but Gavi was so quick with his words that his mouth was motionless before you could locate him. 

“Go back to your pretty little white palace Princess!” Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at Fermin and felt betrayed since he had seemed nice enough when you had first entered. 

The laughing was the worst part.

They were loud, fast, cruel and overwhelming. 

Though every cell of your body made you want to rush out of the room, you tightened your laces and raised your chin up high before somehow managing through the rest of the session. 

That, and some kind interventions by the older players and Xavi, of course. 

It was only when you had jumped upon being approached by Pedri while waiting for your ride to arrive had you realized just how badly you still trembled even though the class had ended some long minutes ago. 

“You okay?” He was the only one who had remained completely silent during the entirety of the session, contributing to neither side and remaining aloof in a corner with his dark hawk-like gaze set on you. 

Though you had naively thought it the innocent stare of a student, you lived to learn it had been anything but. 

“Y- Yeah” as if on cue, your bottom lip sensitively wobbled again and Pedri's gaze didn't spare a minute flickering down to the movement. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he silently gulped, wetting his mouth with his pink tongue as he let out a little sigh. “They're… Just… You… It's not…” One of his hands escaped the pockets of his sweatshirt to run over the back of his head. You quietly stared back with your brows raised curiously. “Don’t take them too seriously. They like to play around and sometimes they get real rough real fast” a small smile made its way onto your face. He felt responsible for them and was considerate of your feelings. “But it's not coming from a bad place, honest. They're just stupid kids is all” what a sweet guy, you thought. 

If only. 

You didn't know how it escaped your notice.

It wasn't like he didn't make it obvious. 

Always making it a point to visit you after sessions, staying with you until your driver arrived, seeing you off, sometimes leaning a bit too close or letting his friendly touch on your arm linger for a bit too long. 

But it was still all fun and games until one day he declared that he wanted to return the favor by teaching you some useful things in return. 

He had realized from the way you spoke of your relationship that you weren't much experienced and so you were sweetly content with whatever your tender lover gave you.

Of course, you panicked at first when you found yourself being backed against a table in a dark little storage room after you had skeptically agreed to the offer, whimpering next to the intimidating guy who always stared at you like a predator despite your friendship 

“Don't you want to learn how to make him feel good too? Or are you a selfish little girl who only wants to take and take but never give back?” Your bottom lip jutted out at his mean words. 

“O- Of course not!” You huffed, feeling the blood boil under your cheeks. “I am n- not like that! Who doesn't want to make their partner feel good?!” 

You weren't that stupid. 

You knew exactly what he was doing. 

And though you pretended to be outraged by the proposition at first, you were equally -if not more- excited to have his body on yours. 

So you let him teach you.

And boy, did the guy know how to fuck. 

His thick, hard and veiny cock felt hot and arousing in your fist that day as he nearly devoured your face with his mouth. 

Pedri took his sweet time with you by going one step at a time.

Carefully molding and shaping you according to his tastes to make of you the perfect little fucktoy. 

“Yeah, baby. Just like that, such a good girl” his voice would always deepen so dangerously low as he would often dip his head down so his warm lips would move against your ear. “Such a fast little learner, aren't you? So enthusiastic to learn how she can be good for her Daddy” that was the name he had chosen for himself since he couldn't be called your man.

You weren't sure if he even wanted to.

It was wrong. 

So, so fucking wrong. 

Unfair.

But it felt good. 

He felt good. 

Great. 

Immaculate.

Pedri taught you how to give, same as he taught you how to take.

“That’s a proper little girl right there” he grunted when he taught you how to ‘properly’ suck cock for the first time. “Just like that baby, tip that pretty little head back for Daddy” his manly hands that had gathered all your hair in a makeshift ponytail gently tugged you back to grant himself better access to your throat. “That's it,” though he was good at remaining calm and composed, you could hear the breathlessness in his voice. Your insides burnt hotter and you felt yourself clench, hollowing your cheeks as you curled your fingers around his muscular thighs while your other hand fondled his heavy ball sack. “You're a natural, aren't you, baby?” Your eyes filled with tears when you finally moved northwards and let the whole length of his cock disappear between your flushed, swollen lips.  

Your nostrils flared and your lungs churned for air, the lack of it causing your head to spin when Pedri didn't let up and instead began to give short and powerful thrusts to the fleshy channel of your slippery throat. Your head began to cloud and your thoughts started to float around just like his seed did everywhere in your oral cavity when he came. 

The internet people could say whatever they wanted. 

His beard and stubble eras were your personal favorite.

Because the coarse facial hairs felt so good against your tender skin. 

Like when Pedri once had you twisted outwards as your body writhed on the table of the storage room you had become well acquainted with at this point, legs trapped in his arms that he had looped around them to hold you firmly in place. 

The length of his devious tongue swiped across your worked up folds to lap at the mess you had made, beard digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs as the coarse hairs dragged against the junctions of your hips and legs every time his jaw flexed to eat you better. A loud moan forced its way past your reluctant lips when you felt a nerve twitch in one of your sides. 

“That's it, sweet girl. Just like that” your toes curled at the huskiness of his voice while your fingers tightened around his thick dark locks. “Let me hear those pretty moans” as if on cue, your body complied and your back arched even more when the pointy tip of his tongue prodded against your entrance. “That's it, baby. Tell me who is making you feel this good?” Your ears burnt hot as sweat trickled down one of your temples, heart heavily thumping in your chest. 

Though you were barely coherent, you knew better than to ignore his command. 

“Y- You are, Da– AH!” Your eyes widened and your palm slapped against your mouth in an attempt to stifle your delirious moans when he released one of your thighs only to intrude your tight little pussy with his fingers, the grainy muscle of his tongue toying with your clit all the while. 

“That's fucking right” he let out between slurps and sucks, occasionally making you jump and whine whenever you would get too quiet by landing a cruel spank directly onto your sensitive folds. 

Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

You had always thought it no more than a harmless little proverb. 

Until you learnt its accuracy firsthand.

When you were pressed face down against the same table that had witnessed the entire affair of your infidelity to your lover one dark evening. Your arms were spread out wide besides you as one of your cheeks rubbed against the smooth wooden surface with each powerful thrust that was pounding its way into your leaking pussy. Your lips were parted and a small puddle of drool lay next to them as you lazily whined each time a spank was delivered onto one of your ass cheeks, your body violently shaking due to the speed at which his cock was pistoning in and out of you. 

Pedri had made you feel things no one ever had, there was no doubt about that. 

But the intensity with which your orgasm ripped itself out of you and you were nearly deprived of all your senses due to the immense pleasure when the door suddenly opened and Pedri wrapped his hand around your hair to pull your head upwards to make you face the person who nonchalantly stared at you with glossy eyes had your limbs trembling in what you could only describe as the best way you had ever known. 

You lost track of time as you mindlessly let yourself get fucked while staring directly at Rodrygo who had decided to receive you himself that day only to find you bent over for Pedri in a storage room. Sensuous groans and gasps were all you could let out as the faint realization -due to your dimmed faculties- of how this looked only made you clench harder. 

The visitor eventually left you two alone all to your nefarious activities with no words exchanged and the door closer allowed you privacy again until the man in charge decided he was done with you for the day. 

When upon finally coming to your senses you began to panic, your head was patted condescendingly in that peculiar manner of his. “That's not for you to worry your pretty little head about.” And then he fixed your disheveled outfit before taking you for himself. 

.

Man, I am so out of practice. 

[charlottecutepie]

𐙚 How was your date, doll? (William Afton x fem!reader)

In honor of reaching >200 followers, this is a little gift from me <3 thanks for your feedback, comments and reblogs, it means a lot to me!!

After a bad date, your boss William Affon is more than glad to help you.

tags: nsfw, smut, fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex, pet names, doggy style, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, degrading and praising, dirty talk, dumbification, sir kink, manipulations, secret filming

You have been working for William not so long ago, but you have already become his most beloved employee. He treats you in a special way, even forgiving you for being late. He likes to hand you a cup of coffee in the morning when he sees his beloved girl yawning adorably, still sleepy on the morning shift. He likes to stroke your hair gently at the end of the day, thanking you for your work. He truly appreciates you.

He has been watching you for a long time, noting your habits, your communication style, your gestures. You're so friendly, even already found friends in the team. William saw that many people liked you, visitors and colleagues, of course, such a good and smiling doll. He often wondered if his lovely girl had a boyfriend. Most likely, yes? You're so pretty and sweet, your eyes, lips, nose, everything is so beautiful about you, of course you have a boyfriend. William must be an idiot if he even allowed the idea that his girl was single.

But there was still hope, so he decided to test the water.

“You look so tired, doll. How about I give you a ride to your house?” he killed two birds with one stone. A pet name and ride offer. How will his baby react? William is holding himself together, nothing superfluous, right? It's just goodwill. You're so tired, barely standing on your feet.

“That's so sweet of you, Mr. Afton,” you look at him in surprise and the corners of your lips rise. “yeah, please, I'm so exhausted and my feet hurt.” It's the first time you've got in his car. Doubts crept into William's mind, if you had a boyfriend, you'd turn him down, right?

It's so interesting to talk to you, you're a good listener, and William has a lot to tell you, and at the same time ask you a couple of questions while you're sleepy. Just to make sure that his girl isn't in a relationship.

As he drops you off at your house, William tries his best to look casual. “Goodnight, doll,” he whispers softly, gently stroking a lock of your hair behind your ear. And here's another action that you didn't reject. If you had a boyfriend, you wouldn't let other man touch you like that, would you?

More time has passed, and with it more names have been added to you, more touches, more glances from Mr. Afton. You got along pretty well, William always found an approach to people. However his affection for you only grows stronger, but your personal life is changing too, just yesterday one person invited you on a date. If only William knew.

He's suspicious; something about your demeanor today isn't quite right. You're obviously acting more cheerful than usual, wearing makeup for the first time he's seen you which somehow makes you even more beautiful. You whisper to your friends, giggle softly, covering your mouth with your hand, a slight blush on your cheeks. Who are you talking about? William's gut tells him there's something different about his beloved girl today. What are you hiding?

“Mr. Afton?” his thoughts and assumptions are interrupted by your voice, he adjusts his glasses, slightly lost, he clearly wasn't listening to what you asked him a minute ago. He politely asks you to repeat it. “Uhm. . . I was wondering if I could leave early today?”

William raises an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Why exactly? Work isn't over yet.” a small smile tugs at his lips. “Unless there's some emergency. . .”

“It's just that I have an important meeting today.” your palms sweating slightly and your voice doesn't sound as confident as you want.

He raises his eyebrows, an amused gleam in his eyes. “A meeting, huh? Sounds interesting. Who is it with?”

And that's when you can no longer fight the feeling that you're lying to a person who trusts you a lot. Your excitement is becoming more noticeable and William already understands that this isn't an ordinary meeting. He's not stupid, but his jealous nature didn't want to believe to the last that you'd sooner or later find someone. And that's when he hears from his sweet girl, “I'm going on a date, sir,” fuck, the way you say it in such happy and naive tone, as if yourself can't fully realize it yet.

He doesn't want to let you go, he hates the idea of someone touching his beloved girl, kissing your lips, having. . . sex with you?

But everything changes the very next day, when you appear at work with your head down, your sweet face is tinged with sadness. You're distracted, silent, thoughtful.

“How was your date, doll?” a question when you don't expect it at all. The shift was already coming to an end, and you, all confused in your thoughts, didn't even notice. You give him a sad look, hoping that he'll read the answer in your eyes. But William still looks worried, even though he knows what happened, he needs his girl to admit it.

You look around. “I don't really want to talk about it.” you mumble.

You're just shy because you don't want anyone else to hear, William knows. That's why he leans towards you, too close. “Let's go to my office.” he offers, his voice tempting.

When you find yourself in his office, he closes the door behind you and sits down on a small couch in the corner, beckoning you to join him. You feel a little stiff and insecure, but as soon as you sit down next to Mr. Afton, your anxiety evaporates, and you feel a bit better. You trust him very much, you really need to hear a second opinion, especially from such a mature and experienced person as William Afton, who, although divorced, was married anyway. It's hard to hide your emotions, especially when you're new to this experience and relationships overall, when it's your first kisses, touches, hugs.

That's when he looks so sympathetic, interested in helping you and says, “Tell me what happened.” you obediently blurt out everything. You explain to him, your voice quiet and sometimes you're silent, as if afraid to say too much. You tell William everything, how your date started out sweet, romantic, how good it was in the beginning, and then when he started touching you, kissing not only your lips, but also your neck and collarbone, you stopped liking it. It became unbearable, uncomfortable, you didn't want this person, you felt no desire. It's an inexplicable feeling that you've experienced. And in some way, you even blame yourself for rejecting your so called boyfriend.

“I was lost, so I let him touch me. I knew that sooner or later we would go further, but for some reason I didn't want to do this with. . .” you pause thoughtfully. “him.”

“Did he touch you here?” William puts his hand on your thigh. You shudder, such a strange question that you definitely never expected. But trusting William, you think that's the way it should be and nod. “Was it unpleasant or uncomfortable?”

“I didn't feel anything,” you shrug helplessly. “and then it felt like he didn't understand my signal and started kissing me more aggressively, it was too much for me.”

“It's completely normal to feel this way,” William explains, stroking your thigh. “Some people just can't be physically attracted to certain partners. It's not a reflection on you. The important thing is that you listen to your own body and emotions, if something doesn't feel right, trust yourself enough to speak up.” he's trying to ease your discomfort, as he talks, his fingers move slowly higher on your leg, gradually reaching closer to a forbidden zone.

You get goosebumps, immediately there's a feeling of warmth that spreads nicely through your body, such an acute reaction to William's touch, something that you never experienced with your boyfriend.

You're his naive little bunny, so trusting, sweet, blinded, yet curious about his opinion, craving his advice and help, support. “Your body knows what it wants, princess. You felt weird because your gut told you he wasn't the right one to satisfy you. On a subconscious level, you realized that he's not the person you would like to give yourself to. You need someone who understands your body. Someone capable enough to pleasure you, doll.”

William notices something much more than just guilt in your eyes, something sparking in them. That's when he catches your gaze on his lips, your eyes dreamy, as if you're not listening to him at all.

“I can give you that, darling. You deserve to be satisfied fully, someone who knows what they're doing and won't disappoint you.” you contemplating his words, comparing him to your boyfriend; William seems more understanding, experienced and dominant than any man you knew. “because I'm well aware of how to pleasure a girl like you.”

You don't pull away and let William kiss you, his hand squeezes your thigh, causing you to moan softly into his mouth. This is the first time you've felt so sensitive, you gasp when finally his hand slides to your clothed pussy. Your brows furrow and you let out a sudden “ahhh” as you pull away, lips parted. William continues moving his palm all over your core, his fingers rubbing you through panties, your skirt hiking up.

“You're wet just because I kissed you, doll. Was it different with him?”

“Much different,” you breathe out. “this. . . feels better.” your pussy throbbing in anticipation as his fingers push the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing you to his hungry eyes. “Sir, i don't know if—"

“I want to help you figure this out. We're already halfway there, we've already found out that your body doesn't want him, honey. I don't want you to get upset about yourself or men, I don't want you to think that sex is something unpleasant.” he understands that his little girl still in doubt, that you're shy, your face is confused, your lips are pursed, you're afraid to make a moan, but your eyes speak for you. So pleading, so needy, begging.

His thumb caresses your sensitive bundle and you whimper, grinding subtly against his finger, wanting more of those new sensations. Your curious gaze drops lower, noticing a distinct bulge in William's pants. “He had one too when we kissed. . .”  you mutter. William gently guides your hand towards the outline of his erection through his pants.

“Of course he did,” he husks out. “It's impossible not to get hard around someone as beautiful as you.” William feels like his dick is about to explode right in his pants as your hand hesitantly starts stroking his bulge. You've never felt anything so hard before; he notices his little girl's eyes widen at the size of him, making you even wetter. “That's right, babygirl. Let your hands explore, feel just how much you affect me.”

“Has he ever made you cum, doll?”

“No, i couldn't. . .”

“Then let me take care of that.” William doesn't stop rubbing your little clit with his fingers, moving in smooth circle movements, what makes your head spin. You spread your legs wider due to overwhelming bliss, breathing heavily, your hand no longer on his bulge as you hold onto his wrist instead, as if trying to stop him or control, but not really, yourself don't know what your doing.

“Ahh— Nn, that feels weird!. . .” your body writhing beneath his touch. “S-sir, wait, wait!” you moan, he never stops stroking your wet folds.

“Just let go, babygirl, it's okay, you're supposed to feel that way.” he purrs in your ear. The sounds you're making are too loud, but beautiful for a man like William, so he doesn't give a fuck, rubbing your clit just a little bit faster to bring you to orgasm. As you cum, your body shudder uncontrollably, your hole clenching around nothing. “Such a good girl.” you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the gasps escaping your lips, because you've never felt anything as this before.

His erection aches painfully in his pants at the sight of his girl coming in his arms. You just realize what happened. “S-sir. . . That—”

“Didn't expect you to cum that fast.” he smirks and continues stroking your sensitive clit even after your orgasm subsides, making you jolt. You feel embarrassed at this comment now. “Now that's what happens when you're in hands of experienced man, princess.”

His words and especially calm yet dominating tone of voice have your pussy throbbing with need again, your mind hazy. You blink couple of times, still trying to come to your senses, but it's so fucking hard when his hands never leave your body, caressing you, even groping you. You bat your eyelashes at him as his fingers teases your wet entrance.

“Your body didn't react that way to him, did it?”

“No. . . ” you whisper.

“That's what I thought," he hums, finally slipping one finger inside your warm, wet cunt. You immediately gasp, feeling sudden stretch, William takes a deep breath as you squeeze his finger. “such a tight little pussy. No wonder your boyfriend couldn't get you even wet.” he pumps his finger in and out of you, watching your face contorted with pleasure.

“Sir, ohh. . .”

“That's it, keep calling me that and I'll make sure to train this pussy cumming only on my cock and fingers,” he growls, adding another finger inside your already wet slit while kissing a trail along your neck. He pinches and rolls your clit between his fingers. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be out there as a dried up little bitch who never got any satisfaction.”

“No, oh!. . .” you babble and glance at him in surprise, not expecting such degrading words, but as soon as your messy pussy clenches on his fingers, he can't help, but laugh. “Too much—”

“It's okay, bunny,” William curls his fingers up inside you, pressing on that sweet and sensitive spot that have you choking on your moans. “I'm just giving you what that prick of yours supposed to, making you squirt over my fingers, feels good, hm?” that's when he picks up a speed, finger-fucking you in fast rhythm, a small puddle forms on the couch under you.

“Waittt!. . . Ohh god, i can't! It feels so weird, sir,” there's panic in your voice as now this feeling is definitely not comparable to the previous orgasm, you sob and maintain eye contact with William, too shy to look down. He's pumping his fingers in your tight pussy, reaching deeper. “Please, wait!”

Your mouth hangs open and eyes roll back as you coat coach under you and drip on his fingers. William enjoys that cute scared and confused look on his little girl's face, he can feel the hotness of your cunt as you squirt, wet sloppy fucking filthy sounds it makes. You look absolutely hot and there's no way he's that lucky to finally have you in his hands.

“Damn it, doll, you should be grateful that I'm here teaching you how to properly fuck.” William pulls his fingers out, a satisfied smirk as he looks at the mess he created. “I bet you don't even know what an orgasm feels like until I gave it to you.”

Your eyes full with tears, body weak as you watch how William sucks his fingers clean, groaning at your heavenly taste. He manhandles you, putting you on all fours, slipping your panties off and unbuttoning your shirt to have access to your bare breasts. You don't even get what's going on, it's like your brain has leaked out through your pussy, but you love the way he behaves. That's what you needed. You press back into him and then hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, you nervous, but still glance over your shoulder with puppy eyes, lips pouty and cheeks burning. William pulls down his pants and reveals his cock.

“Tell me, princess, did the thought of his dick turn you on?“ you shake your head, he sighs. “You made a mistake, admit it, you stumbled, but you know, you're still a good girl because you came to your senses in time. You came to me, as a good girl should, that's because you know you need something better than him.” William's words make you almost cry at how true they are. In fact, you didn't like your boyfriend, you just didn't want to admit it, just was happy someone noticed you and liked you, but having a man like William around, it was hard not to succumb.

“It didn't feel right with him, as if there should have been someone other. . . Not him.” William teases his tip against your slit, rubbing sensually, you grip the couch, too desperate to finally feel him inside.

“You made the right decision, doll, you know that I'll always help you.” he tells you, while his hands carefully and gently fix your hair, all this time you feel his swollen cock runs through your folds. “It's good that you came to me, because someone else could just take advantage of you. But not me, sweetie, I'm here for you.”

“Please, sir, put it in, please—”

“You didn't beg him like that, did you?” his hands grabs your hips, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave marks.

You shook your head, feeling a real fire igniting inside as your body doesn't obey, but begs for what it didn't receive on yesterday's date. A real good fuck.

“That's right,” he smacks your ass, pushing only tip inside of you, but that already enough to make your eyes widen and choked cry escape from your mouth. “you should feel lucky that I've taken notice of you and offered my help. Imagine if some other filthy jerk had gotten ahold of such clueless doll like you?”

“No, mr. Afton,” you're not yet able to realize what that feeling is, because you simply don't know, you're mindless, but every nerve is on edge, you're trembling with desperation. “i don't want anyone else, just you!”

“Fuck, you're so fucking hot inside, bunny,” William groans huskily as he pushes his length fully, your walls welcoming him with warmness and crazy tightness. Your knees weak, but William's hands wraps around you, not letting his precious girl fall. He leans towards you, almost pressing you into the couch, his breath on your skin. “sh, sh, babygirl, don't cry, don't cry,” he mutters in your ear while slowly starting to move. He frowns, trying not to moan loudly himself, but how can he hold back when your little pussy is so perfectly wrapped around his dick? So wet, warm and— “oh fuuuck, bunny!. . .”

You're shaking under him, mewling loudly and drooling as you cum, just from having his cock inside. Your eyes filled with sweet tears and nonstop “ohmygoood” slipping from your lips.

“You're full of surprises, dear.” William smiles and presses your head into the couch to shut you up. You can't make noise in the workplace, the most important rule. And that's when he fucks all the air and the last remnants of the brain out of you, starting to slam into your throbbing cunt. “Your taking me so well.”

William's dick presses deeper into you, your back arches. He knows what he does to you, but you don't, not yet. You swear you can feel his cock already penetrating where it's impossible, so deep in you that it begins to cause discomfort and pain. But you can't stop the madness that's going on, completely forgotten even your boyfriend's name, and what happened yesterday, as if no date ever happened. As if everything is as it should be, William Afton balls deep inside you, fucking your brains out, as it should be. All you can do is feel his cock filling you up, as it should.

“Nnggh— that feels, ohh— please!” you say through watery eyes, trying to wiggle your ass to draw him deeper into your pussy, but his grip on you is firm, so you have no choice but to just let yourself be used as a fleshlight.

Oh, poor little helpless and needy doll, William thinks. He sees how you grip the couch tighter, your glassy eyes, vision blurry, head empty, but cunt filled.

“You shouldn't have ignored your desires before.” he groans. “You're such a good girl, you deserve my dick, every fucking inch of it. I'll make you my little slut, who'll come to me at the end of the shift to have her pussy well fucked and filled with my cum. Every weekend at my place, where you can scream as loud as you want as I ruin your pussy.”

“That, nnngh— sounds so beautiful, sir.” you turn your head slightly towards William and give him the perfect view of how messy you are, dumbfounded, with silly smile on your peachy face, brows furrowed, drooling, your gaze isn't focused on him.

He thrusts roughly into you and you cry loudly when his tip reaches your cervix. He fucks you into oblivion. You're nearing your orgasm, your pussy preparing to cum one more time. William ruts deep into you, having no mercy on his girl as he lets his cock slide along your walls. The beautiful sounds your pussy squelching, your muffled cries and begs, of skin slapping filling his office.

“Yeahhh, I'll take care of you, don't you worry.” he grunts, you're breathless and limp in his arms, but when his hand travels down, his fingers finding your clit and starting to circle it, your closing your legs, shaking. “Spread them.” he commands you, but you can't really obey as your clit is way too sensitive and overstimulated. “I said spread your damn legs, doll.”

“No, no, sir, please— too sensitive, i can't!” you whine, your throat dry, but that only annoy him so he forces your legs open. His pace getting faster and his fingers rubbing on your bundle, what makes your mouth open in silent scream.

Soon his thrusts become sloppier, his dick twitching from how tight your clenching on him as if trying to milk him dry. William buries his cock deep inside you, low quiet moan leaves him as he spills his seed against your cervix, claiming you as his. Your orgasm hits you in next seconds, right after William's, what makes him laugh almost mockingly when he sees how his little doll becoming shaking mess, your hips moving in smooth circles as you cum, feeling warmth of his sperm inside you.

“Th. . . Thank you, mr. Afton.” William pulls out and his cum starts leaking of your used hole little by little.

You close your eyes and weaken, falling onto the couch fully now. Your panties on the floor, which is already stained with your juices mixed with his sperm, you don't even want to look there. No, right now you're not ashamed, not embarrassed, you just don't give a fuck, you felt so good that you won't be able to come to your senses for a long time. Even the glass of water that William handed you with big care won't bring you to reality. You're so tired that you don't even notice William turning off the camera in the corner of his office.

[clownyclaushoe]

art the clown/clowny claus x reader 🔞

a very belated christmas oneshot 😅😭🙈 because for some reason i really struggled with this one 😭😭 it takes place during the bar scene aka one of the best scenes in cinema with a much different, but debatably better ending than santa getting turned into a snowman 😈🤭 inspired by a dream i had of clowny claus eating my pussy while lying on the bar top 😫

it's a christmas miracle!

🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

you had stopped into a bar after your shift at work - it had only been six hours, yet it'd felt infinitely longer. it was the holiday season, so on top of being busier than usual, no matter how kind, patient, or good you were at your job, the holidays had only made everyone act more impatient, rude, entitled, and frankly, dumber, especially the customers you served at the small diner down the street. it seemed they missed the peace on earth and goodwill toward men memo. you'd often come in after your mid-shifts, becoming acquaintances of sorts, that soon lead to flirtation (and a little more), with the owner, eddie.

you sat at the far side of the bar and nursed your beer, a few stools away from the two girls throwing themselves at the guy dressed as santa, not taking the hint when he'd politely declined, mentioning he had a wife. though there was no judgement and he far from your type, you stared on as they continued, amused by the entertainment for the night. you and eddie exchanged incredulous glances, and had to bite back laughter at the things they said in an final attempt to sway the santa ("can i join the mile high club on your sleigh?" "i wanna do drugs on your stomach!") before stumbling towards the exit.

as they were heading out, you noticed a... clown? a christmas clown? was excitedly coming in, scrambling to make it down the steps and knocking the drunk girls over in his haste to make it into the bar and over to santa.

you watched the interaction between the three men and the odd silent clown, and this time, it's because you were interested in the mysterious man. there was something about him, a charisma and an energy about him that instantly drew you in. and despite his gaunt face and pointed nose - which you figured were prosthetics under the white, pasty makeup - and his slender body, it struck you how fucking hot you immediately found him.

some of his over-the-top expressions made him appear inhuman, like a curious otherworldly creature, and you had to admit, you found that attractive too. you'd hoped he had noticed you too, but didn't want to get your hopes up. he seemed a little too caught up in fanboying over santa to pay you any attention, unfortunately.

granted, he did look cute in the santa hat. "hey, santa, looks like you got some competition," said the man called smokey, one of the bar's employees, who usually stopped in on his off nights for a few. "it's clowny claus!"

the clown waved his arms, posing with his hands in a "tada" gesture, mouth open wide with a grin.

"no. hey, you're a natural," santa said. the clown smiled, and waved his arm at the flattery. "you look good. but don't get it dirty. and remember to give it back. you don't want to get on santa's naughty list."

the clown gave a surprised expression, shrugging and raising his arms, as if feigning innocence and suggesting any of his wrongdoing was because he just didn't know any better. you smirked to yourself, thinking of the ways the clown might want to get on your personal naughty list.

"hey, why don't you tell santa what you want for christmas, little boy?" smokey joked.

you thought, if this man wants his dick sucked in this bar, i'd be on my knees in an instant. though you knew you should feel guilty that you'd think of blowing another man in front of eddie, you also weren't committed to each other. yes, eddie was hot, and yes, a few times your flirtation with him crossed the line into making out, and it felt good to have his strong hands on your hips or squeezing your clothed tits or ass, to tease your hand over the crotch of his jeans, feeling him hardening for you.

but you made it clear to him from the start, you were just having fun and weren't interested in anything serious. you hoped, yet doubted, he would remember that.

"better hygiene," suggested eddie, who was working as bartender tonight, as he often did.

"all right, come on," said santa, trying to brush over the dig at the clown. "let's have a drink, uh, for everybody. okay. come on. even the young lady over there."

you saw the closed mouth crooked smile eddie gave you, a twinkle in his eye that betrayed his feelings for you. usually you would've smiled back, loving and preening at the attention from the older man, maybe saying some suggestive comment to provoke him. but not tonight, your desires lie elsewhere this time.

you looked at the other three patrons, surprised to find the clown staring at you, making eye contact for the first time - sending a shiver right through you, down to your core. he grinned and batted his eyes, then quickly looked away, as if he were bashfully flirting with you. your heart fluttered at the idea.

you approached the men, standing near the clown still sitting on santa's lap, the chair holding his mysterious big trash bag making it so you couldn't be as close to him as you'd like to be.

"got id?" eddie asked, and you couldn't help thinking his voice was tinged a little with bitterness and indignation, a subtle jealousy in his stance. he had to have seen that you couldn't take your eyes off the clown. but then again maybe he was just doing his job.

"come on. he's obviously old enough," santa said, as the clown gave a surprised O expression, and turned to dig through his trash bag.

"you think i'm gonna lose my license for this guy?"

"don't bust the clown's balls."

"this is normal to you?"

"sorry about this, clowny." the clown pulls out a wallet, tossing it on the bar top. "there, see? he's got it."

eddie looks at the clown with a brief glance of self-satisfaction as he grabs the wallet, opening it.

"'maurice jackson'?" you can't hold back a laugh at the disbelieving way eddie says the obviously phony name. "maurice" tills his head, grinning and batting his eyes rapidly, looking absolutely adorable.

you think, how could anyone refuse that face?

"eddie, you're killing me. can we just celebrate? come on."

"fuck it," eddie said, pushing the shots toward each of you, and you slip between the two chairs, leaning against the bar top to grab your glass of tequila, which eddie knew was your shot of choice. "it's christmas."

"all right, let's have a drink. to my new friend, huh? to maurice jackson."

"cheers!" you each clink glasses before downing your shots. a moment passes before the clown spat his shot in santa's face. smokey bellowed with laughter and you join in a little, unable to stop yourself.

"what the fuck is the matter with you?"

"what's your problem, pal. guy buys you a drink and you spit it back in his fucking face!"

"hey, man, that's wrong," smokey said, despite his initial reaction.

"see, you were just rude and you shouldn't have been rude. let's go clowny. get up."

you move aside, leaning your arms on the back of the chair holding the clown's trash bag, but he doesn't move. "no, i'm not kidd--" santa trailed off as the clown turned his head, mischievous grin spread across his face, followed by a trickling sound that took a few moments to register as the clown pissing on santa's lap, his urine splashing into a puddle on the tile floor.

"oh shit."

"what the-- what the fuck are you doing!"

the santa pushes back the chair as he stands up, shoving the clown away from him.

"he peed on him!"

"fucking told you," eddie said, as he climbed up and over the bar.

the clown silently laughed and mocked him as the santa lunging at him. "are you fucking kidding me? i'm gonna kill you, you sick fuck!" he grabbed the clown, but eddie pulled him off before he could get a punch in. "i'll fucking kill him!"

the clown taunted him, squaring up and bouncing on his toes, all the while, that wide mocking grin plastered on his face, looking simultaneously funny and hot.

you hurried to stand between them, placing one hand on the santa's arm and the other on the clown's chest, in an attempt to defuse the situation. the clown likely wouldn't be able to fuck you if he was put in the hospital, though the idea of sneaking into his hospital room to ride him as he lie in bed, maybe having him wake to the warm tightness of your pussy wrapped around his cock was a hot and distracting one, your clit starting to throb at the thought.

"he's sorry. he doesn't do well around the holidays. the stress..." you noticed eddie standing behind the santa, watching you with his brows furrowed questioningly, perhaps the pieces finally coming together.

as rude and gross as the clown's actions were, you appreciated his irreverence, and found it strangely admirable. he just didn't give a fuck.

sometimes you'd wished you could give less of a fuck. you felt jaded and drained by the world. it seemed no matter how hard you tried to be kind and considerate, people always made it so damn difficult; they didn't realize or care about the pain they caused.

"you know this freak? you seem like a nice lady, you should keep better company," the santa quipped. the clown frowned, shaking his head and swatting his arm in dismissal.

"come on, you motherfucker," eddie said, stepping around you to grab the clown and shove him to stumble toward the bench at the other side of the bar. "smokey, get his bag!"

when he sat up, legs spread wide, you swear you could see a distinct bulge as if he'd gotten a semi at being roughed up a little, at the escalating conflict. he shook his head in defiance and fixed his little hat.

eddie had walked over to the other two struggling to pick up the clown's bag, "what the fuck is in this?"

the clown silently laughed and pointed before eddie threw it at him, the clown moving just in time not to get hit, gesturing another taunt.

"you motherfucker! i'll kill you. goddamn it!"

"want me to call the cops?"

"i don't want you to call the cops, i want you to call a fucking dry cleaner."

the clown gestured that santa smells. he sure was relentless at pushing buttons, knowing just how to get under people's skin.

"dry cleaner? smokey, get a fucking mop!"

"i told you, don't let him the fuck in here."

"you said he's fucking normal! sit down, sit down." santa turned and walked to the bar. "fuckin' you told me. have a fucking drink."

the clown quickly rifled through his bag as eddie turned, realizing the unwelcome customer hadn't left yet.

"can't take a fuckin' hint, can you?" eddie said as he approached him. "i'm not going to tell you again."

the clown stood up, quickly extending his arm and brandishing a gun, firing a shot that clips the side of eddie's neck, and he grabs the wound as he drops to the floor. you think it's a shame he never went down on you before dying. whenever you did make a suggestive comment to rile him up, he'd have a habit of staring at you and licking the corner of his mouth, making you imagine his tongue plunging into your pussy. you'd stare right back at him while bringing your beer bottle to your lips, no doubt making him imagine your mouth wrapped around his cock instead.

santa still standing at the bar, startles at the gunfire, sending shot glasses clinking and shattering on the floor. a stunned smokey watches his boss and friend lying on the floor, gargling and choking on his own blood.

the clown points the gun at santa before shifting his arm to fire at smokey next, a shot to the head sending a spray of blood hitting the sign hanging behind him.

all the while you'd watched the intense scowl on the clown's face, as hot as it was menacing, and it was driving you crazy.

"oh no, smokey!" the clown slowly approaches the santa, gun still raised. "oh no no no, please sir. let me apologize for whatever's happened here tonight." he grabs the santa hat, offering it to the clown. "here, take it, it's yours. you looked good in it."

the clown takes it with his free hand, and there's a sudden slow shift to his expression, a big grin spreading across his face, his eyes widening as his brows raised. the santa laughed nervously as the clown continued to stare at him, laughter becoming louder and more desperate, unease gripping him to the point of near delirium.

in that moment you felt sorry for him. he seemed like a nice guy, just as eddie and smokey were; decent, working class men that had the misfortune of crossing paths with this crazed, homicidal clown. in any other situation, at any other time, and with any other assailant, you would've been scared, you would've cared more about seeing three innocent people brutally gunned down, you would've hidden for cover and called 911 immediately.

you don't know what had possessed you not to do any of it. somehow you knew he wouldn't kill you.

the clown tapped the butt of the gun against the suit, signaling he take it off too. santa scrambled to remove the suit, stripping down to his undershirt and boxers. "there, now, could you let me leave? please. i won't tell any one about that happened. i swear," he stammered as he continued to plead for his life, struggling to come up with anything to elicit mercy. "i have a name, charles johnson. i have a name, and a wife and two kids and i..." charles trailed off, knowing it was hopeless. his gaze dropped and the clown shot him, he fell to the ground.

the clown looked down at him and shrugged, putting the gun on the bar. you walked to him.

"can i get you drink," you blink pointedly, "something other than a shot." he shakes his head, swatting his hand. "what's your name, really?"

he gathered blood pooling on the floor and smeared it to the bar top.

"art? well, art, I think you'd look really hot in the santa suit."

art raised his finger like he's been struck with an idea. he grabs the suit, putting it on over his clown costume, adding the santa hat and white wig to complete the look.

you notice the blood on the white trim of the coat, pointing it out. "i guess that means you're on santa's naughty list." art frowns, shaking his head. "i was right. you do look fucking hot."

he smirks, leaning down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you so he can lift you up and onto the bar. he tears at your jeans as he pulls them off, taking you by surprise, much stronger than he appears. you gasp, leaning back onto the bar. you like a man who doesn't waste time.

a shiver passes through you at the cold air hitting your bare pussy. art stares at it and licks his lips, his brows bouncing appraisingly as his fingers graze over your labia. before you can beg him, art leaned in, latching his mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking alternatively.

"oh fuck," you struggle to get out already, fingers raking through the white wig. art rotated his head, dragging his tongue all around your pussy, then dipping down to wetly plunge inside. your head rolled forward, face screwing up as you watched him, his gaze intense as he fucked you with his tongue. "oh, art." you shouted out roughly, rutting your hips to meet the thrusts of his tongue. "gonna make me come so hard on your handsome clown face."

art shifted and though you missed the feel of his tongue inside you, he made up for it by constantly flicking it over your labia and up to your clit, eliciting high pitched moans as your hand held his head tighter, head falling back to give a guttural moan when he sucked at your clit.

anyone could walk in or glimpse through the window you getting fucked while three dead bodies lie on the floor, but you couldn't care less. all thought about anyone or anything else but art escaped you, worries pushed aside as his tongue and lips and the glorious suction of his mouth sucking hard at your clit pushed you closer to the edge. you give a harsh gasp as you come, that familiar feeling of hot shimmering liquid gold pleasure coursing through you, but burning brighter and more intensely than ever before. your body heaves and thrashes uncontrollably, unable to bear the immense weight of pleasure. "oh my fuck--fucking, ahhh."

art hasn't relented, tongue determined to lick up every drop of your cum, almost to the point of overstimulation - a second orgasm quick to follow, but you let him, figuring it's a fair trade for him gifting you the best orgasm of your life.

🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

please like, reblog and/or comment, i'd really appreciate it. hope you enjoyed!

© clownyclaushoe 2024

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Buggy being furious at your lack of effort to find him…

It had been a morning. Buggy's crew were out of sync without their ringleader and when you demanded that they pay you what you were owed, they threatened to lock you in a cage. Quickly realising that arguing was futile, you wandered through the empty tent with a huff and kicked every crate in sight.

Next time Buggy requested help you promised to drop him into the East Blue.

As you passed the arena ring, you heard grumbling. Pushing the striped curtains aside for a clear view, you quickly recognised the familiar brown coat and blue hair that had been missing for the past week.

Limping to a box, the pirate captain harshly opened the lid and let his missing foot jump out. He heard the jangle of bells above a curtain and turned to find you a few feet away.

He turned and hopped in your direction until his foot finally reattached and paused with a stomp.

“Thanks for the rescue.” He said bitterly. The sarcasm was duly noted given that no such thing had occurred. The clown stalked over to you and bobbed a little as he put forward his point.

“A note for future reference - when the Captain is missing… go find him!” He shouted.

You had had enough of pirate snark for one day and his attitude wasn’t helping. “I did." You bit back.

He scoffed and slowed his pace which felt a lot more dangerous. "Did you now?"

Shrugging, you gave the clown a nod to defend your answer. "Yes. For a good twenty minutes your crew searched and..."

The clown stopped suddenly a few paces away and stared at you with a deadpan expression.

"Twenty?" He repeated. "You gave up after a measly twenty minutes?!"

“You were catapulted out of the tent, Buggy. How the hell was I supposed to pinpoint your location?”

“Oh, I don’t know maybe spend more than twenty minutes searching?!” He yelled now very close to your face.

This wasn’t the first time he raised his voice. In fact, the more he did it, the sharper your tongue became which was something he seemed to enjoy.

“Watch the tone." You warned. "I am not part of your crew. You hired my services to help raid Shells Town and steal a map. All of this business with the stretchy kid was not part of our arrangement so my effort to even attempt to find you was a gesture of goodwill.” You told him. "You know where to find me with the berries I'm owed."

Stepping back to straighten your sleeves and end the conversation, you turned to leave… except, you smacked into Buggy’s nose.

“What the-?"

The clowns body caught up with the rest of him on your other side effectively blocking your exit. He raised his hands and gently brushed your shoulders from invisible dust with a sigh and a smile that appeared sweet but was actually laced with an incoming threat.

“Listen,” he began with a tone much softer than a few minutes ago. “I need that map to get some really scary people off my back."

"How is that my problem exactly?"

"Well since I haven't paid you, you're technically still under my employ. So if I’m screwed then so are you." With a small giggle of amusement, Buggy leaned forward. “Welcome to the circus.”

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. "I'm going to fire you from a cannon one day."

~ More imagines here ~

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: A year has passed since Imani and Jameson's painful breakup. Once again, fate draws the two together again...but it's not as joyful reunion as either thought they'd have.

Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, out of control drinking, and emotional breakdowns, sex (p in v, creampie, dirty talk) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 8k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

Anaïs Lucas sat at her writing desk, the faint scent of her signature jasmine lingering in the air. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall. She flipped through the pile of papers in front of her, gaze landing on the embossed invitations for Jameson’s album release party.

Pride made her smile. Her son had an advantage when he got into the industry, yes. He had her name and his good looks but nobody could ever pretend her baby couldn’t sing or that he didn’t work his ass to keep what he got. After he announced he was pushing back his album last winter, Anaïs watched people doubt him. Come January 2026 – a few short weeks from then – they would know that he was worth the wait.

She picked one up, running her fingers over the gold lettering.

You are cordially invited to the premiere of Midnight & Dawn A celebration of James Lucas’ third album

It was elegant, timeless—everything she’d expect from her son’s team. Yet, as perfect as it seemed, something was missing.

Or rather, someone.

The party was in a matter of days and she knew for a fact that Imani wasn’t on the guest list. It made sense. The two had broken up and hadn’t so much as whispered each other’s name in public. Imani had moved on. Jameson had moved on. The cute little girl she’d seen him out with – but had yet to meet – seemed to be distracting him just enough.

But she knew her son. She knew what he wanted. She tried not to be that kind of mother but she couldn't help herself. He was her only child and she wanted him to be happy. She just wouldn't be mentioning any of this to Toni, Imani's aunt and her closest friend.

Anaïs reached for her phone, dialing a number she knew by heart. “Anderson? It’s Anaïs.” Her voice was warm but commanding, the kind that left little room for argument.

Anderson Allen was the head of public relations at Jameson’s label. He had insisted on signing a deal with a label that didn’t feature his mother but it didn’t mean that she didn’t have connections. “Ms. Lucas! What a surprise. How can I help you?”

“I was getting ready for Jamie’s party,” she began, her tone casual but deliberate. "But I heard that the guest list wasn’t complete. You all work so hard over there. I would hate for an omission to ruin the party."

Anderson hesitated. “Omission?”

“Yes. Imani St. Cirie,” Anaïs said smoothly.

The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time. “I—I wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate, given their history. Jameson hasn’t mentioned—”

Anaïs cut him off with a light laugh. “Oh, Andy, let’s not overthink this. Imani is an important part of Jameson’s life, personally and professionally. Inviting her would be…a gesture of goodwill. Besides, I’m sure she’d appreciate the opportunity to celebrate his success.”

Anderson’s voice was cautious. “I suppose we could add her to the list…”

“Wonderful,” Anaïs said, her smile bright. “I’d like to personally handle delivering her invitation. Consider it my little project.”

“Of course, Ms. Lucas. I’ll have one prepared and sent to your house immediately.”

“You’re a gem, Anderson. Thank you.”

Anaïs ended the call and leaned back in her chair, a satisfied expression on her face. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to do what she believed was right for her baby.

When the invitation arrived later that afternoon, Anaïs carefully wrote Imani’s name on the envelope in her graceful script. She slipped it into a sleek courier envelope and sealed it with a flourish.

“Deliver this directly to Ms. St. Cirie,” she instructed the courier who arrived at her door less than an hour later. “Make sure it’s in her hands before the day is over.”

As the courier left, Anaïs poured herself a celebratory glass of champagne. She wasn’t blind to the complications of Jameson and Imani’s past, but sometimes, fate needed a little help—and Anaïs Lucas was more than happy to provide it. 

The studio was alive with energy, even though it was just the two of them. EJ asked for them to run through the albums again. They'd been previewed for the label, accepted, turned in, and there was release party planned for the next night...but still. He wanted to hear the album one more time. Jameson didn't hesitate to go. As the final song climaxed, EJ poured whiskey into two glasses. He slid one across the console to Jameson, who sat slouched in his chair.

“To the masterpiece,” EJ said, raising his glass. “A double-disk album. That’s some legendary-level ambition from my boy.”

Jameson laughed, shaking his head as he reached for the glass. "Very glad I could surprise you all."

EJ snorted. "Hey! I believed in you always. It was touch and go there for a while for everybody else. When you pushed the album back, them niggas started getting nervous. But I knew...my boy was gone get into his bag. I just ain't expect two damn albums at once."

Jameson smirked, tapping his glass against EJ’s before taking a sip. “Here’s hoping they don't flop.”

“Flop?” EJ scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re about to shut the whole industry down. Tomorrow night’s party is gonna be the start of something huge. We need to celebrate. Let’s go grab a drink. Celebrate properly.”

Jameson shook his head, setting the glass down as he finished off the amber liquid. “Un-uh. I’m good, man. I’m tired as fuck. You kept me chained to the recording booth most of the year. I'm going home. Getting in the bed.”

EJ smiled at his friend. “You sure? A little fun won’t kill you.” “Yeah, I’m sure,” Jameson said.

With nothing left to do, EJ finished his drink and threw his hands up. "Alright. I did my best. Aye...I'm proud of you."

Jameson wrinkled his nose, standing from his seat and grabbing his jacket. "Don't get soft on me and shit."

EJ followed his movements, a serious expression on his face. "I'm for real. I was worried about you. Not because of the album. Just because you're my friend. You came out the other side of that shit and I'm proud. I was glad when you stopped drinking every day and started getting fresh air but...therapy? Channeling your shit into music? Camille? You’re looking ahead. I'm happy for you, man." 

Even without him saying her name, she lingered between them. Imani was the unspoken, untouched aspect of his life that he still couldn't face. Still, he knew EJ meant well so Jameson smiled. “Thank you. For everything. You been solid while I got myself together. I owe you, E.”

It was a rare moment when the two stopped teasing each other enough to express what they felt. If Genie was his sister, EJ was his brother. He didn’t know who he’d be without either of them. Before he could change his mind, Jameson leaned in and gave EJ a tight hug. It only lasted a second but he could feel the other man hug him back.

“Alright. Enough of that.” EJ muttered, breaking away and shoving Jameson’s shoulder playfully. “Go home. Go be boring. I’m going to kiss my girlfriend until she blushes.”

He still couldn't wrap his head around EJ and Genie. When Genie had shyly told him she was dating EJ, his first reaction had been disbelief. He never felt a vibe between them but over the next few months, EJ had proved he was crazy about Genie. So Jameson stepped back. He didn't kick up a fuss or cause a problem. When he found time to get out of his own head, he was happy for them.

It was an innocent statement but Jameson recoiled, holding his hand over his ears. “Ew. Don’t tell me nothing you and Genie got going on.” He quickly picked up his jacket, shrugging it on while EJ laughed, calling out to him.

“You better lock Camille down so you can learn from us!”

Jameson walked through his front door and immediately noticed something was off. The lights in the dining room were dimmed, candles flickering on the table, and soft jazz played from the speakers. He’d left the house silent and dark before going to meet EJ. Only three people had a key beside him. His mother, who was not going to set a scene. Genie, who never used it. And EJ, who he just left. Jameson rounded the corner of his living room, entering the kitchen. There stood a woman, at his sink, with her back to him. He recognized her immediately. The messy way she piled her dark brown hair on the top of her head gave it away. 

Camille.

There was something about the way she carried herself—an effortless elegance like she owned the space around her. As one of the most famous young models in the industry, Camille was a striking woman. She held her head high no matter what, her posture perfect. She moved around his kitchen as if this was her home. It was the same way she had approached him – like he was already hers. He admired it, even if it reminded him of someone else, someone he couldn’t quite shake.

“Camille?” he called, dropping his keys on the counter.

She jumped, whirling around with wide eyes. She was wearing an apron with splashes of water on it over her sleek black dress. “You’re…You’re home early.” There were plates on his table, a romantic dinner for two was the obvious aim and he softened. They were casual. Beyond casual but she always took care of him.

Jameson raised an eyebrow, slipping back into the moment. “Am I not supposed to be here?” He asked her, shrugging out of his jacket as he moved further into the kitchen. “How’d you get in?”

“EJ came to let me in before he met you.” She said softly, her gaze following his movements – lingering on his forearms before she turned back to turn the running water off. “H-He was supposed to keep you out for another hour.”

And then it all made sense. The fact that he’d called him out at all to ‘listen’ to an album they’d been listening to for almost a year. Then to want to go out for drinks afterward? His best friend was trying his hand at matchmaking and Jameson couldn’t blame him. Camille was good to him. He’d be a liar to say she wasn’t.

“Ah,” Jameson said, nodding his head. “So, that’s why he was so insistent on hanging out tonight.” He stepped closer, tossing his jacket onto the counter before leaning against it, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry I ruined the surprise.”

Camille pouted but the second she got a good look at him, she brightened and the annoyance melted away. “I thought we could celebrate your album being finished. Just the two of us. I’m happy for you.”

Jameson smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth in his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for caring.” He reached out, tugging her closer using the apron. “What’s for dinner?”

“Caprese salad, seared scallops with risotto, and white chocolate raspberry cheesecake.” “Sounds very impressive.” “It is. I slaved over a stove for you.” “I’m flattered.” “You should be. Not all of my friends get this kind of treatment.” “No?” “Un-uh.” “Damn. I must be really good in bed.”

Camille burst out laughing, slapping her hand against his chest. “You’re aight.”

“That wasn’t a no so I don’t think I was wrong.” Jameson teased her, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly. He released the apron before wrapping his arm around her to untie it. When he brought the strap over her head, he tossed it onto the kitchen island 

“Jameson! We have dinner. I already prepared the–” “Put it in the oven. We’ll eat it later.”

He didn’t have to explain any further. She watched him pluck a fork from his kitchen drawer and then she went to do exactly as he told her to do. Jameson waited patiently, taking a seat on a bar stool and pulling the cheesecake toward him. Once she was done and the food was set aside, he patted the stool next to him. “C’mon. Get off your feet.”

In her Chanel dress and high heels, Camille made herself comfortable. 

They settled at the kitchen counter, side by side on barstools, sharing bites of the rich dessert. Jameson fed her from his fork, kissed her, and put aside the fact that he felt a twinge of guilt for bringing her into his house. This was good. He was moving forward as EJ said. There was nothing wrong with that.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jameson told her softly, offering her another bite of cheesecake. When she took it, he followed it with a kiss. Light and sweet. She leaned into him, silently asking for more. Instead, Jameson offered her more cheesecake. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

She glared at him before his confession became clear. Cami gave him a bright smile, her tongue cleaning the whipped cream her mouth left behind on the fork before she spoke. “There is really nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Imani ran her hands over her dress as she looked over her appearance in the mirror. She did a small turn to the left and then the right to see. No flaws. She looked damn good as usual. She sported a new blonde hair color with hints of pink, a brown sheer dress that accented her curves and left little to the imagination, and her wrist and neck were dazzled in diamonds. It was perfect. Undoubtedly, a ten out of ten. Yet, she sighed and turned her body once more like something would change to make it even better. 

“Girl, if you don’t get out that mirror and go to that party, I’m a drag you there myself.” Her hairstylist said. Imani chuckled. “You look good. Now go get your man.”

She waved the woman off. “It ain’t even like that!” She hadn’t seen Jameson since their break-up last year. She only knew him through TV screens, magazines, and as a voice blaring through the club speakers. He was no longer the man that held her at night, told her she was beautiful or showered her with kisses. For the first time since they met, he was James Lucas. And she hated it. 

Imani said her goodbyes to her glam team as she sauntered to her door and then to the SUV. She slipped inside then the driver shut the door behind her. She pulled the ring on her ring finger on and off then on and off all over again.

It was the ring that Jameson gifted to her for Christmas last year. She pulled it out of her jewelry box when she was anxious, only wearing it at home to avoid speculation from the media and her fans. It was her stress reliever that no one knew about. But tonight, it served a different purpose. 

She wanted Jameson back. Bad. And Imani believed wearing his ring to his album release party would show him that she hadn’t forgotten about him. How could she? He was all she ever thought about. She thought she did the right thing when she ended things with him. They were just going to end in heartbreak like they always did. Imani thought breaking the cycle would solve everything. Yes, she was heartbroken when it happened but she always believed she would get over it and feel better. But she didn’t. She never felt more alone. 

For the first three months after their breakup, she distracted herself with work. She dove head first into Diary’s promotional rollout. Anything her label or management wanted her to do, she did it to avoid being with her deafening thoughts of regret and being alone. But her promo tour only lasted for so long. Then she tried partying. She tried drinking. She tried being with other people, but they never lasted long. All she did was compare them to Jameson. 

Despite all her efforts, nothing and no one could fill the void in her heart left by Jameson. His memory lingered in every corner of her mind. She wrestled with herself over the thought of reaching out to him, hesitant and afraid of what she might find. What if he had moved on? What if he wanted nothing to do with her anymore? She knew little about his current life, only catching glimpses through a few tabloids. According to them, he now resided in the bustling city of New York and was dating a woman named Camille, but they didn’t seem serious at all. Maybe she still had a chance. 

When she received a mysterious invite to his album release party, it felt like fate. A sign that she needed to make a move and get him back. She couldn’t let fear hold her back this time. So she booked a flight to New York with her trusted glam squad to help her and now her plan was underway. 

She was still fidgeting with her ring once they reached the club. The blinding lights of the paparazzi never phased her. She didn’t mind the attention. But tonight, their presence only added to the growing uneasiness and heat rising in her skin. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself not to let them distract her from her goal — winning Jameson back. 

With a sigh, she stepped out of the SUV and was immediately swarmed by a frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. The familiar chaos only felt like an obstacle in her path. 

“Imani, you look stunning! Love the new hair.” “Are you here to see James?” “How do you feel about him and Camille? Do you know that they showed up here together?”

The last question nearly stopped her in her tracks. Her heart fell back into the abyss of despair that hope once saved it from. Jameson and Camille? She thought they weren’t serious, so why the fuck was she at the party with him? Fuck! Imani should have stayed home. Too many eyes were on her to turn back now. Instead, she simply smiled at the question and entered the club.

After she was inside, she made a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring all of the eyes and whispers. Imani needed to take his ring off before anyone noticed. She walked inside, thankful that no one was in there. Then she closed and locked the door so no one could see her lose it.

She felt like such a fool. There was a war raging inside of her. Of course, he moved on. It had been a year. Did she expect him to wait forever? But the other side screamed, how dare he move on? He told her they were soulmates. He said he would never give up on them. Was it all a lie? “Just twenty minutes.” She mumbled to herself. “I can do twenty then I’ll leave and go home.”

Imani exhaled deeply. She pulled the ring off of her finger and shoved it into her clutch. She unlocked the bathroom door, opening it, only to be met with Genie.

She stared at her like a prey making eye contact with its predator.  Her mind had been so clouded with thoughts of Jameson that she didn’t even think about their storm of friendship. She hadn’t seen Genie since last year. She ignored her texts and phone calls like her best friend was a scorned lover. One day, Imani was going to explain, she just didn’t imagine that day to be today. 

The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Imani finally parted her lips to speak. “Genie, I-” She couldn’t even get her sentence out before the woman moved past her and into the bathroom. Imani sighed, deciding that tonight wasn’t the best time to discuss their broken friendship. She walked back into the club and looked for Toni, the only one she talked to during the whole year. Her energy turned into a dark cloud and she needed someone to brighten it if she was going to make it to twenty minutes.

He heard the whispers before he saw her. Imani had shown up. 

And finally, he saw her.

For the first time in a fucking year, he laid eyes on her. Not a picture. Not an interview or a photoshoot. He saw her.

Relief hit him so hard that he exhaled sharply. She was okay. After Christmas last year, she had essentially disappeared from his life. He didn’t call, he didn’t text, he had even chosen to unfollow her on Instagram but Jameson quickly found out that he wasn’t the only one left behind. Genie had lost Imani as well. 

The two didn’t talk anymore. He had nothing to go by that she was okay. The blogs reported every lover and every move she made…but none had been able to tell him if she was genuinely doing okay. He could see for himself – in the flesh – that she was doing damn good.

She was standing alone in the quickly filling club, framed by the soft glow of lights. He could see her observing the crowd, looking for someone. Was it him? When their eyes met, she seemed frozen. Her eyes went wide and he knew immediately she wasn’t looking for him. 

He felt a hand against his stomach and immediately broke eye contact with her. Camille was gazing up at him, a question in her eyes. Jameson had to steady himself before he smiled at her. “I’ll be back.” He heard himself tell her but knew that he shouldn’t leave. He did it anyway, walking across the room as every thought in the world passed through his mind.

The relief that he felt ended, replaced by anxiety. Why did she come? Was she trying to support him? Was she curious about the music? Did she want to rub it in his face that he had lost her? Did she want him to see how fucking good she looked? All of the questions he asked himself set him on edge but he didn’t stop moving in her direction.

His eyes ran from her blonde hair down to her tan dress. And a wave of lust hit him. 

The fabric clung to her body. It was barely there. He could see her body, sculpted abs and thick thighs. Perfectly measured underwear that hid…Well, he knew what it hid. He was so intimately acquainted with her body that he could find her in the damn dark. He couldn’t think like this. Jameson shook his head to clear the thoughts but flashes of memories raced through his mind. Late nights with him sinking his teeth into her thighs as they trembled, the way her abdomen contracted when she was coming around his fingers. The way she called out for him, the word ‘Daddy’ fell from her lips. All of it came rushing back to him with stunning clarity. Shit! No. No!

He wasn’t doing this. Camille was watching him. He had to get right. So many fucking therapy sessions and he was backsliding into chaos already.

By the time he got to her, he had control of himself again. “Hi.” He said softly.

He watched as she slowly turned to look at him. There was no ignoring one another. Not right then. Her lips curved into a smile but he knew right then that something was wrong. It didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t light up the way she usually did when she was happy.

“Hi, Jameson.” “Thank you for coming. It’s nice to see you.” “I…It’s nice to see you too.”

A lull of silence hit them and awkwardness set in. Before, they could talk about anything and everything but now? He didn’t know what to say.

EJ found Camille standing near the edge of the room, sipping a glass of champagne with practiced ease. She looked every bit the supermodel she was, tall and poised, her sleek black gown clinging to her statuesque frame. But her eyes—dark, searching—betrayed her. She was watching Jameson, observing the way his gaze seemed to drift toward Imani no matter where she stood. Even when he excused himself from her side and greeted other partygoers, everybody in the room knew where he was going.

EJ stepped up beside her, his presence casual but deliberate. “You’re handling this well,” he said, his tone low enough to keep their conversation private from prying ears.

Camille turned her head slightly, offering him a polite smile. “Handling what?”

He gave her a knowing look, one that made her sigh and take another sip of her drink. She broke the pretense that nothing was happening. “You’re not blind, Camille. You see the way he looks at her. And the way she avoids looking at him. There’s history there—deep, messy history. You’ve got to know that.”

Camille’s expression didn’t waver, but she set her glass down on the nearby table, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “I know,” she said simply.

EJ raised an eyebrow. “And you good with that?”

She shrugged, the movement graceful but dismissive. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend it doesn’t exist? Jameson’s been honest with me about Imani. I know what she means to him.”

EJ leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “What she means to him and what she still means to him might not be the same thing. I’m not saying this to scare you off, but if you’re serious about Jameson, you need to be ready to fight for him. Because that connection they have? It’s not something that just disappears.”

Camille tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Do you think I’m not serious about him?”

EJ hesitated, then shook his head. “I think you care about him. I think you’re good for him, too. But I also think Jameson’s still figuring out what he wants. And if you’re not careful, you might end up hurt. She’s got this... gravitational pull on him, sure. But it’s not healthy. You’ve seen how far he’s come this past year. That’s because of you, Camille. Not her.”

Camille’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I appreciate the concern, EJ. Really, I do. But I’m not here to fight anyone for Jameson. If he wants to be with me, he knows where I am. And if he doesn’t?” She spread her hands, her tone light but firm. “Then I’ll let him go. I’m not the kind of woman who clings to someone who doesn’t want to stay.”

EJ studied her, a flicker of respect crossing his face. “You’re a lot calmer about this than I expected.”

Camille chuckled softly, her gaze drifting back toward Jameson, who had finally approached Imani. “I’ve spent my entire career competing—for jobs, for recognition, for respect. But love? That’s not something you should have to fight for. Either it’s there, or it’s not. And if Jameson’s heart is still with Imani, then there’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

EJ nodded slowly, impressed by her composure. “Fair enough. Just... be careful. He’s a good guy, but if things get messy—”

“They won’t,” Camille interrupted gently. “Because I won’t let them. I care about Jameson, but I care about myself too. If he can’t give me what I deserve, I’ll walk away. Simple as that.”

EJ exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Camille smiled again, this time with a touch of warmth. “Thanks, EJ. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, no matter what happens.”

EJ glanced back toward Jameson, then back at Camille. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of their conversation, and stepped away, leaving her to watch Jameson from afar, her expression unreadable.

“You look good.” He said softly, immediately regretting the words. “I mean, I like your dress.” Nope, that was fucked up too. 

“Thanks,” Imani looked at his outfit. It was already difficult for her to face him, but did he have to look handsome too? This may have been the second hardest thing she’s ever done. “You look uh—you look nice too.”

He peered down at his fit. All black, Gucci. Jameson lifted his hand, pressing it to his sleeve as if he just realized he was wearing clothes worth five grand. “Thank you. It’s just…something thrown together. I’m glad you came. Really.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I did too. Congrats on the album, Jameson. I’m—“ she paused, searching for the right words to say. “really happy for you.”

“Really?” He tilted his head, peering down at her. “Then why do you look upset?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Imani answered quickly. She wasn’t fine at all. She made the wrong decision to come to this party and now, she had to face a best friend who probably hated her and an ex she was still in love with. She was mentally kicking herself. But he didn’t need to know that.

He knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t exactly call her on it. That wasn’t his place anymore. “Mhm.” He said softly, giving a nod. “I…I really do hope you’re okay, Imani. Things ended between us but I want you to be happy. Always.”

“I..I want you to be happy too,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m glad to see that you are. I really am.”

“Thank you. It…it took a while to get back to being happy.” The conversation between them was so fucking stiff and he hated it. He watched her fold her arms against her chest, knowing there was a wall between them. They talked to each other like strangers. Once upon a time, he could tell her anything. They could say everything to one another – except the shit that really mattered. And now they couldn’t say anything at all. “Finishing the album helped. Wouldn’t have been able to do that without a lot of people. You included.”

She nodded. “Well, I’m glad I could help. I can’t wait to hear it.” Imani smiled. “Uh, I’m going to go look for Toni now. I’ll see you around?”

He opened his mouth to say something – anything – but instead, he felt a hand against his arm. Jameson turned to look down at her, surprised by her presence. “There you are.” She said softly.

Imani looked between the couple, still with a smile that he couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “Hi, I’m Imani.” She reached her hand out. Her eyes glanced down at his wrist. She looked back at Jameson with narrowed eyes. The watch on his wrist looked like the one she had sent him a year. Why the fuck was he wearing that? While he was with another woman? 

His head turned so quickly that he almost sprained his damn neck. He watched as Imani introduced herself to Camille, in such a friendly way that he was almost offended. Damn. She could at least pretend to be jealous. Camille gave her a smile in return and reached out to grasp Imani’s hand and Jameson inhaled sharply. He did not see this coming and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

“Nice to meet you.” She said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Imani let go of Camille’s hand. “Nice to meet you as well. You’re very pretty.” She looked back at Jameson. Then at Camille. “Well, I’m going to leave you guys to it. Have a good night.” She said, turning around and walking away quickly before she could hear another word from either of them. 

It took a minute for Genie to pull herself together. When she passed Imani, it had broken her heart not to say anything but she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe any of this shit. When Jameson and Imani broke up, her heart broke for them both. She didn’t know the details but knew it was bad. Jamie was drinking heavily and Imani was out of contact. But she kept trying. She would start by sending a message every week. Then it became every single day. She wanted to be there for Imani. She begged her to reach out if she needed anything…and she never did. 

It was like she lost her best friend. At first, Genie grieved. Every time something wonderful happened with EJ, she wanted to pick up the phone and call Imani…but she knew she wouldn’t answer. Then the grief turned into anger. She resented being so easy to forget.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she finally said, her voice shaky as she approached EJ. She could see his jovial attitude shift when he saw the look on her face. “I don’t know what I thought I’d feel seeing her again, but this wasn’t it.” She hadn’t even known Imani would be there but she knew that maybe there would be a good chance. Still, seeing her again had been a shock to the system.

EJ ushered her from the main floor, getting her comfortable in an isolated corner as he watched her with a steady, concerned gaze. “You wanted to see your best friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“She’s not my best friend anymore,” Genie snapped, then immediately winced at her attitude. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. I just…” She blinked back tears, pressed her hands against her temples. “I mean... she was. For so long. But now? I can barely look at her. She completely shut me out.”

EJ leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s probably not anything you did, baby. Maybe Imani needed space. It had to hurt ending things with Jay.”

Genie looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Of course she’s hurting. I know that. I just... I’ve tried, EJ. I’ve called, texted, even sent emails. Nothing. And now, after all this time, she shows up here, at Jameson’s party of all places, looking like she’s completely fine. Like she doesn’t even care that I miss her.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she quickly turned away, pretending to adjust the strap of her dress. EJ sighed and crossed the room to her, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her space but offering his presence.

“She does care,” he said softly, though there was a flicker of something sharper in his tone. “You don’t just forget someone like you, Genie. Maybe she’s just... not ready to face everything yet.”

Genie let out a bitter laugh, swiping at her cheek. “It’s been a year. How much longer do I have to wait? How much longer do I have to pretend it doesn’t hurt that she’s just... gone?”

EJ placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You’re allowed to feel this. It’s okay to be angry, to be sad, to miss her. Just don’t let it eat you up inside.”

Genie turned to him, the tears finally spilling over. “I don’t know how to let it go. She was my person, EJ. And now, it’s like I don’t even exist to her.”

EJ’s jaw tightened as he pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly. He couldn’t help the frustration bubbling in his chest—not just for what Imani’s absence had done to Genie but for the pain she had caused Jameson too. He didn’t say it aloud, but part of him felt like Imani had been selfish, leaving behind the people who had loved her most.

“You exist,” he murmured against her hair, pushing aside his bitterness for Genie’s sake. “And you’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

For a moment, Genie let herself believe him. In the quiet of EJ’s arms, she let herself grieve, not just for the friendship she had lost but for the part of herself that felt like it had been left behind with Imani.

EJ held her tighter, his mind drifting back to Imani’s face at the party. He’d keep his thoughts to himself, but if she ever wanted back into their lives, she’d have to prove she deserved it.

Imani’s patience was wearing thin, and she couldn’t last another minute in this crowded club. What the hell was she thinking, flying thousands of miles to see a man she hadn’t spoken to in a year? She shoved her way through the throngs of people, not bothering to find her aunt in the chaos. All she wanted was to escape, to retreat to her hotel room and try to make sense of everything. 

As she burst through the club doors and into the cool night air, Imani finally exhaled the breath she had been holding since running into Genie. But it didn’t bring any relief. Everything felt like shit and it was all her fault. The weight of loneliness settled on her shoulders like a familiar burden, one that always found its way back to her despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. But this time it hit harder than ever before and threatened to swallow her whole.

Before she could fully immerse herself in the depths of her sadness, a familiar voice jolted Imani out of her thoughts. “Mani? Leaving so soon?” It was Jameson, accompanied by Camille, their arms entwined as they walked towards her. Imani’s heart dropped at the sight, knowing that she was once in Camille’s place. A pang of envy and longing washed over her, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile. “Oh, I’m not feeling well, so I’m a head out,” she lied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jameson’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he could sense something was off. But then Camille leaned in closer and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, distracting him. “I know y’all ain’t out here to bring me back.”

Camille’s laughter tinkled through the air, her eyes sparkled as she glanced at Jameson. “No, we decided to leave early.” she said with a grin playing on her lips. Imani squinted at Jameson, studying his facial features intently. There was something off about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Why are you leaving your album release party so soon? Is everything alright?” Imani’s voice was gentle but curious, her gaze searching Jameson’s face for any clues. “I’m just tired,” he answered, but there was a slight quiver in his voice that betrayed his words. Imani could see the lie in his eyes, but she knew better than to press the issue. That was Camille’s job now.

“Jameson and I are going to go get some rest,” Camille said softly, doting on a 6’3 grown ass man like he was a baby. She wanted to hate it...but she knew she'd done the same when they were together. Imani’s eyes flicked back to Camille as she pat his chest and gazed at him. She tried to think of something to say next to the couple, but she was too focused on the way she said his name. It replayed over and over again in her mind. Her stomach was in knots at the sound of it. 

She was reminded of all of the times she used to call him that. Then she looked back at Camille. She was still looking at Jameson with the same look Imani used to have. Imani hated how he could invoke that look in another woman. She was the only one who should get to experience the look of love, lust, and admiration. She hated him for it. 

Where the fuck was her driver? She pulled her phone out of her clutch, opening it with her Face ID. She tapped over onto her call log, realizing that she never fucking called him. Imani was in such a rush to get away from the couple in the club that she forgot to do it. And yet, she still ended up face-to-face with them again. Fate wanted to torture her tonight. 

Imani quickly tapped the contact name and asked the driver to come get her. Luckily, he was just around the corner. There was silence between the three of them. Everything she planned on saying to him before her arrival was thrown out of the window when she first arrived. It all had fallen to shit. Now, her imagination filled those spaces of broken words. All she could see was Camille and Jameson, full of lust, in his house together doing what she would have done to him after his album release party.

Thankfully for her, Imani’s driver finally pulled up and disrupted her thoughts. He got out and opened the door for her. She walked over to the SUV, stepping inside of the car. “I’ll see you guys later…” She said, looking over her shoulder. She hoped her words never came to fruition. 

“Be safe and have a good night,” Jameson said lowly, watching her leave. She nodded, sitting down in the passenger seat of the vehicle. The driver closed the door. Once he pulled away from the curve, she pulled out the ring again. She toyed with it in her hands. Imani went into this party, hoping that the ring would spark a new meaning. She had no idea that meaning would be that it was her only connection to Jameson.

"You too quiet." Jameson muttered, pulling his hand from Camille's mouth. She gasped for breath when he did, immediately moaning out his name. "That's much better."

"Yes, baby. Right there. So good."

She was breathless as she clung to him. They were in the middle of his bed, she was on his lap -- long limbs wrapped around his neck and hips as she ground her hips against his.

Jameson groaned, feeling Camille's tightness stretch around him. Her enthusiasm was always a turn on and he let out a long, slow moan as he thrust deeper. Each powerful stroke, sending vibrations through her body that made her whimper in delight. Every time she moved on top of him, her breasts bounced enticingly against his chest, sending shivers down his spine.

"Ooh! D-Don't stop. Jamie! Just like that..."

The scent of sweat and sex filled the air as they moved together in perfect harmony. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with their heavy breathing and tender moans. Camille's nails raked down his neck and back, leaving small trails of pleasure and pain that only fueled his desire further. He gripped her hips tightly, holding her close as they lost themselves in each other's touches.

He lifted his head to capture her mouth, tongue brushing against her own as he plunged deeper into her mouth -- imitating their movements. Their tongues danced together sensually while their bodies moved in rhythm on the bed beneath them. As he felt himself nearing climax, Jameson pulled back from the kiss to look into Camille's eyes - filled with lust and desire - before letting out a long growl.

"You like that, baby?" She asked him softly and Jameson nodded, words escaping him as his grip tightened on her hips. They'd been sleeping together long enough that she knew what it meant. She pushed her hands against his shoulders, legs unwinding from around him as he went crash back onto the bed. "Go ahead. Give it to me, Jamie." she whimpered.

Camille's nails dug into Jameson's skin as she rode him, leaving small crescents that stung but only made him harder. He groaned deeply, his hands finding purchase in the sheets as he arched his hips and thrust into her. He felt every curve of her body against him, every undulation sending shockwaves through his dick.

"That's what you want?" He asked her through gritted teeth. "Yes!" She responded, nodding her head. "I deserve it. I'm your good girl."

He couldn't take it much more. His head fell back onto the bed, eyes closed, but his hands knew where to go. He lifted them from the sheets, grasping her hip with the left and relentlessly rubbing at her clit with his right thumb. Camille's legs tightened against his outer thighs as she crumbled forward and came on top of him with a shout.

With a final thrust, Jameson cried out as he came inside her, their bodies trembling together in unison. As they came down from their high, Camille cuddled against Jameson's chest, their hearts beating in sync. She nibbled on his earlobe softly before pulling away slowly with a satisfied smile on her lips.

He sat in the dark in his living room, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city through the curtains. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards settling. Jameson fiddled with the watch on his wrist, loosening the band and twisting it around, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

Camille had gone to sleep hours ago, slipping into sleep with the ease of someone unburdened. For a couple of hours, he managed to forget…everything.

But when it was over, and Camille’s breathing had evened out beside him, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The weight of his thoughts returned with a vengeance, and they all centered on one person.

Imani.

The way she had looked at the party—poised but distant, like she was shielding herself from the room, from him—was burned into his memory. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment she left, her face unreadable as she slipped into the car. He had been overwhelmed by her presence, thrown off balance by the sight of her after so long.

When she had walked away, leaving him and Camille standing there, all he could do was grab a passing glass of champagne. Then another. He had swallowed down two before he realized what he was doing—regressing, using alcohol to dull the sharp edge of his emotions.

He had told Camille he wanted to leave. She didn’t hesitate, her concern for him evident as she agreed. But as they made their way out, they ran into Imani on the street.

The moment replayed in his mind like a loop he couldn’t escape. The brief, stilted conversation. The way she looked at him like she was holding back a storm of emotions. And then she was gone, slipping away into the night.

Her face was trapped in his mind now, every detail vivid and unrelenting. The way her lips pressed together as if holding back words. The flicker of something—pain? anger?—in her eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

All he wanted to do was fix it.

But that wasn’t his job anymore.

He brushed a hand over his head, exhaling sharply as he tried to shake off the thoughts. The urge to call her was overwhelming, a near-physical pull, but he knew it would be a mistake. One glimpse, one rushed conversation, and he was right back where he’d been months ago—thinking of her, wanting her, needing to know if she was okay.

He needed to get a damn grip.

Jameson sat up, running his hands over his face. The watch shifted on his wrist, its weight a constant reminder of the past he couldn’t quite let go of. The room felt too quiet, too still, and his thoughts too loud.

He stood, padding softly out of the living room and into the kitchen, boxers slung low on his hips. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring out at the city lights.

He had made progress this year, clawing his way out of the darkness that had consumed him after their breakup. He had rebuilt his life piece by piece, and Camille had been a steady presence through it all. But tonight had unraveled something in him, and he hated that it was Imani who had the power to do that.

He sighed, setting the glass down. He couldn’t keep letting her haunt him like this. He wouldn’t.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 1

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Destiny, unrealizable dreams, incurable disease, war, poverty…

It just goes on.

This world’s a bargain sale of despair.

And it’s called “despair” because you can’t do anything about it.

However, that’s not something I’ll allow.

If you can’t overcome despair— then what’s the point of me, of us humans, being born?

That’s why these days, I live my life flipping it off.

--

It’s been a week since I started my “sinful life” as a Fairytale Keeper.

It wouldn’t be long before I could go back to my former life after keeping this secret—at least that’s what I thought.

--

Darius: While I didn’t expect there to be a get-together soon after our arrival to England, I’m happy.

That night, a dinner party he called a get-together was held…

Between “Crown”, an organization directly under the command of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, and “Vogel”, an organization directly under the command of Germany.

All members were together in one place.

Vogel had just arrived from Germany a few hours ago.

~~ Flashback ~~

Victor: Vogel is a research organization that’s dedicated to the societal contribution of the Cursed Ones. They will be staying in the palace for a few months as goodwill ambassadors.

Darius: Our motto is “the betterment of society through the Cursed Ones”

~~ End flashback ~~

(They looked friendly, not people you should be wary of)

However, there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while now.

Harrison, whose power allowed him to see through lies, said “they’re lying”— 

(So long as we don’t truly know them, we shouldn’t let our guard down yet)

Darius, who I believe is the chief of “Vogel” was sitting next to William and enjoying his conversation with him.

(For now I think it’s better for me to lie low and stay quiet)

On the table was a spread of dishes that Victor had put his all into preparing.

(Even though it all looks so delicious…I’m too nervous to eat)

Nica: What’s this? Robin, you haven’t touched your food. Then I’ll take this cherry.

Ring: Nica, you’ll get a stomach ache if you take a stranger’s food.

Nica: What’s with the serious warning, little brother? It’s just an excuse to make an appeal to be friends. Ring, you’re really out of touch.

Ring: …I’m ignorant.

The twins looked similar, with the same hair and eye color.

Kate: Nica and Ring…right?

Nica: Yep, you remembered our names? We remember yours too, Kate. Even though we just met, I think we’ll get along? Hey, show us around the palace. Let’s get out of here.

He slipped his arm around my waist with a practiced gesture and whispered in my ear.

(Wha…)

The moment I stood my guard, I felt someone tug my arm from the opposite side.

Roger: Sorry to interrupt, but Kate’s got a prior engagement with me.

Kate: Roger!

Roger: The queen’s aide’s great at showing people around the palace. He’ll be delighted. Victor, would you mind showing our guests from Vogel around?

Victor: Yes, of course! I will show you around every nook and cranny.

Nica: (¬_¬)…

Nica narrowed his eyes at Victor and then smiled.

Nica: Vielen Dank (Many thanks)

William: While I’d rather not, it’s time to call it a night.

Darius: You’re right, Lord Rex. We of Vogel would like to get along with Crown like a family. Should you ever be in trouble, we’d be delighted for you to turn to us for help, okay?

--

—In a room in Crown’s castle.

In a luxurious room prepared for Vogel, Darius sat comfortably in his chair and smiled.

Darius: What did you think of our get-together with Crown?

Nica: Amazing. I tried to lure the lrobin, but the hunter got in the way.

Darius: Hunter? Ah, you mean the “double-crossing hunter” Roger Barel. Hehe, wanting to snatch the robin* from them is quite reckless.

Ring: …About Roger Barel and that girl…are they together?

Nica: They’re not. But there’s no doubt that Crown cares for the robin a lot.

Darius: Gathering information is our main goal. It’ll be valuable material for eventually realizing our ambitions. Ring, Nica. Continue to gather any useful information on Crown and Robin.

Nica and Ring: Verstanden/…Understood

Darius: …Roger Barel. A former doctor with a strange fixation of “Cursed Ones”. Does he have a place in our “family”?

--

As the get-together came to a close, people started filing out of the room one after the other.

Before I knew it, even Roger disappeared…—

(H-huh?)

I ran out into the hall and saw his solid back.

Kate: Um, what was that prior engagement you mentioned, Roger…?

When I called out to him, he looked back at me in the empty hallway.

Roger: Did I make a mistake thinking you were in trouble?

You did that to help me? +4 +4

I was in a lot of trouble. +4 +4

You weren’t mistaken. +4 +4

Kate: You didn’t. Thank you.

Roger: You looked like a lost dog so I thought I did you an uncharacteristic favor.

(Dog? …No, I didn’t hear that right)

When I thanked him again, I saw a hint of scheming on his face.

Roger: By the way, I didn’t say I did it for free, did I? You’re gonna have to pay me back for saving you.

(Eh?)

Roger: I was thinking about going out drinking with Ellis and Jude. Join us.

Kate: Huh, now? Woah…Wait, Roger!

--

Roger: Phew~That hit the spot. The first drop of beer’s blood, you know.

Ellis: Heh, that’s what you always say.

Jude: Can’t believe he’s a doctor. Well he’s a quack.

(Before I knew it, I ended up getting dragged to a bar)

(It’s something I’ve noticed, but Roger can be a little…no, very pushy.)

Furthermore, it’s a wonder how Jude, who looked like the type to refuse an invitation, was sitting here with a sour look. 

Red-headed waiter: Here you are. Fish and chips, bramboraky(?)**, and…

Jude: Just how much did ya order? Ya ate a lot at the get-together.

Roger: I never have my fill when picking at those small fancy food.

Ellis: Are you full, Jude? I can still eat.

Jude: You’re still a growin’ kid.

The trio act like close friends…

Kate: Heh, hehe…

I couldn’t help but laugh and Roger squinted at me with a beer in hand.

Roger: The heck, so you can laugh like that after all.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: You know you haven’t laughed since you became Fairytale Keeper?

(What…what? But he’s right, this whole week, I haven’t…)

Roger: You don’t eat much and when you do, it’s like you’re chewing sand. Maybe you did…Or I should say, maybe you didn’t notice yourself?

(Tasked to keep a secret for a whole month as a Fairytale Keeper, and to record the evils before my eyes)

(Not to mention…Vogel’s sudden visit)

Desperate to just push through it all, I gradually neglected the things needed to live, like eating and laughing.

I was like a plant slowly wilting away.

Roger: I know you got a lot of things on your mind that make you anxious. But it’s times like these where you gotta work on yourself. Eat, sleep, play, laugh, recharge your energy. Otherwise you’ll easily get swallowed up by despair in this darkness, lil’ lady.

Kate: …

Roger’s words pierced my heart.

(He’s right…What was I so weak for?)

I could struggle all I wanted, but the anxiety would never leave until I’m safely out of this darkness.

I know that…but.

(The only one who can truly protect me, is me)

(I absolutely cannot give in)

Kate: …You’re right. There’s no time for weakness or despair. Thank you Roger. Now then, time to dig in!

As if to get over it…I stuck my fork into the steaming meat before me and brought it to my mouth.

Kate: Mm…delicious.

(...Somehow, it felt like I was properly enjoying food for the first time in a while)

(It’s so good to be alive and have delicious food)

Roger: …

Jude: Oi, who do ya think you are takin’ the first bite.

Kate: Ah, sorry! I got ahead of myself.

Ellis: Don’t worry about it Kate. Here, try these chips with rock salt.

Kate: Wow, this is really good! It pairs well with alcohol.

Roger: Oh, you drink pretty well. Barkeep! Two more beers.

Barkeep: Gotcha. Two large beers comin’ right up.

The golden beer and the food were delicious, and laughter reached my ears.

(...Ah, this is fun. I feel like I’m finally able to breathe)

(He pretty much dragged me here, but I’m glad I accepted Roger’s invitation)

I didn’t know how much of Roger’s actions were calculated and how much was in good faith.

But it’s a fact that his pushiness saved me.

(Roger really does have a lot of common sense and is like a mature older brother)

With those simple thoughts in mind, I continued on drinking and drinking…

--

—I woke up in a soft bed.

(Huh…last night I was drinking at the bar, and)

While in my drowsy and lethargic state, I groped around for a warm cloth when—

Kate: Hm…? …??

(...I’m naked?!)

I quickly wrapped myself up in a blanket with only my face peeking out.

…And noticed something familiar laying by my pillow.

(...Glasses?)

The black-rim and intellectual-looking frame was definitely memorable.

(These glasses…)

The moment I nervously picked them up, the bed squeaked— 

Roger: Hey now, those glasses aren’t a toy…Come on, give it here.

When the glasses were snatched out of my hand, I looked up to see a half-dressed Roger hovering over me.

Kate: …W-why are you here…

When I looked at him, he smiled as if to tell me the question was pointless now.

Roger: You passed out drunk so I had to carry you back. And after dropping you off, you wouldn’t let me go.

Whether it was true or not, the way he said it made it sound like I was pleading for him and my cheeks warmed.

(I-I held Roger back?)

(And…moreover)

My eyes took in his muscular chest and abs that were freely on display.

(T-too much stimulation…)

(I don’t know where to look)

Not just his bare chest.

Muscular arms peeking out from his shirt, broad shoulders that connected to a thick neck, and a lean waist.

(But, he was like beautiful sculpture)

My eyes unconsciously traced the supple skin.

His muscular body disguised his intelligent features and that gap alone was enough to make me dizzy.

Roger: …It’s not bad being ogled like this.

Kate: Eh?!

Roger gave me the wickedest of grins.

I’d been unconsciously staring at his body and my cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Kate: S-sorry…

Roger: Don’t worry about it. You’re a lot cuter than you were yesterday.

Kate: Did I…end up doing something yesterday?

Roger: “Something”.

Roger lowered himself and whispered to me.

Roger: …Yeah, last night was pretty hot, wasn’t it lil’ lady?

(N-no way…Me and Roger?)

Next

-

*Darius says red riding hood but the subtitle says robin

**Send help. I have no idea what the heck バンブリーキ is. Perhaps bramboraky according to @/hoerayner

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Testimonies of Princess Aelora Targaryen’s Youth

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: This is kind of a filler chapter until I can finish chapter 7. I was planning on either putting this at the end of chapter 6 or the beginning of chapter 7, but here is as good as any. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be able to finish chapter 7 by next Sunday. Thank you for your support and patience. Love y'all! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

Chapter Warnings: mentions of childhood SA, mental illness, suicidal ideations, Targaryen queerness.

Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest child blossomed into a captivating presence at Dragonstone, earning admiration from those close to her but invoking fear and ire in those who dared to cross her. Known for her unpredictable temperament, she would fall into fits of anger and sorrow, during which her judgment would become clouded, leading to subsequent regret. In bouts of profound grief, she sought solace in Aegon’s Garden with the company of flora and fauna, finding peace and consolation by tending to the roses and lilacs and fashioning delicate flower crowns for her siblings to wear.

When Princess Aelora was approximately ten and two, eyewitnesses observed her standing on the balcony railing for an extended period during one of her episodes, seemingly trance-like. Despite numerous attempts to persuade her to step down, she adamantly refused, stating her desire for a better view of the landscape. In response to this concerning behavior, Princess Rhaenyra took the drastic measure of ordering the balcony doors to be permanently sealed shut. The exact cause of her distressing episodes remains shrouded in mystery. While many attributed it to the infamous Targaryen madness in her bloodline, the Fool Mushroom believed it was linked to a specific incident involving Prince Aegon during her early years.

Late one night, he claims to have spied on Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon in their bed chambers on Dragonstone. He overheard the Princess confiding in her husband about her eldest’s behavioral problems and impulsivity. He alleges that she confessed to a rape committed by Prince Aegon on her daughter while they were living in King’s Landing. However, this information is heavily debated, as there has been no further mention in oral or written records.

When Princess Aelora reached ten and four, scandalous rumors began circulating on Dragonstone about her relationship with her twin brother, Prince Jacaerys. It was whispered that their stepfather went to her rooms after reports of suspicious sounds emerging from behind closed. Prince Daemon was rumored to have discovered the Prince in a compromising position between the legs of the Princess. In response to the gossip, Princess Rhaenyra sent her daughter to study abroad at the Citadel and in Dorne as a gesture of goodwill, hoping it would ease her troubled mind. This separation was particularly difficult for the twins, as it was the first time they had ever been apart. Prince Jacaerys was visibly upset during this time, spending hours upon end sulking inside his chambers and absconding his duties until Princess Aelora finally returned home once they both came of age.

Nevertheless, Princess Aelora radiated warmth and kindness to all she encountered. She was admired for her outgoing and naive nature, and she took great delight in her love for nature, herbalism, botany, and medical techniques gathered from her journeys around the realm. Her fondness for citrus plants was evident as she carried the sweet scent of the fruits wherever she roamed, though they were difficult to cultivate on Dragonstone’s soil. Adorned in her late father’s distinguished Velaryon blue, she was never seen without the elegance of pearls, aquamarine, topaz, and sapphire, with a delicate headpiece and veil enshrouding her dark, lustrous locks.

When eligible suitors ventured to Dragonstone intending to court Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter, she dismissively turned them away, leaving the cock hurt Lords to return home scorned. It was said that during a gathering of the court, Princess Aelora boldly declared that she harbored no yearning for a marital alliance, as she found solace in the enduring companionship of her beloved dragon Gaelithox and her loyal brother, firmly indicating that she had no intention of entering into matrimony.

IMO, the reader suffers from borderline personality disorder. People with BPD are often mistaken for having depression, but the main qualifier is periods of mania with impulsivity, which is more susceptible to hypersexuality and addictions. They're typically triggered by actual or perceived separations, disagreements, and rejections. Highly sensitive to abandonment and being alone, which brings about intense feelings of anger, fear, suicidal thoughts and self-harm, and very impulsive decisions. People with high-functioning BPD experience frequent negative thoughts, fear of rejection, and regret about expressing their feelings. I'm by no means a mental health expert. This is just my head cannon.

Masterlist of Series

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Jace and the reader fulfill the Targaryen queerness. Who would've thought? XD

Thank you for reading! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

P.S. the reader wears what's called a French hood. I couldn't find one that matched her aesthetic unfortunately.

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

[songsofadelaide]

The Intimacy Of

cw: Umemiya Hajime x (f) reader, meet cute/meet ugly, established (secret) relationship, fluff and slice of life.

wc: 2k

To trust— and be trusted back. To know that no matter what happens, someone on the wing will always be ready to catch you. The feel of a friend's strong hand on your shoulder. The sound of their encouraging voice— their words unbidden yet truthful. Yes, it's always the spontaneous thoughts that hold the most weight, after all… Their presence, even in silence, always spoke volumes, even more than their most truthful thoughts given voice...

Umemiya has long been familiar with the intimacy of comradeship— and while many of his friends didn't believe they were close enough or even entitled to his gesture of good faith, he believed they were thick as thieves. Each and every one of them.

He didn't make it on his own there to the very precipice. He was put there— carried on the back of everyone who believed in his ideals, and he, in turn, carried their faith in him on his own shoulders.

What he knew about love he knew from having friends— from his friends and their affection for him, and his own great love for them.

Umemiya wasn't that familiar with the intimacy between lovers. He never found himself wanting a relationship. He was too busy for that kind of commitment— that is until he met you.

Your meeting itself was nothing special. He just happened to be patrolling the market street when he found a lone girl defending the local flower shop from what looked like an attempted break-in. The elderly owners shivered in fear as you shielded them from the verbal assault launched by the no-good-doers— more delinquents stirring up trouble from under Bofurin's nose.

You donned the familiar Seikai Girls Academy uniform underneath the canvas working apron with the flower shop's logo embroidered on the chest area.

But there really must be something in Makochi's water that makes some girls braver than usual... Because he didn't just see you shout back a string of profanities while brandishing a crowbar at the men now… Did he?

The delinquents looked just about to retaliate when they flinched altogether at the sight of both Umemiya and Hiragi stepping in to mediate the tense standoff.

"I suggest you take a step back from the shop, gents," the silver-haired young man stated with a disarming smile directed towards the group of men with clenched fists. "And I suggest you put that down before you hurt yourself, miss…"

He held the other end of the crowbar and gently wrenched it out of your smaller hands, his eyes slightly widening in confusion at the amount of resistance he met when you didn't let go initially.

"Watch out!" You shrieked as you swung wide, the crowbar hitting the head of the ringleader with a resounding clang after he attempted to take a cheap shot at Umemiya, who managed to duck at your command.

You could have sworn you saw a twinkle of amazement and amusement in the blue eyes of the silver-haired young man after he realised what just happened. You just protected him from a coward punch, after all.

"Tch. We're entering the fray, Umemiya! I'll call for Kaji and the rest to come!" Said the bleach-blonde young man this time, an irate expression on his already scary face as he turned to you before meeting the incoming swings of the fallen ringleader's goons. "Take your grandparents in and close up shop now!"

"Y—" You tried to protest, only to be met by Umemiya's gentle hand on your shoulder.

"We're not asking, sweetheart. Whatever it is you told these guys, they aren't taking it nicely. So how's about you shack up with your grandparents for a bit while we mop this place up?" He said with a reassuring smile this time. "And hold your breath because I actually want something in return for this."

You were puzzled by this comment because you knew that members of Bofurin rarely asked for any compensation for their actions. The rewards they usually received from the townsfolk always came from the goodwill and gratitude in their hearts. "If it's money you want—"

"Oh, not that. We don't need money," he said with a low laugh that made a slow rush of embarrassment bubble in your stomach. "How about your contact number? Once we're done here, of course." 

???

"She'll gladly give it to you! Come visit our shop again, dear!" Said Mame-chan, the elderly woman who managed a smile despite the perilous situation she and her husband were in. You threw her a confused look as you shepherded her and her husband back into their shop.

"Mame-chan, what are you—?!"

A furrowed brow further wrinkled her forehead before she gently smacked your butt. "Oh, come on, now! There are worse things than dating a boy from Furin High! Besides, wasn't he a looker?!"

"Wait, what?!"

That was nearly half a year ago. And for all of his supposed busyness, Umemiya was a surprisingly attentive boyfriend. He was incredibly affectionate, too— a fact you were still adjusting to whenever he came to visit your home, which happened to be the second floor of Flower Shop Lilico, your place of employment. 

Soon enough, your window sill became lined with several fragrant and healthy-looking herb seedlings, all cultivated by the hand of your boyfriend, who happened to be a gardener in his own right. You could watch him tend to the baby plants for hours, your head in your hand as you listened to the little anecdotes he shared about himself and his friends, including all the fights and rumbles they get into, all for the sake of keeping the town safe. 

"I'm sorry. I must be boring you with all this talk of fights," he remarked with a small smile as he gently snipped an overgrown branch of mint with your gardening shears. 

"No, not at all!" You replied to him as you shook your head. "I was just thinking how… happy I am that you get to rest here w-with me a-and all… since you're always so busy! You're always free to come and see me whenever you want, Hajime."

His blue eyes widened in surprise at your rather tender invitation, even more so by how sweet his given name sounded on your lips. "Whenever I want?"

"Whenever you want, sweetheart," you nodded at him and smiled to yourself as he embraced you, his weight resting on you as he happily burrowed his head in the crook of your neck, silver hair falling over your shoulder. You returned his gesture as best you could, though your hands could barely meet from the broadness of his shoulders. 

There was something about the way he had a place to run and hide and rest that thrilled him yet also shook him to the very core. You were his most well-kept secret. The kind he couldn't risk running his mouth on at the thought of you ever being used against him. 

To the rest of Bofurin, you were an untold allegory, an unknown location, a nameless bloom so carefully planted in the corner of the thriving garden of their leader's mind— a secret lover— and they would all get so embarrassed at the very thought of Umemiya letting his guard down to just this one person.

You were a warm star on his palm, perhaps not so much of a beacon, but a lantern close by as he walked in the dimness of dusk. 

When Umemiya first spoke to Mame-chan after being invited over for tea, she told him that that girl always had trouble accepting help from other people and always did her best to run their shop independently. 

"She's not our granddaughter, but she may as well be," the elderly woman said from across their living room table. "All you need to know is that she is a good girl who will open her heart to you once she's ready."

But it didn't seem like you had a difficult time accepting him when you moved in for a kiss the third time he was at your place. He remembered tending to those baby plants, then the crack in your voice and the sound of your nervous laughter as you took a step back from him. 

"Oh, was I too fast? We ca—" 

He dropped your shears and took your hand in his, drawing you back even closer to him this time. "Don't stop now. Not when you've confirmed that you like me just as much."

Umemiya remembered the soothing sound of your heartbeat as you held him close to you that night— his cheek warm against your chest as you two spoke of the deepest and innermost of your thoughts, the fractions of your lives you didn't really want to look back on… and how it was somewhat liberating. 

Did intimacy mean vulnerability, too? Or was vulnerability the cost of such closeness? After all, this was the most intimate you had ever been with someone. Intimacy was a matter of trust, perhaps even before it was a matter of love…

And you trusted him with your life now. 

It didn't matter to you anymore if you were just another person he wanted to protect. You'd take that any day rather than being strangers again. 

"I love you," he murmured, his sleepy voice reverberating in your chest. "Or am I too fast?"

You were all the warmth and light he could ever hope to hold in his hands, like the sunlight he basked in every morning on the roof at school. Daylight, twilight, a pervading twinkling in the corner of his mind he wanted to keep in his pockets, on his green sleeves, next to his heart— 

"Did I wake you? Sorry, Hajime…"

Umemiya was gently awoken by your slow yet steady movement after having fallen asleep on your couch without a second thought. His larger hand was in yours as you sat on your carpeted floor, and hooked to your fingers was a neon-coloured nail-cleaning brush.

"I was just, um…"

You were brushing away the dirt underneath his fingernails. 

Umemiya wasn't that at all familiar with the intimacy between lovers… But he didn't budge even as you shyly fumbled and tried to hide your grooming articles behind you. 

"Sorry, sweetheart… I'm lousy at keeping myself together," he chuckled as he gently pulled your hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss on your warm knuckles. "But don't stop on my account. I don't mind if you want to pick my ears, too."

"Oh, really? Because I will do it if you aren't joking."

This must be it, right? The intimacy of lovers, he mused to himself. And the fact that he'd let you pick him apart and pry him open to brush away the dirt that settled underneath… 

He watched as you carried on with your work, his silver hair over his blue eyes as he broke the comfortable silence with a question you hadn't heard before. 

"Do you want to meet my friends?"

"Are you sure? I think I'll miss all your stories about them trying to figure out the identity of your 'mysterious' girlfriend," you said with a laugh as you brushed the corners of his nails. "I'm surprised Hiragi-san hasn't spilled your secret yet." 

"You know what a worrywart he is. He says the less people know about you the less danger you're in." 

"Oh, like you guys didn't see my way with a crowbar?" You said with a toothy grin. "You know that when push comes to shove, I'll protect this town. I'll protect you, too, Hajime. You guys have your fists and I… have my crowbar, so don't worry about me too much." 

"I'll make this place so much safer that you and I can walk the streets hand in hand without having to look over our shoulders all the time," Umemiya replied with a low hum as he slowly drifted away to sleep once more, lulled by the tender way you ran your fingers through his hair. 

"I don't mind being a secret for a little longer," you said as you pressed a kiss on his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my Hajime. You'll be safe here."

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Romantic Ending Ch. 21

Chapter 20

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

One evening, the greedy God, on a whim, gave me a lesson on Tanzanite cuisine.

Azel: Your debt keeps increasing instead of decreasing…

Azel: At this rate, you might have to be my slave forever, you know?

At the dinner table, which had become a daily occurrence in Tanzanite, Prince Azel brought the food to his mouth with gestures that spoke of his good upbringing.

Today's meal was a Tanzanite-style salad made with bulgur wheat soaked in water until soft, mixed with finely chopped tomatoes, onions, and parsley.

The main course was simple yakitori, skewers of chicken seasoned with vegetables and spices, served with chickpea soup.

The presentation wasn't perfect, but I was getting used to dishes other than Rhodolite's.

Even so—I couldn't agree with the dinner topic being my debt.

Emma: Just to be sure, what debt are you referring to?

Azel: The tuition fee for the Tanzanite cooking course.

Emma: I'm improving my cooking skills for your benefit too, you know.

Azel: That's irrelevant. No matter what your circumstances are, my goodwill doesn't come free.

(He brings up debt, debt, at every opportunity...)

(But, I've recently learned how to get back at him.)

Emma: Ah, I understand. You want to keep me here, don't you, Prince Azel?

Azel: That's a leap in logic.

Emma: It's not. You keep increasing my debt with contrived reasons, so I thought you didn't want to let me go.

Azel: That's absurd.

(He won't meet my eyes... Don't tell me I hit a nerve?)

(...Calm down, Emma. Don't dig your own grave.)

I cleared my throat to regain my composure.

Emma: But at this rate, I don't think I'll be able to repay it even if I spend my whole life doing so.

Emma: I'd be happy if you could provide some kind of relief measure.

Azel: I'd like to tell you to diligently pay it off in cash or labor, but...

Azel: If it's going to become a bad debt anyway, it might be an option to show you another path.

Azel: For example, if you give me something worth a fortune, I might consider it.

Emma: ...Something worth a fortune...

Azel: A treasure that I would want even if I had to pay a large sum of money for it.

Emma: Do you have any desires besides money, food, books, and materials, Prince Azel?

Azel: Let me see...

Prince Azel, who had stopped eating, suddenly looked at me.

But he didn't say anything, and his mystical eyes remained motionless, making me uncomfortable.

Emma: .....Prince Azel?

Azel: ......

Emma: Why are you pinching my cheeks?

Azel: Because I felt irritated for some reason.

Emma: It hurts!

Azel: I thought about it, but as of now, there's nothing that's worth a fortune to me.

The hand that had left my cheek now reached for the yakitori.

Emma: It's troubling that there's nothing, for my debt's sake.

Azel: You just have to become a great merchant like Prince Silvio.

Emma: I don't think I can.

Azel: Then give up and keep diligently earning money.

Azel: Ah, don't worry. I also accept debt repayments by letter.

Azel: Use a carrier or whatever to deliver it to me.

Emma: ...If it gets to be too much, I think I'll consult with the owner.

Azel: Please don't do that. It's not something a kind-hearted Belle should do. It's too cruel.

I couldn't help but laugh at Prince Azel's sudden change in attitude.

The God frowned.

Azel: ...More importantly, you haven't eaten anything since a while ago.

Emma: Ah, I was so engrossed in talking that I...

Emma: Shouldn't you be reading a book, Prince Azel?

When I pointed it out, Prince Azel finally seemed to realize that he hadn't brought a book to the dinner table.

Azel: ...There's no book I want to read today.

Emma: I feel like something similar happened recently...

Azel: That doesn't matter. If you're not going to eat, I'll eat it all.

Emma: No way, don't take my share too!

I hurriedly snatched back the skewers when he tried to take them all.

Unlike in the beginning, our meals these days were often lively.

We would have trivial back-and-forths, laughing foolishly...

I knew this everyday life would end someday, but I wanted to soak in it for as long as possible.

-

Emma: Prince Azel… is he… trying to take his own life?

Screams, shouts of anger, cries, fear—all these mingled in the city, stirring the dry air.

The sounds of conflict could be heard not far away, and Tanzanite, which should have been protected by dreams and illusions, was crumbling.

In this nightmarish reality, only Kamal was smiling.

Her head wouldn't nod, nor would it shake.

The sound of my own heartbeat stuck to my ears, and sweat trickled down my cheeks.

Silvio: Hey, what's goin' on?

(Maybe I have more information than Prince Silvio right now.)

(That's how long I've been with Prince Azel.)

To answer his question, I gathered all the memories I had since coming to Tanzanite.

Everything I saw with my eyes and felt in my heart led me to the worst possible conclusion.

Emma: Perhaps Prince Azel is…

Emma: ...trying to give the people who can't live without a God a shock treatment.

Silvio: ...Huh?

*flashback*

Azel: Someone once said that humans are thinking reeds.

Azel: But those who have given up thinking for themselves are just reeds.

Azel: It's a fitting image for this country, where all the plants have withered and died.

*flashback over*

(Prince Azel was worried about the current distorted state of Tanzanite.)

(As long as there is a God, people will forever give up making their own choices and will not be able to move forward on their own.)

(But if the God were to physically disappear...)

(Only when they can no longer rely on a God will people finally awaken from the dream of mythology.)

Silvio: What are ya sayin'...? There's no way that bastard would engage in such selfless hypocrisy.

Silvio: Unlike you, he hates the words "for the sake of others" more than anything.

(...That part bothers me too.)

(Until a while ago, I even thought he might love poeple...)

*flashback*

Azel: If you want to say that God is a merciful being, don't make me laugh.

Azel: I don't care what happens to ordinary people.

-

Azel: ...The people say they love God.

Azel: They think they can do whatever they want using "love" as a shield.

Azel: That's why I will never love anyone.

*flashback over*

(The more I hear, the less reason I see for Prince Azel to be able to love anyone.)

(Could a God who has served people to the point of degrading himself as a slave truly wish for their happiness?)

Silvio: It's easier to believe he's "fakin' his death to seek freedom."

Silvio: His unusual greed for money might have been to raise funds for his eventual departure, right?

Emma: ...If that were the case, would there be a need to cause such a big commotion?

Emma: Besides, Prince Azel's appearance would stand out in other countries too.

Emma: Even if he could disguise his hair color, there's no way to hide those eyes.

Emma: Even if he faked his death and escaped, there's a high chance he'd be found.

Silvio: The country that sheltered him would be pickin' a fight with Tanzanite. Your point makes sense.

Silvio: Even if we argue here, we won't find the answer in the end.

Silvio: Not unless we catch that bastard and interrogate him.

(As Prince Silvio said, it seems the only thing to do now is to question Prince Azel.)

(...The more time passes, the more likely my guess will become reality...)

I put on the bag Kamal gave me and started walking towards the back of the alley.

Silvio: Are ya really goin'?

Emma: I can't just be driven out like this without an explanation.

Silvio: What happens to him has nothin' to do with ya, right?

(Prince Azel also used to say "It has nothing to do with me" at every opportunity.)

(Certainly, once I leave Tanzanite, he might become no more than a casual acquaintance, but...)

Emma: ––When I was burdened with debt, I told Prince Azel...

*flashback*

Emma: Even if I'm in debt, I will say no to things I don't like.

Emma: Don't think I'll just obey everything you say.

*flashback over*

Emma: If I really become subservient to a God, then I'm truly a slave.

Emma: That's why I have to go and clearly tell him what I don't like.

(When I think that I might never see Prince Azel again...)

(It becomes so painful that I almost forget how to breathe.)

Kamal didn't stop me as I moved forward with determination.

Silvio: ...Tch, that broke bastard, I'll squeeze him dry when I see him next.

It seemed Prince Silvio was coming with me, and he lined up beside me.

Emma: Thank you very much.

Silvio: You owe me one too, ya know?

Emma: I'll definitely pay you back.

(I will definitely catch that cowardly God.)

-

Silvio: ––Well, I imagined it, but...

Silvio: It's completely empty, huh?

What awaited us when we returned to the temple was an eerie silence, so profound that it made this morning's events seem like a fleeting illusion.

Just like the other day, we searched the temple thoroughly, but he was nowhere to be found.

(The left corridor is blocked by rubble, and there's no sign that Prince Azel removed it.)

He might be hiding somewhere in the vast desert, or somewhere in the city, but without any clues, it would be difficult to track him down.

(It's impossible to avoid being seen on the only road leading from the city to the castle.)

(That means it's unlikely that Prince Azel is in the castle, so I think it's either the city or the temple.)

(...Maybe the tourist firm he took me to before is a possibility.)

(But, since he threw out my bag from the temple, Prince Azel must be avoiding me...)

(In that case, he might be in a place I would never think of.)

(...Coward. Are you fine with this becoming a bad debt?)

Silvio: Woman, we've got a problem.

(.....?)

With a click of his tongue, Prince Silvio looked towards where a shadow was approaching us with a leisurely gait.

(The apostle....)

Apostle: Lady Emma, you were here after all.

The High Priest wore the same unchanging smile, betraying no hint of the attack in the city, as he stopped before us with several guards.

His air of benevolence, even in this state of emergency, was rather eerie.

(Having heard the story of Prince Azel's brother, I'm even more on guard than before.)

Silvio: The God aint' here.

Apostle: Is that so? ...I thought as much.

Apostle: The Living God can foresee the future. He's probably hiding himself within an illusion to protect himself.

Apostle: It's my fault that such a non-believer appeared in the city...

Apostle: I wanted to confirm the safety of the Living God with my own eyes, but this is troubling.

(The apostle probably wants Prince Azel to quell the unrest in the city.)

(By any means necessary.)

(...)

(...Did you really come to look for Prince Azel?)

Even though he knew Prince Azel wasn't here, the apostle didn't seem flustered. There was no sign of him rushing off to another location.

Apostle: Lady Emma and Prince Silvio are also looking for the Living God, aren't you?

Apostle: But neither we nor you have any idea where he might be.

Apostle: It would be impossible to find the Living God if we just wander around blindly like this.

Apostle: So, if you don't mind, could you lend me your strength?

Silvio: ...How specifically?

Apostle: There's only one way to summon the Living God.

The apostle's gaze didn't leave me. His clinging, unpleasant stare made my breath tremble.

Apostle: Lady Emma is the only one who has received the divine favor of God.

Apostle: The Living God is merciful, so he surely wouldn't ignore it if something were to happen to that woman.

(...!)

Silvio: You...

As Silvio immediately reached for his sword, the apostle raised both hands. The way he surrendered, just like Prince Azel, made their blood relation undeniable.

Apostle: I apologize if I caused a misunderstanding. Of course, I won't harm Lady Emma.

Apostle: Just having you here with me is enough.

(......Not good at all.)

Emma: ...Are you going to exploit Prince Azel's trauma?

(The fear instilled in him when his brothers were tortured...)

A low voice, the likes of which I had never uttered before, escaped my lips. The apostle, who had kept his expression masked, showed a slight change for the first time.

Apostle: The Living God has truly opened his heart to Lady Emma.

Apostle: To think you know about that painful divine punishment...

Emma: ...Painful?

(He did it himself, so why can he talk about it like it's someone else's business?)

Apostle: I am a servant of the Living God. Every single action I take is dedicated to God.

Apostle: I have never wished to torment him. That's why it's painful.

(...)

(...This might be the first time I've ever wanted to punch someone this badly.)

I suppressed the violent urge and told myself to stay calm.

Even if I explained my anger to the apostle, it would be meaningless.

(If I cooperate with the apostle, I might be able to find Prince Azel and avoid the worst-case scenario.)

(If we only look at the goal, we can work together... but...)

Emma: Regarding your previous proposal, I must decline.

Emma: It would truly pain me to summon Prince Azel using such cowardly tactics.

My heart couldn't accept it no matter what.

Apostle: ...I shall respect your compassionate heart.

Apostle: I must think of another method.

(...To think he'd back down so easily.)

(I thought he might resort to force...)

While maintaining his smile, the apostle turned to a male cleric beside him.

Apostle: Please summon Enis to the sanctuary.

Apostle: Just tell him I wish to discuss the future.

(No––...! It's no different, the hostage has just changed from me to Enis!)

Apostle: Now then, we shall take our leave.

Apostle: If you happen to see the Living God, could you tell him to come to the sanctuary?

Apostle: I'm so worried about where he is and what he's doing now...

(With a kind face, he's cruel to the core...)

(Come to think of it, Clavis did say...)

*flashback*

Clavis: The gatherings that the apostle holds regularly... when you lift the lid, it's a workshop for manufacturing fanatics.

Clavis: Today's riot was probably also caused by some of those fanatics.

*flashback over*

(...The apostle will stop at nothing to protect his faith.)

(If King Enis is captured by the apostle now, it will be disastrous.)

Emma: Apostle....!

The hand I extended to stop him was easily grabbed and blocked.

—Not by Prince Silvio, nor the apostle, but by Kamal, who appeared as if emerging from the sandstorm.

Emma: Kamal---

Kamal: Old man, I'm disappointed to see you looking so well, truly.

(………… Huh?)

For the first time, words were spun from Kamal's lips, which shouldn't be able to make a sound.

More than the content itself... I was so shocked, it was like being punched in the gut, leaving me gaping.

I wasn't the only one surprised; the smile disappeared from the apostle's face as well.

Kamal: Oh my, what's with that stupid look? I wanted to see it with Azel.

Apostle: ...Why...?

Kamal: Why? You're saying strange things.

Kamal: I've always been on my cute little brother's side. Unlike our crazy old man.

The voice coming from the bewitching beauty was unexpectedly deep.

Silvio: That face... You weren't told?

Silvio: Kamal is that broke bastard's brother.

(Prince Azel's... brother!?)

.

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Romantic Ending Ch. 21 His Side Story

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