#forget write drunk edit sober

[mingi-s-dimples]

Cost of Entry - sangi *300 followers special*

andddd here it is! thank you so, so much for 300 followers! it means everything to me! I love every single one of you 🤍

pairing: mafia leaders!sangi × fem!reader

genre: 18+, mafia au, filth

summary: you just wanted a break from everything.. and you decide to sneak in the VIP section. One of the best choices in your life.. despite the dangers lurking in.

wc: 9.4k (half plot/half smut)

warnings: mafia au, possessive and controlled!san, drunk and teasy!mingi, bratty f!reader, drunken confession (mingi), teasing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol ingestion (mingi), drunk sex (mingi was wasted), lots of cum, multiple orgasms, san eats her out, mingi is loud, san is a calm controlled storm until he isn't and mingi is ravished all over, enemies to lovers slightly more like forbidden encounter, double penetration, 3some, a singular degradation *slut*, choking, head pushing, oral (f and mingi receiving), manhandling, bulge kink (the one where reader gets turned on by seeing.. mingi’s bulge), size kink, some making out, some praise, unprotected (wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I feel like I improved so much since I first started writing... and it’s been a while since then 🥹 I don't care about the following whatsoever, but seeing all of you like, reblog, and appreciate my work is so fulfilling for me. School and life in general have been shit these past couple of months, starting with October, and I'm so grateful for everyone that waited for the kinktober fics 😭 I know it took me ages to write them but, hey! we're done, and I hope all my readers have had time to read everything ^^ watch out for three requests and one New Year's Eve Special (it's gonna be steamy 🤗)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the reality of the members in any way.

The club was alive with an almost oppressive energy, and the air was thick with heat, sweat, and the faint sting of alcohol, mingling into something intoxicating. People moved like shadows across the dance floor, their faces blurred under flashing lights and clouds of smoke. The space was designed to disorient, to make you forget time and place.

You hadn’t planned to end up here.

Your life had been spiraling lately—work stress, personal struggles, and the kind of exhaustion that made everything feel heavier. Tonight, you’d needed a change, an escape from the suffocating routine of your life. But as you wove your way through the crowd, sober and increasingly overwhelmed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t quite fit.

And then you saw it—the VIP section.

It was set apart from the rest of the club, a raised platform encircled by a sleek black rope. The lighting was softer there, casting an ambient glow over the space. Plush leather couches and polished tables hinted at luxury, while the guests seated within exuded something else entirely—an aura of power. It wasn’t the kind of wealth that came from successful businesses or old money; this was something sharper, more dangerous.

You didn’t know the specifics, but you’d heard whispers. The people who occupied those seats weren’t just rich; they were the kind of people you wouldn't usually meet. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t get too close.

But tonight, curiosity—or maybe desperation—got the better of you.

You watched the bouncers for a moment, waiting until one of them turned to speak to someone at the entrance. Then, with your heart hammering in your chest, you ducked under the rope. It was a calculated risk, but as you stepped into the VIP section, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The music was still present, but muted, as though the space itself demanded quiet. The people here weren’t shouting over the bass like the crowd below; their conversations were low and deliberate.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as your eyes scanned the room.

That’s when you saw them.

Two men occupied the largest couch, a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table between them. They were seated with a kind of confidence that drew attention without effort, the kind of presence that made everyone else fade into the background.

The man on the left, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, exuded control. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp jawline caught the light as he leaned back in his seat. His gaze was steady and piercing, scanning the room like he was cataloging every threat, every movement. Something about him was almost surgical in its precision, his presence commanding without needing to speak.

The other man was a striking contrast. His posture was looser, his energy more chaotic. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of tattoos beneath. He held his drink lazily, swirling the liquid as he leaned forward to say something to his companion. Where the first man was sharp and quiet, this one was wild, his energy buzzing beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break.

They were magnetic.

You didn’t know who they were, not exactly, but you didn’t need to. The air around them crackled with something electric, and your instincts screamed at you to turn back. These were not men you messed with. But before you could make your escape, their attention shifted.

The man in the suit noticed you first. His gaze snapped to you, sharp as a blade, and you froze under the weight of it. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was cold, calculated.

“Someone’s feeling brave,” he murmured, his voice smooth and quiet but carrying an edge that made your pulse race.

His companion followed his gaze, his expression twisting into something halfway between amusement and curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes raked over you. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice rough and teasing. “What’s this? Lost your way, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat before you managed to find words. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just... I needed a break.”

The suited man tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “A break,” he echoed, as though the word was unfamiliar to him.

“From what?” his companion pressed, his tone almost playful.

“I—” You hesitated, feeling their eyes on you, dissecting you. “From everything.”

The man in the suit leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles as he studied you. “Interesting choice of refuge,” he remarked, his voice soft but cutting.

His companion chuckled, low and rough, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and poured a generous amount into an empty glass. “You know what they say: When in Rome.” He slid the glass toward you, his smirk widening. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

You stared at the glass, your mind racing.

“She doesn’t drink,” the suited man observed, his gaze never leaving you.

You met his eyes, your voice steadier than you felt. “How do you know that?”

His smirk deepened. “You’re still standing upright, and your shoes are in one piece.”

San's words lingered in the air, his sharp gaze still locked onto yours. There was a weight to his presence that made it hard to look away, as if he was silently daring you to say something—anything—that might amuse him. Mingi, on the other hand, was all energy and movement, the chaos to San’s calm. He leaned back with a smirk, his glass dangling loosely between his fingers as he looked at you like you were the night’s entertainment.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mingi teased, his deep voice carrying just enough bite to make your cheeks flush.

You squared your shoulders, willing yourself not to let their intensity overwhelm you. “I didn’t realize needing a break required permission,” you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low chuckle. “Feisty. I like her.”

San didn’t smile, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “You should choose your words carefully,” he said, his tone calm but cold. “You’re in a space where even the smallest mistake can have... consequences.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Noted.”

Mingi set his glass down with a deliberate clink, then rose from his seat. He was tall—taller than you’d realized—and every step he took toward you felt like a test. When he reached your side, he sat down on the couch, the leather creaking softly under his weight. His broad shoulders and long legs made the space feel impossibly small, his proximity overwhelming.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Mingi asked, his voice low as he leaned closer. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another drink.

Your pulse quickened as his thigh brushed against yours, the heat of his body seeping into you. He didn’t touch you outright, but the way his arm draped over the back of the couch—his fingers just inches from your shoulder—made it clear he was testing boundaries.

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough.”

Mingi snorted, swirling the whiskey in his glass before downing it in one gulp. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” He set the glass down with more force this time.

“Mingi.” San’s voice was sharper now, carrying an authority that made the air feel heavier. “Enough.”

Mingi ignored him, his attention fully on you now. His hand brushed your shoulder, his touch deliberate as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re awfully quiet for someone bold enough to crash our table,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing.

You shivered under his gaze, unsure whether it was fear or something else entirely.

“Mingi,” San said again, his voice colder this time. “Stop. You’re scaring her.”

But before Mingi could respond, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”

San’s sharp gaze snapped to you, his expression unreadable. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming as you whispered, “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin returned, this time more feral. He turned back to San, gesturing at you with a lazy wave of his hand. “See? She’s fine.” Then he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief and menace as he added, “Not like she had much of a choice anyway. She’s in our territory now, and what’s in our territory...” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before finishing with a smirk, “...is ours to play with.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of their meaning pressing down on you.

San’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at Mingi. “That’s enough.”

Mingi only laughed, the sound low and dangerous, as he sat back and grabbed the bottle of whiskey again. “Relax, San. You’re always so uptight. She’s not running.”

You glanced between them, your heart racing as the tension crackled like a live wire.

Mingi’s body was a furnace beside you, radiating heat as he poured himself yet another glass of whiskey. His movements were slower now, less precise, but his grin was as sharp as ever. You could tell he was far gone—the slight slur to his words, the way his fingers occasionally fumbled for the glass—but it didn’t seem to bother him.

San, on the other hand, was the picture of control. He sipped his drink slowly, his sharp eyes flicking between you and Mingi like a predator assessing the situation.

“You’re really not going to join in?” Mingi teased, leaning back against the couch and spreading his legs a little wider. His arm stretched out behind you, his fingertips brushing your shoulder as he spoke. “You’re missing out, San. She’s... something else.”

San arched a brow, his lips quirking in a faint smirk. “Unlike you, I know how to pace myself.”

Mingi chuckled, the sound rough and low as he turned his attention back to you. “Pacing is fucking overrated.” His hand drifted lower, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The club around you seemed to fade into the background, the music a dull thrum as Mingi’s touch became more deliberate. His fingers brushed against your waist, testing, teasing. You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. And then you saw it—a noticeable bulge forming in his pants, pressing against the fabric.

Your cheeks burned, and you tried to look away, but your eyes kept flicking back to it. Mingi caught the direction of your gaze and grinned, leaning closer so his breath tickled your ear. “See something you like?”

Your hand trembled as it moved, almost of its own accord, resting lightly on his thigh. His grin faltered for a split second, surprise flickering in his eyes before it was replaced with something darker, hungrier.

San let out a low chuckle, drawing your attention back to him. “Brave,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “But you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You frowned, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. “And why is that?”

San leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Because we’re not the kind of men you walk away from,” he said, his tone cold and deliberate. “We’re mafia leaders, sweetheart. Every choice you make with us has consequences.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you could fully process them, Mingi let out a bark of laughter. “Mafia leaders, consequences... You’re scaring her, San.” He turned to you, his hand sliding a little higher on your waist as he smirked. “Don’t listen to him. You’re already here. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’re not exactly helping your case, Mingi.”

Mingi ignored him, his focus entirely on you. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts. “You know,” he said, his voice rough and slurred, “you’re driving me insane. The way you walked in here like you owned the place... That bold little attitude of yours. And don’t even get me started on this body.” His hand squeezed your waist gently, his fingers pressing into your skin. “Your waist, your thighs, those perfect—”

“Mingi,” San interrupted, his voice sharp, though there was an edge of amusement in his tone.

“What?” Mingi shot back, his grin widening as he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m just being honest. She deserves to know how fucking gorgeous she is.”

You felt your heart racing, the heat of Mingi’s words and touch sending a confusing mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through you. Your gaze darted to San, whose smirk deepened as he leaned back, watching the scene unfold like it was some sort of game.

“She doesn’t belong here,” San said after a moment, his tone soft but firm. “And if she has any sense, she’ll leave before it’s too late.”

Mingi let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Too late for what? She’s already in our territory.” His hand moved again, brushing lightly against your hip as his grin turned wicked. “And as I said.. what’s in our territory... is ours.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his rough, drunken demeanor making the statement feel both dangerous and thrilling. San’s expression shifted slightly, his smirk fading as he studied your reaction.

“Well?” San asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Do you want to stay?”

Your hand tightened slightly on Mingi’s thigh, your body betraying you even as your mind screamed at you to be careful. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low growl of approval. “Smart girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “I knew you’d be fun.”

San chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

San’s glass clinked softly as he set it down on the table, the whiskey within barely touched. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as he rose from his seat. The room seemed to shift around him, his presence commanding enough to silence even Mingi’s drunken teasing.

He stopped directly in front of you, looming but not overbearing, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching as though he were debating whether to smirk or scowl.

Then, without warning, he reached for the whiskey bottle, filling his glass to the brim. He tilted his head back and downed the entire thing in one smooth motion, his throat working as the liquid disappeared. When he lowered the glass, his dark eyes met yours, burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

San leaned down, his face inches from yours. His hand brushed the back of the couch, caging you in without touching you. His voice was low, a near-whisper that somehow drowned out the pounding bass of the club.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Sneaking in here, testing us. But let me make one thing clear.” He paused, his lips barely brushing your skin as he spoke again, each word slow and deliberate. “You’ll regret it if you mistake this for mercy. I am not the man who lets you walk away unscathed.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone dripping with something dark and forbidden. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, caught in the gravity of his presence. And then, just as suddenly as he leaned in, he straightened, his face an unreadable mask once more.

“Enough,” San said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze flicked to Mingi, who was still leaning against you, his hand idly tracing circles on your hip. “Stop.”

Mingi scowled, his drunken grin faltering for the first time. “What’s your problem, San? She’s fine.”

San’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket. “She’s coming with us.”

Before you could fully process his words, San pressed the phone to his ear, speaking in clipped tones. “Bring the car around. Now.”

The command was brief but absolute, and you didn’t doubt that whoever was on the other end of the call would obey without question. San hung up and turned back to the two of you, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mingi groaned but obeyed, standing and stretching lazily before offering you a hand. You hesitated for a second, glancing at San, who watched you. Finally, you took Mingi’s hand, and he helped you to your feet, his grip lingering just a little too long.

The three of you made your way through the VIP section, San leading the way with his usual precision and control. The club seemed to part around him, the crowd instinctively moving aside as he passed. Mingi stayed close to your side, his hand brushing yours occasionally, whether by accident or design, you weren’t sure.

When you reached the exit, a sleek black car was already waiting at the curb. The chauffeur stepped out to open the door, bowing his head slightly as San climbed in first.

Mingi gestured for you to follow, his grin returning as he leaned down to whisper, “After you, princess.”

You slid into the car, the cool leather seats a sharp contrast to the heat of the club. San was already seated, his gaze fixed out the window, his profile sharp in the dim light. Mingi climbed in after you, the door closing with a soft thud as the car pulled away from the curb.

The tension in the car was palpable, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. Mingi shifted beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned back, his arm draping casually over the seat behind you.

San’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection for a brief moment before he looked away again. “This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re in over your head.”

Mingi laughed, the sound rough and carefree. “Don’t scare her off, San. She’s more fun than half the people we deal with.”

San didn’t respond, his focus returning to the city lights streaming past the window. You glanced between them, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Relax,” Mingi murmured, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. His touch was warm, almost soothing, but the glint in his eyes was anything but. “We’re just getting started.”

The car continued its smooth journey, the cityscape blurring as you wondered what exactly you had just stepped into.

In the dim, confined space of the car, you shifted slightly, catching San’s reflection in the tinted window. He sat stiffly, his gaze fixed outside, the sharp angles of his jaw tightening every few moments. You could tell he was irritated—whether it was at you, Mingi, or the entire situation, you weren’t sure.

But something about his restrained demeanor, the tension radiating off him in waves, made you bold. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from sneaking into their space, or maybe it was the effect of Mingi’s earlier touch still tingling on your skin. Either way, you couldn’t resist.

“So, San,” you began, your voice light and teasing as you crossed your legs, the movement subtle but deliberate. “Always this uptight, or is it just when women crash your little mafia clubhouse?”

Mingi barked out a laugh, his arm still stretched lazily over the back of the seat. “She’s got a mouth on her, huh? I like it.”

San turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Careful,” he warned, his voice quiet but dangerous.

You leaned forward just a bit, your smirk growing. “Or what? You’ll lecture me again? Maybe I should take notes. You seem like the type who likes to be... in control.”

The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched as he tried to stifle another laugh, clearly enjoying the show. San, however, didn’t react immediately, his silence only fueling your determination.

“I mean,” you continued, feigning innocence as you leaned back against the seat, “you’re all about consequences, right? But it makes me wonder...” You let your gaze trail over him, slow and deliberate. “What would it take to get you to lose that cool composure of yours?”

San’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening briefly on the edge of his seat. The way he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring just slightly, told you you’d struck a nerve. Good.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of an imposing apartment building, its sleek façade gleaming under the city lights. San stepped out first, his movements stiff and controlled, as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. You followed, with Mingi stumbling slightly as he climbed out after you, muttering something about the uneven curb.

Inside the lobby, the tension didn’t ease. The three of you moved toward the elevator, Mingi swaying slightly as he leaned against the wall while San pressed the call button. The soft ding of the elevator’s arrival broke the silence, and the doors slid open.

The ride up was quiet at first. San pressed the button for the 25th floor, the soft hum of the elevator filling the small space. Mingi leaned against the corner, his head tipped back against the wall, but his drunken grin hadn’t faded.

You stood between them, your heart pounding as you stole a glance at San. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Then the doors closed, and something in San snapped.

In one swift motion, he turned toward you, his hand reaching up to grip your jaw—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you gasp. He tilted your head up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a fire that burned through every ounce of control he’d been holding onto.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he growled, his voice low and rough, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

His free hand ghosted over your throat, his fingers barely brushing your skin as he leaned in, his lips so close you could feel the heat of his breath.

“You wanted to piss me off?” he continued, his tone both dangerous and unbearably sensual. “Congratulations. You did.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip tightening slightly as he added, “But let me make one thing clear—you don’t play games with me unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning as his words sank in. Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, as though he was determined to claim every ounce of control you’d tried to take from him.

His kiss was a contradiction—hot and cold, restrained and wild. His hand remained on your throat, his fingers flexing just enough to remind you of the power he held without crossing a line.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “You drive me fucking insane,” he murmured, his voice raw. “That mouth of yours, the way you look at me like you’re daring me to lose control... You have no idea what you’ve started.”

Behind you, Mingi let out a low whistle, breaking the moment. “Damn, San. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

San straightened, his gaze never leaving yours as he ignored Mingi’s comment. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before stepping back, his composure slipping back into place like a mask.

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the 25th floor. San gestured for you to step out first, his expression unreadable once more.

“Let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped but softer than before.

You stepped out of the elevator, your heart still racing as you followed them down the hallway. Whatever you’d walked into tonight, you knew one thing for certain—you weren’t walking away unscathed.

San’s demeanor changed the moment the door to the penthouse swung open. The space was vast and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Sleek black leather furniture contrasted with the warm tones of wood paneling, and a massive crystal chandelier hung above the open living area, its light casting intricate patterns on the marble floor.

But none of it mattered—because as soon as the door clicked shut, San turned to you with a look that could melt steel.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not painful, as he pulled you through the space. You caught glimpses of the penthouse as he led you—an open kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, a curved staircase leading to a second level, and finally, a door at the end of a hallway.

San pushed it open, revealing a massive bedroom. The centerpiece was a king-sized bed with a dark gray headboard, framed by sleek black nightstands. The room was minimalist but luxurious, the kind of place that radiated power and control.

Before you could take it all in, San was on you. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around and backing you toward the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the backs of your knees, and he didn’t give you time to steady yourself before his hands moved to your shoulders, pushing you down with controlled force.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said, his voice a low growl as he loomed over you. His dark eyes burned with a mix of anger and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Waltzing into my world, running that mouth of yours. Do you even understand what kind of fire you’re playing with?”

You met his gaze, refusing to back down even as your pulse raced. “Maybe I like the fire,” you shot back, your voice sharper than you expected. “Maybe I want to see just how far I can push you.”

San’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the bed on either side of you. “You think this is a game?” he said, his voice cold and biting. “You think you can just walk into my territory, challenge me, and get away with it?”

Your lips curved into a smirk, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “What if I do?”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Then, Mingi’s voice broke through, lazy and amused.

“Now this,” Mingi drawled, leaning against the doorframe with his usual casual confidence, “is entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, and your breath caught. Mingi had stripped off his shirt, revealing a body that was all hard muscle and tattoos. His skin glistened slightly, the faint sheen catching the light as he crossed his arms over his chest.

His gaze dropped to the bulge straining against his pants, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing over it lazily. “San,” he said, his voice laced with mockery, “you’re hogging all the fun.”

San didn’t look at him, his focus remaining solely on you. “She’s the one who wanted to test me,” he said, his tone dark. “And I’m going to make sure she understands exactly what that means.”

Mingi smirked, pushing off the doorframe as he sauntered into the room. “Be my guest,” he said, his fingers teasing at the waistband of his pants. “But don’t take too long. I’m not exactly a patient man.”

San finally looked at him, his expression hard. “Stay out of this,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Whatever you say, boss.” But his eyes drifted back to you, his gaze heavy and full of unspoken promise.

Your breath hitched as San’s gaze returned to you, his hand brushing against your jaw in a touch that was both possessive and almost tender.

“You wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t forget that.”

San’s hands gripped the edge of the bed with enough force to leave marks in the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as if trying to read your every thought. The way his gaze darkened, the slightest shift in his posture, told you everything—you had pushed him to the edge, and now there was no turning back.

You could feel the heat radiating between the three of you, Mingi leaning against the doorframe with a wicked grin that only fueled the fire. He sauntered toward the bed, his presence almost magnetic. His gaze roamed over you, his eyes lingering on your every curve, drinking you in. His fingers twitched, as if testing the waters, before his hand settled on your arm, warm and possessive.

San watched every move Mingi made, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. He was too far gone—his control slipping, his desire too raw and evident in the air. He was trying to contain it, but the force of it all was starting to unravel him.

Without warning, Mingi’s hands moved to your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust and amusement.

You shivered, your body reacting involuntarily to the heated touch. You tried to suppress the tremble in your voice as you met Mingi’s teasing gaze. “Is that what you want, Mingi? To watch me squirm?”

Mingi chuckled softly, low and deep, his fingers lightly tracing the neckline of your shirt. “You don’t know how much I enjoy watching you try to fight it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened further. “You’ve got a fire in you, and I can’t wait to see how far it burns.”

San’s jaw tightened, a flicker of possessiveness flashing in his eyes, but he stayed silent, watching. He wasn’t backing down—he was waiting for something, for you to push him further, maybe.

You wanted to respond, to fire back, but your thoughts scattered as Mingi's hands shifted lower, finding the hem of your shirt. His fingers tugged at the fabric, pulling it up slowly, deliberately. The cool air of the room hit your skin as your shirt was discarded to the side.

Before you could process the situation, San moved, his body shifting with an almost predatory grace. His eyes never left you as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a sense of urgency that surprised you. He was just as affected, just as hungry.

“You’re mine,” San growled, his voice rough, filled with something primal. He pushed you back against the bed with just enough force to make you gasp, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he loomed over you. “And I won’t let anyone forget that.”

Mingi’s voice cut through the air again, but this time there was no teasing in it, only admiration as his gaze dropped to your chest. “You didn’t tell me about these,” he murmured, his eyes flashing with something like appreciation. “Damn, you’re perfect.”

San’s eyes flicked to Mingi then, a hard, sharp glance that had the younger man holding his tongue for a second. He knew the territory; San had already marked his claim in the club, and it was clear now who had the upper hand.

“I said stop talking about her body like that,” San snapped, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint still in his eyes, “Alright, alright, I get it. You’ve got her.”

San’s grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers moving with the same deliberate intensity he’d shown earlier. His gaze never left you, he stood over you, fully exposed, his muscles tense and rippling as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t soft; it wasn’t tender. It was rough, commanding, a mark of ownership.

He pulled back for a split second, his breath hot against your cheek as he muttered, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

In that moment, you knew exactly what he meant—everything about you drove him wild. And now, there was no way out. The tension had broken, the line had been crossed. The storm had begun, and you were caught in its eye.

“Don’t you dare play games with me,” San murmured, his voice low and dangerously quiet, a thread of restraint running through it. “You’re in my world now.” His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to remind you of who was in control, his other hand moving to undo your pants with the same cold precision.

You held your breath as the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed beneath the harshness of his touch. But even then, you didn’t look away. You felt the pulse of electricity between you—his power, his control, and your own challenge to it.

Mingi, still lingering by, watched with a smirk that never faltered. His hand brushed over his chest as he approached, his gaze flicking from you to San, then back to you with a teasing glint in his eye.

“You’re really not going to let me have any fun, are you?” Mingi said, his voice playful but carrying an underlying heat.

San’s response was a sharp glance that silenced Mingi for a moment. But then, with a barely-there nod, he signaled for Mingi to move closer. Mingi’s smirk grew as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing whisper. “Don’t think we’re done here. You wanted to get under his skin, didn’t you? Now you’ll see what happens when you do.”

His words hung in the air as he pulled back, allowing San to take the lead once again. You barely had time to process before San’s lips were on your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he kissed and trailed his lips up your skin. His breath was hot against your flesh, and you could feel the intensity of his presence, his hunger for control, in every movement.

“You want me to stop?” San’s voice was low, almost a growl, as his lips hovered just above your skin.

It wasn’t a question you could answer easily, not with the fire coursing through your veins. Your body betrayed you, trembling with anticipation, your pulse racing with every subtle touch, every whispered command. You fought to hold onto your composure, but it was slipping, bit by bit.

Mingi, watching all of this unfold, let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the sight of you trying to stay in control while San worked his power over you. “She’s got a fire,” Mingi muttered to himself, leaning casually against the wall.

San, hearing his words, shot a glance at Mingi, his jaw tight. “She’s in my hands now,” he said, his tone laced with something possessive. “And she’ll learn what it means to be tested.”

San’s gaze never wavered, his focus entirely on you. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with tension as his fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His voice dropped to a low rumble, the weight of his authority palpable. “Eyes on me. You don’t get to shy away now.”

Mingi moved closer, his presence as heavy as San’s, though tinged with a teasing energy that made your heart race. He settled beside you, his hand brushing against your shoulder, a touch both gentle and possessive. “You’re holding back,” Mingi murmured, his voice like a soft hum against your skin. “Why don’t you show us what you’re really capable of?”

San smirked at Mingi’s words, his expression dark with satisfaction. “She will,” he replied confidently, his hands steady as they skimmed over your thighs, his grip tightening just enough to draw your attention fully back to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mingi, not to be outdone, shed his remaining clothing as well, his smirk never faltering as he took his place beside you.

San chuckled, his hands returning to your hips, pulling you closer with a firm but careful tug. “She’ll take everything we give her. Won’t you?” His words were a challenge, laced with something possessive, his tone daring you to deny him.

Your breath hitched, and San leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Don’t fight it. Let me see how much you can handle.” His fingers dug into your sides slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he was in control.

Mingi’s hand trailed down your arm, his touch light but deliberate, sending a shiver through you. “I think she’s ready.”

San smirked, leaning back just enough to lock eyes with you. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and commanding. “She’s not done proving herself to me.”

The cool sheets beneath you were a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin as San positioned himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and brimming with purpose. His sharp eyes drank in every inch of you, a reverent smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough yet warm, carrying a weight of appreciation that sent a shiver through your entire body. “How can someone be this breathtaking?”

His words, so unexpectedly tender, made your breath hitch.

On your right, Mingi knelt with a smirk that was anything but soft. His dark eyes roamed over you, his expression hungry, though laced with mischief. “Breathtaking, huh?” he drawled, one hand resting on your side, his thumb brushing over your ribs. “That’s one way to put it. But I’d call her... delicious.”

His teasing tone made your cheeks burn, but before you could respond, San’s voice cut through, steady and commanding. “Careful, Mingi,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a faint edge in his tone. “This isn’t about you.”

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Relax, San. I’m just admiring your masterpiece.”

San turned his attention back to you, his expression softening as he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin gently. “Ignore him,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble meant just for you. “Right now, you gotta focus on me."

The weight of his words settled in your chest, grounding you. But then, San’s lips curved into a wicked smile, and his hands tightened on your thighs, spreading them a little wider. “Actually,” he murmured, his tone taking on a darker edge, “I have an idea.”

You blinked up at him, your body already reacting to the shift in his demeanor. “An idea?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

San’s smirk grew, his hands trailing down your thighs with deliberate slowness. “I’ll show you just how much I want you,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with intent. “And Mingi here can... keep himself occupied.”

Mingi raised a brow, his grin turning sharper. “Occupied, huh?” he echoed, his gaze flicking between you and San. Then his attention locked onto you, his smirk softening just slightly. “You wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you barely had time to process his words before San leaned down, his breath warm against your thigh. “It’s not really a question,” San murmured, his voice dripping with authority. “You’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”

His confidence left no room for hesitation, and your body answered before your mind could catch up, your breath hitching as you nodded. San chuckled, the sound low and rich as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl, or may I say.. good slut? That's more like it." he whispered, the degrading praise sending a thrill through you

San’s hands tightened on your thighs, grounding you as he lowered himself further, his presence overwhelming and commanding all at once. “Keep your focus,” he ordered, his voice low but firm, even as his lips trailed closer to your cunt. “You don’t stop until I tell you to. Understood?”

The weight of his command left you breathless, and all you could do was nod.

The headboard was cool against your back, grounding you amidst the heat that filled the room.

“You’ll watch me, won’t you?” San murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Every little reaction you give belongs to me.”

Before you could respond, a hand brushed against your jaw, turning your attention upward. Mingi, his towering frame casting a shadow over you, stood by the side of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. His smirk was a challenge, daring you to take control even as he exuded a quiet authority of his own.

“Don’t get distracted,” Mingi murmured, his voice smooth yet firm as he guided his cock closer, his confidence unwavering. He took your hand, his touch deliberate as he placed it at the base of it. “You’re going to be good for us, aren’t you?”

Your fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before wrapping around him, the weight of his command making your heart race. Slowly, you moved your hand along his cock, your palm brushing over every vein, feeling his breath hitch slightly as you teased him.

San chuckled darkly from between your thighs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched. “Look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride. “Already falling into place like you were made for this.”

Mingi’s hand tightened on yours as he guided you further, his deep voice a steady presence above the storm San was creating. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone equal parts encouragement and demand. “Just like that. Don’t hold back now.”

The tension in the room thickened as the sounds of your shallow breaths and soft whimpers intertwined with the low rumble of their voices. San’s grip on your thighs tightened as he leaned in. His lips finally reached the place you needed him most.

The first stroke of his tongue was unrelenting, both tender and possessive as though he wanted to draw every ounce of reaction from you. Your back arched against the headboard, a trembling whine escaping your lips, but it was quickly muffled by Mingi's cock.

He held your jaw gently, tilting your face so that his tip brushed against your parted lips. “Show me how good you can be.”

You took a shaky breath before wrapping your lips around it, your fingers curling at the base for balance as you began to move your head. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, his low groans blending with your muffled whines as San’s movements became more precise.

San’s hands slid up your thighs, grounding you, anchoring you against the overwhelming sensations. “So responsive,” he muttered, his tone dripping with satisfaction. He pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate patterns that sent waves of electricity coursing through you.

Your cries reverberated around Mingi, the vibrations making his jaw tense as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head. “That’s it,” he groaned, his deep voice resonating through you. “You sound so pretty like that.”

San chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he mused, his voice muffled but no less commanding. “Taking everything we give her so beautifully.”

You couldn’t focus on anything but the push and pull between the two of them, the way Mingi’s deep groans matched the rhythm of San’s relentless attention. Every touch, every sound built the tension inside you higher, drawing you closer to the edge with a heady mix of roughness and sensual control.

San pulled back slightly, his lips glistening and his dark eyes sharp as they met yours. He let out a low, mocking chuckle that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your thighs never faltered, his thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to keep you firmly grounded in the moment.

“Here’s the deal,” San murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. “You don’t get to come until he does. Show me how good you are at taking care of him, and maybe I’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

Your wide, needy eyes met his, your body trembling from the intensity of his gaze and the deliberate tease of his hands on your skin. San leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “Make him fall apart first, and I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Mingi groaned softly at San’s words, his hand cupping your cheek to guide your attention back to him. “You heard him,” he said, his tone rough but lined with a teasing edge. “Show me how good you can be.”

Your resolve firmed despite the heat coursing through you, and you took Mingi deeper, the sound of your efforts mixing with his low, guttural groans. Your hand stroked him in time with your movements, your tongue trailing against him in a way that had his breath hitching. His free hand gripped the edge of the headboard, his control faltering with every deliberate flick of your tongue.

San watched with dark satisfaction, his hand sliding along your thigh as a silent reminder of his presence. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice smooth but edged with hunger. “You can do better than that. Make him feel it.”

You pushed yourself further, letting your lips tighten and your tongue tease, drawing a shuddering gasp from Mingi. His head tipped back, his grip on the headboard tightening as his breaths grew uneven. The sharp inhale he took before he came was punctuated by a low, satisfied groan, his body trembling as he filled your mouth with his cum.

San’s pleased hum was the only warning you got before he shifted you slightly, his hands moving to adjust your hips as he leaned in closer. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “Now, let me give you what you’ve been waiting for.”

The first touch of his mouth was unrelenting, and your cry of relief was immediate. San worked with precision, his movements rough enough to leave you trembling but careful enough to draw every ounce of tension from your body. His hands held you in place, his grip firm as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as the waves of your orgasm finally crashed over you, your body arching against the headboard. You cried out, San’s name spilling from your lips as he carried you through every trembling moment, his hold never faltering.

As you came down from the high, San’s lips brushed against your thigh, his voice low and satisfied. “That’s how I want to hear you,” he said, his tone possessive but lined with pride. “Falling apart for me.”

Mingi’s deep voice rumbled from behind San, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “If San gets to have ideas, then I have one too,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an undercurrent of mischief. He leaned back against the headboard, his broad frame radiating confidence as he continued, “What if we both take care of her?”

San froze for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considered Mingi’s bold proposition. But before he could respond, you felt the weight of Mingi’s gaze on you—curious, warm, and daring. It wasn’t until he noticed the flicker of excitement in your eyes, a spark you couldn’t hide, that his lips curved into a knowing grin.

San caught that spark too. He tilted his head, his initial hesitation melting into something darker, more intentional. “Interesting,” he muttered, his fingers still trailing along your thigh. “You’re into that, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught, the tension in the room thickening as Mingi made his move. Without waiting for further confirmation, he reached out, his strong hands finding your waist as he effortlessly guided you onto his lap. The shift was seamless, his strength evident as he settled you above him, his arms caging you in with a gentle but commanding grip.

Mingi’s voice was a low murmur as he tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t be shy now,” he said, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “We’re just getting started.”

San moved behind you, his presence grounding you as his hands found your hips, steadying you against Mingi’s chest. The duality of their touches was overwhelming—Mingi’s hold firm and encompassing, San’s deliberate and teasing.

“You’re going to be good for both of us,” San said, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, a slow, deliberate movement that sent chills through you. “Let him see how much you want this.”

Mingi chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he shifted beneath you. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a tantalizing promise. “We’ll take care of you.”

Their combined attention was intoxicating. Mingi’s hands spanned your waist, holding you close as San’s fingertips teased along your sides. Their coordination was seamless, their shared focus on you leaving no room for doubt.

Mingi tilted your chin down toward him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You’re ours tonight,” he murmured, his tone heavy with intent. His grip tightened slightly, his strength a silent reassurance as he added, “Let us show you how good it can be.”

Behind you, San’s hands slid along your body, his touch purposeful as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss against your neck. His lips curved into a smirk as he felt you shiver beneath him.

“Trust us,” San murmured, his voice a velvet promise, “and let go.”

Mingi’s grip on your waist tightened, his strength palpable as he held you effortlessly above him. His dark gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch. With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down, your body trembling as he buried himself in you, his hips rolling upward with an undeniable authority.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. His hands splayed wide on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he set the rhythm, his dominance radiating in every calculated move. “Take all of me. You’re not going anywhere.”

Behind you, San’s restraint was hanging by a thread. His fingers dug into your shoulders, the pressure almost bruising as he steadied you between them. The sound of your breathless whimpers seemed to snap something inside him, his control shattering as he thrust forward without warning. His movements were rough, almost desperate, his hips slamming into you with unrelenting force.

“You feel too good,” San growled, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you back against him as he drove deeper, each thrust more powerful than the last. “I can’t stop. Don’t even think about asking me to.”

Mingi chuckled darkly beneath you, his hands sliding up your sides to keep you upright as your body trembled. “He’s lost it,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement and pride. His thumbs pressed into your waist, his hold steadying you as he tilted his head back to watch the way your body responded to their relentless pace. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’re ours. We’ll make sure you do.”

Your legs threatened to give out entirely, the overwhelming intensity of their combined focus leaving you barely able to hold yourself up. Mingi’s grip on your waist grew even firmer, his strength keeping you steady as he thrust upward with a controlled power that left you gasping.

San, on the other hand, was a storm. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bit down gently, marking you with a possessive edge that left no doubt about his intentions. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and unyielding. “Ours. Don’t forget it.”

The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, low groans, and the slap of skin as San and Mingi worked in perfect, chaotic tandem. Mingi’s hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your chin down so your eyes met his. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice a dangerous mix of gentleness and authority. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Behind you, San growled in frustration, his pace growing even faster as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back. His hands moved to your waist, gripping tightly as he took over the rhythm, each thrust forcing a breathless cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” San muttered, his voice strained and full of raw hunger. “Made for us. Look at how you’re falling apart. Can’t even stand, can you?”

Mingi’s laughter rumbled beneath you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form to keep you steady as San continued his relentless assault. “She’s ours now,” Mingi said, his tone possessive and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely and utterly ours.”

They moved as one, their shared goal clear: to claim every part of you, to leave no inch of you untouched by their relentless intensity. Your body trembled in their grasp, every ounce of your strength surrendered to their combined power.

“Give in to us,” San growled, his breath hot against your ear as his movements grew even more forceful. “Let us ruin you.”

And you did—completely, utterly, and without hesitation. But they didn't falter. they didn't stop.

San, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath, leaned down toward you with a simmering heat in his gaze. Without a word, his hand reached out to harshly wrap around your neck, his fingers pressing in just enough to pull you closer to him. His grip was firm, as he slowly lifted you, bringing you flush against his chest.

San’s voice was a low murmur, soft but commanding, his lips grazing your ear. "Don’t forget who’s in control."

You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the way he held you, just barely choking you with his gentle pressure, made your body shiver.

Mingi, still inches deep inside, watched the scene unfold with a sly grin, his hands staying steady at your waist, making sure you felt both of their presence, unyielding but tender. He moved gently beneath you, adding to the slow, simmering rhythm of the moment.

Both men fucked you relentlessly through your orgasm until they were satisfied enough.. and that meant right when they filled both your holes up with their cum, mingling with your juices. A string of curses escaped Mingi’s lips as San lifted you up and softly placed you on the bed, your legs trembling and threatening to give out at any moment. You were dizzy, overstimulation hovering over as San leaned in, softly enough to give you a forehead kiss.

“How about a warm bath?" San asked softly, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face as he looked down at you with concern. His voice had softened, but the possessiveness remained in his tone, making you feel like you were still entirely his.

Mingi, ever the playful one, leaned back with a teasing grin. "If you’re getting the bath ready, don’t forget about me. I wouldn’t mind a round two in there," he said, his tone lighthearted, making you smile despite the tension that still lingered in the air.

San chuckled, brushing his lips against your forehead before offering you a hand. "Let’s get you in the bath first. You deserve a moment to relax." His touch was gentle now, his usual intensity replaced with a soothing calm.

The two of them guided you to the warm water, their care wrapping around you like a soft blanket, the playful teasing from. You.. for sure, didn't falter from their grip unscathed.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz

[eddiernunson]

Nice to Meet You, Where You Been? | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you're the best!

Summary: your college roommate takes you to the annual Harrington Halloween Party, where you expect to do nothing but get drunk and dance for a night. That was...until you turn around to the person dancing against you to Eddie fucking Munson.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, praise/degradation, hook-up at a party, daddy kink, creampie, no protection, slow ish build up, size kink? maybe?, hooking up under the influence

I had a whole ass plan to write for KinkTober but executive dysfunction took over. Hopefully this makes up for it...maybe.

I have another Halloween themed fic from last year, EddiexReader with Steve if anyone is interested

Word Count: 6.1k

-

You sit in the backseat of your roommate’s boyfriend’s beater, the music bumping through the stereo as you make your way to what is supposedly the biggest Halloween party of every year. Your roommate spent the beginning of your fall semester hyping up this party as the best place to be on a Halloween night. Her insistence was charming, and you were looking for an excuse to get drunk. So, now you are watching as you pass by Halloween decorations and children dressed in costumes going Trick-or-Treating.

You don't pay much attention to what they're saying, the gist of it reminiscing on the Halloween parties they had attended in the past. Your roommate had made it very clear from the start that this guy, whatever his name was, his Halloween parties were legendary in town. He has only been throwing them for a handful of years, but if you were a young adult in rural Hawkins on Halloween night, chances are you were at this party.

You start to wonder how big this guy’s house must be if a couple hundred people have been attending every year, and it sounded like he even encouraged it.

You can hear the music bumping from the house before you even see it. It's hard to miss, a cluster of cars in the neighborhood, several people walking up the lawn towards the wide-open door. Your roommate’s boyfriend parks down the street, a spot that is probably fine to park overnight due to the nature of the party.

If there is to be a single sober soul at this party, they would be a rare sight.

You tug at your costume as you walk behind the two of them, strutting arm in arm. They’re wearing a matching couple’s costume, as salt and pepper. It’s something they could come up with last minute, him wearing a black shirt for pepper and her a white dress for salt. Their costume is minimal, and certainly they’ll get asked frequently what they’re supposed to be, but when everyone’s intoxicated, you suppose it won’t matter much.

You’re dressed as your favorite iconic Batman villain, Poison Ivy. You loved the character from the DC comics as you grew up and having a year away from your parents and in a different town, you figured it might be a time to try a new daring costume. So here you walk, arms crossed in a small green dress with fake vines pinned across your chest. You opted for some dramatic green eyeshadow and bright red lips, hoping your makeup and costume will sell the look.

Your ears are nearly bursting as you cross the threshold to the front door of the massive house from the loud bumping music. The pop music is a bit obnoxious, but you’re sure you won’t care once some alcohol is in your system.

Your roommate seems to remember you exist, escaping her boyfriend’s arms for the moment and intertwining her arm around yours. She immediately guides you to the kitchen where stacks of red solo cups are sitting, surrounded by bottles of alcohol and soda. “Holy shit.” You mutter.

“I know.” She giggles, handing you a cup and some tequila.

“No thanks.” You push it back, knowing what exactly tequila does to you. “I’ll just do a vodka-sprite.”

As you’re pouring, in waddles a lanky dude with brown curled hair and freckles scattered on his pale skin.  “Oh hey, Mandy!” He greets her, stumbling as he toasts his cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while! How’s that boyfriend of yours?” He asks, spinning the lid of the alcohol he’s holding absentmindedly, causing it to flick off into the distance.  

“Nate’s good, I think he’s taking over your stereo, though.” She says, moving the bottles around to make Nate’s drink, as well.

“As per usual.” He laughs, pouring a large quantity of said tequila into his cup.

Mandy seems to realize something halfway through her sip. “Oh shit!” She sputters out, a drip of alcohol leaving her mouth. “Sorry, I forgot you two don’t know each other, yet. Y/N, this is Steve. Steve, Y/N.”

“Hi.” You greet him shyly, his confidence radiating, but very intimidating.

“Hello. Me casa e su casa, and whatever, whatever. Can I just ask, who are you supposed to be?” He asks you, gesturing to your costume.

“Oh, Poison Ivy.” You explain to him, sipping on your concoction and wincing when you realize you’ve poured way too much.

Steve blinks at you, seemingly trying to make sense of your costume. “You’re—you’re a plant?”

You laugh, not in the mood to explain comic book villains to someone who clearly doesn’t know anything about them. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve laughs, taking a big sip of his drink.

“Hey, Steve, you see much of Munson these days?” Mandy asks him, wiping her face from the excess drink surrounding her mouth.

How wonderful, more people you don’t know. Hawkins is the smallest town you’ve ever seen; everyone seems to know of everyone.

“Eddie? Yeah, he should be here tonight actually. Super dork, dressed as some character from Star Wars. Or at least I think it’s Star Wars.” He mutters, rolling his eyes in obvious affection for his friends. “He’s matching with Henderson and Wheeler.”

They shake their heads together in tandem at their supposedly dorky friends. As a Star Wars fan, however, you were fine, ecstatic even to hear that there were souls brave enough to dress up as dorky characters and that you weren’t the only one.

You follow Mandy into the living room, now bumping with a tape mix that Nate apparently brought to the party. It's a damn blast, everyone in the living room dancing surrounded by sweaty bodies, finally finding some joy as the strong drink makes you lose your inhibitions. As you continue dancing, suddenly you find yourself in a huddle of people, Mandy and Nate both dancing by you, but lost in their own drunken haze. You don’t care about that. However, something in your mind as you tell yourself you don’t care tells you to care about the person who’s been up against your back for God knows how long.

They have a good rhythm, and they weren’t all too touchy so nothing in your head raised any red flags. You turn around to face the stranger, and it’s like you forget how to breathe. One of his hands is placed on your hip, a smile on his face giving way to dimples that make you swoon. “Hi.” He greets you. You can’t quite hear it over the music, but you can certainly read his lips. Isn’t all that hard to decipher.

You smile back to him, letting a forearm rest on his shoulder. Who were you to deny such a pretty person? His wide smile expands even more, adding some pressure to your hip. The weight and size of his hand sends a thrill through you, and there’s a level of horniness that’s coming from you that you didn’t even know you could have.

Your drink is eventually finished, the cup dropped to the floor, forgetting to bother to throw it away. The gorgeous stranger pulls you in closer and closer as you continue to dance with him, his hands never dipping down past your waist, but you can tell by the steadiness of his grip that he knows how to use them. Usually, eye contact this intense would cause you to retract, looking away after that first glance. This eye contact only makes you want him more, his brown eyes exuding a type of lust you’ve never experienced before.

Or…were you just picturing this?

The hand that rested on your hip moves to frame your face, slender fingers brushing your cheek, caressing it for a half a moment. The hand moves down to hook under your chin, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip. His eyes very obviously stare at your lips, silently asking you for permission. When his tongue licks his bottom lip you nod eagerly, one hand moving to his black curls that you have been itching to touch as long as you’ve faced him.

Somehow, your ears muffle out the deafening music in favor of the chuckle that leaves his mouth. Before you could even register your heartbeat loud in your ears, he bends down to kiss you, and for the first time your brain computes how much taller he is than you. Any thought you might’ve had seems to evacuate the moment his soft lips meet yours. He kisses you with an expertise that makes you irrationally jealous of any other person who’s had the opportunity before you. He draws a sharp inhale as you deepen the kiss, offering more slobber and spit for him to wholeheartedly accept.

His hands tangle in your curled hair, thumbs caressing your face on either side. Something you're learning about this stranger is that he kisses with his whole body, and he knows how to do it well. His teeth graze against your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. You whimper, shoving your tongue down his throat. A deep laugh escapes his throat as he meets your enthusiasm. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and down to your collarbone. You barely sigh into it when his lips leave your collarbone, looking at you with remorse.

Uh oh. Not good. Were you the worst kisser and he was going to go find someone else worthy of his magical skills?

“Sorry, gotta piss. Beer’s hittin’ hard.” He shouts over the music, his thumb gesturing toward where you guessed the bathroom was.

“Ok. I’m gonna go get another drink.” You tell him, noting the red lipstick now all over his lips. “You got some uh…some lipstick there…hold on…” You reach out to wipe it for him, but he deflects, ducking from your thumb humorously.

“Uh…no thanks. I wear this shit with pride.” He explains, giving you a wink. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

You nod, suddenly full of nerves. You have been all over this guy for the last…however long, you couldn’t even tell. And now you’re realizing, he might be a decent dude on top of being a fantastic kisser.

Your legs carry you into the kitchen, running into Mandy and Nate. You weren’t sure where they’d been, having been lost in your own little world.

“Hi, babe!” She greets you, alcohol sharp on her breath. Whoa. She has had a lot more than you have. “I missed you, where the hell you been?”

You giggle, deciding to go for the tequila. After all, it was your literal liquid courage. And if you wanted to get that man’s fingers down your panties tonight, you were gonna need some. “Making out with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.” You proudly proclaim, taking a big sip of just straight tequila before adding some Sprite.

“Oh my god!” She squeals, letting go and forgetting about Nate’s existence. “Holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!” Speaking of him…he waltzes into the kitchen, grabbing a cup right by you and winking, apparently unseen by Mandy. “Shit, I’ve been looking for you!” She tells him, drunkenly tapping her hand on his bicep. “Hey, Y/N! This is Eddie. Remember? The dork Steve talked about earlier?”

Ouch. Mandy has no filter, as of course, she's drunk, but she didn’t have to be rude.

At least now you have a name for him. You were starting to feel bad. “Oh, I’m acquainted.” You tell her, sharing a smirk with Eddie.

“Seriously? Cool.” Mandy answers, not getting the hint. You gesture with your eyes alone to Mandy that Eddie was the guy you were talking about just a few moments ago. She gets it, but apparently forgets all about subtlety. “Wait, Eddie Munson is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life?” She asks you incredulously, like it's the most unbelievable thing she's ever heard.

“Thanks, Mandy.” You grit out, teeth clenched.

“Oops.” She grimaces, grabbing Nate's hand. “We’re gonna go find a spot on the couch to make out. Sorry!”

You roll your eyes affectionately, knowing she meant no harm. Did she have to say it, though?

The smirk on Eddie’s face says everything without saying a word. “So, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, huh?” He asks, looking incredibly proud of the fact.

You knock your tequila back, needing more liquid courage. “Yep. Hottest.”

His eyebrow raises, and he takes a big sip of his own drink. Maybe he needs his own courage. “Well, you’re probably the sexiest damn Poison Ivy I’ve ever seen.” He smirks, leering at you. His eyes blatantly rake up and down your body, giving you a surge in confidence. “You’re like a little sexy nugget of weed.” He laughs, his words slightly slurred.

“Wait, you get that I’m Poison Ivy?” You ask, finally assessing his costume. Oh, he’s Vader without the mask. “I mean I guess you are the dork they talked about earlier.” Eddie seems slightly sunken by this. “Don’t worry,” you tell him theatrically. “I’m a massive dork, myself.”

He perks up, pulling you in by the waist. “What do you say we find a room upstairs?” He asks, taking another big sip of his drink.

You raise your cup back to your lips, knocking the remainder down fast. “I say, lead the way.”

He grabs you by the hand and leads you up the stairs, pushing some people out of the way that were blocking it in the middle of a conversation. As he leads you down the hall, the music somewhat fades out and you can hear him muttering under his breath. “We better find a guest room cause I’m not hooking up in Harrington’s room, and I’ll be damned if I hook up in his parents' room.”

From that, you’re able to assess that he’s over here enough to know which room belongs to whom. He knocks on one of the doors, swearing softly when someone shouts out. He does it twice more, meeting the same result. “Ok.” He sighs, fingers crossed. He knocks twice, no answer. He knocks once more for good measure, and it can be said that there is definitely no one inside. “Thank fuck.”

As soon as you’re through the door he turns the dimmer switches on lightly and locks the door. You take off the vines, letting the pins and fake plants fall to the floor to make it easier for him to climb on you.

He watches you from the four postered bed, still head to toe in what you now noticed was the caped costume that Darth Vader wears. “So, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, by the way. If you wanna do hand stuff, we’ll do hand stuff.”

Your gut swoops at his consideration and empathy. He seems to truly care about your comfortability rather than him getting off. You walk to him, swiping off all accessories you wore, including your shoes. You straddle his lap, pushing on him lightly so he falls back onto the bed. You attack his lips with your own, attempting to show how much his consideration for you already has you soaked. “I will do” you whisper in between a handful of kisses, “anything you want me to,” you tell him, starting to grind the tent you feel poking past your dress. “Within reason.” You add for good measure, not quite that down for anything. But if he wants to fuck you, you’re down. You’re so down. You’re so down bad.

“Fuck…do that again.” He asks, holding your hips. You comply, grinding your wet heat against him, teasing yourself, but loving the expression on his face. It's ethereal. “Fuck, baby. You barely touched me, and you already have me falling apart.”

This makes you smile with pride. A huff of laughter escapes your lips, sighing deeply as you can feel his erection growing. The fact that this man is as hard as he is when he’s this good looking is the biggest compliment in the world. You wrap his lips in a kiss again, your tongue peeking out to lick across his lip, managing to tug yet another moan out of him. You relish in the tone, the whimper that follows right after it. He really isn’t afraid to tell you how much he is enjoying what the two of you are doing.

As you continue to explore his tequila-scented mouth, both of his hands cup your ass, feeling his limber fingers bunch up the fabric of the bright green dress you’re wearing. He takes his time, giving you every minute to communicate any second thoughts. You moan impatiently, encouraging him to get under there already.

He chuckles, pulling the rest of the material up swiftly. His fingers grab at the skin of your barely covered ass cheeks roughly, the friction burning in the best way. A whimper escapes your throat, your mouth filling with the taste of him as your tongues meet. You’re sure he’s gripping those cheeks hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

An increasing need has been growing since you first laid eyes on him, the need for him to touch you in the most sinful of ways. While his touch on your ass is electric, you are ready for much more. Your whimpers echo the thought, feeling needy for more of his touch, your hip movements going from fluid and purposeful to rigid and needy.

“What do you need, hmm?” He asks in-between kisses, one hand pushing up your dress to your waist as it caresses your bare hip. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Need you to touch me,” the thought leaves your lips without your permission. How dare your brain betray you like that?

Eddie starts to kiss at your jaw, switching between nibbles and his tongue deliciously lapping at the skin. “Like how?” He asks in intervals, his voice soft, yet demanding. “Like this?” He grabs harshly at your ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. “Like this?” He asks again, tingles radiating down your skin as he lightly grazes your hip bone. “Or…like this?” His hand that rested on your hip bone flutters down to where heat radiates off your core, getting a feel of your soaked panties. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet.” He mutters, putting some pressure at the top of your mound.

Your hips start desperately grinding against his fingers, needing him to touch you. “Can you blame me?” You ask him, breath stuttering through it.

“Are you trying to flatter me?” He asks, pausing his pressure momentarily and backing off to study you. You stutter through an empty response, and he laughs kindly. “Cause flattery works, sweetheart.” His fingers move past the cotton barrier he's been making small circles against, delicately tracing along the wetness of your folds. You’re so slick, it’s like a damn slip and slide. The moment his fingers make contact with you, they’re soaked and in your juices.

“Oh shit—” you stutter, grinding on him helplessly. You can barely focus, your arms weak as you’re suddenly unable to hold your weight as you collapse on him. He's not touching you purposely, but just the feel of him sends a ripple down your spine. “Feels good.”

“Hmm.” He answers, noting the way you’re writhing so beautifully on top of him. He knew he would have you in a mess. In fact, he looked forward to it from the moment he saw you. He meticulously moves you onto your back, taking in your wide-eyed stare with a smirk. “Gonna take these off.” He mutters, fingers moving to the waistband of your panties. “Need a good look at you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means until you see the look on his face as he stares at your pussy for the first time. His darkened stare, the slack smile he wears as he stares at you. Well not you, just the most vulnerable part of you. You’ve had a bit of experience in high school, but no one ever looked at your pussy like this. Like…it’s…

“Beautiful.” Eddie whispers, licking his lips. You watch him as he takes you in, admiring how wanted he makes you feel. Without a warning he lurches forward in between your legs, his tongue licking one long strip up your slick. Your thighs convulse, the pleasure so red hot, you can’t control the choked-out moan that escapes your lips if you tried. “Oh, you’re shaking, baby.”

His tongue moves more purposely to your clit, sucking on it and tapping with his tongue repeatedly. Your thighs clamp around his face, tensing up as every goddamn nerve is set on fire. You feel a slight huff of laughter against your puffy clit, the breath tickling you, causing you to giggle from the sensation. The giggle leads into a whimper, the small movements of his tongue sending you into overdrive. “Feels so—oh my god—I—” You stutter, unable to finish a single sentence.

He tugs your legs, forcing your knees against your chest to get even closer. A fierce heat starts in your stomach, startling the hell out of you. A great build slowly moves you, pushing you step by step over a high you’ve never reached before. Your stomach has never coiled so tightly, the heat never so intense. “Too much, too much.”

“You’re almost there, sweetheart.” He encourages you, watching every muscle in your legs tighten and feeling your abdomen tighten and release. “Oh, it’s gonna feel so good, baby. Wanna see you cum for me, see you fall apart, hear that pretty little mouth make the prettiest noises.”

Eddie slips a finger in, pumping it slowly at first, building up the speed quickly as he continues sucking. There’s something in you telling you to be embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm has snuck up on you, but from the foreplay of his expert lips and the mind-numbing words, it only makes sense.

“Cl-close…” You manage out, the heat making your way through your body, even making a stop in your head.

“Let me see you come apart, sweetheart.” He tells you, working his fingers at an unmatched rate.

The sensation sends you over the edge, your extremities shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a near primal moan leaves your mouth, a sound you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

It takes you a minute to recover, Eddie working you through your whole orgasm and gently kissing your thighs until you come back to. He’s patient, waiting until your breathing slows down, kissing his way up your half-dressed torso. Eddie rests his body on yours, the tent in his pants meeting the heat of your center as his forearms support his weight on either side of your head. His thumbs sway at your temple, slowly watching as your eyes lose their glaze.

Your vision finally focuses back on him, his soft smile on his face welcoming as he watches you. His legs tense up, his muscles spasming as he resists thrusting into your heat. It’s teasing you, your hips accidentally moving upwards to meet the now wet stain on his polyester costume. “You’re wearing too much.” You tell him, whining softly.

“I’m sorry, should I take these off?” He asks, kissing you rapidly on the face right after. “Or if you’re done, I don’t blame you.”

“Done?” You ask incredulously. “Oh no, I’m not even close to done.” You tell him, giggling when he gives you a smirk.

“Just checking, sweetheart.” Eddie replies, kissing you rapidly again.

You’re finally back on earth, your hands reaching around him to look for where his costume opens. You had a feeling it would open from the back. You pull each Velcro apart one by one, your hands telling you as you move down that he’s not wearing anything underneath. You don't know if it's odd or the hottest thing in the world. Both, definitely both.

Your nails scratch at his skin at the last one, finally taking the shoulders off. You gasp as he helps you take out each arm awkwardly, only because you could finally see all the tattoos that his costume has covered up. “Holy shit.” You mutter, hands reaching out to palm at each one.

As he mouths at your neck, you push the rest of his costume down, figuring out it was a one piece. Ok. Steve might’ve been right about calling him a dork. But with his cunnilingus skills, who fucking cares? “You wanna fuck?” He asks, making his way down your neck, one hickey at a time.

You wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him down so the thin fabric meets your soaked pussy even harder. “Please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I deny?” He answers, leaving one last final nibble on your shoulder. He gets up without a warning, and you whine pathetically. “Jus’ takin off my pants sweetheart. Can’t put my dick in you if it’s still covered.”

You watch him pull down his pants, teasing you as it makes its way down his torso, his treasure trail, the v-line, you start drooling the moment his cock pops out. You figured he was big from his bulge pressed against you, but the material was apparently holding him back from his true length. You spend a good minute staring at it, how pink the head is, how thick he looks, it made you nearly feral.

“Enjoying the show?” Eddie asks. You glance back up at his face, heating up when you realize you've stared a lot longer than planned.

“Mmmhmm.” You tell him, not seeing any need to deny.

He lurches forward onto the bed, yanking giggles out of you. His hands roughly move up your torso to take your dress off, moving it over your head. He throws it over his shoulder, eyes raking in your tits like they’re in the Louvre. Hell, he’d take a polaroid and hang it there, despite the risk of security arresting and escorting him out immediately after.

“You are fucking gorgeous, baby.” He mutters, leaning into one of your tits mouthing at the nipple delicately, grazing it with his teeth, turning the mound into a shade of purple.

You can’t help yourself, reaching down to grab his cock. “Need you in me.” You urge him, smiling when he lets out a surprised whimper.

“Fucking—” he stutters out, biting on his lip. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I can do that.” He laughs, and before you have a moment to admire how adorable that was, you feel him line himself up. “Shit, you’re fucking tight.”

You can feel exactly what he means, the head barely pushing in. Even with how wet you are, Eddie's having difficulty pushing into you. Your mouth drops open, panting through it at the blinding pain and pleasure. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. “Feels so goddamn good, Ed.” You gasp, blindly reaching for him.

Blindly, because your eyes are unable to stay open from the sheer pleasure that has taken over your body.

“I know, baby I know.” He whispers, holding one hand to your face.

“Ok.”

He pushes in more, eliciting a high-pitched whine out of you. “You have any idea how fucking hot those little noises that you make are?” He asks, his voice husky and strained.

You laugh at his successful attempt at flattery, causing him to whine at the way your pussy tightens around him in sync. “Keep going.”

He pushes in a little bit more, your legs tensing around his torso as the noise caught in your throat is even louder. “You’re taking me so well, baby, what a good girl.” You tighten up at his praise, provoking Eddie to get the idea that praise is something that you desire. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, my good girl?” You tighten around him again, Eddie twitching in you as a response.

“More.” You manage out, your voice guttural. He pushes in just a little bit more. “Oh my god, you’re in my fucking stomach, so fucking deep!” You whine, eyes closed as you pulse around him.

“Just a little bit more, baby. You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

“More.”

He pushes the rest of his cock in, finally able to rest his body on yours. You take your time adjusting to his size, inhaling, and exhaling with purpose as the pain subsides. “That’s a girl, take your time.” He mutters, watching you carefully.

“Kiss me please.” You whisper, opening your eyes to face the intensity radiating from his chocolate brown ones. He leans in for a lush kiss, your legs wrapping around him to pull him in tightly. His hand moves to your tit, playing with the nipple between two of his fingers. Your tongues meet, somehow knowing exactly what the other needs. “You can move now.” You whisper in between kisses.

Eddie, apparently a master at multitasking, lifts his hips without so much as stuttering in the kiss. You expected him to stop, but the new mix of sensation throws you off intensely. His first thrust causes you to shout directly into his mouth. You’re much more prepared for the second thrust, however unprepared for the force behind it. “Yeah?” He asks, pulling back and staring into your eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “So good. Cock feels…so good.” You whine to him, legs unable to continue holding onto him as tight as they were. Now they’re floating in the air aimlessly, unable to focus on much except for how good and how deep he is. “How…this good?” The question you meant to ask was how he was so good at fucking like this, but your mouth was unable to form a single coherent sentence.

“Barely been in you for a minute, and you’re already cock-drunk, huh?” He borderline mocks you, fucking you faster with each thrust.

You grunt in response, fully accepting the label of cock drunk. “So…good, Eddie!” It’s just…fucking true, which is the only rational thought in your brain for the moment. Others are So Hot, and Big Ass Cock, and finally, Gorgeous fucking body.

“Your pretty pussy is so tight, baby, bein’ such a good girl for me.” Eddie sits up, pulling your ass down to where he can fuck you in a better position where he can hit your g-spot. He rests a hand sideways on your lower tummy, putting slight pressure on it. This sends a blinding hot pleasure into you as he repeatedly hits that spot.

“F-fuck, get-getting cl-close…” you stutter, feeling your tits bounce at the sheer force he's fucking you with.

“This is fucking embarrassing, but so am I, baby.” He mutters, starting to go at a faster rate, which you would've deemed impossible a few seconds ago. “Your pussy is so fucking good, can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

You half giggle, half moan at the flattery, not minding for one moment that he would cum so quickly. After all, he spent the first half paying most of his attention to you, so you understand if he's been pent up. While that is the reality of why, you can’t help but feel like hot shit for making someone as fantastic as Eddie cum so fast. His stamina and willingness to give on top of how gorgeous he is does nothing but boost your ego.

“Cum with me.” You beg him, also on the edge. “Cum in me.”

“Oh my god—” you make his hips stutter, and you smile with pride. “You sure, baby?” He asks, trying to make sure he covers his tracks.

“Cum in me, please, daddy!” It leaves your mouth before you’re unable to stop it, the daddy kink not quite something you break out on the first fuck most of the time.

Eddie, however, is a different breed. He meets the unexpected outburst with a growl, and you swear his cock twitches inside of you. “Of course, baby girl, whatever you want.” He grunts out. “Daddy is gonna fill you the fuck up.” He lurches forward so he’s skin on skin with you again so he can whisper in your ear. “When we go back downstairs, I’m gonna keep your panties, and you're gonna dance with my cum dripping down your fucking legs.” You tighten up around him, telling Eddie this is exactly what you wanted from him. The sweet mixture of praise and degradation makes your head spin with need. “You like that, huh? Of course, you’d like that you fucking slut.” His hips rut harshly against yours and at a stupid crazy speed. “If I catch you trying to clean yourself up, you’re gonna fucking hear about it, got it?”

You nod, entirely thrilled about this.

“Didn’t fuckin hear you, slut.”

“Got it, daddy.” You answer, right on the edge.

“You gonna cum with me, baby girl?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Mmhmm. Waiting for you.”

“Good fucking girl. I’m so close…fuck…gonna—” Eddie is interrupted by his own orgasm, which sends you over the edge with him. It’s not as intense as your last one, so you’re able to pay extra attention to the look on his face. His mouth half open, a deep moan leaving his throat.  Oh god, you’ll definitely be remembering this next time it’s only you and your imagination.

He collapses on you, his chest and forehead covered in sweat. The only sound in the air is you and Eddie catching your breath together. Your breath is finally back in your lungs, but your heart is still racing against his chest. He suddenly sits himself back on his forearms, petting at your forehead and hair gently. “Fuck, please go out with me on Saturday.” He whispers, quietly assessing the expression you wear on your face.

“Huh?” You ask him, unsure you heard him correctly.

“Go out with me on Saturday. Please, I can’t fuck a pussy this good and not take you out on a hot date.” He mutters softly, placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

“If you think I’m letting you go after this, you’re fucking insane.” You whisper back, framing his face to grab it for another lush kiss.

Eddie sighs, petting your hair. “Thank fucking god.” He pulls out of you, tugging a whimper out of you. He gives one last kiss, before moving down your torso. You almost ask what he was doing, when you feel two of his fingers push inside you quickly.

Your head jerks up, wondering what in the ever-living hell he's doing.

“Just helping by pushing the cum back in you, baby. Wanted to give you at least a fighting chance before it starts dripping down these stunning thighs of yours.” He places a wet kiss on your thigh, one last quiver radiating through it. “You good to stand up?”

“Hope so.” You laugh, scooching your ass down the plain comforter. Eddie tosses you your dress and gets dressed back into his cheap costume himself.

You assess Eddie, fixing his hair so he doesn’t look so disheveled. “You realize my lipstick is all over your neck and face, right?” You ask him, assessing him in all his post-nut glory. How the fuck is anyone this hot?

“Didn't I tell you earlier that I'm gonna wear this shit with pride, darlin?” He asks you, giving you a smile that makes you melt. “Wanna go downstairs and make-out on Steve's dad’s stupid chair?”

“If we make out I might wanna blow you.” You admit, the effects of the alcohol and the level of his hotness has still completely taken over your brain.

Eddie groans, and you swear his pupils dilate. “Fuck, I’ll take you into the nearest hallway closet if that happens, then you can get on your knees and suck my cock off like a good girl. You just tell me, yeah?”

You giggle as he opens the door and you nod enthusiastically, pretty much already in your head that hooking up with Eddie is nowhere near done.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, Eddie tugs on your hand straight to the leather chair in the corner, having you sit across his lap as his tongue makes its way down your throat again.

Eventually, after a mere ten minutes of teasing, Eddie has to lead you to a hallway closet, where yes, you worship him on your knees with his treasure trail meeting your nose.

That was the best fucking Halloween, ever.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

[noodlemoondle]

Drunken Care

Solomon x Reader

word count: 1.3k

cw: drinking/drunkenness, like ONE slightly suggestive scene, nudity? (i’m not rlly sure what to add here)

tags: fluff!, you’re drunk lol, caring solomon, bathing together, literally sleeping together

(idrk what to add here either lolol)

description: you get a bit too drunk at one of Diavolo’s balls and solomon brings you home and takes care of you

author’s note: posting this in honor of the end of obey me. i wrote this like over a year ago when nightbringer first came out so im not rlly a fan of how i wrote it but i rlly didn’t wanna rewrite the whole thing so i just fixed it up a bit. so i do apologize for that and anything i missed. also omfg i edited and fixed this like 3 different times bc tumblr KEPT FUCKING DELETING MY WORK. i was losing my mind but i rlly wanted to post it but i couldn’t post it unedited. also please bear with me as i sort thru all of my fics in my notes before i start writing new ones lolol.

N E wayzz i hope u enjoy!!! ·̀.̫·́✧

Diavolo’s balls were always fun. Sometimes it even seemed as if everyone in all of Devildom was invited to them. It was always fun to socialize and laugh with everyone, but eventually in the night you’d start feel a little left out since everyone would get drunk out of their minds and even though you didn’t necessarily mind the taste of demonus, you couldn’t really get drunk off of it so you don’t really see the point of drinking it. After a while, you’d just go hang out with Solomon since he’d be the only sober one left (not including Barbatos). Diavolo’s kind soul eventually took note this and made sure to get loads of human world alcohol so you and solomon could get as drunk as you please every time you were at the castle. Now this, made Diavolo’s parties the absolute best.

Solomon used to love getting drunk with you, but ever since you both got sent back in time he’s started to watch himself more since he knew how much you loved to get drunk with the brothers and someone needed to be able to watch over you. (and also since the last time he got super drunk he admitted some embarrassing things to you he’d rather not repeat). Tonight was no different, you were drunk out of your mind, greatly enjoying yourself, but it was just starting to get late and you needed to get home. Solomon had to forcefully drag you away before you died from alcohol poisoning (he swears you’re an alcoholic no matter how many times you deny it) you made sure to shoot him an angry glare with your bottom lip slightly poking out for dragging you away so early, but you eventually eased up on the drive home.

Solomon pulled up to the house and before you could get out of the car, he locked the door trapping you inside. In you confused, drunken state all you could do was was angrily stare at him as he made his way around to your door before opening it. He placed one hand on the roof of the vehicle, as he leaned inside to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“I don’t trust you to walk. Come here i’ll carry you.”

His princely act made you lose you forget your childish tantrum, replacing it with a childlike glee as you start giggling at him, jumping into his hold as he lifted you up. As he carried you to the door, you peppered his face and neck with kisses giggling and smiling with every peck you placed on him leaving a faint mark of pink lipstick on his skin. Solomon smiled down at you, adoring your cuteness whenever you got drunk. He begins to walk through the halls as he starts to make his way to the bathroom.

“Sol?” you ask innocently.

“Yes, baby?” he responds looking down and admiring your smile.

“You’re so pretty” you say accompanied with a smile.

“Angel?” he asks.

“Uh huh?” you say giggling obviously appreciating the name.

“You’re even prettier” he replies adding a kiss on your forehead as well.

You gasp and smile so big giggling even more. He looked down at you with all the love in all three worlds as he opened the bathroom door and placed you on the counter so he can start running a bath.

“Sol?” you ask again, beginning to kick your feet back and forth.

“Yes, darling?” he responds with a raised voice as the water begins to run.

“Do you know why i call you Sol?” you question.

He’s heard you tell him millions of times, but he never gets tired of the tale.

“No dear, why do you call me sol?” he says as he turns around to you smiling.

“Well not only is it because it’s a shorter version of your name, but did you know that in spanish sol means sun and you’re like my sun in life so it has two meanings!” you beam at him.

“You’re so cute you know that?” he says as he kissed your cheeks and lips

Solomon doesn’t think he’d ever get tired of telling you that. Telling you how much he loves you, how pretty you are, and how happy you make him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he continues to shower you with kisses. He then pulls away and pinches at your dress.

“C’mon now time to take this off” he says as he’s starting to slide it off your body.

“Why?” you ask him in a flirty tone smirking and tilting your head to the side.

“No. You’re drunk.” lightly slapping your back before kissing you again.

You pout and cooperate, lifting your arms up allowing him to undress you before undressing himself and getting in the bath. Solomon tries to bathe you, but isn’t very successful with you not letting go of him. Ss much as he loves you being a happy and affectionate drunk, you weren’t a very cooperative one. The soft environment and Solomon’s comforting embrace caused you to grow sleepier in the warm bath. He eventually got you to settle on his chest, laying your head on his shoulder, as he thoroughly shampoos and conditions your hair, softly humming.

Soon enough, he’s able to get both of you clean. He wraps you in a towel before bringing you to his room and placing you on his bed. He goes to his drawer to get you both clothes and you can do nothing more but just stare at him in awe as he leans over and picks out some clothes with nothing more than a towel covering his waist.

“Surprised you didn’t throw up. I think you drank your weight in shots. Now, which shirt you wanna wear?”

He said as he turned around only to find you looking at him with the most love struck face he could imagine.

“What are you staring at?” he questioned a breathy chuckle leaving his throat with it.

“You” you answered flatly.

“And who is you?” he teased walking up to you.

“You is my pretty, handsome, perfect, amazing, beautiful boyfriend solomon who i love so so so so so so so so so so SO much” you say looking up at him as if he is the only star in the sky.

“That was a lot of so’s” he laughs as he cups your face with one of his hands.

“I need more of them to describe how much i love you” you give a soft smile as he walks back to the dresser to put on his sleep pants leaving his chest bare while also choosing your sleepwear.

He walks over back to you and dresses you in one of his shirts he knew you favored and a pair of his boxers.

Once he finishes dressing you, he leans you back in bed and tucks you in following soon after. You’re quick to pounce on him the moment he enters the covers. You lay over his chest covering it in kisses, before you begin to settle down and start to fall asleep.

“Sol?” you whisper as quietly as you can. your sleepy voice had to be one of his favorites.

“Yes, angel?” he whispers back.

You move up on his chest getting close to his ear and quietly whisper: “I love you”

He chuckles pressing a kiss against your forehead and leaning down to your ear to mirror your action.

“I love you even more.” he whispers even quieter. it was a statement he made just for you, so only your ears should hear it.

You smile and bury yourself back into his chest, but before you could fall asleep you can feel him kiss the top of your head and smile against your head saying.

“You’re gonna regret drinking so much tomorrow”

[thoughtful-ink]

Writing tips

🌟 1. Write the book you want to read. Forget what’s trendy or marketable for a second. What’s the story you’d stay up until 3 AM reading? Write that. Your passion will bleed through the pages and connect with readers.

🌟 2. Don’t stress about perfection in the first draft. Your first draft is meant to be messy. It’s a skeleton, not the final product. “Write drunk, edit sober” doesn’t have to be literal, but the spirit of it? Spot on.

🌟 3. Characters > Plot. A thrilling plot is great, but readers stay for the characters. Give them depth, flaws, quirks, and motivations. Bonus tip: think about how your characters would react to situations outside the story—it makes them feel real.

🌟 4. Dialogue is a tool, not a transcript. In real life, we say “uh” and “like” all the time. On paper? Not so much. Make your dialogue snappy, purposeful, and reflective of your character’s personality. Pro tip: read it out loud to catch anything awkward.

🌟 5. Show and tell. You’ve heard the rule: show, don’t tell. But balance is key. Sometimes you need to show the sparkle of a frost-covered window, and sometimes you need to just say, “It was cold.”

🌟 6. Create a vibe. Want your book to feel like a dark fairytale, a sunlit romance, or a gritty thriller? Build that atmosphere with sensory details, imagery, and themes. Think of your story as a moodboard.

🌟 7. Let yourself write “bad” scenes. Not every chapter needs to be Pulitzer-worthy. Let bad writing exist. Sometimes, a rough scene holds the key to something brilliant when you edit.

🌟 8. Take breaks. Stuck? Walk, shower, nap, journal, or daydream. Creativity thrives when your brain has time to breathe. (Yes, scrolling Tumblr counts as a break. No, it doesn’t count as writing.)

🌟 9. Stop comparing yourself to other writers. Everyone’s process is different. Maybe you draft in chaos and revise into beauty, or maybe you’re methodical from start to finish. Both are valid. The only thing that matters? You keep going.

🌟 10. Celebrate the small wins. Wrote 100 words? That’s 100 more than you had yesterday. Finished a chapter? Incredible. Writing is hard, and every step forward is worth celebrating. <3

✨ Bonus Tip: Find your people. Writing can be lonely, but it doesn’t have to be. Share your progress, rant about your characters, and hype each other up.

[sc0tters]

Better Off Apart | Luke Hughes

summary: the long awaited day has finally come! Luke is in New York and the Devils are set to play the islanders, but now a third person as slotted themselves into your love equation.

request: yes/no

warnings: this became a bit of a sad chapter, Luke is a boy who doesn’t know how to process his emotions, Mat gets jealous and also doesn’t know how to handle that. The reader is finally in a position where she’s reader to move on.

word count: 1.76k

authors note: I wrote this in an hour I was so excited. I saw that in some requests you guys actually wanted the mc of this to get with a player from the team but I sort of put my twist on that. The rest of the full length chapters for this story have been planned out but I think it could be cool doing a few blurbs for these two, so if you want to see anything in those let me know!

previous part | next part

It had been circled in red pen.

The date on your calendar had been marked the moment you got the NHL calendar announcement.

It was the date that you had been counting the sleeps down to like a child counting down the sleeps till Christmas.

It was the date that you felt so excited for but were also so nervous for that you wanted to go to the top of the Empire State Building and scream.

It's the date that the Devils were coming to town to play the Islanders.

It's the date that you were going to finally see Luke again.

You knew that you shouldn't have been excited, shouldn't have let your grow full and your palms grow sweaty at the thought of seeing him again.

All of your efforts to forget about him were now nonexistent as you spent moments every day staring at his social media's.

After a drunk night out with friends you unblocked and unrestricted everything that had to do with him, when you woke up much more sober you simply couldn't find it in your heart to or in your head to shut him out anyone.

A few nights ago whilst being sat in front of the tv with a meal from your favourite restaurant, you did something you never thought you would.

You wrote Luke a letter.

Just like you had for each of his teammates.

So you sat and you wrote, making sure to mention everything from how you felt to why you left. Writing that letter was better than any type of therapist as it had brought up things that you had seemed to compartmentalise. There were seven different editions of this letter.

The first two had to be rewritten because you zoned out and came back to see that your tears had soaked the pages.

The next three had you swearing like a sailor as you told him to fuck himself for making you fall so deeply in love with him.

The sixth letter just didn't feel right. You assumed that it was the lack of sleep that was getting to you, so like any mature adult you got up and went to bed deciding that the letter writing efforts would continue the next day.

The seventh and final letter was perfect, you were honestly tempted to email it to your high school English teacher you were that proud of it. It was the perfect way to tell Luke that you were okay that this was goodbye and that you didn't hold anything against him for how he treated you.

Yes you told him that he had hurt you but it helped teach you that some loves just simply weren't worth it.

It was like you had been put through the grieving cycle over the last fifteen hours as you learnt to accept that Luke just wasn't on your cards and that it was probably for the best.

Mat hadn't slipped up from his role of your new best friend, if there wasn't a game on Thursday you two would go get dinner and then sit at his apartment playing card games until the early hours of the morning.

The Canadian had quickly learnt why you were so popular in New Jersey amongst the players and it was one of the things that he was actually so attracted to.

Yes Mat found himself growing more enamoured with you by the day and despite his best efforts you never seemed to notice it.

You never noticed how his eyes lingered on you far longer than appropriate for just friends, or how he'd glare down every man and woman who dared to even look at you when the two of you were out in the town. You never noticed the way you squeezed the life out of his heart the moment you came to Mat's apartment in tears one night as you missed Luke.

The Canadian was hurt, it wasn't even the fact that you weren't interested in him that haunted his thoughts at night. It was the fact that you gave your love to someone who was so cruel to you.

But Mat put on a comforting smile each time he was forced to listen to you spill your heart out on his sleeve as you couldn't get over your failed attempts to get over the Hughes boy.

At one point the Islander player was ready to rip the bandaid off and tell you everything.

He wanted you to know that you were loved.

He wanted you to know that you were wanted and it was by a man who was sat right next to you.

But deep down inside Mat knew that those words would mean nothing to you unless they came from the Hughes boy.

That was the thing about love that was so cruel. Here were two people that wanted nothing more than to be happy. But the reciprocation of those emotions from the people they craved them from the most weren't there.

Yes you loved Mat but you weren't in love with Mat and that different meant everything to him.

So he kept his feelings to himself as he watched you count down the days until the Devils came to town.

He sat there dreading the moment he had to face Luke on the ice, Mat had been watching the meditation videos that you had sent him on repeat as he tried to memorise the various methods of calming himself down that he’d had to use in other to not hit Luke.

It wasn’t because Mat wanted to protect the boy, in fact he wanted to do the opposite. He wanted to hurt Luke for all that he had done to you. The Islanders player wanted to see the Hughes boy finally feel some sort of remorse, but he knew that if he laid a finger on Luke you’d get upset. So he was going to have to try to behave.

You woke up practically running out of bed ready to take on the world when the day finally arrived. Part of you was excited to see your friends from the team too and that’s what you told yourself made you so happy.

Luke swore he was going to throw up when he got on the team bus. Sure he was excited to see you in the flesh once more. But after seeing how the every gossip account swore that you and Mat were dating after someone spotted you on another on of your excursions, hope for him was running out. So he spent the last week forcing himself to accept that fact that this was all his fault. Yes he wanted to blame Mat instead but he knew he couldn’t.

If Luke couldn’t be the one to love you then he then simply hoped that the man who loved you, loved you even half as much as he did.

The young Hughes boy felt trapped inside of his mind as he had yet to reveal how he felt about you to anyone. It was partially due to the fact that he knew they’d all laugh at him especially after how he treated you. Yet there was another much larger part of Luke that didn’t want to admit it because one he admitted that he did indeed like you, it meant that it would really be real. At least for now he could act like you were all just simply a figment his dreams and hopes for in the future. He told himself that all he needed as a simply protein shake and his usual pregame playlist blasting through his headphones at a volume that was enough to make his mother cringe as she reminded her son that she didn’t want him going deaf.

Jack noticed the way that his younger brother had gone quiet since he stepped on the bus, the whole team did. As bad as they all knew it sounded none of them bothered checking in on the boy as they all just put it down to him not wanting to see you again.

If only they knew, right?

The youngest Hughes boy knew your routine on game days from your time with the Devils. It was something that he made an effort to learn early on in his attempts to avoid you.

He hoped that you had the same routes mapped out here because Luke knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he caught sight of you.

Now more than ever though it was because he knew he’d start crying on the spot.

Luke wasn’t a crier naturally but he had no clue how he was going to say his apology to you. All of the emotions that you made him feel just made him want to cry due to the sheer panic that was going through his mind.

As the team walked out of the away locker room he heard it.

The sound he had grown to miss.

The sound that brought him this warm sense of comfort in his stomach that he could only describe as funny.

It was the sound of your laugh.

Mat had been telling you a story as you two made your way over to the home dressing room as you had forgotten your folder in there when you took some guests around earlier.

As Luke saw the sight of you it was enough to knock him off of his feet as Jack walked into the back of him “dude,” the middle Hughes boy groaned as he lifted his brother off of the ground totally unaware of the fact that you were stood there.

It was like time stopped for the youngest Hughes boy.

He watched as your eyes locked with his and your lips formed a smile as you sent him a nod.

Mat had seen how you had stopped listening to his story were just simply looking in front of you.

It made the Canadian angry as in that moment he wanted to throw out all of those stupid meditation lessons.

He knew his next move was childish but he didn’t care he sent Luke a harsh glare as Mat threw his arm around your shoulders.

That moment dropped Luke back into reality as he felt like he had just hit a cement wall.

“Luke c’mon!”

There was a game to be played but it seemed that it was quickly coming off of the ice as well.

And you were right in the center of it,

But you didn’t even know it.

[redux-iterum]

how do i outline coherently. i am struggling

I'm going to assume you have an idea of how the story goes already, you just need to actually write it down. Which is the most difficult part of this whole thing, for me, so I feel your pain.

If this is the case: My game plan is to first outline in a way that will be most helpful for me, in order to get it written out at all. Iterum is written more coherently for Lynx's sake, but my original content is an organized mess, which is perfect for me. It doesn't matter if it's scatterbrained - the important thing is that I know what's going on and it makes it easier to outline to completion. You can refine it later. Just get it done.

You know that phrase, "Write drunk, edit sober"? Take that metaphorically. Write like a damn maniac with as little cohesion as is needed, and then come back to it and organize it into something anyone can read, if you care to.

My tactics:

Use bullets like this to write down each story beat and minor event. This makes it easier to rearrange things if I have to in the future.

--------You can also add additional, smaller bullets to each big bullet with as many details as you need to add on for context.

Color code words and characters, especially in big, bulky paragraphs. This makes it easier than just a Ctrl+F on a Google doc - you can scroll down quickly and catch wherever a character is without having to click "next" a bunch.

If blocks of text automatically overwhelm your brain, cut down paragraphs into two or three sentences. (Thank you to @thunder-the-ranger-wolf for helping me with this one recently.)

As you're writing the events, make notes with -dashes- or (parenthesis) or even bullets that will tell you something important that you don't want to forget. Things like "this weapon will be used by Jack later on when he's rushed into the room for safety", or "note that Howard should look tense and anxious in reaction to this conversation", or even just "add a flashback here once the first arc is outlined and I know what details I need to hint at". You'd be amazed at how much shit people (especially me) will forget about that's small but crucial to the story, because they're writing the big events for extended periods.

If you get intimidated by a loooong synopsis that you've been working on for a while and still isn't done, just catch up on the last few paragraphs or single page that you've written and then continue from there. You may repeat events or contradict a previous plotpoint, though, just as a warning. I handle that issue when the outline is done and it's time to refine it; I also like to reread everything frequently on an off day without writing anything new to catch those mistakes.

In the event that the above happens and a plot point is written twice, be aware that whatever choice you make on where to actually place it could drastically change the rest of the plot going forward. If you hate rewriting stuff, that'll be annoying.

Stuck on where to go next? Make a new paragraph with a single sentence that reads, "something happens here", and then move on to the stuff you can more easily write down. My preference is to be a little detailed about it: "something happens here that gets Joy from the cafe to the wrong neighborhood", and then writing about what happens in the wrong neighborhood. It's surprisingly a lot easier to figure out the transitional events like this once you have a specific A and B point to connect.

Have multiple docs to write and rewrite on. You don't have to write in one and then fix it over and over. Just write down what you have and are confident in so far, and move to the next document if ideas change or you're getting frustrated and need to start over. You'd be surprised at how helpful this is. It's like sketching something poorly and then redrawing it in a better and better state with new pages of paper. Hell, you can even trace stuff you liked from the first page and add it into the next version.

In the case of my first webcomic, when I didn't know what the fuck I was doing and events had to be rearranged all the time due to the nature of the storytelling, I resorted to using an art program (in my case, MS Paint) to write very short summaries of story beats and outright organize them in a visual format. I am not kidding about this. I straight up just used my mouse to put plot points here and there, and then change them around if something sounded better over at the beginning instead of the middle. It was shockingly helpful. It looks silly, but if you're an image person instead of a word person (as I am), it's a very easy way to visualize exactly what the fuck's going on in the outline.

Now let's say you complete the outline and it is a cobweb of chaos. Excellent. All you have to do now is write everything down in an outline similar to a Wikipedia summary. Translating "Stan says this -> everyone hears a gunshot" into "Stan angrily declares that he's sick of his mistreatment. Before anyone can respond, a gunshot goes off outside" is surprisingly easy. Is this a bit tedious? Yes. Is it optional? Absolutely. Do I recommend it? Very much so.

I personally like to do it because it's a cleaner, more organized version of the mess I made earlier. It's especially helpful if you're going to have someone go over the outline and critique or question things. My version of a completed outline will have chapters as full paragraphs detailing what happens, like so:

Chapter EIGHT: The morning sun rises and Kel pulls himself out of bed with a hangover. He stumbles to the bathroom and tries to wash up before the headache gets to be too much and he lays down on the floor. Meanwhile, the front door opens and the burglar from the night before (this will be revealed to be Sarah in chapter 19) sneaks into the house. They decide to try and grab more stuff, even with the sound of footsteps and retching in the upstairs rooms being audible. Just as the burglar finds Kel's mother's necklace, Kel comes downstairs and, seeing a stranger in his house, immediately confronts them.

Then on to chapter nine, and so on.

That's all I got for now. Hope this helps!

[henosiis]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER .

REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

name: kat (if you remember me as ozzie you get a cookie. also how's it feel like to be old)

pronouns: i default to she/her but anything goes.

preference of communication: please just add me on discord if you have it lmao tumblr dms are a mess. im on discord about all the time i'm awake so it's truly the best way to reach me.

name of muse(s): oh boy here we go oswald of carim (confessthysiins) - nihlus kryik (spectrien) - queen annalise (corrunuptia) grigori (evigilar) alizebeth kenway (hawksblooded) israfel of aarein (ofaarein) uhhh did i forget anyone.

best experience: i've been in the community since 2014 as oswald of carim and I've seen some really incredible stuff throughout the years. but without a doubt, my best writing experience has been writing with lani @sunmad. it's thanks to her that my comeback in the last year was not only successful but also lead to some of my best writing ever. lani is not only a wonderful, thought-provoking writer but also an incredible friend and I'm so, so thankful we met and started plotting together. love u lani <3

rp pet peeves / dealbreakers: I know this is petty but over-formatted, over-graphicked posts are just impossible to read comfortably sometimes. I feel bad asking people to tone down their aesthetics for me, but it's like... it shouldn't take me five minutes to read a 200 word post bc im constantly getting lost in fancy editing. A genuine deal-breaker for me is when I don't feel like I can bring anything to the table in terms of dynamics, ships or otherwise. If you're essentially writing your own story and I'm just a side participant with basically no input, just following along with your pre-plotted thing, why am I here? Why make this rp? Just write a novel chief!

muse preferences: hot older men tbh. but also I find I'm very interested in characters who have very concrete goals that they are devoted to. Devotion & faith (religious or not), destiny, the struggles one has with those concepts.

plots or memes: i love memes for their spontaneity, but I find I do prefer having a baseline plot to work off of so I can know where I'm going with prompts and the like. Even if its just an outline of their dynamic, or a small timeline of events, I find I work best and find the most ideas when I'm not fully improvising. It can be fun though, I admit.

long or short replies: these days I struggle with very long replies (500+) and try to stick to ~300 words, which I think is my comfort zone. I can push more, and with some threads I do, but it asks a lot more out of me.

best time to write: Big fan of the Hemingway (write drunk, edit sober) but since that's not always an option I do like to write in the evenings, when I've had time to think and let ideas brew in my head. I sometimes start planning a reply when I wake up, and only write it in the wee hours of the night. The idea soup has to simmer for a while.

are you like your muse(s): TW EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY this might sound a little insane but whatever. i was at a very difficult time in my life when i started writing ozzy; i was embittered, full of grudges, ruining friendships over petty things etc. Sure, I was a teenager and they're all lowkey crazy, but it was tough living with undiagnosed bipolar. Anyway, as I kept writing ozzy, putting myself in a mindset of forgiveness, of warmth, of being welcoming, i found it actually changed how i think in many ways. he made me a better person, in a way. i've become more patient, forgiving of mistakes, more open to people. and through the years I've found that people are very willing to talk to me, to be emotionally open, even people I just met or acquaintances. it's changed me and it's changed my life. So thank you, whoever drew Ozzy's concept art and got me obsessed with him in the first place. I owe you a 12 pack.

tagged by: stolen from the dash tagging: steal it from me! i know its not munday but fuck it. become ungovernable

[halfbakedideas]

i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since he left

After Aziraphale leaves, Crowley does a lot of waiting. And drinking.

Notes:

EDIT: changed the title from 'curse the wind, fan the flames, yell 'till your lungs are drained' (Quiet Company by Jack Harris).

CW for alcohol and a character being drunk. Do I still need to warn for 02x06 spoilers or has it been long enough now? This is essentially just word vomit on one speculation I had for Crowley post-season 2 & written during one of my writing classes. Figured I might as well post this otherwise it’ll just rot in my drive forever.

Read on Ao3

—x—x—x—

Crowley sits slumped over at a bar. Beer cans, whiskey glasses, and even a couple of empty wine glasses forming a barrier around him.

The barkeep had started shooting him worried looks when he finishes a second handle’s worth of whiskey after about three beers and two glasses of wine, and was still (mostly) upright.

It takes a lot of alcohol to get someone of angel stock properly sloshed. But when Crowley has spent more of the last eleven months with some form of alcohol in him than sober, that doesn’t really mean anything.

A glass of red wine rests in his hand, still filled a quarter of the way. He didn’t care enough to know which one when he’d gotten the barkeeper to pour him another glass.

Crowley raises the glass to his lips and takes a swig. A drop of wine traces its way down his chin. He wipes it away with a hand. He nearly knocks an abandoned whiskey glass clean off the table when he sets it down.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for you,” the barkeep speaks up, stepping towards the demon. Her hand is outstretched as if she plans to take the wine glass out of his hands.

“Nuh — not yet, not even drunk yet,” he slurs. He waves a hand in her direction to make her forget about what she had just been about to do and the events of the last two hours too. Whoops.

He drinks some more wine and manages not to spill any of it this time.

By the time the bar closes half an hour later — or is it fifteen minutes? He hats that particular stretch of time: fifteen minutes — Crowley is still upright and on his feet, by the sheer force of a demonic miracle.

‘On his feet’ does not automatically mean ‘able to walk in a straight line’.

The demon makes his way down the street, the path in front of him swimming.

He believes that he is going to make it back to his flat without becoming a serpent-shaped pancake on the pavement, so he would. More or less.

Logically, the smart thing would have been to miracle all of the alcohol out of his bloodstream before he left the bar. But the thought had occurred to him when he first started doing this, and it had been quickly dismissed. He isn’t going to change his mind now, eight months later.

Existence is so much easier to deal with like this; being too drunk to be able to think straight means that he doesn’t have to think. Thinking is overrated anyway.

Surprisingly, this much alcohol in him keeps him from doing something stupid like yelling in the vague direction of the sky. Would he be yelling at Aziraphale or God, he isn’t sure. Or go charging into the elevator to do something phenomenally stupider.

Alcohol certainly makes passing the time easier. Makes it pass quicker. Makes waiting less boring.

That’s what he has been doing for the last eleven months, waiting. Because, after the initial shock and heartbreak wore off, Crowley choose to believe that Aziraphale hasn’t truly abandoned him for Heaven. That he took the Supreme Archangel position because he has a plan, whatever it could be.

He isn’t quite sure what he would do if the opposite turned out to be true.

Die, probably.

So Crowley holds onto that flicker of hope (You’re a demon, demons don’t get to hope. Stop that.) and resigns himself to waiting.

But it is in times like this, the very very early hours of the morning when he is staggering off back to his flat or over to his bed, that hope starts to wane. When the ‘what ifs’ begin to creep in.

What if Aziraphale doesn’t have a plan or isn’t going to come back to Earth (and Crowley) again? What if he stays up there forever? What if the angel has forgotten about him?

He will either find out or spend eternity waiting. Some days he isn’t sure which is worse.

Crowley has just climbed into the Bentley when a flicker of light catches his eye. And there is a see-through version of Aziraphale sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him. Turned towards him slightly with his mouth open as if he’s about to say something.

Not this again.

“Know you’re not really here, so fuck off,” he tells the hallucination.

“Crowley…“ Whatever the hallucination is about to say next gets cut off.

“No. Don’t care. You aren’t real, anyway,”

The Bentley pulls out of the parking space and onto the road. It takes off in the direction of Crowley’s flat faster than an eighty-year-old car should have been able to. Crowley doesn’t see the sad expression that ghosted over the hallucination’s face before it vanishes from the passenger’s seat.

This is something that has started happening whenever the demon thinks too hard about what ifs and Aziraphale, a hallucination of the angel would appear.

When it had first appeared, it scared the wits out of Crowley (not that he would ever admit that to anyone) who had been in the middle of a Golden Girls marathon. He yelled at the hallucination for nearly fifteen whole minutes before he realised he wasn’t yelling at the real Aziraphale. That had made him yell some more, just in the direction of Heaven instead.

The next day plays out much like every day before it had. Crowley wakes to find himself very much, disappointingly sober but with a ridiculous headache. The cure, which he decided upon months ago, was to get up and go drink some more.

It wasn’t like he has much else to do. Hell stopped giving him any assignments after Armageddon’t and stopped communicating with him at all as of eleven months ago.

So all he has left is an indeterminate amount of waiting.

—x—x—x—

End notes:

Is Crowley really hallucinating Aziraphale, or is it something else entirely?

[oceannote]

EMPIRE WAR - Chapter 5

Note from author: This chapter is personally my favourite and at the same time the most nerve-racking to write. A lot is going downhill from here but tbh I am so pumped for you guys to see. PS. Are you guys catching on to the subtle hints from the stories?;) XoXo YK Summary: Secret family deals come always over real-life feelings. But what happens when you indulge in your heart and forget to use your brain and now you are left with the option of hurting the only person that you have ever loved? Warnings: Characthers are fake and are a result of fiction, mentions of alcohol, lack of confidence. Do not copy, translate or remake the story.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is a disaster.” I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles white as I speed down the empty highway. The hum of the engine fills the silence, but it does nothing to drown out the chaos in my head.

“He was so drunk, I doubt he’ll remember anything tomorrow.” Jungkook’s voice crackles through the speakers, his car’s headlights a steady presence in my rearview mirror.

“Yeah, but Nori was very much sober,” I groan, mentally slapping myself. I couldn’t even keep up with Jimin’s plan for twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours! I’m the weak link in a heist movie, the one who trips the alarm while tying their shoelaces.

“Hey, should we watch a movie at your place?” Jungkook asks, casual as ever.

“What?” My foot almost slams on the brake, and for a second, I imagine his shiny G-Wagon crumpling into the back of my beat-up car.

“You know, a movie. Popcorn. Blankets. Maybe a little making out.” His voice drops, a playful lilt that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Are you seriously thinking about movie nights right now?” I practically screech.

“I’m thinking about you, that’s for sure.” He chuckles, and I can practically see his dimples through the phone. “I’d like to kiss you, you know, without any ‘external factors’ ruining the moment.”

My heart stutters, lodging itself somewhere uncomfortable—like my throat. My logical brain scrambles to take the wheel, but it’s too late.

“I guess we can.”

The line goes silent for a beat, and I think I might have broken him. Then—

“Okay, but the last one there has to order food!” His voice snaps back, and before I can respond, his headlights whip into the next lane.

“What the—Jungkook!”

His G-Wagon roars past me, the taillights a blur of red as he floors it, blasting off the main road like he’s in Fast & Furious: Relationship Edition.

“Oh, you are so paying for food!” I shout, but I’m already downshifting, my car groaning as I push it to keep up.

I can’t help but laugh, adrenaline and affection mixing into something giddy. There we are—two idiots racing down an empty highway, tangled up in work drama and half-baked plans, and somehow, all I want is to get home, press play on some random movie, and maybe—just maybe—finally kiss him without the world getting in our way.

By the time I park my car in front of my apartment building, Jungkook is grinning like an absolute idiot from behind the wheel of his car. His headlights flash at me, an unspoken victory dance of his overpriced, unfairly fast vehicle.

I step out, locking my car with a huff. “That was not a fair fight. Your car is rigged.”

Jungkook’s grin only widens as he falls into step beside me, trailing me like a lost puppy. “Your salary could probably buy ten of these cars. Not my fault you have tragic taste in automobiles.”

“Not only in cars, apparently,” I shoot back, my sarcasm landing squarely as he lets out a warm chuckle.

He’s still laughing as we make our way into my apartment, Jungkook striding in first as if he owns the place. I roll my eyes, already anticipating the chaos.

“So, how about you pick the movie, and I’ll see what food places are still open?” I suggest, slipping off my shoes and tossing my keys into the bowl by the door.

“Mhm.” His response is absent, his voice a low hum. I glance up to find him staring at me—no, through me—with an intensity that steals the breath right out of my lungs.

“Come here.” His voice is a gentle command, soft but undeniable.

I swallow, my insides shrinking and flipping at the sight before me. There he is—Jeon Jungkook, hair tousled beneath a crooked headband, his white t-shirt clinging to him just enough to tease the toned lines beneath. The dim, halfway light from the corridor casts a golden halo around him, making him look like some fallen angel teetering on the edge of sin.

“You’re staring,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathless.

“I know.” His lips curl into a lazy smirk as he moves closer, every step echoing like a countdown to my inevitable demise.

Before I can conjure up a coherent thought—heck, even a coherent syllable—his frame closes the gap, pinning me gently yet firmly against the wall. His lips find mine in a kiss that is all heat and honey, a slow burn that sets every nerve ending alight.

My hands find his hair, tangling into the messy strands as his palms settle against the curve of my lower back, pulling me impossibly closer. His lips trail down my jaw, his breath warm against my skin.

“Jungkook…” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice.

He lets out a sound—somewhere between a groan and a growl—his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You saying my name like that? It’s driving me crazy, Amelia.”

I laugh softly, the sound muffled against his shoulder. “I thought you were already crazy.”

He pulls back, his eyes hooded and sparkling with mischief. “Oh, baby, you have no idea.”

And with that, he dives back in, and I realize, quite happily, that dinner and a movie might just have to wait.

Somehow, between kisses that tasted like temptation and whispered words that felt like promises, we made it to the couch. My back hit the cushions, and Jungkook followed, bracing himself above me, his lips still pressed against mine. His weight was comforting, grounding, and utterly dangerous to my sanity.

"Amelia," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough, raw—like he was fighting a battle he knew he was losing. "Tell me to stop."

His breath was warm, his scent intoxicating, and yet, I knew this was dangerous. My fingers were still tangled in his hair, anchoring me to the moment. His expression was wrecked—desire and restraint at war, muscles taut like he was holding himself back by sheer will.

A lesser woman might’ve surrendered.

"What if I don’t want you to?" I whispered, my voice betraying more vulnerability than I liked.

His lips curled, amusement flickering in his eyes, but the intensity never wavered. "Then I might never leave."

A laugh bubbled out of me, breaking the heavy tension. "Jungkook, judging by how often you’re here, I thought you already lived here. Should I start charging you rent?"

He chuckled, his forehead resting against mine. "With the way you ‘accidentally’ bump into me five times a day—even though we work in different buildings—I wouldn’t think you mind my company."

I scoffed, feigning indifference. "First of all, it is all business-related."

He arched a brow. "Tell that to your knees that tremble every time we're alone in my office."

I grinned, unwilling to back down. "That’s just my body reacting to the horrors of your interior design choices."

His laugh was low and full of trouble. "You are impossible."

"And yet, here you are," I teased, daring him to deny it.

His only response was a kiss that started slow—calculated—but quickly unraveled into something deeper, something hungrier. His hands traced my sides, a delicious mix of careful and confident, and I leaned into him, fingers digging into his shoulders. The tension snapped like a live wire, and I was drowning in him, in the way he—

A loud growl echoed between us.

Jungkook stilled, lips hovering just over my collarbone.

Silence.

Then his gaze flicked to me, scandalized. "Amelia—are you laughing right now?"

I slapped a hand over my mouth, but the giggles escaped anyway. "I’m hungry!" I admitted, shoulders shaking.

He pulled back entirely, eyes narrowing like I had just personally offended him. "You’re telling me I just kissed you like that—like a damn man possessed—and you’re thinking about food?"

I nodded, biting my lip, eyes twinkling with mischief.

For a second, he just stared. Then, to my absolute delight, he collapsed back onto the couch, laughter spilling out of him. Deep, rich, full-body laughter that sent a warm thrill through me.

"Only you," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Only me?" I smirked, stretching. "Come on, Mr. Millionaire. If you want me to keep up with your ridiculous stamina, you better feed me."

Still chuckling, he reached for his phone. "Fine. What do you want?"

I tapped a finger against my lips, pretending to ponder. "Something greasy. Pizza."

His fingers hovered over the screen, and then he smirked. "Great. But you’re paying."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Consider it partial rent."

I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him. He caught it with ease, smirking like he’d expected it. "I hate you."

"Mmm." He stretched out on the couch, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. "That’s what they all say before they fall hopelessly in love with me."

"Oh, please—"

"Shh," he cut in, winking. "The pizza’s on its way. Now, what movie are we watching?"

I snatched the remote, settling back against the cushions. "Something romantic."

He groaned. "I should’ve known."

I grinned. "Hey, you got your win with the car race. Let me have this."

He exhaled dramatically. "Fine. But if I cry, you’re not allowed to make fun of me."

I turned my head, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. "Deal."

And as the opening credits rolled, with pizza on the way and Jungkook’s arm draped around me like he belonged there, I realized something terrifying.

Maybe… he did.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- One thing I did not expect to happen so soon? Waking up tangled with Jungkook—again. His bare skin was warm against mine, his breath fanning over my forehead like this was something we did every morning. Like it was normal. Like it wasn’t absolutely insane.

A lazy groan rumbled from his chest. “Morning, sunshine,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my forehead. His arms stretched over his head before settling around me again, locking me in place.

I blinked. Once. Twice. My brain lagging behind reality.

“You’re crushing me,” I mumbled against his chest.

“Sorry,” he drawled, not sounding sorry in the slightest. He stretched again, the movement highlighting every sculpted muscle, and I hated that I noticed.

I stayed still, eyes narrowing as the puzzle pieces snapped together in my sleep-fogged mind.

The wine. The laughter. The way his hands felt on my skin. The way I let him in. Really let him in.

And then—oh. Oh.

I jolted upright, my breath hitching. The sheets clung to my bare skin, and judging by the smug tilt of his lips, so was he.

“We’re naked!” I blurted, voice hitting an octave I didn’t even know I was capable of.

Jungkook cracked an eye open, amusement flickering behind the deep brown of his gaze. “Yeah…” His lips twitched as he propped himself on an elbow. “That’s usually what happens when two people get intimate, Amelia.”

I slapped his arm without thinking. “Shut up.”

He laughed, low and husky. “Admit it. You had fun.”

I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. My face burned. “You are impossible.”

“And yet, here you are.” His smirk deepened, the bastard. “Waking up next to me. Again.”

I tossed a pillow at his head. “Don’t remind me.”

Jungkook just grinned, stretching one last time before rolling out of bed, his movements effortless, too comfortable—too familiar. He bent down to grab his boxers, completely unfazed by the hurricane brewing inside me.

“So,” he said casually, pulling his jeans on, “breakfast before I have to dip?”

I froze.

Dip.

The word lodged itself in my throat like a knife.

He moved around my room like he belonged there, like this was nothing more than another night, another morning, another moment to move past.

Like it didn’t mean a damn thing.

I swallowed hard. “How are you so damn nonchalant about this?” My voice came out quieter than I intended, but sharp, slicing through the fragile tension between us.

Jungkook grabbed his shirt from the floor, not even sparing me a glance. “It’s just sex, Amelia. Not that big of a deal.”

Just sex.

The words landed like a slap.

Something in my chest twisted, curling into something ugly. Something painful.

I clenched the sheet tighter around me, knuckles whitening. “Oh, wow.” A breathy, humorless laugh escaped me. “So that’s all I am to you? A warm body to keep you entertained until you get bored?”

His brows furrowed slightly, but still, he wouldn’t look at me.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, voice steady, unreadable.

“Oh no, I don’t need to,” I shot back, my heart pounding so hard it rattled my ribs. “You’ve made it abundantly clear.”

His jaw ticked, tension creeping into his frame. “We never agreed on anything other than seeing where this goes. You knew what this was.”

I barked out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Oh my god, you actually believe that, don’t you?” The pressure in my chest built, white-hot and suffocating. “You say ‘we’ like I had a fucking say in how this turned out.”

“Amelia, don’t—”

“No, fuck that.” My voice cracked, my anger clawing its way out. “You get to waltz in and out of my life like none of this matters. Like it’s just sex. But you and I both know that’s a fucking lie.”

His eyes flashed. “What do you want me to say?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. “That I—”

He stopped himself, inhaling sharply.

I laughed again, emptier this time. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

Silence crashed between us. Heavy. Suffocating.

And then, he finally met my eyes.

For a split second, something flickered there—regret, hesitation, something real. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“We’re not relationship people, Amelia.” His voice was quieter now, but the words sliced through me all the same.

I stiffened. Then, slowly, deliberately, I lifted my chin.

“Get out.”

His body tensed. “Amelia—”

“GET. OUT.” The words ripped from my throat, raw and unforgiving. Even I was shocked by the force of them.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, jaw clenched, fists at his sides. His eyes searched mine, looking for something. Anything.

But whatever he was looking for—he didn’t find it.

His throat bobbed. His fingers flexed, like he wanted to reach for me. But instead, he exhaled, slow and deep, like he was forcing himself to let go.

Then, he stepped closer—not close enough to touch, but enough.

Before I could react, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of my head.

I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.

And then, just like that, he turned and walked away.

I stayed frozen until I heard the front door click shut.

Then—and only then—did I collapse onto the bed, letting the tears spill freely. The very sheets that still smelled like him muffled my sobs.

This whole pretending-I’m-not-aggressively-falling-in-love-with-him-at-the-speed-of-a-runaway-avalanche thing?

Yeah. It’s not for the weak.

And guess what?

I was the weakest I had ever been.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After spending the last three hours cleaning my apartment at the speed of a snail on anesthetics, I decided it was time to take a cold shower and try to salvage whatever was left of my Saturday. My limbs felt heavy, my eyes burned from crying, and my chest ached from the weight of everything I refused to process.

Dragging myself toward the bathroom, I turned on the shower, letting the icy water blast against the tiles as I slowly stripped off my pajamas. The second the water hit my skin, I shut my eyes, and it was over. The floodgates opened again.

A choked sob ripped through me, my body trembling as I wrapped my arms around myself, desperate to keep it together—to stop the pieces of me from completely shattering on the wet marble floor.

How the hell did I get here?

How did I go from being so indifferent to Jungkook—to feeling absolutely nothing but a flicker of amusement when he smirked at me in his overpriced suits—to this? Crying my eyes out over him like some tragic heroine in a bad romance movie.

And not even because he left me like a used wrapper on the nightstand. No, I could’ve handled that. I could’ve laughed it off, brushed it aside like I had with other meaningless nights before.

But this was different.

Because for a stupid, fleeting moment, I thought there was something more. Something bigger than just attraction. Something real.

And once again, Jungkook made it painfully clear that no one should ever trust a man with a Rolex, a devil’s smirk, and tattoos that tell stories he’ll never share.

Anger flared in my chest, pushing past the heartbreak. I slammed the water off with unnecessary force and stepped out, yanking a satin robe over my damp skin. My apartment was eerily silent, too silent, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only person left in the world.

It was pathetic, really. I’d lived alone for years, but now the emptiness felt unbearable. Maybe because I kept seeing him everywhere. His lazy smirk when he’d lounge on my couch like he owned the place. The way he’d lean against my kitchen island, stealing my hot cocoa like it was some kind of inside joke.

A sharp knock at the door snapped me out of my downward spiral.

My heart lurched. I stood frozen for a second, my breath caught in my throat.

It’s not him.

It’s not him.

I forced myself to move, my bare feet padding against the wooden floor as I approached the door. Peeking through the peephole, my stomach unclenched slightly when I saw Nori standing there, two full bags of takeout in her hands and a bottle of wine balanced in the crook of her arm.

I yanked the door open, and there she was—smiling, looking like the complete opposite of the mess that was me.

“Surprise,” she chirped, setting the food down before thrusting the wine at me. “I figured we should debrief after last night, especially since you decided to pull a full Notebook-style make-out scene in front of my house with no warning.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut.

My throat tightened, and just like that, everything I’d been trying to hold in came rushing to the surface. I didn’t need a mirror to know my eyes had instantly turned glassy. The way Nori’s expression dropped told me everything.

Shit.

“Oh, Amelia…” Her voice softened, realization washing over her. Without another word, she closed the space between us, wrapping me in a crushing hug. Her fingers threaded through my damp hair, her other hand pressing against my back.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice firm but gentle. “I’m here. Let it out. Just let it out.”

And I did.

I buried my face into her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her jacket like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. The tears came fast, hot and unrelenting, as I shook in her arms.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” I choked out, my voice breaking. “I should’ve known. I should’ve never—”

“Don’t,” she cut me off, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes. “Don’t do that to yourself. This isn’t on you.”

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

She sighed, squeezing my shoulders. “Because you cared. Because you let yourself feel something real, and that’s not a weakness, Amelia.”

I swallowed hard, swiping at my damp cheeks. “It sure as hell feels like one.”

Nori exhaled, reaching for the takeout bags. “Come on. We’re eating, drinking, and talking shit about men for the next four hours. No arguments.”

I let out a watery chuckle. “Fine.”

But as I stepped aside to let her in, I couldn’t help but wonder—if this was how much it hurt now, how the hell was I supposed to move on?

Nori steps into my apartment, clutching a plastic bag filled with takeout containers, her expression a mix of concern and forced cheerfulness.

“I brought some hangover Korean food because I thought we’d be eating greasy food over juicy stories—and, of course, alcohol-free wine. But I think it works for heartbreak too,” she says, her voice light, but her eyes scanning my face for damage control.

I let out a bitter laugh, before dropping onto the couch like a lifeless corpse. “I’m sorry that I’m such a mood booster, but my weekend is turning into a complete disaster.”

Nori places the food on the counter before turning to rummage through my cabinets for plates. “Wanna start from the beginning while I find something to serve this in?”

I rub my hands over my face, feeling the exhaustion seep into my bones. “All I can say is that I am so fucking stupid. Not even seventeen-year-olds fall that easily for some guy’s sexual advances anymore.”

Nori stops searching for plates and turns to me, her brows furrowed. “Okay, that sounds serious. What the hell happened?”

I let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling as if the answers are carved into it. “I should have known better. I mean, I knew better. But knowing better and doing better are apparently two different things.”

Nori walks over and plops down beside me, handing me a glass of alcohol-free wine before pouring one for herself. “Spill.”

I hesitate. My chest tightens. My stomach twists. “It was fine at first. More than fine. It was intense, exciting—he made me feel like I was the only person in the room. I really thought that maybe I was so dumb for avoiding him for so long because he actually really likes me and maybe something could be there. You know how that is?”

She nods, sipping her drink, her expression unreadable. “Yeah. But let me guess—he wasn’t exactly Prince Charming in the end?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Prince Charming? Try Prince of Empty Promises. Or better yet, King of Mixed Signals.” I run my fingers through my hair, frustration bubbling up. “One minute, it’s all eye contact and whispered words, making me feel like I’m something special. The next minute? Cold. Distant. Like I imagined the whole fucking thing.”

Nori sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Jesus. He really did a number on you, huh?”

I shake my head, gripping the bottle in my hands so tightly my knuckles turn white. It wasn’t just him. It was me, too. I let it happen. I fell for it. I convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, it meant something. And all because Jimin said that it would be a great fucking plan to get Jungkook on my good side.

Nori watches me for a moment before setting her drink down. “Look, I could sit here and tell you that you deserve better, that you shouldn’t beat yourself up over some guy who clearly doesn’t know what he wants. And all of that would be true. But what I really want to say is—fuck him.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

She sits up, her expression fierce. “Fuck. Him. Fuck his mixed signals. Fuck his little mind games. And most importantly, fuck whatever spell he put on you that made you doubt yourself. Because let me tell you something, you are too damn smart and too damn good to be wasting your time over some guy who doesn’t even know his own damn mind.”

Something burns in my chest. Anger. Heartache. A strange kind of relief. “I just—I don’t know how to turn it off. The way he made me feel. It’s like I was drowning in him, and now I don’t know how to breathe.”

Nori reaches out and squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to figure it out tonight. You don’t have to be okay right now. But what you do need to do is eat. Because no one ever healed a broken heart on an empty stomach.”

I let out a shaky breath and nod, a small, tired smile playing on my lips. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, I want the extra spicy tteokbokki. If I’m going to suffer, I might as well go all in.”

Nori grins, already reaching for the chopsticks. “Now that’s the spirit.”

And just like that, the world feels a little less heavy.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don’t know what I slammed harder—the door to my car or the door to Jimin’s apartment.

“Yah, Jimin! Where the fuck are you?” I shout, kicking off my shoes with more force than necessary as I storm down the hall of my best friend’s apartment.

“Jesus, Jungkook, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Jimin’s voice rings out before he appears from behind the wall, a towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his damp hair. His brows furrow at the sight of me, his relaxed posture instantly tensing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I stride to his kitchen table and drop into one of the chairs like the weight of the world just collapsed on my shoulders. My hands rake through my hair, fingers tugging at the roots as I squeeze my eyes shut.

Jimin exhales, rubbing a towel through his hair as he moves closer. “Are you crying?” he asks, half-joking, but his voice turns serious when I don’t respond.

I wasn’t crying. Not now. But I had been. In the car, on the way here, trying to swallow back everything threatening to break free.

Amelia.

If she had any idea what was actually going through my head when I walked out of her apartment this morning, she would’ve never looked at me with such hatred in her eyes. She thinks I don’t care. She thinks I don’t feel anything when I see her breaking apart because of me.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

I wanted to drop everything in that second. To wrap my arms around her and whisper that I was sorry—for everything I had done and everything I would do in the months to come. I wanted to tell her that every time I looked at her, even for a second too long, my heart clenched so tight I could barely breathe. I wanted to tell her that no matter how hard I fought it, I had always loved her.

Since college. Since those nights in the library when she fell asleep in my lap, her notes crumpled in her hand, her soft breaths the only thing keeping me grounded at 3 a.m.

But life was never that simple.

Not for me. Not for her. Not for us.

I sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white. “Jimin, I fucked up.”

Jimin’s expression darkens instantly. He pulls out a chair and sits across from me, his damp hair still dripping. “What did you do?”

My throat tightens. “It’s not what I did—it’s what I have to do.”

Jimin leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You’re talking in riddles, Jungkook. Spill.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “I wish I could. But if I say it out loud, it makes it real.”

Jimin studies me carefully. He knows me better than anyone. He knows when I’m hiding something. He sighs and leans forward, voice softer now. “Is this about Amelia?”

My jaw clenches. I should’ve known he’d figure it out.

“Jungkook… man, you’re a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’ve been running in circles around her for years. You push her away and then pull her back in just enough to hurt her again.”

I snap my head up, eyes blazing. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for it?”

Jimin doesn’t flinch. “Then why are you still doing it?”

I let out a shuddering breath, leaning back as I stare up at the ceiling. “Because I don��t have a fucking choice.”

Jimin scoffs. “That’s bullshit. You always have a choice.”

I slam my fist against the table, rattling the glasses on the surface. “Not when it comes to my family. Not when it comes to the company. Not when it comes to Amelia.”

Silence.

Jimin’s expression shifts. His voice drops lower. “What did they make you do?”

I swallow hard. “It’s not what they made me do. It’s what they expect me to do.”

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face. “They never wanted me near her. She’s everything they hate in a woman—free-spirited, loud, goal-oriented. She was a distraction to their perfect fucking son.” My voice is laced with venom, years of resentment spilling over. “So when she confessed to me in our last year of university, I had two choices: tell her the truth and watch my father destroy her, or break her heart myself.”

Jimin sucks in a breath, his expression unreadable. “So you chose to be the villain.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah. And the worst part? It didn’t even work. She still got dragged into this mess.”

Jimin stays silent for a moment before shaking his head. “You should’ve told her, Jungkook.”

I slam my fist against the table again. “And then what? She’d fight back? She’d try to take them on?” I let out a humorless chuckle. “Jimin, my father would ruin her. He’s been waiting for the chance. And the moment she took over the CFO position at Wonder Technologies, that was it. He has a plan to take down her entire family, and I—” My voice catches, and for the first time tonight, I feel my control slipping. “I’m the fucking weapon.”

Jimin’s eyes widen slightly. “Jungkook…”

“He wants me to get close to her again. To gain her trust, to make her believe in me.” I laugh bitterly. “And then, when she least expects it, I have to destroy everything she’s built.”

Silence stretches between us. It’s suffocating. Heavy.

Jimin shakes his head, disgust written all over his face. “And you’re actually going to do it?”

I look away, ashamed. “I don’t know.”

Jimin exhales sharply, pushing back from the table as he stands. He grips the edge, his knuckles turning white. “You’re a coward, Jungkook.”

I flinch.

Jimin’s voice is full of disappointment. “You say you love her? Then prove it. Fight for her. Don’t just sit here whining about your damn family. If you don’t do something, you’re going to lose her for good.”

My chest tightens.

I already have.

Jimin watches me, waiting for me to argue, to fight back. But I don’t. Because he’s right.

And the worst part?

I don’t know if I can save her without destroying her first.

"And what do you expect me to do?" My voice rises without my control, frustration bleeding into every syllable. "Pull some superhero move out of my ass and fix everything? This isn’t a damn K-drama, Jimin! This is my real life—my family, my company, my entire goddamn future on the line!"

Jimin doesn’t flinch, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes burning with barely concealed fury. "Then fucking act like it, Jungkook! Because right now, you're running headfirst into a disaster, and for what? Some reckless, emotional impulse? Do you even realize what you’ve done?"

I clench my jaw so hard it aches, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "Don’t act like you know everything," I snap, turning away from him. "You don’t get it, Jimin. You never have."

Silence hangs heavy between us for a split second before Jimin steps closer, his voice dropping lower but carrying even more weight. "Oh my god…" He exhales sharply, eyes widening as realization dawns. "You did. Didn’t you?" His voice is laced with disbelief, disgust even. "Are you out of your goddamn mind, Jungkook? The company party is in less than a fucking week, and you—"

"I know," I cut him off, the words coming out harsher than intended. "I know I fucked up, alright? But I can’t change it now. I have to focus. I have to fix the mess I’ve made at work. I’ve been slacking, and everyone fucking knows it."

Jimin shakes his head, laughing bitterly. "You’re unbelievable. You think you can compartmentalize this? You think this won’t blow up in your face? This isn’t just some bad decision, Jungkook. This is Amelia. You think she’s just gonna pretend like nothing happened? That you can brush this under the rug and go back to being business partners? Wake the fuck up."

His words cut deeper than I want to admit, but I refuse to show it. Instead, I press my fingers against my temples, trying to will away the headache forming there. "I don’t need a lecture, Jimin. I need to fix this. I need to figure out how to move forward."

"Fix this?" He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. "How exactly do you plan on doing that? Let me guess—ignore Amelia until she just gets over it? Pretend like nothing happened? Jesus Christ, Jungkook, she’s not just another girl. She’s your business partner. The one person you can’t afford to screw over—literally and figuratively."

His words send a fresh wave of regret crashing over me, but I push it down, shove it deep inside where it can’t touch me. "I’ll handle it."

"Like hell you will." Jimin steps in front of me, blocking my path as I try to walk away. His expression is dead serious now, no trace of the frustration or sarcasm he usually carries. "Look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t going to turn into a complete fucking disaster. Tell me you haven’t completely lost control of this situation."

I meet his gaze, my stomach twisting painfully because I can’t lie to him. I have lost control. I lost it the second I let Amelia into my life in a way I never should have. And now? Now I don’t know how to claw my way back.

Jimin exhales slowly, shaking his head. "You’re playing with fire, man. And if you’re not careful, you’re gonna burn everything down with you."

I don’t respond. I can’t. Because deep down, I know he’s right. —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “I do not want to have any meetings with KK Electronics on my schedule today,” I say, shoving a thick file of newly drafted contracts into Jimin’s hands with more force than necessary.

He furrows his brows, clearly taken aback. “May I ask why? We need to have the party meeting,” he says, hesitating before placing the files back on my desk as if testing my patience.

“I just need to focus on something else.” My tone is clipped, my eyes never leaving the screen of my laptop, fingers flying over the keys as though whatever I’m working on is more important than this conversation.

Jimin doesn’t take the hint. “And that is?” His voice holds a subtle challenge, a quiet defiance that makes my jaw tighten.

I flick my eyes up at him, a warning glinting beneath my frustration. His gaze is steady, unwavering, daring me to give him a real answer. My silence should be enough, but of course, it’s not.

“Jesus, Amelia. What is up your ass today?” The irritation in his voice is laced with something else—hurt, maybe? As if he’s genuinely trying to understand, but his patience is wearing thin.

I slam my laptop shut. The sound cuts through the tension like a blade. “Are you seriously asking me that, Jimin? After everything?” My voice is sharp, coated in something venomous.

His eyes darken. “After everything?” He repeats, voice lowering, his posture stiffening. “You mean after you’ve been dodging every conversation that even remotely involves KK Electronics? Or after you’ve refused to even say his damn name out loud?”

I feel the heat of anger rise in my chest, my fingers curling into fists. “Don’t start with me.”

“Oh, I’m starting, Amelia,” Jimin huffs, shaking his head. “Because I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you when it comes to this. We can’t avoid this forever.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” I snap, rising from my chair, my body buzzing with frustration. “I am choosing to prioritize things that actually matter instead of wasting my energy on someone who—” I stop myself, jaw clenching.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “On someone who what? Say it.”

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “Forget it.”

“No,” he says, stepping closer. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut down and pretend like none of this is affecting you when it clearly is.”

I grit my teeth, my breath coming faster. “And what do you expect me to do, Jimin? Sit down, hold hands, and talk about my feelings?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Because, news flash, I don’t have time for that bullshit.”

He watches me for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then, in a quiet voice, he says, “You’re lying to yourself.”

The words hit harder than I want to admit.

I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and turn my back on him, gripping the edge of my desk to steady myself. “Just drop it, Jimin.” My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t say anything right away. The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. Then, finally, he sighs, his voice softer but no less firm. “I won’t drop it forever.”

I close my eyes.

I know he won’t.

When I walked into the office on Monday morning, I was barely functioning—half dead, half clinging to life, with dark circles under my eyes so deep they looked like bruises. The air in the office shifted the moment I stepped in. People took one glance at me and decided it was best to steer clear, keeping their distance as if I carried some sort of plague. Everyone but Jimin. Because, of course, Jimin had no sense of self-preservation.

Not even a full minute into our one-on-one lunch, he launched into a full-blown monologue, his voice dripping with exasperation and unsolicited wisdom.

“You and Jungkook need to stop playing these pathetic little games and just be adults about it,” he snapped, stabbing his fork into his salad like it had personally offended him. “You’re both acting like children, Amelia. And frankly, I’m tired of being stuck in the middle of this ridiculous mess. Either make a decision or—”

“Or what, Jimin?” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “You’ll stop meddling? That’d be a fucking dream.”

Jimin scoffed. “Excuse me? I’m the one who pushed you into this? Are you serious right now?” He leaned forward, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t push you into anything, Amelia. You were already in it—you just didn’t want to admit it.”

I clenched my jaw so tight my teeth hurt. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you were the one giving me lectures about how I should ‘let myself fall for him’ and ‘see where it goes.’ And now, suddenly, you’re telling me to just ‘man up’ and deal with it?”

Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples. “Listen, I get it. You’re mad. You’re frustrated. But what pisses you off more? The fact that I’m saying it to your face, or the fact that Jungkook went to me about it?”

My stomach twisted, and my grip tightened around my coffee cup. I knew the answer. And I hated it.

Jungkook. That son of a bitch.

He had run straight to Jimin, crying his crocodile tears, playing the fucking victim. Like he wasn’t the one who pulled the rug from under me. Like he wasn’t the one who made everything so damn complicated.

I swallowed back the bitterness and forced my expression into something neutral. “I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, standing up and grabbing my laptop. “I have actual work to do.”

That was Monday.

By Tuesday, I had mastered the art of avoidance. If Jungkook was in the break room, I was at my desk. If he was in the hallway, I suddenly had an urgent email to respond to. If he so much as looked in my direction, I made sure I was already looking away. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had any sort of effect on me.

But by Wednesday morning, my luck was running out. Three days left until the launch party. Three days left before I had to stand in the same goddamn room as him and pretend like we were a united front for the sake of business and investors and keeping up appearances. And Jimin, the relentless little shit, was making sure I couldn’t keep running forever.

“We’re having the meeting, Amelia.” Jimin’s voice was sharp, final. He planted himself in front of my desk, arms crossed, eyes burning into mine. “You have a hundred people coming—some of the biggest investors in Asia. You and Jungkook need to get on the same page about this event before you two set the whole company on fire with your unresolved bullshit.”

I exhaled, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my temples. “Let’s just drop the subject for now, Jimin.”

“No. No more pushing this aside.” His voice was firm, but I caught the slightest edge of frustration in it. “I am not watching you two passive-aggressively try to avoid each other during the biggest event of the year. So, you’re going to sit your ass down in that meeting, you’re going to deal with Jungkook, and you’re going to act like the competent, professional woman I know you are.”

I stared at him, jaw clenched.

Then, finally, I huffed. “Fine. But thirty minutes. That’s it.”

Jimin smirked, knocking twice on the side of my desk. “Deal.”

[flowers-of-io]

13 for end of year fic asks!

13. Two things this year has taught you about writing

One is definitely “write stuff down and let it simmer, even if it sounds bad initially”. Which I suppose is a variant of write drunk edit sober, but I've noticed it also helps me a lot with the structure—if I have an idea of what I want to include further down the story, or for the general order of events, writing it down as hear-incomprehensible placeholder text is far better than keeping it in my brain and waiting for when it's formed enough to be verbalised properly. It's not a *new* lesson, per say, but I definitely didn't utilise it enough in the past.

The other one is rather endemic to songwriting, but I’ve learned that i really ought to record myself when I come up with a new song because there have been cases where I had experienced a wondrous moment of enlightenment and written something only to later have no idea how to either sing or play it. So, yeah. Cringe culture is dead, phone voice recorder era is live and thriving. I once locked myself up in a coffee shop bathroom just to record a tune I'd come up with on the spot because I was so worried I'd forget how the melody went lmao.

[bringbacktim]

Dial drunk- Jschlatt

A noah kahan inspired jschlatt imagine , this is not proofread or edited so be warned

Sad I didn't write this after the post malone version comes out , his verse sounds so good

Warnings : mentions of breakups , alcohol, death, cops , use of y/n , one swear word

Wc: 1.6k

It was no secret that Jschlatt liked to drink , he wasn't an alcoholic or anything, but he drank more than the average person

This drinking multiple times a week and his recent break up did not mix well together at all

Most nights he would get absolutely plastered and either leave a drunk voicemail or a drunk text (both equally embarrassing for him to discover the next morning)

This night was no different, it was a lonely Saturday evening and Jambo was beginning to grow bored of only having one adult to annoy . Schlatt was done streaming for the day and just wanted to wind down so looked no further than the liquor cabinet in his kitchen

Tonight he was definitely going push the limit of how much alcohol he usually drinks without caring about the consequences because he could physically feel his heart breaking in his chest and it was clearly taking a taking a toll on the orange tabby as well

To say the breakup was messy was an understatement , if it had to be described in one song it would be 'come back be here' by taylor swift. The distance did more harm than good, obviously being in a relationship with a youtuber was hard , but having that youtuber across oceans made it nearly impossible

I'm rememberin' I promised to forget you now

The alcohol was hitting hard by this point and his conscience was very much gone so the shit show that was drunk Jschlatt was going to begin

But it's rainin', and I'm callin' drunk

He could hear the pitter patter of the rain on the window and he thought back to how much y/n loved to cozy up on that very sofa with a hot drink when it rained , so the only logical thing to do was call her and tell her it was raining and that it reminded him of those fond memories

And my medicine is drownin' your perspective out

The liquor was making very much not care about whatever negative thing she would  have to say on the other side of the line if she actually picked up

So I ain't takin' any fault

Am I honest still? Am I half the man I used to be?

Obviously he wasn't going to blame the alcohol for the abrupt phone call , that was all him but not the tough guy he used to be that everyone loved . The gooey in the middle guy who doesn't know how to live without Y/n by his side

I doubt it, forget about it, whatever

It's all the same, anyways

With that saddening thought he put the phone down not even bothering to leave a voicemail because then she would know he was drunk

I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown

In the name of someone I no longer know

He definitely wasn't proud of all the times he had defended her name even though she ripped his heart out of his chest , stomped on it , and then shot it until you could see through to the other side

For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone

Traffic lights and a transmitter radio

He doesn't remember his feet taking him out the door or walking down the street he knew her hotel and favourite bar was , but at this point it was muscle memory no matter how hard he tried to forgot it his feet could never forget his old favourite path

That wasn't the only thing his feet forgot how to do because next thing he knew a cop car was pulling up next to him asking how much he'd had to drink and to walk in a straight line (aka the most difficult task in the world at the moment)

I don't like that when they threw me in the car

Being put in the back of the aforementioned cop car was no surprise after he couldn't walk or talk even remotely like a sober person

I gave your name as my emergency phone call

"Is there anyone we can call to come get you and make sure you get home safely?" The cop turned to him and asked

"Y/n Y/l/n" he knew it was a long shot , but she was a relatively nice person

Honey, it rang and rang, even the cops thought you were wrong for hangin' up

After about four attempts at calling the cops gave up and we're shocked that his only lifeline wouldn't come get him or even pick up

I dial drunk, I'll die a drunk, I'll die for you

He knew at that moment his life would stay the same for however many years he still had left, Jambo would be left at home wondering when his father would sober up and give him some attention

I'm untetherin' from the parts of me you'd recognize

From charmin' to alarmin' in seconds

He had changed too much since that last phone call and it was hard for his friends to watch , they didn't recognize him a lot of the time . Even his viewers could see he was a shell of himself

I'll be bedridden, I'll let the pain metastasize

But that's mornin', I'll forget it

He didn't care about streaming half the time and just laid in bed wishing the pain would stop spreading from his heart to everywhere else and controlling him like a little person in his head

But that's mornin', I'll forget it

And the dial tone is all I have

It usually got better once he'd actually manage to get out of bed to feed his cat etc , but he couldn't bear to stop calling just to listen to the dial tone it was all he had left of y/n after all and everyone knows that old habits die hard

I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown

In the name of someone I no longer know

He was two seconds away from defending you to the pair of cops who didn't even disrespect you even though you just hang up on him four times

For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone

Traffic lights and a transmitter radio

It was shameful to be so young and this sad over something so silly that a macho man like him shouldn't get upset over , luckily the radio kept spitting out messages so he was silenced for now

I don't like that when they threw me in the car

I gave your name as my emergency phone call

He was pissed about them not only man handling him , but also the fact that you wouldn't even pick up despite him having a habit of doing this , why didn't you even want to know he wasn't a danger to himself like some of your mutual friends said

Honey, it rang and rang, even the cops thought you were wrong for hangin' up

They tried a few more times after a solid five to ten minutes incase she was busy , but still nothing.  They couldn't just let him go and have him wind up dead somehow

I dial drunk, I'd die a drunk, I'd die for you

Well, I'd die for you

Were the only thoughts in his head at that moment , he was obviously destined to be a drunk and die from being reckless

"I beg you, sir, just let me call" he  tried to plead with them to just call once more

"I'll give you my blood alcohol

I'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell" he once again begged, he just needed that one more call

"I'll change my faith, I'll praise the flag

Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back"  they we're growing bored of this emasculating begging routine by now

"Son, are you a danger to yourself?" The cop asked wanting to just send him home

"Fuck that, sir, just let me call

I'll give you my blood alcohol" 

Schlatt replied trying to bargain with the man but this was a fight he wasn't going to win

"I'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell

I'll change my faith, I'll kiss the badge" he tried being on their side and charming them to see if he would finally get his way , but still no avail

"Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back" his voice broke as

"Son, why do you do this to yourself?" The cop asked genuinely curious why a tough guy like him was borderline crying in the back of his car

And I said

"I ain't proud of all the punches that I've thrown

In the name of someone I no longer know" with his head in his hands and nursing a water bottle he confessed to the man who was definitely confused

For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone

Traffic lights and a transmitter radio

I don't like that when they threw me in the car

He began to question his current situation and what he deserved to end up a drunk who couldn't get over his ex who clearly didn't give a shit about him or his safety

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18 +

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing and spit balling ideas and giving feedback.

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spit balling ideas and fueling my ego &lt;3

I have no idea where this story or be without either of you girls. Or me, for that matter.

Word count: 16.6k

Warnings: Degradation/praise, light use of sir without any discussion, light hunter/prey play, crying while fucking (eddie), and a whole steddie story at the start. Lots of talk of their future in this part.

Author's note: When I say I am blown away by the reception of this fanfic, wholeheartedly mean it. Any word of kindness you have given just fueled the fire in me. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it and exploring where the story will take us.

Due to some worry in the comments from last part I will clear this up: Neither Eddie nor Reader will be cheating, they're it for one another. Steve is here as a long time friend, someone with a wife and kids at home.

That being said, thank you so much, I really do appreciate it.

edit: somehow the first paragraph was missing? all fixed.

About 26/27 Years Ago:

At the failure of both their university careers, Steve and Eddie both dropped out within weeks of one another. This was unplanned, neither one of them knowing as they went back to Hawkins to a mini reunion. They agreed to meet one another for a drink, just the two of them, where Steve kindly asked how Eddie’s schooling was going, to which Eddie answered sheepishly that he had dropped out. Steve let out a bark of laughter, laughing through his response that he had also dropped out.

The mutual sigh of relief waved over them both, the two of them grateful they wouldn’t be receiving that same damn look of pity again. Their conversation then flowed into ease; the embarrassment was no longer there for either of them. Since they both dropped out, they each had found a dead-end job to make their ends meet while they figured out their next move.

Simply, they were at the exact same spot in life. This would be reoccurring for them over the next few years, finding their wives within the same six-month span, and both Arlo and Dylan being born within a year of one another. It’s no wonder why they became so close.

Steve had a crazy idea in their third hour in the bar booth, a little bit buzzed. “Dude. We should go to Vegas.”

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows, completely thrown off by the suggestion. “What?”

“C’mon, Vegas! Our jobs both suck, and we’re the only ones who actually understand each-other’s shituations.”

Eddie sighed and took another sip of his beer. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“When?”

“Now!”

Eddie nearly spit out his beer, looking at Steve like he was crazy. “Now?”

“Dude. I still have my parents’ credit cards. They’re too lazy to actually cut me off.” Steve’s words were a bit slurred, holding up the many black cards.

Eddie downed his beer; the financials were his number one reason not to go. If this was gonna be on the Harrington’s dime, you best believe he would take full advantage of his friend’s shitty parents’ money.

Halfway through their first bus, Steve and Eddie started to sober up and wondered if it was a good idea. Too late, they were already four hours away. It took a total of 31 hours of driving on the road and about six different buses, but they finally made it to Nevada with nothing but the shirts on their backs and delirious glee.

The first two days they spent gambling and shooting the shit, both nights staring up at the bodies of women with numerous dollar bills in string thongs. (Eddie will omit this part when he tells it to you, for your own sanity’s sake.) On the third night, as Steve was a bit more drunk than the previous two, Eddie found a strong ass strain of weed on the strip and was a bit stoned. One of them managed to convince the other that finding girls to hook up with was the good idea.

They both went on with their night, keeping an eye out for any girl they could prospect. Even with a few conversations with some girls, they both came up short. Hooking up with women who were also running away from their problems was a bad idea.

Steve found a girl, but soon realized she was a dud when she made fun of Eddie’s bandana wrapped around his head. Eddie came up to Steve as she rolled her eyes and stomped off. Jesus. As he rested on the bar, he noticed something he wondered if he had imagined the whole three days they were there. Eddie’s eyes lingered on him, checking him out not-so-subtly. Steve leered on Eddie’s soft pink lips for too long for Steve to confidently tell himself he was not interested. His eyes raked down Eddie, taking in everything, subconsciously licking his lips. Having these thoughts, he realized Eddie was talking to him the entire time and he didn’t take in a single word.

“Well, that was a bust. C’mon. Let’s go get our sleep, we’re spending the next two days bussing home.” Steve yanked Eddie by the sleeve of the gift shop shirt he got up to the hotel elevator.

Eddie wandered into the bathroom when they got to their room and when he came out, he saw Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, legs out and leant back on straight arms. Eddie chuckled nervously. As dorky as it was, Steve looked fantastic in the makeshift gift shop outfit he had gotten himself.

“Steve?” He asked, hesitantly walking towards him.

An uncontrollable huff of laughter left Steve’s mouth, he stood up to face Eddie, accidentally meeting him only inches away from his face. It was a flicker. Only a flicker. A flicker of Eddie’s eyes looking directly to Steve’s lips, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. “You know, Eddie. If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, the panic in his face was clear. “I-I…” He stuttered, his breathing picked up exponentially in the last two minutes and the air in the hotel room was thick.

Steve gently placed one hand on Eddie’s cheek bone, slowly caressing it as to calm the nerves he could tell were radiating off Eddie. He smiled, glancing down very obviously to Eddie’s mouth to ask for permission. Eddie nodded the tiniest goddamn nod in the world and nearly blacked out when Steve’s lips came rushing for his own.

When their lips met, Eddie moaned into it, moving to someone’s bed, he couldn’t tell nor did he care which, and let Steve fall on top of him.

The kisses were messy, clothes were thrown all over the hotel room, and the sex was rough and giggly, but desperate.

And only one time, they decided as they woke up on opposite sides of the bed, laughing at the sheer absurdity that filled the air as they were both wrapped in white sheets.

-

“Uh, Eddie? It’s for you… his name is Steve Harrington?” Eddie pauses, in the middle of hanging a sweater in what seems to be the designated spot for knitwear. A quick assessment tells you that you now have more sweaters than you need, observing them all hung delicately by his hands.

“No way.” Eddie mutters, a smile slowly creeping up on his face. He jogs right past you to the hallway and down the stairs, the quick thumping of his feet loud in the silence of the house.

Your brain takes a moment to catch up to you, following Eddie’s lead back down the stairs. As the front entrance comes into view halfway down the stairs, you see the two men wrapped up in a genuine embrace, arms flexed as they hug one another. They separate, but not by much, maintaining only a few feet between them.

“You didn’t tell me when you were coming!” Eddie accuses playfully, patting Steve on his shoulder.

Steve’s hands are on his hips, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I ended up coming 2 weeks early.”

“No shit, hey?” Eddie leans back, crossing his arms.

They fall into a conversation so easily that their comfort with one another radiates off them. You would be offended Eddie hasn’t introduced you to him yet if it weren’t for their entertaining back and forth with one another.

“How long have you two known each other?” You mistakenly interrupt them, cutting off the conversation.

“Uh, since high school.” Eddie answers, elbowing Steve.

Steve’s eyes widen deliriously, jerking back at the neck. “Uh, try Jr. High.” He laughs. “Eddie here was the new kid.” He seems to laugh at the memory of young Eddie. Man, you’ll need photographic proof. “The weird-o new kid.”

“Oh, sorry my mom abandoned me, Steve.” Eddie laughs, not a lick of remorse behind it. You gulp, your heartstrings pulled at his throwaway comment.

“Abandonment issues can forgive weirdness only for so long, Eddie.”

“Yeah, but I got it renewed fifteen years ago. Didn’t even have to ask, she just did it for me.”

There’s a moment of silence until they break into laughter, poking fun at one another.

“I’m so sorry, who’s this?” Steve gestures to you, walking over to where you’re standing by the stairs.

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” You hold your hand out to him, somewhat nervous to be meeting someone who’s known Eddie for so long. Decades long before you were even born.

Steve’s hand meets yours and shakes it gracefully, his kind chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. “He paying you well?”  You’re not sure how to answer this, your hand still holding Steve’s as you and Eddie give another a look of confusion. “Oh, sorry. You must be Dylan’s girlfriend! Where is he off to, anyway?” Steve lets go of your hand.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember I told you I was seeing someone?” You smile to yourself under the mere indication that Eddie talked to someone about you.

Steve nods, remembering the life in Eddie’s voice when he called. “Yep.”

Eddie points to you, gesturing multiple times until Steve finally gets the hint. “Oh…oh. Oh!” Steve’s hands move back to his hips, his eyes switching back and forth between you and Eddie quickly. “But she’s a child.” Steve deadpans, pointing to you and furrowing his brows at Eddie.

Eddie chuckles, placing his arm around you as Steve takes it in. You’re slightly offended on your own behalf at the prospect of being called a child. Eddie places a kiss on your temple to ease the tension, making you melt into it. “No, she’s not.”

You tilt your head back at Eddie, giving him a sleepy smile, eyes half closed. He kisses you as if to put the final nail in the coffin in any disbelief Steve might’ve had. You breathe deeply as he pulls away, and goddamn, did you have a long day today.

“Wait until Robin hears you’re dating someone half your age.” Steve muses, shaking his head. “She’s gonna have a field day.”

“Wait till she hears we’re already shacked up.” Eddie jokes, bringing you to the couch and therefore leading Steve as well.

As you sit down on the couch, you cuddle into him, head laying down on his chest. Steve asks how his shop is doing, to which Eddie gives the run down on the nicest cars he’s seen and a customer’s hunk of junk he couldn’t believe was still driving around. Steve explains the logistics of his job, and by the tone of Eddie’s voice, you could tell he had no idea any of what Steve was saying, but he was being supportive in tone, nonetheless.

“How are the kids?” Eddie asks, and you watch as Steve’s eyes light up in response.

“Oh, they’re great.”

“How old are they?” You ask, a tad curious.

“Uh, Arlo is 24, Nick is 17, Dustin is 15, and Eliza is 4.” Steve riles off, letting his head fall back on the couch. Damn, he sure didn’t look like a dad of four.

“Is Eliza 4 already?” Eddie asks, shaking his head.

“Sure is.” Steve answers, bringing out his phone. He unlocks it, and presumably goes into his photos until passing it over to you and Eddie. “Here. This was from yesterday.”

“Awww.” You let out, seeing the image of a little girl with Steve’s curls playing on a water mat.

“Oh, aww” Eddie lets out, laughing through it. Eliza is adorable, that much is clear. But as you look up at Eddie scrolling through a few of the photos of Eliza playing in the water, the hearts in his eyes are undeniable. He laughs softly at them, as if he can’t get enough of any of the photos. As Eddie passes the photos with his praises of Eliza, a stirring gut feeling sits there, a feeling you’ve been proud that you’ve been able to hold off with Eddie already having a grown child.

Goddamn, you wanted to have this man’s babies. Or at least, baby. The idea of him looking this sweetly at a child you made together invades your heart and makes you squirm on his chest a bit. You lean off his chest, afraid of these strong feelings of wanting this much of a future with him; it was a little scary. “I’m sleepy. Been a long day, I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Alright, here.” He gets up with you, taking your hand and walking you around the couch. “Be right back, Steve.”

Eddie goes up the stairs to your room, escorting you to your now shared bed. Last week it had dark grey sheets. Now it has your favourite yellow daisy-themed sheets that Eddie insisted upon using. You lie down, still thinking of the way his eyes lit up and the smile that took over his face from the pictures. It made something stir in you. You were exhausted from your long day, that was no lie, but needed the excuse to leave before you did something crazy.

Like riding him on the couch. (And begging for his babies)

“Have a good sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” He kisses your forehead, soft and sweet. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You mutter through your breath, eyes already closing.

-

You’re already fast asleep by the time Eddie closes the door. As he reaches the bottom of the steps, Steve looks up at him expectantly, his brow slightly furrowed. He’s concerned, and to be fair, he has a reason to be. “So, we’re dating 20-year-olds, now?”

Eddie bites his tongue from correcting your age. “I guess you could say that.”

“What is this, some sort of midlife crisis? Get a red sports car, not someone who beats my oldest by months, hell your kid by months. I mean, come on, man. Use your brain.” Steve taps his shoulder on the last sentence, surely thinking he’s putting Eddie’s head back on right. However, Eddie just sits through the lecture without defending himself so he can say his piece when the time comes. “I-I mean where did you even find her, on her way to school?”

The front door slams. Dylan’s home. “Dad, am I tripping or is Uncle Steve’s car out front—Hey!” He cuts himself off, jogging toward them as soon as he sees Steve on the couch. Steve stands up to give him a tight hug, having known Dylan since the day he was born. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came by for a visit, turns out your dad’s having a midlife crisis.”

Dylan’s brows pinch together as he glances around Steve to Eddie for clarification. Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pretending not to know a single thing Steve was talking about. “What, did he get a sports car or something? He says they look pretty but they’re not made to last.”

“No, no. I was talking about his pretty new girlfriend.” The pang of possessiveness that hits Eddie in the chest is unprecedented for Steve just calling you pretty.

Dylan hardly holds in his laughter, walking into the kitchen before a full-on laugh escapes his throat. Steve stares off at him, glancing at Eddie and clearly asking, what the hell is wrong with that boy? Dylan makes himself calm down, coming back into the living room with a shit eating grin on his face. “So did he tell you how they met?”

“N-no.” Steve hesitates based on the grin on his face.

“He hasn’t let me get that far, yet.” Eddie chimes in, looking a little cozy as he settles into the couch. You were right, it has been a long ass day.

“I’m gonna tell him.” It wasn’t a threat per se, Dylan just wanted to watch the panic in his dad’s eyes.

Eddie lifts his head off the back pillow of the couch, having been looking up at the ceiling. “He’s gonna find out eventually. I was just gonna wait until she woke up.”

“Tell me…what?” Steve asks, tired of watching Eddie and Dylan’s back and forth.

Dylan gives one last chuckle, the laughter telling Eddie it’s not something he’s very bitter about anymore. They still haven’t talked about it; he’s been waiting for Dylan to come to him. “She was my girlfriend, first.” Dylan says through a smirk. “She cheated on me. With dad.”

Steve processes it, both Dylan and Eddie can see the hamster wheel turning in his head. He looks back and forth between Dylan and Eddie, his eyes staying on either one for a moment. His eyes don’t blink the entire time, switching back and forth for a solid minute.

“Dude!” Steve finally says, landing on Eddie. “What the fuck happened, Ed?”

Dylan continues laughing, walking over to his dad. “Yeah dad, what happened?”

Eddie lets his head fall back on the pillows again, closing his eyes for a brief second. “Well, I tried to keep my distance…she did not.” Shit, that’s putting all the blame on you. “I wasn’t strong enough to tell her to break up with Dylan, first. Felt like I was seventeen years old, hormones just raging to a point where I couldn’t think straight with her right there.” He gets up from the couch, walking up to his closest friend of 30+ years. “She’s not just some 25-year-old, Steve. This girl, Steve, she’s everything, and somehow, she’s convinced that she’s the lucky one.”

When his dad spews cheesy shit like this it certainly softens the blow. Feels funny that he ever dated you in the first place at times.

Steve seems to miss the fact that Dylan has gotten almost completely over it by now. “That’s all good and nice, but I think you’re missing the fact that you stole your son’s girlfriend?”

Dylan lets out another laugh, wishing Steve was here when everything went down. That would’ve been a show. “Listen, Uncle Steve. I appreciate you standing up for me, truly, I do. If you were here three weeks ago when they fucked in my truck, then that would’ve been…just great.”

“You fucked in his tru—”

Dylan cuts him off, “But honestly, I didn’t date her for very long. If anything, I had only begun to develop some deeper feelings for her, but these two had it right away. They’re good together. I wish they could’ve just told me their feelings and then slept together, but with Maya…if she was dating one of my boys I would’ve done the same thing.”

Steve’s hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, seeing the truth in his statement. “Well, you’ll have to tell me about Maya, then.” He turns back to Eddie, a pinch appearing back between his brows. “But seriously, you fucked in his truck? What kind of sicko are you?”

“His was unlocked. He knows better.” Eddie shrugs, Steve rolls his eyes fondly.

“Good god, man.”

“I was actually just here to grab something, but I’ll see you for supper?” Dylan shoots, mid stride towards the stairs.

“We’re eating out, be back by 8:30.” Steve calls up, and Dylan waves his hand in acknowledgement.

“We are?” Eddie asks, sitting back on the couch.

“Oh yeah, Munson.” He sits on the cushion beside him, leaning onto his knees. “But tell me about her. Sorry I just assumed…but Robin will absolutely be calling you to rip your head off.”

“Or…she can find out in person one day.”

“Like at your wedding?” Steve teases, but lets out a burst of laughter when the blush appears on his cheeks. “Seriously, you hear wedding bells?”

“I’m not getting any younger, dude. But my hormones are, man, she has me doing multiple rounds, sometimes more than one a day!” Steve’s eyes widen, intrigued by this. “I haven’t fucked like this since my 20s.” Eddie pauses, thinking about his sex life back then. “I’m not even sure I fucked like this in my 20’s, to be honest.”

Steve lets out a laugh, shoving Eddie for good measure. Of course, being men, they both skip over the fact that yes, Eddie has had wedding bells in his head enough to start looking at rings…and go for the sex talk.

“Okay, sex aside. Tell me about her.”

It takes only five minutes of Steve listening to Eddie ramble on about you to realize it absolutely was the real deal. No mid-life crises here. Eddie seemed calm and laxed, whereas his ex always made him wired. For the record, Steve never quite liked her. She had Eddie looking like a wet chihuahua, yapping at every drop of a hat. Steve was a little relieved when she left, ‘cause no one could convince Eddie she was not good for him.

Turns out he just needed to wait a few years. 15, in fact.

-

You wake up to the feeling of Eddie’s hand on your cheek, carefully petting you as he places gentle kisses on your lips. “Baby.” He mumbles, causing you to stir. “Baby, wake up.”

As you start to wake up, you become increasingly aware that he was lying right behind you. “Mmm.”

“C’mon, we’re going out for supper with Steve, you have to get up.”  

Still reeling from the dream that you were just ripped out of, you arch your back slightly, grinding your ass against Eddie’s instantly-hardening cock. You hear a sharp inhale, Eddie’s grip on your hip intensifying. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but we literally don’t have time.” Eddie comments, his forehead falling onto the back of your head in an act of self discipline.

You frown, giving a good hip swivel. “We always have time.”

“Not today, you don’t! Get up!” You pop awake, aware of Steve’s presence in the hallway as he overshadows Eddie, waking you up more fully.

“He knows me enough to know I’d try to sneak something in.” Eddie murmurs, as not to be heard.

You turn around in your bed, now lying face to face with him, a devious smile creeping on your face. “So, sneak something in.”

Eddie’s brows lift at your suggestive tone. “Fuck.” He mutters, crawling out of bed before you could give his neck one of those licks that just melts him into a puddle. “C’mon baby. Get all dressed up, meet you downstairs by 8:30.”

Your teeth grit together, grabbing your phone that was tossed haphazardly aside when you fell asleep. The screen illuminates itself and your eyes widen when you realize you only have…fifteen minutes to get ready. Well, why didn’t he just say that?

You rush into your closet, and for the first time, the amount of clothes you now own settles in. How the fuck are you ever getting ready ever again? You go to the dresses, skimming through the more family friendly options. You trail  over each hanger one at a time until you reach the right one. Some light makeup is done, a five-minute routine.

You finally reach the bottom step at 8:29 pm, all the guys sitting on the couch watching the tv. “Ready!”

Eddie glances at you and breaks into a smirk. “You look great, sweetheart.”

Your face heats up as you find a pair of shoes that won’t make you hate yourself. You smile, recalling your afternoon in the crowded dressing room. “Thanks, Ed.”

Meanwhile, Steve takes only two seconds as he witnesses this interaction to realize. “No. Go change.”

“W-what?” You stutter, not used to Steve’s blunt stature.

“I-just-just go change. I don’t need to be watching this all night!”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, kicking your shoe off to put on a dress that Eddie didn’t salivate over that very afternoon.

“Wait, what? What was wrong with the dress?” Dylan asks Steve, not having a clue as to what just transpired.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Hey, Dyl, you remember that green little dress that she had?” Eddie asks, recalling it on his carpeted floor earlier that day before he burned it.

Dylan smiles, then recalls what was so special about the dress. “Oh.” He mumbles, now feeling uncomfortable.

“I think she’s overwhelmed with choices, which is why she picked the dress in the first place. I’ll go help. Meet you there.”

-

Steve put up a fight on just meeting you there, but one on one time with his boy is something he wouldn’t pass up. Especially when he talks about a girl the way he did about Maya.

Eddie didn’t give Steve much of an option, still trying to get rid of the hard on that he had. He bursts through the bedroom and closet door, and as he does so, the front door slams shut. Eddie walks in to you staring aimlessly in your underwear at the dresses, not knowing which one to put on. Eddie comes from behind you, placing his stubbly chin onto your shoulder. “What’s up, baby?” He asks, casually drifting your underwear down your legs.  

You sigh, the trail of his fingertips sending shivers up your spine. “You got me too many dresses.”

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie says, you hear and feel behind you as he lets his own pants drop. “Bend a little bit.” He whispers as you feel his hard cock against your ass.

You do, lifting your ass up at an angle where he can slide right into your folds. He does, arms drifting below your torso and up to play with your tits as he fucks you from behind.

“I got the perfect amount for my sweet baby.” He mutters into your ear, both his hands doing things to your tits that make you whimper. “Love to spoil my beautiful girl.”

“Fuck, daddy.” You whine, your heat already so goddamn hot. “Help. Can’t decide on a dress.”

“Here.” Ed pauses, causing you to whine, but puts a dress in front of you. “Wear this one for daddy.”

“O-ok.” You stutter, barely paying attention to it. “Love you, daddy.”

“I love you,” he kisses your neck, wet and sweet, “so much, pretty baby.” You turn your head to face him, leaning in for a delicate kiss, your pussy clenching around him as you do.

You lean onto the white walls separating each compartment of the closet, closing your eyes as he fucks into you. “Daddy,” you whine, and he pulls your hair gently in response, bringing your head back to his.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re so good to me, I’m so-so close.” You pant, giving him lustful eyes.

“Cum with me,” Eddie mutters, having been close himself a few times. He leans down, rubbing at your clit. You cum around him hard, yelling his name.

He catches your lips in a kiss when he cums, so you have no idea what he said.

He lets you catch your breath, wrapping his arms around you protectively until you let him know you’re okay. “Thank you, baby.”

“Oh that was just a spur of the moment, I just got lucky.” He jokes, bringing up the dress to you to get redressed.

“You think Steve—”

“Oh, I guarantee Steve already knows.” Eddie interrupts your worry, that Steve knew you were hooking up. “Just had to be sneaky.”

You put yourself in the dress, staring at it in the mirror. Okay, Eddie is seriously good at picking things that fit you well. Damn. “Let’s go baby.”

“Fuck, with you in that dress I’ll be gunning for round two all night.”

“Then we better go so we can come back and do it!” You assert playfully.

“Fuck, I love you.”

-

As you and Eddie sit down at the table where your ice cubes are already melted with the water droplets making a pool on the table, Steve doesn’t say a word, but the look he gives says enough. If he’s your boyfriend’s best friend, how come he already has the ability to make you feel like you had disappointed him?

The restaurant is a steakhouse, something worth dressing up for, but not like the one Eddie took you to. Steve managed to talk about all his kids, describing each one of the four and their distinct personalities to you.

Arlo is apparently a near carbon copy of his father, only differing on a few personality quirks here and there. He was in every sense of the word the eldest Harrington, making a reputation for the Harrington children to live up to at the daycare, elementary school and finally, but most importantly, high school.  Considering Steve raised his kids in Hawkins, Arlo knew the expectations for him and met them, tenfold. Steve never says it, but you can tell he’s so proud of how cool his kid turned out to be. Apparently, though they were closest in age, Dylan was closer to Nicky than to Arlo.

Nicky was the middle child for most of his life. He still considers himself to be, despite getting a younger sister four years ago. He had found himself gravitating towards the arts, and Steve found himself with a kid who spent his early mornings watching broadway bootlegs and collecting song books. This turned him into somewhat of a ladies’ man like Arlo, his baritone vibrato beautifully toned as he starred in most of his school musicals. Someday, Arlo wants to enroll in a drama school, and Steve still isn’t sure how he feels about it.

Dustin is the third child, and for a while, the baby. It’s explained to you that Dustin is named after a mutual friend, someone younger than both Eddie and Steve, someone they took under their wing and mutually adopted. When Dustin’s name was announced, Steve and his wife made sure he was in the room, so for the first hour of Dustin Harrington’s life, he was unnamed. Tears streamed down Dustin’s, (the original), face when he realized that Steve had named his child after him. Immediately, Dustin was his. Because of Dustin Henderson, Dustin Harrington is a complete dork. He’s completely invested in Star Wars, has built his own Magic the Gathering deck, used to spend weekends on Skype for DnD sessions with Uncle Eddie, and has even been to a convention or two.

Basically, none of his boys were the same.

You resented little Eliza coming up in conversation, only for the sake of her photos enticing some sick and cruel twist of fate.

Eliza, however, is the apple of everyone’s eye, and the darling of the Harrington family. She’s a handful, to say the least, a stubborn personality and even worse temperament. Steve swears he thought her toddler years were a handful; until she reached the independent thinking stage. Now, she wants everything, but she never wants help. Her three brothers are fiercely protective of her, each in their own ways, on top of having her dad, her uncle Eddie, and a few names that aren’t familiar to you (note: ask Eddie who ‘Hopper’ is), she’s got the world wrapped around her pinky.

Steve is at the end of a tale of chasing little Eliza around the mall, having slipped his grip in a quick getaway, creating havoc as she clutched a teddy bear that wasn’t paid for. He laughs fondly, describing how she evaded three security guards attempting to aid Steve in his mission, finally catching her when she was hungry enough to decide to end the chase.

You all sit with your food in front of you, chuckling at Steve’s well-told story. “Man,” Eddie starts, mouth still full. He waits until he swallows to continue, “I don’t know if I could have a toddler now. Especially if they’re as wild as Dylan was.”

“Hey!” Dylan calls, gesturing to himself. “I’m right here!”

“No offense, kid, but you were a menace. I looked away for two seconds once and found you on the roof with an umbrella to see if it would work as a parachute.”

“You remember what you told me?” Dylan challenges him, leaning onto his elbows on the table. “Hmm? You tell her what you told me.”

You perk up, leaning into Eddie. “Well, I came out and asked him what he was doing. He said he wanted to see if it worked.”

“And…you said?” Dylan asks, eager to get to the punchline.

“I told him to try it then and see how it works out for him!”

“So, I did!” Dylan exclaims, exasperated.

“What?” You exclaim, and the three men around you nod their heads solemnly, all having heard this story several times before.

“I didn’t know he was actually going to do it!” Eddie laughs, defending himself at your bug eyes aimed at him.

“You’re my dad, I trusted you had my best interests at heart!”

“How you didn’t know sarcasm before that is beyond me…” Eddie mutters, shaking his head fondly at his son. “That story was used against me several times in court, too.”

“They tried to make him out to be a terrible parent. I was pissed.” Dylan explains, and your heart melts over it. “I maintained that even though I had a cast for a few weeks, doesn’t mean I didn’t learn my lesson. Don’t jump off the roof. You will get hurt. That’s what my dad was telling me before he dared me.”

You intertwine your fingers with Eddie’s, smoothing his thumb with your own. There’s a nagging in the back of your mind as you recall his claims of being too old for a toddler, a slight disappointment. You shove it far, far back into your brain, not wanting to dissect that. “So, you staying the night, or?” You ask Steve.

“No thanks, Dylan has made it clear that you two are insatiable.” He says, toying with his food. “He has told me every story where he has caught you, even the ones you don’t know about.” He pauses, giving Eddie a resigned glance across the table. “Freaks. The both of you.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you reach for it momentarily to check out the text from Bethany. As your attention is stolen, Eddie mouths over you, Jealous? Steve spurts out a laugh, as if the idea is so absurd. Your head shoots up, Bethany’s text is fresh on your mind. “Baby, can…can I take a picture of your hand?”

“Uh, sure.” Eddie agrees, placing his hand out from your grip and onto the table. “What for?”

“For my Insta,” you answer, somewhat preoccupied by getting a good angle while making his hand intertwined with yours look natural.

“Oh, soft launch?” Dylan comments, and you snap your fingers in confirmation.

Eddie chuckles, all the words coming out of you and Dylan sounding like a different language. “What?”

“Okay, so it’s not just me!” Steve laughs, holding his chest dramatically. “Seriously, what are you two on about?”

Dylan answers before you can–  you’re still trying to get a good angle of his hand holding yours on the table. “It’s posting an update to your relationship status without giving a name to the person. It’s telling the world you’re taken, but not by who. Usually in case they break up, but I don’t think it’s why she’s doing it.”

“No, Eddie has no social media and I know…” you pause, leaning back to take one more, “that he wants to keep it that way, so, I’m showing him off in my own way.” You glare at your phone, swearing softly when it still doesn’t look right.

“For fucks’ sake, let me,” Dylan snatches your phone and gets up from the booth, squats and places the phone as if you were the one taking it yourself, snaps a photo, and tosses the phone back to you. “There.”

The phone falls past your hand and into your lap. You gently pick it up, assessing the photo in your recents. Damn. It was the exact vibe you were looking for. “Well, thanks.”

Dylan shoots an eye roll back, his heart not really in it.

“Let’s see?” Eddie asks, leaning into you, resting his chin against the strap of your dress on your shoulder. You’ve already captioned and posted the photo onto your Instagram, so you let him view the screen. He lets out a chuckle, a wide grin appearing on his face. “I like the photo, but what does the caption mean? Greater than what?”

Caption reads, ‘Him>’.

“Oh, it just means you’re ‘greater than’ everything else. There is no one thing to put because it would be useless.” You explain, turning your phone off and placing it face down on the table.

Eddie shifts the two of you so he can see your face, eyes switching between yours as he assesses you. You look up at him, curious to what could possibly be on that brain of his. “You think I’m greater than everything else?”

Of course you’ve seen it plastered on social media sites, somewhat of a common way to refer to your personal opinion of something. It’s so normalized, and you figured it was a simple way to announce that you were taken by the finest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. You nod, “Of course!”

His hand frames your face and suddenly his lips are on yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as the kiss and the pure love you feel in his reaction makes you feel like you’d be knocked off your feet if you weren’t already sitting down. Your limbs catch up and one hand lands on his thigh, ignoring the subtle heat you feel pooling in your cunt.

Steve and Dylan are forgotten as you get caught up in a frenzy, lips locking with a level of need for one another that would give any other person envy over the display of passion. Dylan has gotten used to it, you two were in the habit of kissing one another like this often. Steve takes a large sip of his bourbon, leaning back in his booth and leaning right to him. “So, this—”

“Yeah, that’s normal.” Dylan tells him.

“Jesus, I thought you were exaggerating.” Steve pauses, moving his plate away from him, all done. “Thought he was exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating what?” Dylan asks, afraid of the answer.

Steve smirks, taking another sip of his drink. “Just drink your apple juice.” He nods to Dylan’s beer; Dylan shoves his shoulder fondly in response. Steve takes one last big swig of his drink, gesturing to the waitress across the room for her assistance. “Hey. You two. Take a breather.”

Your kisses haven’t gotten any more intense, though his hand placed gently on your thigh was a tease. You could make out with him for hours, knowing your limits in the restaurant booth. Eddie finally pulls back, kissing you delicately a few times on the lips as to not leave you hanging, leaving you reeling when the server stops by.

“Just the check, please.” Steve tells her, smug.

The waitress nods, grabbing plates when the four of you insist you’re all done with your food. Steve and Eddie end up telling a story from their early 20’s when they were both single, finishing each other’s sentences as they remind each other how unruly they were back then. Your eyes flick back and forth between them, something clicking.

“Hmm.” You muster, letting yourself think about it.

“Yes, baby?”

You zone back in, blinking as you realize the three of them are staring at you expectantly. You hadn’t even realized you hummed out loud. “Oh, nothing.” But he’s not budging. None of them are. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

Still no dice.

You lean forward towards Dylan, who sits across from you, lowering your voice. “Do you want to be traumatized by your dad’s sex life?” He shakes his head, the smile leaving his face. You lean back, satisfied. “Then don’t worry about it.”

“For the record, I think you mean more traumatized.” Dylan mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. You kick his shin underneath the table, light enough to hurt but not do anything. You giggle at his reaction, leaning into Eddie’s arm as it snakes around your own.

Your phone buzzes, another text from Bethany. You smile as you check it, content in Eddie’s arms as the waitress comes around again with the bill. Steve hands her a card as he watches Eddie speak softly to you, nothing important, just something causing you to giggle. He feels confident in his own marriage, a love that gave him four kids with a stable home to drive back to. It just made him happy to see Eddie in a relationship where it’s clearly reciprocated.

As Eddie whispers to you, you can barely take in the words Bethany has texted you, but what she has to say to you is seemingly important, your phone buzzing repeatedly in your hands. You allow your eyes to focus back on them and the all-caps of her texts become clear.

CHECK YOUR INSTA

HELLO???

BABE

HELLO

GO CHECK IT YOUR POST ALREADY HAS OVER 500 LIKES

BITCH IT’S AT ONE THOUSAND

HELLLLOOOO

“Oh, shit.” You switch apps to make sure it’s true. In your notifications, there are over 300 comments and more likes than Bethany had claimed, 1.5 thousand. By no means is it viral, but most of your posts got no more than 100 due to your circle of friends in the app being so small. “Holy shit.” There are several comments praising Eddie’s hand, even some drool emojis. The only solace you can give yourself is that you now know you are never exposing his face. “Um, Ed. Your hand has gotten attention.”

He leans over, seeing the amount of engagement on your post. “Cool.” He comments, the numbers not meaning much to him.

“I could’ve told you that much.” Steve laughs.

You peer at him questioningly, silently asking what he meant by it.

“Listen, the ladies in Hawkins are…what is it…thirsty?” He checks with Dylan. Dylan chuckles and confirms it. “Yeah, okay, thirsty. They are mad thirsty over Eddie. If I accidentally mention that the Munsons are coming into town, it becomes town gossip. It’s like Billy Hargrove all over again, except this time it’s age appropriate.”

You turn back to Eddie, serious as you can be. “You’re never going back.”

 He laughs, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. “We’ll talk about it.”

-

As you walk towards the front door of the restaurant, the sun has set on another day. Eddie’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and Steve calls out to Eddie as he leads you to his truck, drawing your attentions. “Munson!”

Eddie turns around, the use of his last name certainly grabbing his attention. They quit using last names on one another years ago. The last time Eddie fully recalls being called Munson by Steve; Steve was pulling at his hair… “You rang, Harrington?”

“Can I steal your girlfriend for a drive?” He asks, sending a smile your way.

“Uh,” Eddie looks at you, making sure you’re comfortable with it. You nod your head, sharing a look with him. “Sure. Have her back within the hour, though.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve jokes, laughing to himself when Eddie subtly grits his teeth, and a pink blush reaches his cheeks. “C’mon, I don’t bite.”

You give your boyfriend a hug, embracing his kiss of safety and comfort. “Love you.” As you walk the steps toward Steve, Eddie tugs you back by your fingertips, one last kiss for good measure.

“Love you more.” He mutters, and for a second you believe him. Oh, to follow him into his truck and ride with him in a comfortable silence on the way back.

“Come on! One hour won’t kill you.” Steve grabs your hand before you can register, leading the way to his SUV.

Dylan passes you on the way to his dad, waving cheekily on the way and you flip him off.

You get into the dark blue SUV, a Range Rover, no less. It’s evident he has a four-year-old with the car seat and the mess in his back seat, but you know that if he didn’t have Eliza, the brown interior would’ve been spotless. Steve turns down the radio he had blasting, turning his iPhone connection on. “Ready for some oldies?”

“You and Eddie. Terrible, the both of you.” You mutter, shaking your head.

Steve laughs, pulling out of the parking lot and turning the opposite way of Eddie’s (yours too) house. “Don’t worry, just taking the long way.” He assures you after he sees you staring wistfully off at Eddie’s tail lights.

It’s about five minutes of silence until Steve talks again. “So, I just wanted to apologize about earlier, I was…I was shocked. When you opened the door, I didn’t know who you were, but I certainly wasn’t expecting the answer I got. Can you tell me your version of how you two got together? I didn’t want Eddie interjecting.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat. “Uh, Dylan forgot a parking pass on our way to the beach, so he stopped by the house to look for it. Eddie comes down, sweats low on his hips and hair still wet from his shower, and I could barely focus on anything else around me. I should’ve broken up with Dylan the moment I got to his truck.” You tell him, making sure Steve knows full well that you are still apologetic about the cheating.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s all fine and dandy. As far as Dylan is concerned, it hurt, but it’s long gone in his mind. Trust me. Any hesitation is aimed at Eddie, and for good reason.” Steve reassures you, feeling your defense build. “Don’t worry. Just tell the story.”

“Okay. I didn’t end it because I was afraid he’d lash out and it would’ve been forever before getting ahold of Eddie again. I couldn’t risk it, so I stayed. It lasted until that weekend, when I was doing horny things in the living room with Dylan just because Eddie was home. Maybe he’d hear something, maybe he’d look…maybe he’d watch…” You drift off, remembering the sheer urgency you had for him. “I wore skimpy outfits, I bent over around the house, I was fully prepared for Eddie, and to be honest, I was too hormonal to care or understand the repercussions.” You glance out the window, lights blinding you as you pass each neon sign. “So, we hooked up. After spending more time with him, I realized how much I had already cared about him. Now, Steve, now, I love that man so goddamn much.”

Steve smiles at you as he drives, his head waving with the bumps in the road. “Where do you see this going? For your future? In the long term, are you willing to accept that his body will give out a lot earlier than yours?”

 A knot forms in your stomach in the shape of a confession. You switch your glance to Steve, and you feel safe with him. Not like Eddie, no. It was like he would never tell your secrets, or like he’d protect you. “Uh, this evening, I had the terrifying displeasure of realizing one day I’d want kids with him. One day, after he marries me and tells the whole world who I belong to, I want to have his baby. I want to raise a baby into a handful of a toddler into a snarky teenager. I thought I was totally in the clear for kids with him, but you showed him the video of Eliza and now it’s…I can’t get rid of it. So, thanks for that, Steve.” Admitting to this, out loud even…it’s too much. “I want to spend my life with him.”

You wait for an answer, somewhat on edge as you fiddle with your fingers. “And you’re okay with the knowledge that you will bury him one day?” Steve pressures on, and you respect it.

“I’ve accepted the realities, yes, which is why I’m not telling him I want kids. He said he’s too tired. I can’t force that on him.”

A full belly laugh escapes Steve as he shakes his head. “If you told him that you want a baby, he would absolutely give you one without a moment’s hesitation. I have never seen him like this, not even with his ex.” He pauses, thinking on how to tell you. “Listen, I don’t know if you know much about her, but Eddie’s ex was not all that…kind to him.” He chooses his words carefully. “He was into her from the get-go, but it was obvious he was more into her. Eventually, when Eddie realized she was cheating, he called me, panicking about losing Dylan.

“I sent my best lawyer to him. Less than a week later they have court dates for custody hearings. Honestly, she was angry she was caught and angry she wasn’t the one to file. I think it took her being angry and belligerent in court for Eddie to finally see who she was. The judge was patient, more than she should’ve been. When she didn’t listen to the judge’s warnings, Eddie was granted everything he wanted. He thought it was a goddamn miracle, the only two things he wanted were the shop and Dylan. The shop had people’s livelihoods; it was their only income. Dylan just wanted to be with his dad, he made that very clear.

“Once the dust settled, it sank in. He called, finally, crying on the floor of the closet. He had spent all year on it just for her to only have it for a handful of months. It was a labour of love for him, and it turned out she was sleeping with someone else the entire time.”

Your teeth grit, fucking seething for Eddie. If either Eddie or Steve knew what was good for her, they’d never tell you her name.

“I came immediately, bringing Arlo and Nick to help cheer him up. Nick was only about 2, so he would’ve done more cheering in the way that toddlers do. But even Arlo knew something was up so it’s the one and only time he’s ever played DnD and fully embraced it. When Nick went to bed, the four of us all played together.” Steve observes your body language, your jaw locked and fists clenched. You’re so angry for him. He decides to omit the fact that after the kids went to bed, Eddie was inconsolable in his heartbreak. Steve knows it might come out one day, but that was not the point of this discussion.

“I promise, I didn’t tell you to make you mad, I just need you to know that Eddie will love you selflessly and wholly, because he doesn’t have it in himself to love any other way.” He slows to a stop at a red light, turning his head to face you. “I was very worried at first, but man, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

The question still echoes in your mind, but the answer is starting to lean towards a yes. “How did you guys become friends?” You ask instead, leaning away from your boyfriend’s heartbreak and his bitchy ex.

“That… is a very long story.”

“Eddie gave you an hour, of which you’ve only used 15 minutes.” You point out, smirking.

“Alright, buckle up. It’s Hawkins, Indiana. 1996. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson is missing.”

-

Steve was right, the story of their friendship was a long one. He didn’t necessarily dive into the nitty gritty, just implied he was falsely accused in a situation where he had no alibi and helped him out. One day, years later you would finally feel comfortable asking and Eddie would get into the full details of the Upside Down.

Steve brought you home with ten minutes to spare, you cling to Eddie as soon as you see him. The unresolved lust from earlier on top of the empathy for how hard it must’ve been for him drove your need for him, just you and him. “Can’t wait any longer.” You whisper, fingers digging into the now open button up shirt he wore to dinner and fisting the material into a ball with your hands.

You feel a huff of silent laughter come from him, a long sigh leaving his lips as he considers his options. It’s only 11 o’clock. Usually, when Steve is in town he stays for hours into the night to talk and laugh together. Dylan started a habit of joining their conversations as he got older. He knows it’s what they’re expecting, and he knows exactly what you need. He lifts your face with his hands. “Go get dressed into something more comfortable. Be right up.”

You nod, feeling sleepy, and for once, not conscious of the audience you held with him.

As you run upstairs, Eddie turns to Steve. “You and Dylan go to your hotel room. I’ll meet you there. Later.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Didn’t you say you were exhausted?”

“I could just stay home all night. I have no problems with that.” Eddie bites back, a tone of endearment at the root of it.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. God, I miss when you were single,”

Dylan and Steve leave for the hotel room, the two shooting teasing glances at Eddie.

You lay on your side of the bed, scrolling on your phone but only paying the littlest attention. Eddie opens the door, his long legs take him to the bed quickly as he lies right next to you. You immediately crawl into his arms, the phone forgotten. Your chest feels tight as you mentally go over what Steve told you, the way his ex treated him. There’s no way it was true, because Eddie ever feeling like he deserved any of it was too much for you to bear.

Eddie feels the shift in you, something’s different. It isn’t one of your normal hugs. Your arms are wrapped around his, as if you’re sheltering him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, brows furrowed as he notes your quickened breathing and heart rate. You’re lying down; you should be far more relaxed.

“Steve…Steve told me more about your ex, and it made me sick to my stomach.” You admit, not wanting many secrets between the two of you. You’re already harbouring one, you don’t need another. “I don’t know how anyone could possibly treat you like that.”

Eddie’s eyes well and he looks up, trying not to let a tear fall from the tone of your voice or how genuine you sound in your anger for him. “It’s ancient history, now, baby.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” You counter, hands squeezing him. “I love you more than I can even conceive. More than I can wrap my head around… I can’t stand the thought of you being heartbroken because that bitch decided someone building her a closet wasn’t good enough for her.”

Eddie can’t wrap his mind around how loved you just made him feel, and how in your own way, you just told him he would be just as protected as you are by him. You would stand up for him the same way he would for you. He doesn’t have the words or the strength to hold back the tears, so he leans in and kisses you, really kisses you.  

As his lips meet yours, you taste the salt of his tears and lightly use your thumbs to brush them away. He climbs on top of you, brushing his hand under your PJ shirt, testing the waters. You guide his hand to your tit, aching for him to touch you for what felt like hours. Your kisses are slow and purposeful, the stream of the salt still coming, and you ignore it for the sake of his hand feeling so goddamn good on your nipple as he teases you. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about them, anyway. Your mouth opens against him as he flicks it, whimpering.

You wrap your legs around his hips, unwinding them from between his legs and his bulge presses into your covered heat immediately. You kiss down his jaw, gently decorating his neck with wet kisses as you kiss away the salt that streamed down his face. Your hand moves down to palm him through his slacks, a whimper leaving him. “Do…do you want to?” You check, slightly stroking him through his jeans.

He sniffles, bunching up your shirt to help it off. “Yes. Sorry, I can’t handle strong emotions, they…overwhelm me.”

“I’ll handle them for the both of us.” You offer.

Eddie is a mess already, and he tugs on you to kiss you some more. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much.” He mutters, gulping through his kisses.

You don’t answer him, grabbing at his shirt to take it off. As the shirt flies off, his chest comes full contact with yours and you arch your hips up to meet his, the bulge hitting your heat almost too perfectly. You grind on it, needing him now, wanting to feel all of him.

Eddie reads your mind, tearful but still in tune with everything your body needs from him. His hands move your pants down your legs, placing kisses down your torso as he does. He crawls back up to you, taking his own pants off as he continues to wantonly kiss you. Before you know it, you feel his cock against your thigh as he presses your legs into your stomach.

Eddie leans into you, connecting your foreheads. You frame his face, staring at his wet brown eyes. “Please baby.” You kiss him, your hips barely able to stay still. “I love you, I fucking need you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, nodding his head. He guides his cock into you, pushing in gently but deeply into you within seconds. Your legs tighten around his torso, your pussy sucking him in. “Christ.”

His face finds itself in your neck, giving sweet kisses up and down as he starts to move his hips. You hold onto him, hands wrapped around his torso, spread-out palms down on his back. His hips rock so slowly, taking in every inch of your pussy he possibly can. His forehead finds yours again and his eyes open and stare into yours. His mouth is parted, his cheeks are flushed, and no longer wet. Somewhere in the midst he stopped crying, but the emotions he felt were still there. “Feels good?”

You nod, breath hitching by the sheer emotion you see in his eyes. “So good, baby.”

He smiles softly, staring at you half lidded. “Don’t want it harder?” He teases, bucking his hips hard once before moving back to his soft pace.

The buck releases a loud cry of pleasure from you, not expecting it. “Fuck, Ed. Can you do that again?”

Eddie smiles wider. “Mmhm.” He bucks into you harder again a few times, and your eyes close immediately, the heat from your pussy starting to pool. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“More?” He asks, slowing his hips again. “My love, if you want me to fuck you harder, you need to tell me.”

“Fuck me harder, Ed. Please.”

Eddie chuckles softly, stopping his movements altogether to give you a kiss, taking your breath away by the love in it. “Sure thing, baby.”

Before you know it, his hips start at an unforgiving pace, the force takes you aback so badly, you moan loudly at every buck, every rut of his hips against yours. His thumb connects to your neglected clit, and the subtle heat explodes into a frenzy. Eddie feels your velvet walls pulse around him as you get closer. “I wanna feel that perfect pussy cum all over my cock.”

“Eddie, so close…love you so much…” you’re seeing stars, your legs tense around him. He leans down to you, giving your torso one long lick down your tummy and, oddly enough, it was the final thing to drive you over the edge.

Your pussy tightening around him does it for Eddie, watching your face as your orgasm rips through you, filling you up with his cum, white ropes shooting into you. He collapses on your chest, the physical exhaustion from the day mixed with the added exhaustion from emotionally breaking down finally piling on him. “Sweetheart, I love you. So fucking much. I just…can’t believe how much better you’ve made my life.”

“I love you.” Your entire body wraps around him, holding him close to you. “Do you have to go?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

You nod your head, knowing full well you’ll probably fall asleep on the couch in Steve’s hotel room.

“Alright, let’s go.”

-

Eddie scratches his head while working on some paperwork in his work office, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he goes through some numbers. One of the things he hates about owning a business is the math part of it. Luckily, he’s good at math, it’s just when the numbers suddenly go negative, it creates an issue.

His phone sitting on the desk starts to ring and he picks it up, expecting it to be you, but instead he’s met with an unknown number. Eddie sighs and reluctantly answers. It could be a customer with a new number for all he knows.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“Eddie Munson speaking.” He answers, scanning over another invoice.

“Why the fuck are you dating a 25-year-old?” It occurs to Eddie this phone number has an area code from Boston…which is where she moved to. Fuck.

“Hi, Brooke.” He sighs, tired.

“Yeah, yeah. When and why the fuck are you dating some little hot piece of ass? You know she’s probably a gold digger, right? This morning she posted a selfie from my closet and it looks like she’s already moved in?”

“We met through a friend” Eddie wraps his head in his hands, wondering what the hell he ever saw in her craziness. ���Wait, why am I telling you this, what fucking nerve do you have to call me and accuse my girlfriend being a gold digger?! How the fuck did you even find out?”

“Her little Instagram post with you two holding hands, which by the way, was cheesy and not in a good way. It got a lot of attention and Laura recognized your hands immediately and sent me the post.”

Fucking Laura. “Good for you, you found her Instagram.” He sighs, leaning back in his office chair. “I owe you nothing, Brooke. Nothing. I’m not sure what you had expected from this conversation but I’m sure this wasn’t it. Oh, and Brooke? That’s not your closet, hasn’t been for 15 years. Don’t call me again or I'll get my lawyer.”

“Oh, calm down.” Brooke huffs, her voice agitated. As if her voice had any other tone. Eddie hears her muffle the speaker to her phone. “Boys, quiet down for five minutes? I’m on the phone!” There’s another shuffle of noise on the other end, then her voice is directed back at Eddie, “That won’t be necessary. I just need to make sure you know that she will ruin your life because she’s a little skank.”

“Talk about my wife that way again and you’ll be hearing from a lot more than just my lawyer, you absolute cunt.” Eddie hangs up on her, missing the satisfaction of slamming a phone on the receiver. He picks his work phone up and slams it down. There, much better.

Wait until Steve hears about this… Holy shit.

Wait until you hear about it. Oh, fuck.

-

Steve manages to stretch his visit for one more day, laying on the couch with you as you watch a movie he recommended to you. He lays down with his torso on the arm rest, legs resting on your lap. When his legs landed, you glared at him, asking if he had nowhere else to place them. Steve said in response, “Of course, I do! You’ll just hold them because you’re so nice.”

So, you do. The movie is called The Gentlemen, a fast-paced comedy about a drug lord attempting to sell his business and all the shenanigans that follow. You find yourself laughing with him, expecting some movie like The Godfather or Fight Club, though it came out only four years ago.

Eddie swings open the door, rubbing his eyes tiredly with a smirk on his face. “Oh my god, Steve. Oh my god.” Eddie came straight from work, the phone call not allowing his brain to go over another invoice, especially when the numbers didn’t make sense. He struts to the couch, lifts Steve’s legs and sits right next to you, placing Steve’s legs back on his lap. He places his arm around you, looking at Steve with a smirk plastered. “Steve. Oh, my god.”

“Ed?” You ask, taking in his flustered features. Not flustered in the way you’re used to, but flustered nonetheless. “Everything okay?”

He nods his head, an incredulous laugh escaping as he does. “Oh, yeah. Totally okay. Got a phone call today.” You and Steve share a look of concern over his shoulder. “From Brooke.”

Now, this name means nothing to you. But from Steve’s reaction, in a split second you realize it’s the name of the woman you have grown to viscerally hate. “No way. What…what did she say?”

“She found Y/N’s Instagram post from last night and recognized my hand.” Eddie says, squeezing your shoulder. “She uh, then proceeded to insult me, insult her, and remind me how grateful I am she left me before I realized what a terrible person she is.”

“Anything else?” Steve asks, eyes wide. Brooke has literally been radio silent for years.

“Yeah, but nothing worth getting into.” Eddie comments, leaning into the couch, raising his eyebrows at Steve. Not something he wants to get into with you around, but definitely will with his best friend. “She sounded…jealous.”

“Jealous how?”

Eddie looks at you, twisting his body to face you. “Jealous of you. Out of line, absolutely, but jealous.”

The satisfaction that ripples through your body is simply too much. A woman took advantage of his kindness and left him for dead and now she’s jealous? Good. “Wait, she stalks my Instagram?”

“Uh, I suppose, yes.” Eddie answers, not so sure he understands the use of stalk.

“I could have some fun with this.” You mutter, thinking to yourself.

“Baby?” Eddie asks, slightly scared of the wicked smirk he sees displayed on your face.

“Hmm.” You mumble, opening your phone to your Pinterest app. “Yes?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, talking low as he watches over your shoulder.

“Nothing. Just be ready for a picture when I need you.”

Eddie laughs, ready to calm you down a bit, but finds himself a little fearful of the plan in your mind.

You scroll through your Pinterest for about ten minutes while Steve and Eddie converse about the boys again. If you have learned one thing about Steve, it’s that his kids are his pride and joy. The conversation leads to Eliza, and you feel that pang in your stomach again. It’s getting harder to ignore as you watch Eddie’s face light up at the endless stories of the kids’ mischief.

Steve gets up from the couch, needing to use the bathroom. While he’s gone, you take advantage, finally having a moment to ask the question that’s been on your mind. “Hey, Ed.” You start, his head turning to face you, almost impossibly close.

“Yes, baby?”

Shit, his lips are so tempting. You sigh, ignoring the pull to his lips. “I just have a question, and please don’t be offended if the answer is no.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pleasantly surprised by your reaction to his ex-wife calling, so he’s certainly intrigued by what you’re about to say. “I make no promises.”

That’s not comforting. “Okay. Have you and Steve…did you guys ever hook up?” You ask, avoiding his eyes, which is impossible because they’re right there.  

Eddie breaks into a smile followed by incredibly contagious laughter. You were certain you must’ve been dead wrong based on his laughter alone. You’re just reading into things that aren’t there. He finally stops, grabbing your face for a smiley, giggly kiss. You pull back, looking at him in confusion, as he laughs again. “I should’ve known you’d figure it out.” He says, eyes searching yours.

Oh, fuck. You were right! “Wait.” You say while giggling. “I…I was right?”

“Yeah.”

“When?!”

Eddie squints comically, looking up. “Uh, 27 or so years ago in Vegas.”

You squint back at the sheer cliché of it all. “Vegas? Really?”

“Well, we were both down on our luck, we thought, very drunkenly, might I add, a trip to Vegas would help. It certainly did the trick, I think.”

You laugh, the situation described much differently than what you had expected. “I bet it did.” You boop him on the nose as he scrunches it adorably.

Steve comes out from the bathroom and sees your silly display of love, jogging to the couch. “You guys are cavity inducing. Seriously.”

“Steve.” Eddie says, turning his head to face him. “She figured it out.”

Steve smirks, silently asking Eddie if he was talking about what Steve thought he was talking about. “Hmm?”

“Mmhmm.”

“No shit! What gave it away?” Steve asks, genuinely curious as he attempts to extend his legs onto Eddie’s lap again.

“No offense, you guys, but you both act like you have a secret with one another that you won’t share with the class. There’re only so many secrets that could be.” You offer an answer, and they seem to accept it…for the most part.

“What, we don’t give off two very straight dudes?” Eddie jokes, making you shove his shoulder.

“See, Dylan’s great, but I’ve been dying to ask since last night, and I wasn’t gonna ask with him around.”

Eddie chuckles, leaning in for one last gentle kiss. When he separates, he clutches onto Steve’s leg, startling him. “Sorry,” he laughs through his apology. “I have to take a shower then I have one more errand to run, and I need your help before you take off tonight.”

“Sure, dude. What do you need?”

You go back on your phone, checking your Pinterest and mostly tuning out the conversation, looking for subtle ways to show Eddie off on your Instagram that will piss Brooke off. Eddie nods his head to indicate it isn’t a conversation to be had around you, and you don’t even notice.

Steve nods in understanding, fist bumping Eddie as he runs around the couch and up the stairs. The silence that settles around you while he’s upstairs is comfortable, Steve paying attention to the movie as the plot thickens while you scroll through your phone and gather devious ideas. You barely notice the ten minutes pass by as Eddie comes back downstairs. You clock the scent of his freshly showered self, causing you to look up.

Eddie is wearing a pair of jeans and a button up loosely tucked in with a chain necklace. You pick your jaw off the floor, gulping as he walks up to you with a smirk on his face as he witnesses your very visible reaction. He lays a chaste kiss on your forehead and taps on Steve’s leg.

Steve gets up from the couch and Eddie grabs his keys. “Be back soon, baby!”

“Could you get some pop?” You ask him as he opens the front door.

“Baby, we have so much to drink that’s not gonna rot those pretty teeth. It won’t kill you to drink water.” He says, stopping in the doorway. You roll your eyes, tempted to order in from a convenience store if he was gonna be this stubborn. “If there’s pop here when I get home, you’re gonna see a consequence.”

“Yes, daddy.” You bite back. Well, if you order one drink and place it in the bottom of the recycling, he won’t see it, right?

“Hey. Drink some water. I mean it. Take care of yourself, for Christ’ sake.” He yells, hearing your eyes roll. “Love you!”

Eddie shuts the door, reminding himself to check the recycling when he gets home.

“Daddy, huh?” Steve asks, poking fun as they get into his truck.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Eddie rolls his eyes, shoving the keys into the ignition. His hands move to put the vehicle in reverse when something occurs to him. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Uh, give me a sec.” Eddie brings out his phone, going through the 15 contacts, scrolls right to Maya. He rings it.

“…Hello?” Maya answers, sounding understandably perplexed.

“Hi, Maya, how would one know what kind of ring to get without asking the person it’s for?” Steve’s brows rais, the errand being ring shopping is news to him.

“Well… it depends. Do you want to buy her a ring just because…or are you shopping for,” she pauses, slowly saying it. If she was wrong, it could set off an alarm, “…an engagement ring?”

“Yeah, an engagement ring.” Eddie admits, saying it out loud feels crazy to him. “How would one figure that out?”

“Give me five minutes.” She says, and abruptly hangs up the phone.

As Eddie stares at his phone in bewilderment, Steve leans into him. “Engagement ring, huh?”

“Won’t be asking her until at least another few months, if I can even wait that long. I said something on the phone with Brooke today. It just came out.” Eddie offers, his voice soft as he explains to Steve what’s been invading his mind for the last hour. “Brooke went a bit far on the insults. She called her a skank.”

“How classy.” Steve offers dryly, his face suggesting it was anything but.

“I got so mad. I’ve never been as mad at her as I was when those words left her mouth. I said if she ever called my wife a name again, I would be calling more than just my lawyer.” He quotes himself, letting the word sink into Steve’s skin.

“Oh shit.” Steve mutters, the weight of the word kicking in.

“Yeah, it slipped out, but calling her my wife felt so damn good I couldn’t help myself. I’m not getting any younger.” Eddie pauses before saying anything else, the next confession might be too much to say out loud yet.

“C’mon. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” Steve says, giving him some comfort.

“Her eyes when she looks at pictures of Eliza, or listens to stories about your boys, fuck I thought I never wanted another kid, but Jesus Christ, I need to see her face when she looks at one of ours.” Eddie admits out loud for the first time, the words scaring the shit out of him. Dylan in his 20s was exhausting. Could he handle another newborn? Another toddler? Another teenager?

Steve felt like he held all the power in knowing you two both wanted a kid. Feels like neither of you are ready to tell the other, so it’s a secret he’ll have to keep to himself for now. (If he’s strong enough.)

Eddie’s phone buzzes, a link appearing in a message from Maya. He opens it up and it directs him to your Pinterest page. Eddie wonders how Maya even found it. Your name isn’t connected to it. The link is specific to a board labeled Engagement Rings with a bunch of sparkle emojis surrounding it. Eddie looks at a few of them, screenshotting a handful to get the basic idea of what you’d want. He texts back Maya to thank her and puts his truck in reverse before Steve even knows what’s happening.

-

Eddie and Steve go through at least three jewelry stores before Eddie angers Steve at his indecisiveness. It isn’t that Eddie is indecisive, it’s that he’s hoping for a jeweler to look at the general vibe of your board and have the perfect ring to offer. Instead, Eddie’s met with vague indications of where he could look. These interactions all leave Eddie feeling frustrated as just walks out of the store for the next one only about ten feet away.

It takes Eddie a few tries until he finds the fairy godmother he’s been looking for, but finally he shows an engagement ring specialist the general aura of the rings you had saved, and she brings out four or five options that fall into the same category for Eddie to look at. Maybe Eddie could’ve been clearer with other stores of what he needed, but it felt as if they didn’t think he was going to buy one, anyway. Here, in this store, he feels like a respected customer, which goes a long way with him. In his shop, he spends his extra time making sure his men don’t treat any ladies like they know less just because they’re women. He hoped that even though he had a few faded tattoos and dressed alternatively, he’d be extended that same courtesy.

The helpful sales lady holds up each ring and explains to Eddie why she picked it in relevance to the photos you saved. Eddie sighs, each one in the right field, but not quite there. As she puts rings away to keep on looking, Eddie clutches onto the glass in frustration, feeling completely unprepared. Brooke basically gave him her ring and told him to propose when he had the balls. He wants you to love this ring, he wants to see it and know that it was made for you.

Maybe that’s too much to place on a ring. But for Eddie, just the simple prospect of searching for this ring means he has the hope that you will be his for the rest of his life.

Just when he’s ready to leave for the next store, she brings another one, a look on her face that tells Eddie she might’ve found exactly what he’s been looking for. She lays it out on a cloth, as Eddie marvels at it. It’s a thin, silver ring with four blue stones lined up along the band as the metal crosses over itself like vines. Eddie knows all of the jewelry you wear is silver, dainty, and has a few hints of blue. From the moment he sees it, he knows it’s the One.

Eddie holds it up for a few moments, circling it around in his hand. It takes all the self control in the world not to just head home and propose that night. He hands over a ring he took from the center console in your closet to the sales lady for your size. Within ten minutes, the papers are signed, the ring paid for, and Eddie walks out with a small white bag.

They get into the truck, the white bag small, yet significant as it sits in the back seat. “Well, that’s a step you’re taking.” Steve observes, carefully assessing his best friend’s emotional state.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie hums, staring at the bag in the rearview mirror. “And now, I’m fighting the urge to propose tonight.”

“Tonight?” Steve asks him, the speed of your relationship knocking him in the gut. “Let’s not scare her off. Plan a nice meal, set out a pretty dress on the bed for her. I bet she’d appreciate that.” Eddie considers this, knowing Steve is probably right.

So, now the ring sits in its box in the bottom of Eddie’s underwear drawer.

-

When Eddie and Steve get home, they find you on the couch napping while a movie neither of them has heard of plays on the TV, a bottle of nearly empty coke on the table next to it. Eddie sneaks upstairs to hide the evidence, the bag shoved into the bottom of a trash can, and the ring tucked safely away. When he comes back down, Steve is in the kitchen making himself a snack for the road while Eddie crouches in front of the couch to wake you up.

“Morning, baby.” He says in a low voice, petting your left cheek with his thumb.

Your breath hitches as you wake up, the last thing you remember is being giddy as you picked up your order from the front step with chips, candy, and a single bottle of pop. As you finished most of your snack, the movie started to matter less and less, a phenomenon that only occurs when you know that you’re about to pass out on the couch.

“There she is.” He mumbles as your eyes take in your surroundings. Him, the end of the movie you picked out, and the setting sun through the curtains. “Hi. I see we didn’t take my concern for the amount of pop you consume to heart?” He musters, gesturing to the side table.

You stretch, every muscle in your extended limbs feeling it. “You made it pretty clear it was for my teeth.” You mumble, unable to prevent a smile at Eddie’s floored reaction.

“I see.” He mutters, and the smirk on his face is enough to send a thrill of fear through you. “C’mon, Steve is about to leave town. Let’s go say our goodbyes.”

He tugs on your hands, lifting you up off the couch, guiding you to where Steve’s packing a recyclable grocery store bag with snacks he found around the kitchen. He comes out of the kitchen clutching the bag, his brown eyes shooting a fond look to the both of you. “Sorry, guys. Gotta get to the actual purpose of my trip eventually.”

You squint at him, pretending to consider forgiving him. “I suppose we’ll forgive you. If… you bring Eliza next time.”

“Another one bites the dust.” Steve mutters under his breath, chuckling. Eliza Harrington really has the whole world wrapped around her little pinky. (And oh, boy, does she know it.) He grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you in close for a hug. “Take care of him, will ya?”

You nod into his bicep, the soft spot he had gained for you over the last two days taking you by surprise and vice versa for him. “You know I will.”

Steve can’t resist the joke. “Oh, I know you do.”

You hit him playfully, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks.

Steve and Eddie share an even longer hug, something about saying goodbye to old friends is always hard, you know that. As they separate, still clutching each other, Steve says something under his breath that makes Eddie hit him harshly. “Steve.”

“What?”

“Dude. Subtlety?”

Steve chuckles as he picks up his bag of goodies. “If you two are one thing, it ain’t subtle.”

You’re left questioning what could’ve possibly warranted the reaction that Eddie let out as Steve and Eddie do a few more rounds of farewell. It never seems to end as they keep bringing up new topics with each step Steve makes toward the door. It reminds you of your mom at the grocery store when you were eight.

The door finally slams, Steve yelling an "I love you" while Eddie shouts “Yeah right!” He brings out his phone soon after, sending I love you, too to Steve as a text. Well, Eddie is realizing that a next time is never guaranteed.  

The moment Steve’s SUV takes off, the low hum of the engine riding off to the end of the street, you turn back to the couch for a night in with Eddie. Alas, he has other plans. You lead him to the couch, holding his hand. Eddie tugs you back sharply, your limbs flailing as a result. “Woah, there, sweetheart.”

You give him a questioning look, wondering if you were just picturing his eyes darkening. “Hmm?”

“I asked you, very nicely, not to order pop. For one thing I think you drink too much of it, and for another there is water, juice, alcohol, even. Baby, I would just appreciate you taking my wishes into account.” His voice is serious, to a point that startles you. “So. As mentioned, there will be a consequence.”

“Like…like what?” You ask him, gulping as he traces his fingers along your collarbone so lightly you barely feel it.

He leans down, leaning into whisper, “Run.”

Your heart rate stutters as you turn away from him and run straight towards the basement, a place you know was once Dylan’s hangout spot, but now is just a dusty living room. Your feet trip over themselves as they run down the steps, pure panic and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you run to a guest room, hiding in the corner.

Upstairs, there are footsteps leading directly to the steps you just ran down. He fucking walks. He takes his time, step by step, and you can tell with each step as your heart rate picks up that he’s taunting you. He knows you’re in some corner somewhere, but he just doesn’t know which one. “Downstairs, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” Eddie admits, peering around each corner with his hands behind his back.

Fuck, you’re just a sitting duck here. You crawl up by the door, waiting patiently as he walks into the room right across from the one you’re hiding in. You make a quick run for the stairs, your breathing tight in your chest as you run, but for some reason, can’t recall why you’re running, you’re so fucking turned on right now. Your first few steps are loud and you curse out loud when suddenly Eddie’s feet are right behind yours, giggling with glee as you do.

Somehow, you make it up the steps and run straight to the kitchen, stopping at the island. He lands on the other side, his face hungry with want, his shirt untucked. There’s a wild look in his eye you can’t quite understand. You giggle as you attempt to go either way, realizing you’re stuck where you are.

“Oh, how is she gonna get out?” He taunts, watching you assess the situation.

Your instincts take over. You miraculously hop onto the island, using some sort of kicking method against the counter straight across and crawl into a dive for him, attacking his lips with yours. He accepts you without fail, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you back hungrily. You place kisses down his neck, focusing on the one spot on his collarbone you knew he loved when you sucked on it.

“Like that.” You answer him, starting to run straight towards your bedroom.

Laughter like music to Eddie’s ears leaves your mouth as you reach the top of the stairs, and he books it straight after you, not waiting another second to chase you to where he suspects is either the hallway or your closet. You’re crouched down in the hallway, hoping he’ll go straight to the bedroom. He doesn’t, seeing you as soon as he rounds the corner.

He fists your hair at the crown and you help as he lifts you to your feet. “Looks like I caught ya.” He hums, his face watching you closely. His hands let go of you and he moves to kiss you again, his tongue feeling a sort of rough it hasn’t before. “Holy shit.” He mutters, guiding you so you’re up against the wall.

You kiss him back, and for what felt like the first time, you didn’t spend an ounce thinking about it, just giving in. “Ed.” You whimper, the heat between your legs now begging you to provide friction.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, his hands moving roughly up and down your body. “What, baby?”

“Ed. Please.” You beg him, lifting your leg so you can at least feel his boner peeking at your clothed cunt.

“Nuh uh.” He tuts, lightly pushing on the knee. Your leg falls down, as well as your face. “You don’t get off until I tell you to. So, unless I move your leg, or remove your shirt, you just let me kiss you and respond. Got it?”

You gulp, nodding your head. “Yes.” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes faltering for a fraction of a second. “Eddie?” You ask, making sure he’s okay.

Eddie loves that you can pick up on this, even as he gives you new rules and a new playground to explore. “Do you mind just…doing one thing for me? It kind of stuck with me since you moved in.”

“What?” You ask, your heat still aching, but for the sake of his sanity and for his good graces, you attempt to stand still. (You’re terrible at it.)

“Call me sir?”

You reflect on moving day, the men calling him the name that so obviously gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Apparently, when you commented on it, you made an impact. “Yes, sir.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie hisses, marveling at you now, staring up at him through your eyelashes, waiting to be told what to do. “Now, be a good girl and bend over against the wall.”

“Yes, sir.” You tell him, turning around against the wall.

“No, actually.” He says, taking you by the hand and taking you downstairs. He guides your hips so you’re right in front of the kitchen sink and he bends you over. “Much better.”

He moves your sweats and panties down only to the middle of your thighs, bending on his knees as he admires the slick that has already gathered. “So wet.” He murmurs. You whimper as he barely dips a finger into your entrance, gathering some slick on his finger. He lifts it up to your mouth, “Open.” You do so without hesitation, licking your tongue all over the three knuckles he places in your mouth, tasting your own arousal. Without warning, he takes his finger out from your mouth and wipes it on your shirt. You waited for the praise that never came.

“Oh, now brats get praise for doing what they’re told?” Eddie asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking as he pulls down his pants.

“No, sir.” You mutter, now craving that praise even more.

“That’s what I thought. Now be a good girl and take this for me.” It’s the only warning you get before he slides his cock in. Your feet are practically planted right next to one another so you start to open your stance to allow him to go in deeper. “Ah.” You freeze in place, realizing your mistake.

He places his hand around your neck and brings it back to him, your neck extended feeling both incredibly uncomfortable and hot. “What did you do wrong?”

“Move without your say so.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, move without your say so, sir.”

“Here. If you ask, and I say yes, or, if I tell you to. That’s it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Eddie smiles down at your blown pupils and half open mouth. He was afraid he jumped in too deep and threw you into the bathwater, but he could feel your pussy tighten around him. You’re so into this. He gently kisses your forehead and lets go of your neck. He slides his cock in even more, and keep in mind, he hasn’t even started to fuck you, yet. He’s barely halfway in your pussy and holds onto your hips as he sees you start to squirm. “You need something baby?”

“Could you move please, sir? Just a little bit? Need it so bad.”

“Should’ve thought of that sooner, then baby.” He musters, sounding bored, though he’s anything but. “Here.” Without warning, Eddie moves his fingers against your clit and has you teetering the edge in mere minutes. You’re so close, you can see the edge. It’s right there.

He stops. He slides in a bit more into you as his mouth gets close to your ear, his breath giving you goosebumps. “Consequence.” He grunts out, his grip on your hips bruising.

Your knuckles are white as you hold onto the edge of the sink like a vice. It’s like you can taste it. He doesn’t move another inch, his heartbeat against your back and the only audible sound coming from you is your panting in need. Eddie pushes in the rest of his length and a second beautiful sound is added to the mix, one he couldn’t get enough of, even if he tried. Why would he ever try? The sound of your pussy as you gush around him is perfect. “Taking me so well.” Eddie mumbles as he places both of his hands over yours on the sink.

The whimper that leaves your throat forces its way out, your body is tense from doing everything you can not to swivel your hips or back yourself into him. “Baby, you’re so tense.” His arms flex along yours, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth. “Why, hmm?”

“You…you said not to move unless you say so.” You tell him, frustrated because, of course, he knows.

“Or, unless you ask to.” Eddie adds, his chin resting on that spot on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Sir, can I please move my hips?” You ask him, hoping he isn’t teasing you again.

“Of course, baby.” Eddie’s tone is sweet and endearing. What a goddamn liar he is.

The words are like music to your ears as you start to move your hips, testing the waters. When your movement isn’t met with any punishment, you start moving more frantically, fucking yourself on his cock. Eddie lets out a sigh of content, hands raking down your back to your hips, the palms rough against your bare ass. “Sir, can I please move my feet?”

“See? My good girl is catching on. Of course you can, baby.” He answers, a smile lacing his voice.

Giddily, you move your feet further apart. “Sir, please…please take my clothes off?” You ask, waistband restricting your legs. “Wanna feel you.”

Eddie’s hands move down the apples of your ass to the sweats that started moving down your legs from the impact of your ass that had just started bouncing on him. He kisses your clothed back as you step out of them, kicking the garment aside. You feel the cotton of your shirt move up your back, your arms lifting over your head to assist Eddie as he takes it off. His lips touch the bare skin of your back, his tongue sending ripples down your spine as you shiver under his touch. Eddie grunts as you continue to swivel your hips against him.

“Fuck.” Eddie grunts, watching your naked form wither against him. He can no longer fight the incessant need that’s grown while waiting for you to ask him for movement. His hips start mercilessly pounding into you without a hint of a warning. The moans that fall from your throat are uninhibited and radically full of relief. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod your head, curling over the sink as your arms give out.

Eddie slows down and takes himself out, and your hand moves to push yourself off the sink the littlest bit when you realize your mistake. “You can move.” Eddie smirks, noting your obedience. He’s still standing with his pants down to his calves and his shirt disheveled. He steps out from his pants, tossing the pair toward your pile of clothes. Then he goes down each button on his shirt, slowly exposing his chest to you. As his fingers move over each one, you eye his chest hungrily, aware he’s watching your face while you watch him.

The shirt falls down his arms with a slight flop as the material hits the floor. “Sir…” you gulp, the two of you staring at one another. “Sir, can I kiss you?”

Eddie smirks, nodding his head. You take the two steps toward him and your legs wrap around his hips as you hungrily kiss each other. He turns toward the kitchen island, a small yelp leaving your mouth as the cold granite counter hits the warm flesh of your ass cheeks. He guides his cock into you, slowly pushing into your heat, watching your face as your eyes roll back. “Feel good?”

You nod, a laugh escaping your lips.

“What’s so funny, hmm?” Eddie asks, using his mouth and tongue against your neck.

“Good? Your cock is perfect, Ed.”

“What happened to sir, baby?” He asks, yet continues to rut into you. Your face falters, realizing your mistake. He lets out a laugh, pitying you.

He places his fingertips on your clit, circling slowly, making the heat that’s pooled in your stomach hotter and larger than you could even conceive. “That…that feels so good, Ed.” You tell him, letting your head fall back.

“God, I love when your tight pussy just-” he inhales through his teeth, “sucks me in… Feels like heaven.”

You giggle, the end of it cut off by a particularly rough thrust. “Heaven?” You gasp out, Eddie starts to move his fingers faster and matches the pace with his hips.

“If Heaven isn’t fucking this tight pussy all day, then I don’t fucking want it.” Eddie gasps back, a growl forming under his breath.

“Ed, I’m gonna—” the feeling overwhelms you, the edge muting your senses as your orgasm ripples through your body.

Eddie moans as you tighten more around him, a fix he figured impossible. He still rotates on your clit, you release two sharp exhales, the heat too hot, too much. “Too much, Ed.”

“You can do it, baby. I could just edge you more.” He mutters.

You giggle, frightened at the goddamn prospect of it. “No, no, no.”

“No? Well then show me. Let’s feel that pussy make a mess all over my cock.” You came from the words alone, giggles intertwined through your moans. “Oh fuck, good girl,”

“I’m so close, baby.” He moans.

“Gonna fill me up?” You ask him, your legs tight around his hips as you bite at his collar bone.

“Keep doing that.” Eddie begs you, and you happily oblige. Every nip, bite and suck at his collarbone had him gasping over you, the chain of his necklace hanging between you two. Your hands go into his hair, pulling at him and you could probably have a third one at the rate he was going at.

No probably about it, but Eddie’s panting and you’re exhausted.

Even then.

He pushes you down as he cums, your back screaming with cold as it hits the island counter. Eddie collapses on top of you, and you breathe heavily together, both catching your breath. His mouth latches on your neck, kissing a trail to your lips. “Oh, I love you.”

You smile into his kiss, your noodle legs falling from his hips. “I love you.” You find yourself wrapped in his arms, the smell of sweat and sex invades the kitchen. His chest is covered in sweat and there’s nothing better.

“Join me for a shower?” He asks after you two have a moment of silence, his fingers single handedly causing a brigade of goosebumps down your side as they move in a whisper over your skin. His other hand is wrapped on your left hand, and you don’t realize he’s unconsciously rubbing at your ring finger.

“If I can walk.” You giggle.

Eddie chuckles, pulling himself out of you and giving you a sleepy half smile. “I could always…” He begins, and then he scoops you up over his shoulder to take you up the stairs. You protest for the first minute of it, but when the view is his toned ass as he walks up the stairs, you really couldn’t complain.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

Taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @bl4ckt00thgr1n @ali-r3n @tlclick73 @vintagehellfire @hellfirefiend @kittydeadbones @luumunson @uncxmfxrtablex @eddiesgfffffffffff @hkurbsjundebi @eddies-puppet @joantje @novelnovella @shady-the-simp

(Okay the very idea that this many people wanted on the taglist is INSANE to me. If you want on it, just reply and I'll add you.)

[someotherdog]

🥴 (tessa x gideon)

VOICEMAIL MEME — gideon & tessa!

both sides of his family—whether they be schwartzes or weissbergs—all regularly drank. some, like his uncle saul or his grandma edna, could be considered devout lushes. gideon could probably be considered among them, but since his confrontation with tessa, his drinking went from a scotch and soda with friends or a beer with his cousin micah to tossing back adios, motherfucker shots in a dive bar on a wednesday afternoon with total strangers. within the last month, he had spent more nights blacking out than not, then waking up in random places with his phone filled up with unread texts and unanswered calls. the worst part? on the nights when he would black out but end up home somehow, he'd wake up to his laptop open and several added pages to the draft of his sophomore novel. his second book was still barely coming together, and with the added pages written in his drunken state, gideon was farther away from completing it than before. all of it was illegible nonsense—whoever said to write drunk and edit sober was a fucking idiot—and the only passable passages were all written about tessa. in his drunken hazes, he had constantly texted and called her, too. for a man that claimed it was better if she forgot all about him, gideon didn't seem to want her to actually forget. on another random wednesday afternoon, he was thinking about her again, and once again he was calling her.

“hey, tess! i'm calling you from an actual payphone! like in the old movies. it even works! well... i mean, obviously it works since i'm calling you on it, but it's in the back of this place over in chelsea called peter mcmanus. you should stop by sometime? i mean just like in general, not to see me. do you want to see me? i want to see you. i don't want to, but i do. all the time. you're so beautiful. i don't think i ever told you that enough. you're so smart, so kind, so unlike me. you're sexy as hell, too. just in case i never told you. i hope you're doing alright. i'm surprised you haven't blocked me, honestly. please don't. i like knowing even if you don't ever call me back that you can still hear my voice. oh shit it's starting to beep i think it's gonna cut m—”

the recording stopped and somehow, within seconds, gideon had put the phone down and miraculously instantly forgot he ever called tessa. he'd try to call two more times that night, each time going to voicemail. even blackout drunk, he had to hope it was simply because she was asleep that she wasn't getting his calls. in the morning when he was sober again, he had to hope she was purposely—and rightfully—ignoring him.

[meltherebel22]

Children Of The Machine (Star Wars Edition)

I wanted to do this before anyone else, even if no one reads it. These are the lyrics from Children of the Machine and how it’s relates to clone troopers in my mind. We will go by versus’s.

I also like the beat because to me I imagine it being footsteps and they are stomping down a hallway or something. Also at the very bottom is the lyrics untouched, if you want to read it first then read my opinion on the lines.

Versus One

I'll show you the truth : I see Fives/Tup trying to get everyone to see about order 66

I'll show you your purpose : I either see Palpatine activating order 66 (your purpose is to kill Jedi) or the Kaminoan’s training them to be soldiers

Just a pencil and a dream

Created for entertainment : Created for Palpatine plan/entertainment, it’s war, someone is going to enjoy it.

Versus Two & Seven

He lives on through us : Jango Fett living on through them/clones

Born from darkness, born from lust : Literally born from war/darkness, created by money/lust

'Cause when we reach the end

We do it all over again : They are willing to sacrifice themselves for their brothers over and over again

Versus Three & Eight & Ten

Follow me, we are children of the machine

Follow me could be a older vode showing a shiny how things work, etc. Children of the machine is because they were literally made by a machine.

Barely human in a city built on broken dreams

Many people don’t see them as human, they see them as robots so some clones probably also see themselves has robots. City built on broken dreams can either be Kamino or Coruscant, they both probably had dreams at one point but now they don’t. Coruscant is ruled by politics and money, Kamino is ruled by money and experiments. They no longer have dreams because they aren’t human no longer in my opinion.

Follow me, we are children of the machine

Barely human in a city built on broken dreams

Versus Four

It's a joyless job

Who would have fun fighting in a war, not really a paid job either

When your heart's running empty at the seams (the seams)

Running on empty because it’s war and people die

But after eons filling up the bottle

Singing on a desperate pencil and a dream

I see them at 79s drinking and singing to forget, the write their dreams down on paper because they are drunk and delusional. In reality/sober they wouldn’t do that because they know it won’t very happen or come real.

Versus Five

Well, the void was filled when you lived

A brother died and someone else came and took his place/bed

To the empty ink, then we would sink

I’m thinking of tattoos or something

To the beat of a cog wheel turning

For some reason Jesse pops up in my head because of his tattoo, but the beat could be their hearts beating in their ‘robot’ body.

Love was the fuel that kept me from burning

Love for each other, kept them from falling apart

To create this finest design

You need a magic darker than mine

And a kiss from the angels

Casting demons down the bottom line

I think this is saying to create someone better than this love (finest design) your would have to have a dark magic to get pass the angels (shinies) and to the demons (veterans). That’s the only thing I can see for this.

Versus Six

So wonderful how deep the love can flow

'Cause when you came into my life

I couldn't bear to let go

But the curtain came to close

Maybe they could be taking about each other and their love for them and then they died or order 66. It could also be seen has the Jedi coming into their lives, in my opinion I think most of the Jedi were the only ones to see them has humans with feelings, then order 66. I think the clones got attached to them because they saw them has humans unlike Krell and everyone else.

Versus Nine

In the dark nightmare, see the spotlight glare

And accept your fate in time (in time)

In the dark nightmare, see the spotlight glare

And accept your fate in time

Two ways this can be seen, they could be having a nightmare and wake up to vode (spotlight) in the darkness. Or more likely, order 66 happened (nightmare), they see each other which is spotlight but order 66 made it glare/blurry. Accept your fate in time is them realizing they killed innocent Jedi or maybe they are accepting they will all be killed off.

——————

Untouched lyrics

|

\/

——————

I'll show you the truth

I'll show you your purpose

Just a pencil and a dream

Created for entertainment

He lives on through us

Born from darkness, born from lust

'Cause when we reach the end

We do it all over again

Follow me, we are children of the machine

Barely human in a city built on broken dreams

Follow me, we are children of the machine

Barely human in a city built on broken dreams

It's a joyless job

When your heart's running empty at the seams (the seams)

But after eons filling up the bottle

Singing on a desperate pencil and a dream

Well, the void was filled when you lived

To the empty ink, then we would sink

To the beat of a cog wheel turning

Love was the fuel that kept me from burning

To create this finest design

You need a magic darker than mine

And a kiss from the angels

Casting demons down the bottom line

So wonderful how deep the love can flow

'Cause when you came into my life

I couldn't bear to let go

But the curtain came to close

He lives on through us

We're born from darkness, born from lust

'Cause when we reach the end

We do it all over again

Follow me, we are children of the machine

(We built this machine!)

Barely human in a city built on broken dreams

Follow me, we are children of the machine

(You came to life!)

Barely human in a city built on broken dreams

In the dark nightmare, see the spotlight glare

And accept your fate in time (in time)

In the dark nightmare, see the spotlight glare

And accept your fate in time

Follow me, we are children of the machine

Barely human in a city built on broken dreams

[backagainpodcast]

Aaaand episode 2 is ready for release!! All the shiny little production bows have been added, n a near 27 minutes (what the heck!! :0 ) of content will be headed to your podcastery of choice the fifteenth!

[lilac-5ky]

hiiiiii :3

what would drunk consensual sex be like with Gintoki? .///.

ilysm friend

A/N: New phone, who dis? Just kidding, of course it's my beloved senpai. I had to make your request especially big and make you suffer until you'd be able to get what you want, that's what friends are for! I gotta say this was a bit of a struggle and I had to experiment a lot considering it's the first actual time I write about Gin-chan. Still, I had fun writing it even if it took days, can't wait to see what your little dirty deviant mind comes up with in the future for me to write ;-;

Ilyt friend, best senpai ever uwu and all that, hope this doesn't suck!

Drunk Consensual Sex with Gintoki (x Fem Reader)

chose this one gif because I know how much you love his stupid smug xoxo.

Theme: Night sort of date time between Gintoki and reader leading to a drunken one night stand? Something along those lines.

Warnings: S M U T. Literally in the name of the request, shoo away minors, shoo!

Sakata Gintoki, the boss of Yorozuya. Sakata Gintoki, the one who was as infamous for his naturally wavy silver hair as he was for his unconventional ways of handling things. Sakata Gintoki whose eyes looked so dead, yet never ignored others’ cries for help. No matter what he was known for, Sakata Gintoki was a man of many names, a man whose current daily shenanigans directly clashed with the reverberations of his violent past, a past he longed to forget.

Most days went by either in complete idleness or in complete disordinance as he took job after job, leaving no room for such dark thoughts to creep into his brain. However, there would always be these moments when the past would become more vivid than the present, when everything he had tried to suppress would reappear before him, when he’d find himself standing in the very same battlefield he did all these years ago. It was in moments like this that he’d find himself desperate to get away from everything and everyone. Surely there were people he could talk to, Kagura and Shinpachi being the obvious choices, yet when it came to these memories, Gintoki would rather drown them, force them to the depths of his brain until they ceased to exist. And what better way was there for him to do such a thing other than alcohol?

“One more bottle.” Pushing his glass against the hardwood of the bar, Gintoki asked for his third bottle of sake.

Even though he wasn’t known for his high alcohol tolerance, today was one of those days when he wanted to forget about everything and everyone. Having gone as far as to visit one of Yoshiwara’s bars, he had chosen a spot where no one would bother him, where he wouldn’t have to pretend for the sake of anyone. Drinking glass after glass, he only hoped for the thoughts to stop, for the images to disappear, yet he was more sober than he’d ever been. Even when the lights in the room begun to flicker, even when the laughters next to him became more distant, his memories appeared in his head as clear as ever, ghosts that were begging to haunt him

“Do you even have the money to afford more? Last time you were here you tried to sell me one month old Jump for limited edition-”

“Shut up, old hag! It was the one with Hirohiko Araki’s special interview, of course it costs more than your lousy sake!” Gintoki exclaimed as he tried to grab the sake bottle from the hands of the bartender.

“If my sake is bad then why do you still come here? Look around you, out of all of our esteemed guests you are the only one standing out. We shouldn’t even be servicing the likes of you.” Pulling the bottle away, the woman was about to move when Gintoki threw a handful of coins onto the counter. Intrigued, she looked at him over her shoulder, accepting the money with a scoff before handing him the sake bottle.

With a triumphant look on his face, Gintoki popped the bottle open. As he was about to pour another glass for himself, a presence entering the bar caught his eye. Tilting his head, he watched as you went past the door, an evident look of disappointment engraved in your features as you approached the bar. Throwing your handbag onto the seat next to him, you took a seat right next to it.

“One sake bottle, please.” Motioning towards the bartender, you placed your order.

This day had been a disaster in more than one ways imaginable for you; not only had you been stood up by that jerk who insisted on going out with you, but you’d also been stood up on your birthday. You knew that getting involved with him would be a waste of time, yet not once did you consider the possibility of him not even showing up, not even calling you to let you know. Instead you had to spend hours on dolling yourself up, going all the way to Yoshiwara in nothing but a tiny dress, as you waited in the cold for him to show up. All this effort, all this time wasted and for what? To be sitting in a nearly empty red light district bar, all by yourself. Way to celebrate yet another year of being alive.

“I am sorry miss, I am afraid this jer- this gentleman took our last bottle. Is there anything else I can serve you?” The woman asked, gesturing towards the man that was sitting by your side. Considering your distress, you hadn’t even noticed the fact that you weren’t there alone, unaware of the silver haired man’s existence. Turning to face him, you couldn’t help but feel annoyance rise through you. It wasn’t his fault, obviously, that he had taken the last bottle of sake for his own, yet this had to be the icing on top of a horrible day.

Waving towards you in a whimsical way, the man pushed the bottle towards your side, sliding it onto the counter. “You look like you need it more.” He said once the bottle was in your hand. Staring between him and the bottle, you allowed yourself to smirk. “I look that bad huh?”

Returning your smirk, the man got up, making his way to you as you simultaneously pulled your bag from the empty seat, placing it on top of your lap. Taking the seat to your left, he sat down next to you. “Not at all.” Leaning towards you, the man’s hand reached behind your ear. “Interesting Chikorita cosplay though.” Retrieving his hand , you noticed the presence of a rather big leaf between his fingers. Instinctively, you mimicked his previous gesture in an attempt to search for any other remaining leaves residing in your hair.

“That’s what happens when you wait for an hour in the howling wind.” You answered to the man, doing your best to keep yourself as contained as possible. Not that the opinion of a random stranger mattered, but you didn’t want to keep making a fool of yourself in front of others.

Grabbing the bottle he had offered you, you poured some sake into your glass, gulping it down in one go. Feeling guilty that you had quite literally taken the bottle from the man’s hands, you reached another glass from behind the bar, treating him to a drink. The man accepted your offer, following your lead as he took a sip.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a worse day than today to go for a walk and in such a dress? Either you are really brave or really dumb.” He said once had put the glass down.

“That’s so funny.”

“You aren’t laughing.” The man noted, grabbing the bottle and pouring the two of you some more sake.

“I would be if I wasn’t celebrating my birthday at a near empty bar in Yoshiwara, drinking with a man whose name I don’t even know.”

“Sakata Gintoki.” The man, Gintoki, nonchalantly said. Turning to face him, you examined his features as the name Gintoki faintly rung a bell. His naturally wavy silver hair, the deadfish eyes, the wooden sword that was loosely hanging around his waist, could it be?

“Yorozuya?”

“That’s me. Can’t recall you being a client, though.”

“I’m not, you are just infamous, that’s all.” You said, warm liquor going down your throat as you finished your own drink.

“In that case allow me to give you a business card.” Turning his back on you, you watched him work his hands on top of the counter. “We do anything from finding lost pets, to dealing with Mayo freaks, to fighting for the order of the universe or something like that. As long as you pay up, we’ll take on any job. Here.” Shifting around, he turned back to face you once again, this time sliding a piece of paper on the counter. Looking down at it, you could tell that it was a napkin with the name Yorozuya Gintoki and a phone number written on it in a poorly barely readable manner.

“That’s a napkin” You observed.

“A business card.” He countered, pouring you some more alcohol. “All of the budget went onto designing the last panel, you think we have enough to draw proper business cards?”

“Well in that case… I have a job for you.”

Intrigued, he placed the glass back down, flashing you a winsome smile. You weren’t sure if the alcohol was getting to you, but looking at his smiling expression, you couldn’t help but feel attracted to the man. Although his appearance was quite scruffy, far from your usual type, there was a certain charm to him. Maybe today wouldn’t be wasted, you thought as you barely returned the smile.

“Spend the night with me. It is my birthday after all. And don’t worry about the money, I can pay up, let’s just have some fun.”

Considering your offer for a bit, Gintoki grabbed the bottle, this time bringing it to his lips as he finished the remaining sake in one go. With the back of his hand, he wiped his lips clean before banging his fist on the table as he got up.

“Oi granny, I’ll be on my way now. Next time, make sure you stock up on better sake.”

“If you hate it so much then don’t come here again, you punk!” The lady behind the counter raised her voice, obviously irritated by the man’s remarks. Scoffing at her, he readjusted the sword around his waist, making his way towards the exit as he waved his hand at her.

“Are you coming?” This time he spoke to you, beckoning you with his raised hand to follow him. Accepting his offer, you instantly got up, following him outside the bar.

Stepping outside, you could feel goosebumps going up your skin, although to be fair, the howling wind had noticeably calmed down, turning into but a cold autumn breeze. Sure, it still wasn’t mini dress weather, but at least you weren’t shivering as much as before. In fact, your body begun to feel rather warm, courtesy of the alcohol you had previously gobbled up.

“So what do you want to do first?” Gintoki asked, one hand loosely around his belt as he kept on walking. Underneath the neon lights from all the bars and restaurants that were in the area, his hair gleamed through the darkness, silver strands fused with red hues.

“I don’t know, what would you recommend?”

Bringing his other hand onto his hair, you saw him scratching the back of his head as if considering the options. " There are many ways to have fun here. I know a good place for yakitori, then there is that old man who makes great dango. Hmm… perhaps the karaoke place down the street or the arcade next to it. Or else-”

“Let’s just do everything. I’m paying, remember?” Tapping your hand against the purse, you smiled brightly at him as he nodded in agreement.

“Well then, let’s begin!”

The first place the two of you winded up visiting was the karaoke place Gintoki mentioned. Although you had been to a karaoke bar in the past with your colleagues, this was the first time you were going there with a man- a man you barely knew, on top of that. Perhaps this wasn’t the brightest idea, you reckoned, still though, you didn’t want to spend this day all by yourself. And Sakata Gintoki wasn’t a complete stranger either, you had heard stories about Yorozuya and their shenanigans here and there. Plus, he didn’t seem like a bad guy either.

After booking yourselves a room, you ordered some more alcohol, mainly dom perignon, considering how Gintoki insisted that this was the right way to spend one’s birthday. If you didn’t know better, you’d mistake him for a host trying to sell out for bonus commission. Still, you indulged to it, allowing yourself to spend the majority of your income on champagne, a decision you’d come to regret next morning but for now, with each sip of alcohol, your reservations kept diminishing into nothingness. Oh well, that’s a problem for tomorrow you.

Drinking to your hearts contents, the two of you spent at least a couple of hours, singing songs in such an offbeat manner that if anyone heard you, they’d be jeering you. Starting with cheerful pop songs, you danced up and down, doing your best to push all of your worries and sadness away. Even when you didn’t really care about that asshole who stood you up, you could feel yourself getting rather emotional by the time the songs switched to slower ballads. How could he do such a thing to you?

“How could he?” You slurred out loud, falling on top of the couch next to Gintoki as you leaned onto his shoulder. He had stopped singing, keeping his attention on the glass that was between his fingers, twirling it around as he gazed at its content. His entire focus was on the glass, while his previously dead fish eyes were darkened, a hint of sadness tainting him. Although you could tell all the alcohol was getting to you and that you weren’t an excellent judge of character, you could tell there was something in his mind.

“Gintoki. Why were you alone in that bar?” You managed to say, pulling yourself together as best as you could. Shifting his attention from the glass to you, he shrugged his shoulder before leaning back against the couch.

“Kagura is too young to drink and Shinpachi, well… I don’t want to bore him with such trivialities.” You had no idea who these people were, yet you kept listening to him intently, your eyes staring at his lips as he spoke. “Sometimes a man needs to be on his own.” Finally, he brought the glass to his lips, emptying its contents. “Besides, what good is remembering a past you can’t change?”

You couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. Even when his appearance gave out that he was a rather lazy and laid back person, you could tell that there was something more behind those dead fish eyes and nonchalant words of his. Even if your reasons for being at that bar were completely different, the motive was the same; to forget.

“I think I’ve sung enough. If we keep doing that I’ll end up with a sore throat.” You said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Grabbing his hand, you stumbled back onto your feet, beckoning him to get up. “What’s next?”

Gintoki placed the glass back on the table before taking one of the unopened dom peri bottles with him. Following your lead, he let you guide him outside of the room, the faint melody of yet another sad song fading in the background.

The next station for the two of you ended up being the arcade place next door. This was actually the first time in years that you had visited one, the last time being when you were but a mere child. Looking at all the machines brought you nostalgia, as Gintoki made his way towards the pachinko machines in the far back of the shop.

“Have you played before?” He asked as he sat on a free machine, placing the champagne bottle next to him. Truth be told, you had never really tried pachinko before and in your state, you doubted you could pick up on all the rules of the game. Shaking your head, you sat next to him.

Getting up, Gintoki popped the bottle open, bringing it to his lips for a sip once the foam had subdued. He offered it to you, as you mimicked his movements before placing it on the ground in front of you. Once that was out of the way, the man lowered himself behind you, placing his chin against your shoulder while he snaked his arms around yours. Feeling yourself blushing, you stood still as Gintoki went through the details of the game for you, explaining you the basic concept of it and what you needed to do to win. You could barely focus on his words, as you felt his body pressed flat against you, making you quiver. Under different circumstances, you would be protesting; a man whom you knew for only a few hours being this cozy and handsy with you, even if his purpose was to introduce you to the game. Yet, feeling his warmth you found yourself unable to oppose him, perhaps even indulging in the sensation of the stranger’s touch.

“…And then you turn the handle. Oi, are you listening?” Snapping his fingers in front of you, he managed to wake you up from your thoughts. Nodding frantically, you noticed him sigh before leaning against you once again. “I’ll show you how to play but next round you gotta do it on your own. Put the change here.” Instructing you, he pointed to the left side of the machine where there was a slit. Searching through your bag, you managed to find a few coins, quickly shoving them into it until small silver balls spilled from the machine.

Placing his right hand on top of yours, he guided it around the handle of the machine, wrapping your fingers along with his around the round lever. As he moved your hands up and down, left and right, you couldn’t help but blush looking up to him. Although there was a red tint upon his cheeks -namely because of all the alcohol the two of you had been drinking- he looked rather focused as the flickering lights of the machine gleamed in his maroon eyes. His lips were slightly parted while he slowly blinked, his attention still on the machine. You could tell that he was saying something to you, yet the sound was muffled as your entire attention was on his face. He was so close to you, close enough that if you lifted your head a bit then the two of you would-

“What a bummer.” Retrieving his hand from yours, he walked away from you, going back to his own chair. Although you wouldn’t admit it, you kinda wished that he would have stayed there longer. “But you got the basics now, go ahead, try it.” What basics? The ones he showed you while you were busy eyeing him?

Reaching for the champagne bottle, you took a rather large sip, hoping that with it you’d be able to get some sort of epiphany about the game. Gintoki had already started toying with the machine in front of him and so without any further ado, you started experimenting with yours.

Although you weren’t doing that bad, you weren’t exactly doing great either. Before you knew it, you had spent a small fortune on the game without really gaining any profit. That was until you managed to score somewhat of a jackpot, after playing with the machine for over thirty minutes. The loud beeping sound filled the room, while many of the other players turned to face you, Gintoki included.

“Wow, not bad for a newbie! Now press this and you can get your prize.” The silver haired man said as he leaned towards you once again, pressing a button on the machine. Soon enough, an employee approached the two of you, taking your remaining pachinko balls with him as he went to a counter. Ushering you to follow him, Gintoki took the champagne bottle with him, while the two of you made your way towards the front of the store.

“Here’s your reward, visit us again.” The man behind the counter said in the most unappealing voice. Extending your hand to him, he placed something inside your palm before disappearing back inside the arcade shop. Once he was gone, you opened your hand only to stare down at a pair of silver balls. What the-

“These guys are unbelievable, giving such crude things to a woman!” Gintoki said, as he was about to go back in there to search for the employee. Looking down at your hand and then at him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Surely, you could always sell these silver balls so it wasn’t as if they had no value, yet the incident became funnier over time once you realized that the balls were silver just like his hair.

“Here.” Grabbing his hand, you placed the balls inside his palm. “I don’t need these balls, Gintoki, you can keep them.” Gintoki accepted the balls, his gaze shifting between his hand and your face. Letting out a soft chuckle, he stuffed them in his kimono’s pocket.

“It’s really inappropriate for a woman to keep saying balls. But I’ll take them.”

For a while the two of you walked across Yoshiwara, making your way out of the district, towards the river. There wasn’t much to say, so you kept drinking from the same bottle in silence. You were feeling exhausted from all the walking but you didn’t want to go home yet. Even when everything was getting blurry, even then you wanted to spend more time with Gintoki. You hadn’t even realized how much you needed to talk to someone, to have some casual fun without thinking about all the whats and the ifs. This was the first time in quite a while you were able to let your guard down and it felt exhilarating to be doing that with a complete stranger.

After walking for a while, you stopped by a bench near the river.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Following his order, you sat at the bench, looking at the still waters in front of you while waiting. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you tilted your head in order to drink only to find out that there was no alcohol left. Disappointed, you tossed it next to you as it rolled onto the street. Great. Doing your best to reach it, you got up stumbling, nearly falling onto the ground when a hand grabbed you.

“You are more wasted than I am, huh.” Gintoki exclaimed as he helped you up. In his hands, there were two dango sticks, glazed in sweet soy sauce. “Can’t find cake or anything like that this late. Happy birthday. This one is on me, no need to pay extra.” He said, handing you one of them. Reluctantly, you took the stick from his hand, as tears fell down your cheeks. Even though it was the alcohol making you this emotional, you couldn’t help but wonder, how could a stranger like him be this nice?

“Woah, why are you crying? Don’t tell me you don’t like dango-”

“No, it’s just that… thank you.” Accepting the dango, you flashed a genuine smile to him before taking a bite. The tears were still wetting your cheeks but you tried your best to show your gratitude. He was right, this dango was actually quite good.

“You’re welcome.” His mouth was full of the dango as he talked, making his voice sound rather funny and childish, contrasting his otherwise deeper tone.

The two of you sat back down on the bench, eating in silence. Although you didn’t know what time it was, you could see the first rays of the morning light pouring into the night sky. As much as you wanted to extend this night, it was time to go home.

“I think it’s time I get going.” Turning to face him, you could see the streetlights spinning around as you got dizzier and dizzier. His features were turning blurry, the only thing distinguishable being his silver hair that were framing his face. You couldn’t help but repeatedly bump onto him, your head feeling too heavy to keep still. You were so tired while his warmth was so inviting, you just wanted him to wrap his hands around you like he had previously done at the arcade and let you sleep in his embrace.

“Let’s get you home, then.” Gintoki was the first one to get up, stumbling on his way up. He wasn’t in any better shape, you could tell that he was barely standing while his cheeks were flushed red. “What direction is your home?” He asked, pointing with his index to the left and then to the right. Managing to get yourself on both feet, you leaned against his body, grabbing his hand and then turning it to the left.

The way home wasn’t really long thankfully, although walking without falling to the ground turned out to be quite the formidable task. Bumping into one another while walking, you were laughing to your hearts’ content for seemingly no reason. You hadn’t felt so carefree in such a long time, so light, so free. Being with this man was liberating, even if you never got to see him again, you knew this was a night to remember.

Eventually the two of you reached your house just as the moon disappeared from the sky, leaving nothing but a faint shadow where it previously stood. Nearing the front door, you took a step forward in an attempt to open it. Going through your bag, you managed to locate the keys at the very bottom. Triumphantly, you unlocked the door, tripping on the way in while your fingers were still attached to the key. Just when you thought you were about to fall, a hand grabbed you by the waist pulling you back onto your feet. Once you’d managed to regain your balance, you turned around, facing Gintoki, the two of you temporarily snapping out of your drunken state. He had saved you yet again.

“I-uh… I’m sorry, I get really clumsy when I drink.” You admitted, trying your best not to slur the words while chuckling. His hand was still tight around your waist while you were leaning all of your weight against his shoulder and chest. Your laugh begun to fade once you realized how close you were to him, feeling your own heartbeat against his skin. The tension behind you was palpable at this point, even when you were both completely wasted, the way he held you sparked something within you. Looking deep into his eyes, you gulped softly. You shouldn’t…

“Damn it, I promised Kagura I wouldn’t be late.”

Before you could ask him what he meant, Gintoki closed the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours. The sheer force of the kiss made you take a step back, the two of you stumbling against the iron door. Keeping his one hand around your waist, he slammed the other right above your head, towering you with his height. His lips felt warm and inviting against yours, a lovely contrast when compared to the coldness of the iron surface that sent shivers up your spine. Pressing your body against his, you let your hand wander to his arm, wrapping your other arm around his neck while pulling him closer to you.

Forcing your mouth open with his tongue, Gintoki let his tongue roam freely into your mouth, lazily exploring every bit of you. Although his lips were drenched in alcohol, you could also taste something rather sweet while kissing him, something that resembled the faint taste of fresh strawberries.

Breaking the kiss off, a string of saliva fell onto both your chins, as he backed away, leaving your lips puckering up, begging for more. The man blinked slowly while staring into your eyes, realizing what he had just done. Before he could get any second thoughts about this, you pulled him closer, tugging onto the fabric of his sleeve.

“Would you charge extra if I invited you in?” You inquired, biting your lower lip as you waited for an answer.

“What kind of man would receive money from a woman for such things? I’m not that cheap.” Just as you thought he had turned you down, Gintoki took a step in, holding the door open for you.

The next thing you knew, you were being held down against the first flat surface you encountered, namely the kitchen counter. Wasting no time, the man took hold of your face, cusping your cheeks as his lips clashed into yours. The kiss was sloppy and messy as his tongue moved in sync with his lips, peppering your skin with lazy open mouthed kisses. Trailing a path from your lips to your jawline and eventually your neck, he nibbled on your skin, sucking on it softly, making sure you’d be covered in bruises and love bites by the time he was done with you. The sensation was enough to make you moan, arching your back against his touch, feeling his bulge growing. Unable to help it, you bucked your hips into his, your clothed clit throbbing at the friction between your bodies. Gintoki caught on to what you were trying to do, pulling himself away from your neck as he brought his lips to your ear.

“Bend over.” Coming out like a whisper, the sound of his groggy voice ringing through your ear was enough to send chills up your spine. Considering how drunk he was, he was rather demanding, a fact that made your already wet cunt even wetter.

Obeying his order, you turned around, pulling your dress up while sliding your panties down, letting them fall loosely around your ankles. Once you had exposed your ass to him, Gintoki grabbed both your wrists as he pushed you against the counter without a warning. Keeping them pinned together with one hand, he brought them over your head, making you gasp in return. He was so forceful for a guy you’d only just met, a guy who didn’t even know your name.

Having you right where he wanted to, Gintoki used his other hand to unbuckle his belt, not bothering to push his pants past his thighs. You tried your best to look over your shoulder but his grip wasn’t allowing you to see much. Anticipation begun to rise within you the moment you felt his erection springing from his underwear, the tip grazing your needy cunt. You found yourself wondering what it looked like when he grabbed onto your ass, pushing his cock between your folds with a single move. Instantly your lips formed an o, moaning loudly while your nails dug onto his palms. Although you couldn’t see his expression, you heard him grunt as he backed out, only to thrust into you again, reaching as deep as possible.

At first his pace was slow, letting his cock get engulfed by your walls that were clenching around him with his every move. Even though he wasn’t particularly thick, you could tell how long his cock was by how easily he reached your cervix with each pounding. You were feeling so needy, so desperate, so pathetic under the touch of a guy you’d just met, a detail you kept reminding to yourself. The way he touched you made you feel small, vulnerable even, his frame being much larger than yours as he handled your body like this. He treated you as if you were nothing more than a street’s prostitute he’d met at a back alley, a thought that was only getting you more aroused. Your wrists kept wiggling inside his palm as you tried to break free from his grip. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him.

After a while filled with excruciatingly slow movements, he eventually picked up his speed, skin slapping against skin as he begun to thrust into you quickly, eliciting all sorts of lewd sounds from your lips. Perhaps it was something about the alcohol you’d drunk, or maybe it had to do with him fucking your brains out on your kitchen counter. No matter the case, your senses had started to distort, as you were able to see stars, feelings them ring through your ears like soft chimes. Even when your physical body was right there with him, your mind was flying away, too foggy to form any thought, wave after wave of pure pleasure sending you into a state of complete euphoria.

“G-Gintoki, I think I’m going to c-”

“Is that so?” He inquired between thrusts, his voice slightly shaky as he kept on going. “I’m afraid I’m not quite there yet. Be good for me and hold on a while longer, mhm?” You could do nothing to reply to him, faintly nodding against the cold marble of the counter. He was driving you closer and closer to your orgasm when suddenly he stopped, pulling out completely, leaving you hanging. “Damn it, this won’t do. Turn around, I wanna look at your fucked up expression, birthday girl.”

He allowed you to break free from his grip, as you turned your entire body around to face him. Gintoki moved his hands onto the straps of your dress, sliding them off along with the rest of the fabric until you were standing bare naked in front of him. His gaze fell hungrily upon your body; the man didn’t even try to pretend as if he wasn’t looking at your tits, he was beyond shameless. Curling his lips into a half smile, he squeezed them softly before entering you once again. You were having a hard time keeping together, barely managing to wrap your legs around his torso as he moved closer to you, allowing you to prop your chin against his shoulder for balance.

“G-gin-” You tried calling his name out but there was no way for you to do such a thing, not when his cock was hitting all the right spots.

Soon enough, you found yourself returning to the starry ceiling, coming undone underneath him. Soft whimpers escaped your lips while your walls clenched around his cock, sucking him as he kept pounding you. Unable to keep on going when you felt this tight around him, Gintoki’s movements became inconsistent and sloppy. He was barely able to control himself and his own pace. You could feel his cock throbbing in you, a sign that he was close. The man kept on going, cursing under his breath in slurs, until he eventually pulled out of you.

Although you were barely aware of your surroundings, completely lost in your high, you could feel his arms tense while he jerked himself off to your body. Pumping his length a couple of times, he finally allowed himself to spill his seed, covering your stomach and thighs in creamy white lines, while you kept holding onto him. He was just out of breath as you were, his heart beating quickly against yours while his chest kept moving up and down.

Once he was done, Gintoki wrapped his arms loosely around your waist, placing a rather delicate kiss on top of your head as he held your body. You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent, letting go of all the tension, relaxing in his warm embrace. All the disappointment and annoyance you had felt before entering the bar was gone, the only thought that vaguely remained in your mind being the silver haired man. He had managed to make you forget about everything and everyone as intended.

Slowly but surely, the room around you started to get dark, as you let your eyes shut. Void engulfed you, while hands brushed through your hair lazily in a comforting way. You felt so sleepy, you were so exhausted. The final memory of the night ended up being the faint and distant voice of a man whispering sweet nothings in your ear, complimenting you all the while praising you for being such a good girl.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were rather confused. Where were you, what had happened, why did your head feel as if a brick fell onto it and why were you so sore? You tried to answer these questions, squinting your eyes as you tried to get up. Surprisingly enough you were naked, laying underneath the covers of your soft bed while you begun to recollect what had occurred the previous night. The coworker, the bar, the alcohol, the intoxicating flavor of the silver haired man. Instinctively, you looked to your side, searching for him, Gintoki. Much to your disappointment, no one was there. Had you really imagined all that? No, it couldn’t be…

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed, everything was too uncertain, too unclear, too cloudy. Although there was light outside, there was no telling what time it was. Hopefully a cold glass of water would help sober you up, you thought and so, with a sigh, you got up. Tossing a robe over your naked body, you made your way to the kitchen where a small piece of paper that was lying on the counter caught your attention. What was this?

Picking up the paper, you realized it was a napkin, one that you could have sworn you’d seen before. On the napkin was a phone number along with some barely readable words.

“Happy birthday! Contact Yorozuya Gin next time you need a drinking buddy, free of charge. P.S. That guy missed out, forget about him.”