#fruity little smoothie

[crispfencer]

Hello! Here's my blogpost about what it was like as an audience member on Saturday Night Takeaway!

Three tiers of audience members:

Participants

These people hang out in The Broadcaster (the pub the guy from episode one got whisked out of) and mosey on down to get entry whenever they feel like it. They also get to watch the rehearsal. I have no idea how to become a participant but I have a feeling some of it is casted?? They were a very diverse bunch, whereas only three people out of the 200 in my queue weren't white. These people get wristbands and have their photos taken for the audience cam, and get directed to the aisle seats if they're going to be chosen for something later.

Priority

These people paid for the £30 a year Audiencestore subscription, meaning they get more or less guaranteed entry. There was about 50 of them and they got whisked through security hours before us, and then just stood behind a barrier for the same amount of time as us lol

General

The trenches!! I stood in the cold for about 5 hours with no real guarantee that I'd get in. About 50 or so at the front of the queue were allowed to join priority but after that it was a waiting game. The guy who runs the queue said our role is basically to fill seats for the participants who don't turn up, and then to fill the comp seats when they don't get used (eg if busted had 20 tickets to give away to friends, family etc and only 5 turn up, General will fill the remaining 15 seats.) He said once the allocation of seats is filled by participation and priority tickets, he can get anywhere between 4 and 100 of us in. As he learnt more about which comps had been used, he slowly culled the back end of the queue. We all prayed he wouldn't get to us lol.

I got there at 14:30~ and was let into the studio at around 18:45. Some experienced queue goers had brought picnics and hot food, which I will definitely be doing next time!

The studio:

When I entered I felt like I was at Disneyland or something! The air had this magical haze about it, which I soon discovered was because they pump smoke into the room to make the lighting look nicer lol. If you're looking onto the audience from the stage, we all came in from the left, and the crew and vans and stuff all came in from the right (the staircase doors at the top are just for ant and dec to spring out of lol, they lead to a brick wall). There's an upper layer which had a few junior looking people operating some..... spots I think?

There's another blue booth on the opposite end to the star guest announcer one which I can only assume is for some tech direction stuff.

The warmup:

We were made to do all sorts of warmups like dancing, karaoke and stuff. The clip of the audience all waving used during the 'after the break' inserts was recorded here. We were also told the rules (no rude gestures if the camera goes to you, never stop smiling, laugh a lot) which are pretty similar to other shows. The unique instruction was to not 'grab or hug ant and dec' when they decend the steps, but we were allowed to high five etc. During each ad break we were also schooled on any call and response lines (ring my bell, Stephen, etc). After this he 'brought the boys out' and we all went wildcrazy, obvs. Then the main cast all took a big end of series photo together.

When dec was walking up the stairs to get into position a woman in the audience grabbed him and said something like 'I went to school with you'???? it was really fucking awkward because he sort of blanked and everyone else our column was just sort of staring. Such a weird place to accost him for a reunion, he handled it with grace but it was rude as hell imo.

The guy in charge told us to turn off our phones and not take any photos, but I set mine to silent and audio recorded the whole show lol.

I hardly noticed when we actually went live, since we were so busy doing all these other tasks it still felt like a rehearsal. Made me way less nervous than I was in the queue!

The show:

You saw this so I won't go into much! Ant and Dec were only slightly amplified to us, so we had to stop cheering to hear what they were saying. They both looked insanely beautiful. They also looked tiny.

During the happiest minute the presenters would stay for a little bit longer with the person they rewarded, to say congrats etc. I think Andi Peters and Fleur took the most time and Mulhern took the least lol.

Whenever they go to someone at home the autocue says DEC (SKYPE) which I found funny

With regards to improvising around the autocue script, Mulhern did it the most, then Andi > Dec > Ant > Fleur > Rob > Jordan. Overall Jordan looked very shy and out of his depth lol, I wanted to tell him he was doing great

Ant didn't seem to enjoy watching himself on screen at all, and would generally grimace/look away. Dec would laugh at the things he himself said LOL

During the ad breaks Ant and Dec would run off to have five minutes backstage with each other. When they didn't, they'd stand around together while talking to the director and others

At one point where we in the studio thought we weren't live, they shared a private joke and kissed each other on each cheek. I thought I'd imagined it but somehow @quicklyandrogynousfox-blog caught it!!

They seemed to stand a lot closer when off camera which made me go insane

At the end when Busted (!!!!) were setting up, Mulhern strode up to them and started chatting. Jordan kind of milled about behind him like he wanted to join in, but after a few false starts he just sort of stared at his feet 😭 ily jordan

(I didn't realise Busted were British, sorry guys)

Ant and Dec came back at the end to say that tonight was their favourite episode! Afterwards a few words were said about Paul O'Grady, because a lot of the crew had worked with him over the years and were finding the news hard.

Other bits and peices/my own diseased analysis:

Dec was very dec-like lol, when ant quickly moved into position at the top of the steps, Dec stopped to wave and shake everyone's hands like he was the queen or something. He loves giving and receiving attention lol, ant was much more reserved

Stephen's behaviour correlated with what others who've met him irl have said, in that he's basically two different people. His TV persona is very loud and comic but literally as soon as the camera is off him (like in the happiest minute) he goes super shy and looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Fleur is a laugh, I like Fleur

Rob seemed quite scared of how enthusiastic the audience were

During the undercover both ant and dec laughed whenever rylan would say something vaguely diva-ish. Ant didn't laugh as much as dec did, who really got the giggles.

I think that's it! Thanks/sorry for reading so much.

[sweets3rial]

sunlight kisses and featherlight touches

inspired by this request

re2!leon x fem!reader

summary: leons kindness has always been abused. in so many eyes, he's still a naive rookie who doesn't know better. he figures his life would always be that way until he met you...the barista who worked at the smoothie place down the street from his base.

tags: tooth-rotting fluff, a little post re2, non-canon, leon is hopelessly in love, krauser mentioned, mentions of bruises and scars, over worried reader, friends to lovers (?), established relationship, promise rings, virginity loss, insecure reader/reassuring leon, smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, p in v, no protection (wrap it b4 you tap it ya'll)

word count: 5.8k (srry i got carried away)

there was one word to describe him. he was simply a gentleman, kind and soft. his manners were sharp as a knife and he knew how to take orders like any other good cop. though, his kindness and sweet smile were looked down upon. 

others figured him weak and easy to step on, but in a way he was. he hated talking back, and he hated disappointing people, that’s why he always put himself on the line for others. which is how he got a bullet scar on his left shoulder. he is willing to do that just because that’s how he was raised. 

but when is he going to start putting himself before others? 

when is he going to forget the hole that is left in his heart?

it was you. you were the answer to his every question. his every doubt and his every want. the minute your eyes met his baby blue ones there was an instant connection. he had a small cut on his cheek and another on his lip. 

you smiled up at him with a gleam in your eyes, leaning over the counter enthusiastically as you greeted him to take down his order. Leon didn’t really favor fruity drinks but he began to like them because of you. well, he only got them to see you. 

over a few weeks, he slowly memorized your work schedule at the small cafe and would walk in at the beginning of your shift. you’d greet him with the same smile every time, you knew his order by heart, and you knew the sound of his footsteps by memory. 

slowly, he was beginning to make more time in his day to go and see you. his visits were prolonged, he’d take his drink and go to sit down in the corner of the small cafe just so he could watch you work. 

he’d lean his head onto his hand, slowly sipping away at the smoothie in his hands as he watched you bounce around. every now and then, you would trail your gaze back over to him and shoot him a warm smile. 

seeing him sitting there watching you intently made your heart flutter but it also made you terribly nervous. you were constantly fixing your hair and checking in your pocket mirror to make sure you looked okay for the blonde in the corner. 

you tried so hard not to look at him so often but how could you? he was looking at you so deeply with those blue eyes of his. he sat right by the large window, where the sun could perfectly cascade down onto him.

his blonde hair would begin to glow on his head like an angel's halo, shadows cast down onto his sharp features, and the sun glinting off his perfectly white teeth. how can anyone be so beautiful? 

at the end of your shift, he’d walk you home. ignoring the ache in his muscles with each step. there he goes again, risking his health for someone. but it wasn’t just anyone, it was you. he was willing to walk beside you even if his legs were broken. 

but his winces of pain didn’t escape your ears. 

“Leon, are you hurt?” you asked him, stopping in your tracks and placing two hands on his shoulders. he shook his head, his blonde hair sweeping over his forehead. 

“no, no, i’m fine just sore.” he shot you a smile to reassure you but you weren’t convinced. 

it’s not like you couldn’t see the bruises on his skin when he’d walk in or the new cuts appearing on his arms and face every other week. you were worried. who in God's name was hurting him like that?

you’ve asked a few times but he shrugged it off with excuses like, ‘i was wrestling with my friend’’, the neighbor's cat got to him’, or ‘he fell’. when in reality he was being trained to become one of the best government agents of all time. 

“i don’t believe you, sit.” you demanded him. he shook his head, refusing. 

“no, i have to take you home.” 

you shoved him onto the bench behind you two, being sure not to hurt him. 

“no, i’ll get us a taxi that’ll take us both home.” 

he reached out for you, taking hold of your wrist before you could walk away to wave down a taxi. he brought you close to him, spreading his legs so you could step between him. you stayed silent, looking down into his eyes and now you could finally see it. 

the pain he’s been hiding for so long. your heart ached at the look in his eyes, one you’ve never seen before. he was tired and deeply hurt, you don’t know what and you didn’t bother to ask. you just swept the hair from out of his eyes and cupped his cheek. 

“okay, just rest.” 

his arms wrapped around your waist and he leaned his head into your stomach with a heavy sigh. his muscles were finally relaxed and his heavy eyelids were finally able to close. even if you two were in the middle of a busy street, you didn’t care. 

you knew he needed this. you brought your hand to the top of his head, slowly smoothing out his hair down to the back of his neck and then rubbing the nape of his neck to get rid of any tension. he listened to the sound of you taking deep breaths and then letting them out and smiling at the sound of your gurgling stomach.

it was a comforting sound, your touch was comforting as well. if you two weren’t out in the open in the middle of a cold night, he would’ve fallen asleep right then and there. he was very close though. 

your touch was so comforting. it wasn’t a punch or a blade. it wasn’t a shove or a kick. it was soft and warm. 

“is he alright?”

“yeah, he is! just sleepy.” 

your voice was soothing, calm, and welcoming. 

it was then that Leon realized that he was very much falling for you. he couldn’t get enough. after walking you home that night, he slept so peacefully back in his small dorm. after that day, his affection became more apparent to you. his touches would linger and his eyes would travel towards your lips. 

you’d catch him silently staring at you and the blush on his cheeks rising up from his neck. 

it didn’t take you long to catch feelings either. perhaps, the feelings were always there from the very moment you met him. he was always on your mind, you always worried for him, and you missed him when he wasn’t around. 

one night, he was walking you home. you both were walking at a very slow pace, neither of you wanting to say your goodbyes yet. 

“Leon?” you asked him, turning towards him and looking up into his eyes. you wanted him to know that you were serious. 

“what’s up? you okay? you cold?” he was always so sweet, and so caring. it made you all fuzzy inside.

“i’m okay,” you smiled at him, a small laugh slipping past your lips. “it’s just,” you stopped in your tracks which halted his own, he stepped in front of you placing his hands on your forearms and rubbing up and down. 

“hey, you okay?”

you stayed quiet and looked up at him, your heart hurt every time you could see a new bruise forming on his face or his neck and arms. you just wanted to kiss his scars away and hug him tight. 

“i want you to know that i’m always here for you and that i’m just a call away if you ever need me,” 

his hands slowed and paused at your elbows, his eyes went from worry to relief and then to a soft and kind look. slightly widening as his eyebrows upturned. 

“i don’t know, who’s giving you all these bruises but i’m here if you need me.” you sighed, rocking from heel to toe. 

training was rough. it nearly killed him every day and seeing you were the only good part of his days. but hearing those words from you eased his every worry. he knew he could rely on you but he didn’t want to be a burden. 

he never wanted to make you worry about him because you have so many more things to worry about. but you don’t believe that, sure bills and rent are a huge stress but knowing the person you love is in pain is even more of a stab in the heart. 

“you don’t have to worry about me,” he smiled, bringing you in for a very much-needed hug. you hugged him back instantly, practically squeezing him with all of your strength. 

“but i do,” you spoke, your words muffled into the material of his crew neck. 

you looked up at him, digging your chin into his chest. he looked back down at you and his heart was filled with so much love. god, he’s in love. 

he made it a goal that once he finished training, he was to ask you out. that he was going to ask you on a nice date. 

a steak dinner with wine and smooth jazz. he’d wear his finest suit and you’d wear your most gorgeous dress. he’d hold your hand, look into your eyes, and he'd ask you to be his. 

but who knew that the moment he finished training he was set off on his very first mission. he was terrified. again, he was a rookie stepping into an arena so foreign to him. 

he had Krauser and others by his side to keep him afloat but it was every man to themselves out here. 

he got back home safely, just a dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist no biggie. so he instantly made his way to your condo, it had to be today. 

the week-old flowers sat in the passenger seat of his car, pretty much dead but some were still okay. the box of your favorite chocolates he planned to give you was now warm and probably melted but it had to be today. 

you were worried sick. Leon didn’t come to visit you at work few the past few days, you called and texted his cell but no prevail. your messages were unread and your calls went straight to voicemail. you left a dozen of messages.

each one getting more and more panicked. he told you he finished training so where in the hell did he disappear to?

your prayers were answered by multiple rings at your doorbell and a rhythmic knock at your door. you knew it was him, he was the only one that knocked with that tune. you swung the covers off of your lap and ran out of your bedroom, your feet sliding on the hardwood floors. 

you were quick to undo the multiple locks on the door before swinging the door open to see him. 

you were instantly put at ease at the sight of his face but then you saw a sling on his arm and a cast on his wrist. 

“Leon! what happene-“

before you could spit out another word, he brought his good arm from behind his back revealing a bouquet of flowers and a box of your favorite chocolates. 

“will you be my girlfriend?” he stammered out, “or would you let me be your boyfriend? um-“ 

you gave him an answer by throwing yourself at him. wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close to you, crushing the flowers in the process. 

“yes yes! of course i will!” you smiled into his chest. the smell of his cologne brought ease to your heart but you could also smell antiseptic on him which reminded you that he was hurt. 

you pulled away and looked up at his face, a bandage covering a cut on his cheek and his lip swollen from a cut. 

“my god! what happened to you?” you cupped his cheek, swiping your thumb over the small bandage. 

you led him inside, frantically taking the flowers and chocolates from him and placing them down on the kitchen table. you rushed back over to him, helping him stand upright as he slipped off his shoes. 

“i’m sorry to come over so late and to ask you out like that i,” he sighed, “i had a plan, a nice dinner and romance but i had work last minu-“

before he could say another thing, your lips were on his. your lips hit his teeth at first but once he got a motion of what was going on he was quick to reciprocate. he sighed into your lips and instantly melted into your embrace. 

his lips were soft and warm, you could feel his cut now scabbed up brushing against your bottom lip but you didn’t care. you’ve waited for this moment for so so long. 

you both pulled away with a slow smack and you kept your hand on his cheek, “dinner or not, you’re all i need.” you said to him with a smile. 

you were overwhelmed with so many emotions. both sadness and happiness. you were sad that he was hurt but you were happy he was here. even though he should be resting instead of hauling his ass to your doorstep. 

“thank you,” he smiled, pressing his lips to yours again. he could get used to this, kissing you and holding you close. he could get used to your kindness and care, finally you see him for him. 

that night he told you a fraction of why he had so many bruises, how he was training to become something big and how he finally went out onto his first mission. 

and you learned throughout the first few months of your relationship that this was a regular thing. his missions were tough but you knew he was strong, you knew he would always come back to you and he knew that you’d be waiting there with open arms. 

Leon made sure to spoil you, with flowers every time he came over, and your favorite snacks. simple date nights that consisted of takeout and movies. it was the small things that counted for you. 

you always told him you never needed fancy dinners and the best luxurious clothes and shoes. all you needed was him. 

you made him feel special and more than he thought he was capable of feeling. 

though tonight was special. you come home to all your lights off and the smell of vanilla wafting in the air. 

“Leon?” you called out, placing the bags of groceries down on the kitchen table. a flickering orange light brought you to the living room and you were shocked to see that the fireplace had been lit, the coffee table had been moved, and replaced with a large blanket. 

pillows and candles, snacks and food, and especially Leon. 

he stood in the middle of the room, looking at you with a large smile on his face. 

“babe, what is this?” you smiled at him, your cheeks aching. 

“happy six-month anniversary baby,” he chuckled, walking over to you. 

he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a deep and passionate kiss, cupping your jaw and holding you close, slowly swaying you back and forth in his hold. your knees went weak at his touch and at the feeling of his tongue slotting with yours. 

you pulled away, biting down on your lip as you looked at the scenery in front of you. 

the fireplace gave the room a romantic aura, the hues of orange and red along with the cracking of fire wood and the whipping of high flames. the candles were your favorite scent, wafting in the air around you along with the smell of chinese takeout and chocolate covered strawberries. 

“oh honey,” you looked back over to him, smiling at him with your eyes. god you could marry him right now. “i thought you had work today,” you gasped at him, swatting his chest playfully. 

he rocked you back and forth, leaning down and touching his nose with yours, “i lied, i’m sorry baby.” 

“mmm,” you hummed before placing a kiss onto his lips, “i forgive you.” 

he lead you over into the middle of the blanket, guiding you to sit down and take a look at all the little small gifts he prepared for you.

a record of your favorite album from your favorite artists. little small gummies. a new pair of fluffy socks. a few hair accesories. and a velvet box.

you looked over at him, trembling with anticipation. 

“open it!” he chuckled, growing impatient and snuggling into your side, watching you intently as you opened it. inside was a small ring paired with a chain. 

“it’s a promise ring,” he slowly took the box from you and slid the ring out from its wedge. 

“i promise to be your love forever, i promise to treat you right, i promise to be loyal and faithful,” he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit. 

he took your ring measurement one night when you were sleeping. 

“i promise to be the perfect boyfriend to you and future husband,” he smiled, his eyes looking into yours as he placed a kiss over the cold ring that was slowly being warmed up by your body heat. 

"and lastly, i promise to forever be yours."

your heart was filled with so much love, you couldn’t express it into words how thankful you were for him. he was a gentlemen. even if he was hurt, his muscles sore and bruises decorating his fair skin, he made sure to walk you home. 

even with his busy schedule and demanding job, he made time for you and your relationship. 

“i love you,” you told him. it was your first time ever saying those words to him, it took you long enough but you’re here now. 

“i love you so much more,” he tackled you down onto the floor with a deep kiss, teeth clashing into each other and noses squishing together. you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him close to you.  

there was much more to this kiss, much more than passion and drive. there was hunger and longing. his hands trailed underneath your his crewneck, caressing your sides. you arched into his touch, opening your mouth to him and giving him permission to run his tongue over yours. 

you moaned at his taste, the taste of sweet and tangy strawberry and you felt hot underneath his touch. but then he pulled away. 

“i’m sorry, i got a little ahead of myself,” he laughed nervously as he pressed his forehead against yours. you licked your lips and shook your head. 

“it’s okay, i’m … i’m ready.” you whispered to him. 

you watched his adams apple bob as he gulped a lump down his throat. you two have been putting off sex for so long all because he didn’t want to hurt you and you were scared at first. but now, you’re sure. 

you knew in your heart and in your soul that Leon was the one. he’s patient and loving, he’s never once overstepped your boundaries or made you feel like complete shit. 

“are you sure? i don’t … i don’t want to hurt you.” he whispered to you, reaching up to cup your cheek. 

“i’m sure,” you squirmed beneath him a bit, “i want it.” 

he nodded his head, “i don’t know if i’ll last long,” he said with a breathy laugh. 

you reassured him by shaking your head, “that’s fine, i just want you.” 

“okay.” 

he was excited but also very cautious. his kisses were slow and tender, his touch gentle and soft. his hands made their way back up under your sweatshirt and he practically moaned into your mouth when he could feel you had no bra on. 

he tested the waters by sliding a finger over your erect nipple, eliciting a small moan from the back of your throat. his cock jumped at the way you struggled to kiss him back.

his slow touched were setting you off, they felt so good and your whole entire body ached for him. 

his hand left your breast, and he pulled away from your lips. 

“i’m going to take this off now, is that okay?” he was out of breath, breathing heavily onto your mouth and looking only at your face. 

you nodded, heart thrumming in your chest at the feeling of his fingers toying with the hem of your sweatshirt. 

“i’m going to need your words, babe.” 

“you can take it off.” 

he nodded, slowly lifting the hem of your sweatshirt over your head, lazily throwing it to the side and onto the couch behind you two. when he looked back down you were covering your breasts with one arm while you were propped up on the other. 

there was a blush on your cheeks and your eyes were avoiding his. part of the reason you were scared to have sex with Leon was because you were afraid he wasn’t going to like it or like you.

your body wasn’t perfect and certainly wasn’t like a supermodel. you had stretchmarks and cellulite. 

“hey,” he sighed out, leaning back over you. he placed a hand onto your arm, slowly rubbing his calloused finger over your skin. 

“sorry,”

“no, don’t be sorry.” he placed a kiss on your lips, short but sweet. “you’re beautiful okay? you don’t ever have to hide yourself from me.” 

you smiled up at him and nodded slowly as you removed your arm from over your chest. he didn’t look at the way your breasts bounced, instead, he just looked deeply into your eyes, soothing you with his soft ones. 

he leaned down into your ear, whispering the words, “i’m so lucky to have you.” 

he placed a kiss below your ear and shivers ran down your body and fire ignited in your stomach. his kisses continued down your neck, his lips lightly sucking onto your skin to create little purple hickeys on your skin. 

you writhed underneath him, grinding yourself down onto his thigh slotted between your legs, you needed more. 

your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, pushing him closer to your skin and silently begging for more. 

testing the waters a bit, he scraped his teeth along your collarbone earning a small gasp from you. 

“does that feel okay?” 

“harder.”

“yes ma’am,”

he did it again, biting down a bit harder and something deep inside you relished in the sting and also in the fact that he was marking you as his. 

he continued to venture down your body, placing a soft kiss to your pebbled nipple. you liked that, a lot. his other hand worked with kneading your left breast while his mouth placed soft kisses on the other. 

“Leon, stop teasing me.” you arched your back, pushing your chest further against his lips. he chuckled against your skin, before running his tongue over your nipple and bringing it in between his lips. 

he gave it a soft suck earning a small moan to leave your lips and your thighs to clench around his own. 

he stood up onto his knees, leaving your tit with a pop. he reached for the hem of his own shirt and brought it over his head. his beauty never failed to amaze you, chiseled muscle and veins. braodness and brood. 

such a gentle face and such a godly body. 

he leaned back down over you, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. he needed you now more than ever, he was filled with more than just love for you but also deep hunger and eagerness. 

you itched for more of him, you knew he was being careful but you wanted more. you trusted Leon with your heart, body, and soul. you were willing to give yourself to him completely. 

you moaned into his mouth, loving the way he tasted and the heat of his kiss. dominating you, taking control, guiding you. 

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. you never knew you could crave someone so much as you crave Leon. you wanted more, more than he could possibly give you. his fingers played with the hem of your shorts, his eyes asking permission to take them off. 

you nodded up at him with a gleam in your eyes. god he was beautiful. 

how could someone look so angelic, speak so elegantly, touch so softly, and love so purely? 

Leon wanted to cherish you. you were his first, he didn’t want to hurt you or make you hate him. he wanted to remember this night forever, tonight he wanted to give himself completely to you. he didn’t want to hide anymore. 

the hole that was left in his heart was no longer there because of you. his scars were healed and he could never be so thankful. 

you kicked off your shorts and your panties, now completely bare to him. even then, he didn’t let his eyes travel away from yours. those blue orbs of his spoke for him and soothed your every insecurity. 

you were aching for him, your cunt fluttered with need and your body itched to feel him. 

“let me know if you want to stop,” he said placing a kiss over your collarbone. 

“just say the words and i’ll stop,” he whispered huskily against your tit. you shook your head, eagerly watching as he made his way down your stomach with wet, open-mouthed kisses. 

you didn’t want him to stop, your stomach was doing flips with every kiss he placed on your skin and you felt light-headed. 

when his two calloused fingers made their way through your wet folds, shivers ran up your spine and your walls clenched around nothing. he was slowly testing the waters, rubbing over your clit gently as he kissed your abdomen. 

he looked up into your eyes, noticing the way your hips would buck when he focused on the small swollen bud. he circled his two fingers over your clit, watching you stutter to take a breath in. 

“more,” you breathed out. 

he moved his fingers away, prodding at your fluttering hole while his lips traveled down to kiss over your clit. you sucked in a small breath, looking down at him in between your legs. blonde hair sticking to your sweaty skin and hanging over his eyes. 

one of his muscular arms wrapped around your thigh, while the other was positioned between your legs, his fingers working slowly. 

“Leon, please…” you sighed, throwing your head back. 

he placed one last firm kiss over your clit, “okay, baby, i hear ya'."

he slowly sank his middle finger in between your folds, wet and hot. the slight stretch felt so good and so much bigger compared to yours. he curled his finger against your g-spot as his tongue flicked over your clit.

and god, he was addicted right then and there. sweet and salty with a bit of tang, he moaned into your clit as he added another finger inside of you. 

your thighs clenched around his head as your fingers pushed him deeper into you. his pace quickened, his fingers now thrusting in and out of you as his tongue flicked at your swollen clit. the wet slick sounds filled his ears along with your deep moans. 

you were dripping all over his fingers and tongue. he was beginning to grind his erection into the floor underneath him, his whole entire body was hot and itching with the need to be inside you. he’s never felt this way before, he was eager to make you come and even more eager for you to be his first. 

to see you stretched out for him with his name dripping like honey off of your lips. 

“more, please…” you moaned out to him. he was quick to obey, flattening his tongue over your cut and slowly flicking his tongue at your entrance. 

“that okay?” 

you nodded quickly, your insides were begging for more. 

he slowed down, reminding you to use your words. “yes! yes! that’s okay.” 

his tongue was hot and felt like heaven inside of you, lewd wet noises paired with the whines of his name. his arms came around your thighs again, holding your hips down as he eagerly fucked his tongue inside of you. 

wet and sloppy is how he’d describe it, but he was in heaven. he loved being suffocated by your thighs and your cunt, he could die just like this. he moaned into your heat, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head at the very taste of you. 

your legs began to tremble and the aching feeling inside your stomach was only getting tighter. you wanted to feel him, you wanted to feel him stretch you and touch those deepest parts inside of you. you were ready to fully give yourself to him. 

you were shy at first, scared even but now you were sure.

you tugged on his hair, prompting him to stop.

“you okay? is it too much?”

you shook your head, pulling him up towards you, “i need you.” you breathed out to him. he felt like the air in his lungs had been taken away, he couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think either. hearing you say those words, with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, did something to him. 

he nodded, gulping a lump down his throat. he prayed to the gods above that he wasn’t going to finish the moment he slid himself inside of you. he prayed he was good enough. 

“okay,”

you eagerly brought him down to your lips, sucking on his already swollen bottom lip. he tasted like you and something about you kissing him right after he ate you out was so incredibly hot to him. he held himself above you as his other hand went to work his sweats off of his legs. 

you were trembling with excitement, so much to the point you were struggling to kiss him back. being so close to him like this, your sweaty bodies sticking together and the smell of sex in the air, it was heaven on earth. 

a shiver shook through you as he pressed his length in between your folds, “oh my god,”

he was thick and heavy, you could feel the heat radiating off his cock and onto your clit. it was glorious. 

he slowly began to grind his hips into you, the tip of his cock pushing up against your clit in the most gentle way. it earned him a moan of his name, slipping from your lips and directly into his ear. 

he groaned above you, his eyebrows scrunching together and sucking the taste of you off his bottom lip. he looked down at where your bodies met, admiring the way your cunt lubricated his dick. oh yeah, he’s not going to last long. 

he looked back up at you, to see you looking where he was. your lips agape, sucking in small breaths, and your eyebrows upturned in pleasure. 

“you okay?” 

“yeah, it’s just …. intimidating.” 

he chuckled at your choice of words, leaning down and placing a deep, slow kiss on your lips. he pulled away, placing his forehead to yours, “let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 

you nodded, lacing his fingers with yours as his other went to grab the base of his cock. carefully, he pressed his tip into you, his shoulders shuddering as he slowly sank into your heat. you were so wet and hot it was driving him crazy. 

you back arched into him as he slowly sank into you, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hung open in a gasp. it stung but felt so good. 

“oh my god, you’re amazing,” he gasped onto your lips, “so gorgeous,” he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

his hips flushed against yours, and finally, he was buried deep inside of you, kissing your cervix with his dripping tip. you could feel him everywhere, in your heart, your mind, and your soul. you looked into his eyes, your legs trembling and your walls clenching. 

“please, move.” you begged him. 

he nodded, he was still composing himself, trying to keep himself from coming right there and then. but slowly, his hips began to thrust. pulling out and sinking back in with a slow and languid pace. each thrust of his cock got less and less painful. 

and it wasn’t long until he was thrusting at a steady pace and you were moaning loudly into the air. your nails sunk into the skin of his shoulders, dragging down his back to leave red lines all over his pale skin. 

“fuck!” you whined. 

he brought his free hand to your thigh, guiding it around his waist. his thigh moved to press down on your other leg, spreading you open for him — allowing him to fuck you deeper. your eyes shot open at the feeling of him hitting you deeper and your breath stuttered. 

he was so good, so perfect, everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“god Leon, that’s so good,” you moaned up to him. 

you were like a dream, this didn’t feel real to him but oh it was so real. you were all he’s ever wanted in a beautiful human form. everyone has abused his kindness, he was always a rookie who didn’t know better.  

to everyone in his life. all his past relationships, whether it was romantic or friendship, he spent sacrificing his goodwill. but you brought his smile back, you healed his scars, and filled the holes in his heart. you saw more than a rookie. you saw him for him.

that’s why he means it when he says:

“i love you,” his voice came out in a small moan. his abdomen was tight and he was struggling to hold on. "oh, i'm close"

“me too,” you told him. he nodded, bringing the hand on your thigh over to your swollen clit. rubbing slowly and putting just the right amount of pressure. 

you clenched around his throbbing cock, moaning out his name as your back arched off the ground. he took this chance to bring your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. 

you snapped, stars danced behind your eyes and the pressure inside of you finally ruptured. he wasn’t far behind, groaning out your name and then sinking himself deep into you to paint your walls with his hot seed. 

his dick jumped and kicked inside of you, his muscles taut and his hand squeezing around your own. 

both of you took a minute to catch your breaths, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily and holding you so tight. your legs were wrapped around his hips, keeping his nestled inside of you, he’s never felt so safe in your embrace like this. 

“that was … amazing,” he spoke in between hot breaths. you chuckled, placing a kiss on his sweaty forehead. 

he pulled away from the crook of your neck, looking up at you with every emotion swimming in the pools of his eyes. 

“i love you.” 

“i love you more.” 

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Two - Angel

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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Series Masterlist

READ PLS: hello my lovelies!! So, if you're here from the first part, pls either reread or take note that I have removed all connection to the bianchi family -- the brother is called Louis and the last name is Dupont

Max returned to that spot time and time again. He drove past the café almost every day for his first week in Monaco. Sometimes his angel was there, sometimes she wasn't.

This time, though, when Max drove past, she was there. Sitting in the café with a fruity smoothie in front of her, wearing another sun dress. This time it was green, the skirt slightly shorter and little white flowers decorating it.

Max parked up around the corner. He straightened his tie and climbed out of his car. Always dressed in a suit just in case anybody needed him. Just in case his father called him back to work.

He walked past her, paying no mind as he stepped through the café doors. But then he stepped back, something between a smirk and a smile on his face as he walked towards her.

"Hi," he said, his hand on the back of the chair opposite her own. "Can I ask what you ordered? I'm hoping to get something sweet."

She knew not to talk to strangers. Even before the death of her brother, she had been taught how much danger she was in at all times. Normally Charles would be here to take care of it, to glare a the stranger until they moved away.

But Charles wasn't here. This is what she got for sneaking out.

Thank God this guy was cute. That shouldn't have been a reason to answer him, but she did. She held up her plastic cup and shook it slightly, answering him. "Strawberry banana," she said and put the straw to her lips. Max watched as the pink liquid moved up the straw. "It's incredibly sweet."

Max couldn't stop his smile from widening. He leaned against the chair in front of him now, not just resting his hands on it. "Is it as sweet as you?"

Oh, he was flirting with her.

She couldn't hide her embarrassment. Every time a mad had tried to flirt with her before, Charles had shut them down and scared them off.

But this man, well Charles wasn't there to scare him off. For the first time in her life a man was openly flirting with her. He was flirting with her and it was making het all bashful. And maybe a little bit shy.

He held his large hand out towards her. She couldn't help but take notice of the watch on his wrist. It was no doubt expensive, but that wasn't a surprise, considering where they were. "I'm Max," he said, keeping his hand stretched out.

She took it, but her grip was loose as she told him her name. "But everybody calls me Bunny."

"Bunny," he responded, listening to the way it rolled off of his tongue. He liked it, liked how it sounded. But, if everybody called her Bunny, Max needed something else. He looked at her, really looked at her. Looked at the way her hair fell around her shoulders, the way her fingers, nails painted to match her dress, wrapped around her plastic cups. Looked at the way her pink lips wrapped around her straw. "Angel. I think it's more fitting."

Before Max could say anything further, his phone beeped. Saving her, he couldn't help but think. "Well, Angel, I have to go," he said, standing up straight. "Can I see you again?" 

She smiled as she nodded. "You know where to find me," she said and sipped the rest of her drink.

Max looked at her once more and walked away, down the street and back to his car. For the last week Max had been waiting for his father to call him back to work and, now that he had, he didn't want to leave. 

Max disappeared and she was alone. She sipped her smoothie and returned to her small sketchbook, pencil moving against the page. 

Suddenly, somebody slipped into the seat opposite her. She looked up, hoping it was Max, returning to flirt with her some more. But she was met with disappointment.

"Oh, Arthur," she said when she looked at the youngest Leclerc brother. "Am I in trouble?"

Arthur let out a small laugh and furrowed her brows at her. "You sneak out too often to get into trouble, Bun," he replied as he looked around. 

"Not because I spoke to that guy?" She asked innocently. 

But Arthur's face dropped. He may have been younger than her, but he was still tasked with keeping her safe. "Do you remember what this guy looked like, Bunny?" He asked as he grabbed her sketchbook and pulled her from her chair. 

She nodded her head as Arthur led her down the street. "He was cute," she said and let out a little laugh. 

But Arthur wasn't laughing as he looked around the streets. "You know that's not what I meant," he replied as he led her into her apartment building. "You know you're not meant to talk to strangers."

He dragged her up the stairs and pulled her into her apartment. Arthur immediately sat her down and checked every crevice of the apartment. He grabbed the knife from the kitchen and checked inside of the bedroom. 

Nothing, her apartment was clear. 

"Fucking hell, Bunny," Arthur spat. "You had me terrified."

She pouted as she fiddled with her fingers. "He was flirting with me, 'thur. I think he really thought I was cute," she mumbled and laid herself down on the sofa, pulling her legs into her chest. 

Arthur released a breath from his nose as he looked down at her. "Of course he did, Bunny," he whispered and ran his fingers through her hair. "It's just... Charles and I don't know this person. We don't know if they can be trusted.”

She didn't reply.

Eventually Charles came to her apartment. When he let himself in, Arthur retreated to the kitchen. To 'make dinner', he had said. (But, something you should know about the Leclerc brothers is that neither of them could cook very well. Arthur stopped by his mothers every night for dinner and Charles wouldn't eat unless Bunny cooked for him).

The first thing Charles did was stride over to her. He sat on the end of the couch and looked down at her. "I'm not mad you snuck out," he said. Which, although it sounded like it, it wasn't a good sign. If it wasn't because of the sneaking out, he was mad about something else.

She didn't look at him, instead staring at her coffee table. There was a light layer on dust on it, and she made a mental note to clean it later. After this stupid conversation.

"But, Bunny, I need you to tell me who this guy is. Did he give you a name? Any indication of who she was?"

She'd made the mistake of telling Arthur something, she wasn't going to do it again. She tried her best to shrug her shoulders from the position she was sitting in, but it didn't much work. "He just asked what flavour my smoothie was," she said and sat up slightly.

She couldn't tell if Charles believed her or not. He simply let out a sigh and patted her leg. "Wanna get take out?" He asked softly. "We can kick Arthur out, share Chinese food and watch a movie. How does that sound, Bun?"

Her arms were folded over her chest as she sat up and looked at him. "Are you paying for it?" She asked through a pout.

"Yeah, Bun, I'll pay for it," he said and went to the kitchen to grab the menus. At the same time he kicked Arthur out of the apartment (grateful that he hadn't started cooking any sort of monstrosity yet).

Charles knew exactly what he was going to be ordering, but he still handed her the menu. She asked for the same thing every time, and this time was no different. He was on the phone, ordering food within minutes.

He couldn't concentrate on much through the movie. Charles watched her, but he couldn't help but think of some faceless stranger, snatching her in the middle of the night.

He'd let her get away with sneaking out, even if he hadn't meant to. But not again. There was no way Charles was going to let her out of his sight now.

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minseok-smaus @formulaal @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris @evlkking @lilymurphy03 @hollie911 @customsbyjcg-blog @honethatty12 @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @not-nyasa

Series taglist (OPEN): @doofensmirtzevil-inc @styl1shl1v @dreamsarebig @bokutos-babyowl @minmira95 @booksandflowrs @spookystitchery @purplephantomwolf @minchedchilli @starssfall @mellowarcadefun @the-ghost-lovwr @solidalibi @graydahlia21 @st4rshine @iloveyou3000morgan @vicurious28

[odxrilove]

SILVER PLATTER – l.jn

pairing: jeno x f!reader

genre: band!au (not mentionned much!!), uni!au, friends to ?, 3k~

synopsis: when you get confessed to in front of your friends and band members, not everyone seems to think it's funny.

back to masterlist!

“– I know that we aren’t really close but ever since the day you asked for my notes in our english literature seminar last year, i’ve been admiring you from afar! You always look so mysterious and so cool and- and, you’re even in a band! I- I don’t really listen to your group’s music except for your parts– your voice is really beautiful!– i’ve loved you for so long and i–” 

“But,” you cut off the nervous boy’s rambling a little too firmly than you would have liked, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I don't know you…” 

There it is, the sentence that makes Donghyuck burst out into laughter. 

You can hear a stifled laugh from where you’re standing near the guitar stands and you don’t even have to guess to know who the culprit is. You can feel your friends’ eyes boring holes in your back from the other side of the room and you just know Jaemin and Donghyuck are having a field day seeing you like this. 

When you look back at the boy in front of you, you audibly sigh as he turns beet red, holding his hands in front of him and staring at his shoes. “Look, i’m sure you’re a really nice guy but i’m not really interested in dating–” 

You feel bad, even more so when he– whose name is still unknown– gives you puppy eyes. Automatically, your voice softens as much as possible and a frown takes over your face. 

“–you.”

Your back is still turned to your friends but you know they are listening in on the conversation as best as they can, hungry for anything with which they can tease you with. 

Donghyuck is glued onto every word you tell the poor boy, narrating everything in a whisper to Renjun. Renjun (you pity him, truly) doesn’t seem fazed by the ongoing situation, which only makes his best friend complain. 

You don’t even have to glance their way to know that Donghyuck is probably taking up all the space on one of the couches in the corner of the music room, legs dangling off and arms crossed over the backrest. 

You’re sure he’s smiling with every second that passes. He’s so evil, you think.

The boy in front of you seems to space out for a minute or so and you, being the awkward person and people pleaser you are, stay still in place, patiently and nervously waiting for him to gather his thoughts. 

He snaps out of it when he hears Jaemin chuckle about disliking “tomatoes” and you don’t think you’ve ever wished to be buried six feet under as much as you do now. Why can’t they just act normal in delicate situations!

You cross your arms over your chest, your hoodie (Jeno’s hoodie, so unofficially your hoodie) keeping you warm as cold wind enters the room every time someone opens the door. 

This is awkward– worser than usual.

It’s not the first time someone has confessed to you, but it certainly is the first time that you can’t even place a name on the person asking you out. Guilt fills your veins but you’re sure the guy doesn’t feel that good himself either. 

You place the notebook you were holding on the desk next to you and rake a hand through your hair, other hand on your hip as you wait. And wait.

The hoodie hangs comfortably off your shoulders and the mix of laundry detergent, mint and raspberry-lemonade fills your nostrils. In a way, the scent is comforting, surrounding and hugging you. 

You really like Jeno’s laundry detergent. Maybe he can tell you the brand he uses.

You also really like how fruity the hoodie smells– hints of raspberry floating in the air around you– just like the smoothie Jeno had bought for you earlier that morning. You think it’s cute how there is something that “belongs” to you on something that belongs to Jeno (you even smile a bit at the thought). 

Oh. This feels weird.

Just before you can turn around and glance at your friends, a small voice interrupts your thoughts. It takes you a few seconds to realize the boy (he’s probably a few years younger than you– maybe a sophomore?) is talking to you and when his eyes meet yours, he quickly clears his throat and starts over. 

God, you feel awful. You’re the worst senior ever.

This time, you really try to focus on his words, although the giggles and teasing chuckles coming from the back of the room make it a really difficult task. “uhm, you- you said you didn’t want to date me,” he gulps and you almost cringe at the tremor in his voice (poor, poor guy) “is it because you have someone else?” 

Well, you didn’t expect him to be so blunt minutes after getting rejected. 

Nodding your head a few times, your tongue feels numb and your fingers start to tingle at how tight you curl them into a first. You don’t really know what to say, partially because you don’t want to make the boy cry and also because you know your friends are listening. 

Donghyuck is listening (he’s always listening) and everyone knows how dramatic he can be. He would probably gasp and claim your reputation as the hot sultry cold-hearted bassist of your band is ruined.

Jeno is listening too. You don’t even want to start thinking about his possible reaction– that can be a problem for another day (procrastinating is your biggest flaw).

Oh well, honesty comes first. Your mom would be proud if she knew.

The words coming out of your mouth in waves are barely comprehensible and you realize mid-sentence that the one supposed to understand them the most doesn’t. So, after a sigh and a deep breath, you start over. 

“I’m single but I do have my eyes on,” you pause, voice cracking and ears red– you can just feel them watching you, ”someone.” 

(You hope the boy doesn’t realize how awkward and stiff you are).

It’s like waiting for a verdict, standing there in the middle of the room while the boy slowly comes to realization. When it finally dawns on him, he throws his backpack on a desk nearby and starts to quickly gather his things, scrambling to put them in his flimsy bag. 

Your mouth falls open but nothing comes out so you just stare in surprise. Just when he begins to zip up his bag, he turns to you and upon finding you staring at him, flinches, sending his open bag toppling to the ground. 

Notebooks, pens and papers cover the ground soon after and at the disheartening sight at your feet, you crouch down alongside the sophomore (or freshman, you’re not sure) to help him pick his stuff up. He likely didn’t notice you crouching down to help him because he flinches even harder when you accidentally brush up against his sleeve.

In a split second, he’s out the door, the words “I’m sorry” dying on your tongue. He’s left behind a few scattered papers, a textbook you were holding out to him and a single pen hiding near a desk leg. 

You, on the other hand, are ready to bury yourself alive. What an awful day (it all started this morning when you ran out of milk for your cereals– ugh, you really don’t want to talk about it!)

With a huff and pressed lips you get up from your spot on the floor, brushing off the dust from your knees and picking up your notebook from one of the desks. Shame overwhelms you as you walk back to your friends in the corner of the room, holding both books in your hands and trying not to let the embarrassment take over– you’ll probably cry. 

Jaemin is the first one to greet you with a grin you can only describe as malicious. His arms are crossed over his chest and he seems to have enjoyed the scene, just like Donghyuck, who whistles and pushes your thigh with the tip of his shoe when you walk by. 

You throw the two notebooks on the old shabby coffee table and plop down on the couch, burying yourself as deep as possible in the sofa. You grab a pillow next to you and put it on your lap, using it as a shield for your eyes. 

Donghyuck continues to laugh all throughout and you even hear Renjun let out a little chuckle. Assholes. 

Jeno is the only one you haven’t heard from since you’ve come back to your little circle and when you uncover your eyes, you notice how his jaw is clenched. He looks intimidating, one arm hanging off the armrest and the other behind you on the headrest. He’s lazily tapping the side of the couch with his fingers but you know it’s only to calm himself down. You don’t realize you’re staring until he speaks up. 

“Stop trying to analyze me, psych major freak.” oof.

You roll your eyes, huffing and expressing your discontent through a pout as you hug the pillow. It’s not long before he gives in and flicks your forehead, eyes softening. “Stop trying to make me feel bad, it almost works.” He mutters. 

(You like that you know his weaknesses by heart).

“Hey yn,” You whip your head around at the mention of your name. “you’ sure the guy wasn’t something for you? I heard he works at that new cafe on campus you like.” Jaemin laughs at his own joke and highfives Donghyuck, proud of himself. 

You fall silent for a short while. “Is that why I kinda recognized him?– anyways, that doesn’t matter, he could literally be my little brother!” You whine a bit, “you’re not even being funny…”

Renjun tsks at his friends’ behavior but continues mindlessly scrolling through his phone, clearly more invested in a random reddit AITA tiktok video than their endless banter. 

This time, it’s Donghyuck that decides you need to be teased. “So, are you going to tell us who your prince charming is, the oh-so famous guy you like?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Oh c’mon!” Donghyuck offendedly throws his hands in the air, “If Jeno had asked you, you would have told him..” 

You can only chuckle a bit as your friend had already given up, sliding down the couch to prop his feet on the coffee table, ultimately making it creak. Jeno doesn’t miss the way your cheeks heat up, and you don’t miss how he smirks because he knows ‘Hyuck’s right. 

A small group on the other side of the room starts prepping some instruments so you let yourself relax, falling back against the backrest and pulling the hoodie’s sleeves over your hands. 

You really enjoy hanging out with your friends in the music room, it’s never boring. More often than not, the room is completely empty for you to use, and with its couches, taking naps between band practice is a must and a privilege on campus. 

Your seat on the red couch is your self-designated spot, and sometimes when you’re feeling extra childish, you tease Jeno about having deliberately picked the spot next to you, even though you know Renjun always chooses the beanbag and the other two always run for the leather couch, leaving him with no other option than next to you. 

Jeno never denied your claim though, because with time it’s like he indeed deliberately chooses the seat next to you, every single time. 

He also likes hearing and seeing you giggle after you tease him, but you don’t have to know that. 

If Jeno had to be honest with himself, he knew he was a bad liar when it came to you, but that didn’t stop him from trying to act like he was oblivious to your friends’ teasing concerning your close friendship. 

He knows they would probably text him later that day, snarky comments about how you’ve been wearing his clothes much more regularly than usual. And like always, Jeno would just send a disapproving text back, followed by two or three middle fingers emojis, depending on his mood. 

Tonight, it would surely be five middle fingers. 

There’s one thing he can’t deny though, and it’s that you are indeed wearing his clothes more regularly. At first, he would roll his eyes when seeing you in one of his sweaters during class, just to keep the act up, but now, he can’t help but look you up and down and give you a little nod. 

You had loved to point out that he smiled yesterday morning when seeing you, which he rushed to deny, ears furiously turning red. 

You looked good though– maybe he would lend you his new green hoodie (moreso “accidently” leaving it at yours after hanging out). He just knows the color would suit you.

His arm is still on the headrest behind you and your hair brushes against his sleeve. He could pat your head right now, or fiddle with the loose strands of your hair, his hand is right behind you. He doesn’t let himself indulge in that little fantasy (he’d prefer to call it a fleeting thought) of his though. Not yet at least.

Your eyes glance over jeno’s profile, watching his hair fall in front of his eyes and his eyelashes flutter, before a small chuckle escapes your mouth. You turn to Donghyuck just as Jeno looks at you, curious. 

“Maybe I’ll tell y’all one day.” You smirk, acting disinterested as you study your nails, shrugging, “Maybe not.” 

A loud whine escapes Donghyuck and you have to cover your giggles so as to not “offend” him more. Your friend drags his plea on, lifting his arms in the air to show his desperation and getting slapped on the arm by Jaemin in the process, trying to shut him up.

Shivers run down your spine when you feel Jeno’s breath near your cheek and your eyes widen slightly, not used to the proximity. When you turn your face to look at him, body slightly stiff, you make eye contact with him and he seems entertained by your reaction. With the way his eyes shine and his lips are curled, you know his tone is going to be teasing. “Y’know, you were very professional back there..” 

You don’t answer directly, startled, so your laugh sounds a bit breathless as you try to find the right words, your mouth suddenly dry. “You think so?” 

He hums, leaning back a bit and spreading his legs before lifting one over the other. “If you need me to pretend to be your boyfriend, just ask,” With a grin, he swipes his fluffy hair back, some strands immediately falling back, too unruly, “I’ll come running.” 

You’re surprised by his forwardness but can’t help but find it endearing– the way his smile turns warm and adoration fills his eyes. It’s something you’ve always enjoyed seeing in Jeno, and knowing it’s directed towards you makes you giddy, your cheeks heating up.

You’re shying away but you don’t really want him to know all the effect he has on you– although you’re sure he knows quite well already– so you tease back, head tilting to the side, “Jeno Lee, are you offering yourself to me on a silver platter?” You furrow your eyebrows dramatically, mouth opening in a mocking gasp. 

In return, Jeno eyes your crossed arms and cocks an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t want to overshadow your crush though.” 

You lick your lips and Jeno stares.

“He won’t have to know.” 

A smile breaks out onto his face and you tear your gaze away, too embarrassed by your own words to face him. You can still feel his eyes on the side of your face so you look down to his jeans, swiftly flicking his upper thigh to direct his attention elsewhere. Anywhere but on you really. 

A short chuckle leaves him before he’s coughing to cover it up, wanting to please you. It’s not long before he too faces your other friends and allows himself to relax a bit, finally rejoining the friendly banter in your circle. 

You don’t question it and Jeno doesn’t express it but the arm he slides over the backrest and around the back of your neck and shoulders means something. The weight of his toned arm feels nice on your shoulders and the touch of his fingertips against the sleeve of your hoodie is almost fleeting, but still present. 

Unconsciously, you smile and Jeno thinks you’ve never been prettier, with his arm around you and a soft blush adorning your cheeks. 

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @cherriespopsicle @odetoyeonjun @sensitively-taken @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @todorokiskitten @4xiaojun @chokopocky @silverdoragon @neos127 @angelyeo-hyj @dokyeomkyeom @moonkyeom

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[paddockbunny]

List B + Challenge with Lando please!

Good Kisser

Summary : The first time you had kissed Lando it was well, the worst kiss you had ever had. So when you joke he wasn’t a good kisser, he makes sure to prove you wrong Rating : 16+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 1,787 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 16+, NSFW, adult language, nothing too bad Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List B. Prompt : Challenge - after the receiver teasingly suggests that the sender is a terrible kisser, sender immediately and fervently proves them wrong with a long, passionate kiss that leaves the receiver taking back what they said.

You felt the heavy bass of the thumping music reverberating through your bones as you made your way to the VIP table your friends were sitting at.

While everyone had been indulging in the free bottles of liquor that adored the table, you had been good and had barely drunk a thing. You were the responsible adult for your friends tonight - which meant you had to make sure none of the guys went home with any girls - so when you saw Lando raise his glass to his mouth again you rolled your eyes.

“What are you drinking, Norris?” You saddled up beside him. Momentarily, he looked up at you sheepishly but there was also a hint of smugness about him. “Why don’t you try it and see?” He held it out to you. You knew Lando didn’t like the taste of alcohol. He went for fruity little cocktails and sugar based drinks instead of the strong stuff simply because he hated the taste of it. So when you sucked the orangey red liquid up the straw it didn’t surprise you that it tasted like a smoothie. “You’re such a child.” You laughed as you slid into the booth beside him. “I’m really not…” You weren’t sure if he intended you to hear his words or not. They sounded like they were laced with something other than sarcasm. Something more like flirtation. But it was Lando. He was the last person who would be flirting with you.

As Max returned to the table he eyed the pair of you up and down and raised his eyebrow. Max had continually been complaining about how close and cosy you and Lando were. He always moaned about the pair of you seemingly like bosom buddies and like he was third wheeling. Which was utterly ridiculous as there was absolutely nothing going on with him. You were just friends who occasionally flirted. Flirty friends. That was it. Suddenly as you looked at him you saw the mischievous side grip hold of your friend across the table. The glint in his eye gave him away.

“Why don’t the pair you just kiss already?” You mentally wanted to strangle him. See months ago, you had in fact kissed. You and Lando. He had come P2 at his home race and on the night out that followed he kissed you. It wasn’t in the slightest bit romantic and as far as you could get from mind blowing. Actually, it had been a total fail. He had caught you off guard and instead of it being some big breath stealing kiss it was like kissing a dead fish. You were in shock. You had zero idea it was coming and the element of surprise was really, well, surprising. And besides all that, he didn’t actually seem to be into it. He didn’t grab your waist, caress your neck or fist his hands in your hair. He basically stood in front of you and just went for it. His tongue felt too foreign in your mouth, lips to unfamiliar and he felt so distant and uninterested that you even thought he had done it on a dare. Kissing Lando should have felt euphoric. It should have felt like you were the luckiest girl on earth - after all the fans that would have killed you to have been in your position - but it felt more like you were kissing your brother. It was truthfully the worst kiss of your life.

As you shot Max daggers across the table you heard Lando nervously giggle beside you as if he was in on some kind of joke. He had probably told Max all about the failed kiss and made it seem like it was all your fault. Hence the laughter and hence why you played him at his own game. “Please, not again, once was enough.” You jokingly flicked your hair over your shoulder dramatically. It whipped passed him and skimmed the open space left by not doing enough of his shirt buttons up. You glanced at him - thinking he would be ready to laugh about it like you were - and he looked at you like he had never looked at you before. Lando seemed angry. His brow was furrowed and he had a stern look on his face you had only seen when he was pissed about something that happened in a race. “What do you mean?” Tension grew. In fact it grew so large it felt like it a whole person had sat between the pair of you separating you both. You thought he was on the same wave length as you due to the fact neither of you had brought up the failed kiss after it had happened. Now, as nerves began to fill your body, you turned your head and glanced at Max. His eyebrows were raised and he was staring at you with a shocked expression. You were sure Max knew all about it - Lando was a bloody blabber mouth and told him everything after-all - but the look he was shooting you seemed to imply he was himself shocked at your words. Lando hadn’t given him the impression the kiss was good, had he?

“It wasn’t exactly good was it?” Your mouth kept going. You were digging yourself a hole and couldn’t stop. Fuck! This was why you didn’t like the spotlight. You’re mouth had a kind of its own when you got nervous. “Are you saying I’m a bad kisser?” Lando actually sounded offended. “Well, I’m not calling you a good one” It came out quicker than you could stop yourself. Your brain not catching up to your mouth, once again. But you also nervously chuckled to yourself because you were suddenly so anxious and you always laughed when you were uneasy. No one else laughed however. Certainly not Lando himself who was practically staring into your soul, seething in what you were reading as anger. “You’re the only one who has complained.” He said it directly to you. Looking dead in your eyes. “Really?” You we’re pretending to be shocked but you really were actually shocked. The failed Silverstone kiss was all you had to base your assumptions on so could he really blame you that you presumed he had had other complaints about his kissing skills. “Yeah really.” He scoffed.

And then your mouth did it again. It went off on its own accord before you could stop it. And with confidence you suddenly stated broadly; “Prove it”

You had no idea what you thought was going to happen - considering the fact you had quite clearly insulted him and then proceeded to push him - but now as he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow you felt like you could read his thoughts. He was surprised but pleasantly so. The smirk that breezed past his lips told you that. His head turned the opposite direction just as the knot formed in your stomach. If this was how you were thinking it would happen, you were sure he would chicken out. He would never do anything that was even slightly PDA in public. It wasn’t in him.

And then his hand was in your hair, his thigh was hard against yours and his chest pushed against yours. Your eyes closed in time for his lips to suddenly - finally - be on yours. His bottom lip grazed and his top lip captured as your breath was already stolen from you from the utter confusion at what was happening. But as Lando’s hand tugged your hair, your head tilting back for him, your mouth opened against his lips giving him access to your tongue. That was when you felt it. You felt yourself melting, swooning at his kiss. The blood seemed to rush to your ears and beat so loud it drowned out the noise from the nightclub speakers. All you could think about was him and how he was making you feel. Your temperature raised when his tongue glided across your own. He wasn’t forcing a game of dominance, you were already at his mercy. He had reduced you to a puddle on the floor. Your hands found his shirt and you held on to him while subtly trying to pull him into you even more. A deep, low groan flowed freely from him and straight into your mouth which sent a throbbing ache straight between your thighs. Fuck. What was he doing to you. Lando nipped at your bottom lip. Taking it between his teeth at one point making you completely loose control of your mind. You sighed giving him the signal that he had you in the palm of his hand and all you cared about was getting more of him.

But - almost rudely - he pulled away. His lips gone from yours in an instant. His face was only inches away and you stared directly into his beautiful olive green eyes, breathless and full of want.

“Well?” He smirked. His hands were still on you and you felt his body heat radiating from him. Words couldn’t form anymore. Your quick talking mouth had fallen silent from one single kiss from him. There was nothing you could say in response. You’d rather show him, kiss him back, kiss him again. But he pulled back when you went to do it “You didn’t answer. Am I still a bad kisser?” No. That’s all you had to say. You just needed to tell him no, he wasn’t a bad kisser. But you didn’t. “I think I need another sample to really confirm.” You shrugged and tried to brush it off (while trying to ignore the throb going on inside your panties.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He smirked but he gave you what you wanted. He began kissing you again and you never wanted him to stop.

[angelicpoison12]

first date ღ

Angel takes you out for the first time since you’re new in Hell!

M4M/M4A, SFW, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

café date, stargazing, soft kisses, sfw, wholesome moments with your fluffy spider

It was your first date with Angel. Saying you were nervous would be an understatement.

— ❤︎︎ —

You were scared to say the least. Angel helped you take a seat at a small booth in the coffee shop he’d taken you to. The seats were surprisingly clean, the red cushions soft beneath your bodies. The walls of the old coffee shop were stained and had splashes of odd liquid on them from old accidents, yet it seemed like an odd sense of comfort was lingering within the old walls of the establishment.

Angel got a capuchino. You really didn’t know what to get, so you just got a smoothie. Angel then smirked and said, “Don’t got a taste fer coffee, toots?” He asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes. “There’s just so many options.. It’s hard to decide.” You said back in a remark, your hands holding the faded yellowish menu. The smoothie you’d gotten was fruity, and Angel enjoyed his coffee. You both chatted and got closer. You realized that there was more to Angel than his flirtatious facade and sweet face. I mean, you already assumed that there was more, but you never realized how complex and caring he could be.

When you were talking about your past and how gotten to Hell, you noticed Angel’s hand was soft as he placed it on top of yours. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t bring it up. Angel noticed this and smirked. “Aw toots, this okay?” He asked. All you did was nod, smiling bashfully at him. “Yeah, it’s okay,” You told Angel kindly. You and Angel finished your drinks, paid, and left. Angel wanted to show you around Hell, and who were you to refuse?

— ❤︎︎ —

Angel decided to walk with you, his large heels clacking against the concrete of the sidewalk, your hand in his. He pointed excitedly at all of the things he showed you: the outlets, the hellish porn studio, the clubs, the tv shop, a few small restaurants and cafés, downtown where the cannibals lived, and Angel was even gracious enough to take you up a building where where you could get a full view of the wondrous city.

“Wow..” You whispered. The night sky was a dark maroon, smoke waving in the air from the residents below, and smoky clouds that were breathtaking. You never thought you’d genuinely enjoy a place you’d been told was horrible your entire life, but Angel was helping you find solace in your new home. He looked at you, asking, “Beautiful, ain’t it, toots?” “Yeah.. Yeah, it is.” You responded quietly. Angel wrapped one of his lower arms around you, pulling you closer while his top left arm started gently playing with your hair. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, whispering, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt ya, toots.. Not under my watch.” He told you in a soft voice. His words made you blush and smile.

He gently cupped your chin, turning you towards him. His eyes gazed into yours, and time seemed to stop. “Y/N,” Angel nearly whispered. If it wasn’t for him being so close to you, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him under the sounds of cars beeping, people screaming/yelling at each other, and music starting to bump up from the nightclubs on the block below. “Angel,” you responded, your eyes fluttering a little. Your breaths mingled, coffee mixing with strawberries. When he kissed you, your eyes closed momentarily, tasting the sweetness of his soft lips. He cupped the back of your head, and your fingers twirled in his soft locks.

When you pulled away from each other, Angel’s four arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You squeaked as your face landed in his chest fluff, and he nuzzled his nose against your hair in a sweet little Eskimo kiss.

Maybe Hell wasn’t so bad after all. As long as Angel was here with you.

[iminlovebutimkeepinitlowkey]

Part 2 to rafe with a girlfriend who has chronic migraines. This is a little more self indulgent/ based on my experiences so if you’re not interested, don’t worry I have more writing coming soon!! Part 1!

He treats you like glass, and while it frustrates the hell out of you, you still appreciate it because he does it to protect you. He always has a snarky remark for when people tell you to “just drink water” or “go for a walk” because he has been by your side while you tried any and everything to help you, and drinking water and going for a walk doesn’t do shit.

The debilitating migraines only make Rafe even more protective over you. Yes, he can be a little overbearing once in a while, but it’s all coming from a good place. He doesn’t go as far as to limit what you can and can’t do, so he’ll let you do whatever you want while he sits with his worry. Whenever you’re out in the sun, he has a timer on his watch or phone to make sure you have a little snack and a good amount of water. And if you’re on the golf course with him all day, or you’ve been in the pool with friends, he’ll treat you to a cute smoothie or a fruity drink to carry around with you.

The hottest thing that he does is when he taps your lips for you to open your mouth and puts your meds on your tongue. He’ll pour water into your mouth and tip your head back for you too

While Rafe is not the most mentally stable person out there, he is soooooo understanding and caring when you’re feeling down from all the medication in your system. He’s at your side when your heart is racing and you can’t stop crying. He kisses your head and holds you tight, and he never gets upset if you snap or shut him out because he knows that feeling all to well from when he was going through withdrawals when he became sober. That feeling of the pain meds wearing off is so incredibly unsettling, and he’s there for you every step of the way.

He even supports your decision to cut out medication unless it’s an emergency due to that very reason. And while the unexplained sadness from the medication goes away, he still cares for you when you feel anxious and guilty for having a migraine.

He stays up almost the whole night filled with anxiety that you’ll wake up in just as much pain, if not more, as when you fell asleep. He’ll sit by your side and rub your head/ giving you head scratches for hours in end while you try to sleep the pain away. He doesn’t even think about stopping for a moment until he knows your fast asleep. He loves you too much to let you be in pain and not do anything about it

My Masterlists!!

[sopiao]

Hiyyyyyaa, how would the 141+könig react to military y/n being a goth girl? But they didn't know because she doesn't wear her piercings or makeup due to stranded military rule regulations, until they all meet up at the pug. Please and thank you. Take your time.

EHEHEHHE I LUV DIFF STYLE REQS LIKE THESE ^^

i tried my best 😭

Being apart of the task force was probably the best decision you made, you like the people, you have fun, and it pays good. Only downside of having to take off each of your piercings each time, especially if their fresh or barely healed, which could be dangerous (don’t do that kids) but rules are rules.

You never really told them about your style or anything since you didn’t really think it would be important, or if it would even matter.

When Soap reaches out to everyone and suggests to all meet up at a pub, you were more than willing to come. You had more than a handful of missions together and spent quite some time with them, but have never seen your teammates out of work before.

You’re the last to arrive since your time management is shit, you were stressing and messing up your makeup, but hey, at least you came. Parking your motorcycle and kicking the stand, leaving your helmet on the handle. At this point you realize that none of your comrades has never seen you in your attire, with all of your piercings in.

Entering the warmly lit and semi-busy, you saw them at a wooden table off to the side, laughing and talking about whatever has been going on in their lives, you see six drinks assuming they bought one for you. You decide to fuck with them since this’ll be the first time they see you in the full get-up.

“Boo!” At first their startled, then confused. Soap interested, he’s never been with a goth girl before, he’ll try anything— or anyone— once. Gaz is the first to realize who you are

“[NAME]?!!” Gaz shouts, making everyone look at him then to you, all making the same conclusion at the same time, Soap a little slower, but that’s normal. You chuckle, smiling as Price scoots to the side to make room for you, pulling out the chair next to him. It’s regular for him to want to sit next to you, he even had his jacket draped over the back rest to save it for you.

“You look sick” Gaz smiles, it soothed you. At first, you were worried how they’d think of you looking like this, but seeing his genuine expression eases you a little more. They wanted to say something, a comment or compliment, but they didn’t know how to say it properly without making it sound weird, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Oh! We got you a drink” Soap slides over your drink, a fruity strawberry Cosmopolitan. It was all new to them but familiar at the same time. They always kinda pictured this look on you but never thought they’d actually see it. In a way it kinda reflected how you are in the field.

“Did it hurt?” Ghost speaks up from beside you. Of course it hurt. But you were glad that he was interested, especially because he is almost never interested in anything.

“Some more than others” You shrug, hands resting in the pockets of your DIO sweater. Ghost leans forward, arms crossed and resting on the wooden table, slight nod of the head signaling for you to continue.

“Top 5?” Price asks, his arm wrapped behind you to rest on the backrest of your chair. You’re surprised that they’re even this interested, you kinda expected them to just accept it and move back into the conversation.

“Uhh.. I guess the first would be these. Took a while to stretch these out” Turning your head to show the others, poking the tip of your finger through the hole of your gauges. Chuckling awkwardly until you heard oohs and aahhs from them.

“Industrial is second, couldn’t sleep on my side for a couple months” Turning your head to the other side to show the metal bar coming between the shell of your ear.

“But this put me through hell, couldn’t talk or eat for a while. Lived off of smoothies for like forever” Sticking your tongue out to show the small metal star on the center of your tongue. Ghost’s eyes slightly widened, he had one too (i luv referencing my other stuff) but didn’t wanna mention anything yet.

“This hurt, but after a week I didn’t even feel it” Twisting the metal bar of your bridge, careful not to smudge your makeup.

“Didn’t even feel this, my lip was a little swollen for a while though” You pull your lip down to show off your snake bites. You didn’t really notice this until now, they were intently listening, not just hearing you but actually listening. Not expecting them to be this interested since people either were a little weirded out or just a dick about it.

“Wow… And I’m too scared to even get my ears pierced” König chuckled nervously, hand unconsciously coming up to lightly pinch his smooth and un-poked ear lobe.

—

“It was nice seeing you guys again” Grinning warmly as you all stood outside of the pub. The snow made you wanna leave already, but the company of your friends made it bearable.

You give Gaz a kiss on the cheek. A simple and platonic act of affection. Forgetting you had black lipstick on, seeing the black mark on his cheek made you embarrassed. Especially with Soap’s teasing.

“Hey, give me one, too” He bent down and tapped his cheek, with a cheeky grin. Laughing it off as you planted one on his cheek. Price leaned in too, wordlessly asking for one.

König was still not ready to lift his mask up that high yet, but he still wanted a kiss. So you just settled a smooch on the back of his hand like and prince would do to his fair lady. After you left a kiss mark on each of them they all looked at Ghost, waiting for him to lift his mask up for one.

He looked around with a shrug, then shaking his head with a sigh, as he uncrossed his arms and lifted the side of his mask only up to his nose. Making sure to press with a little more pressure with him since there was less lipstick on your lips since it was faded.

—

Extra:

Omg. Imagine like showing off cool but weird tricks. Taking off one of your lip piercings and showing off how you can squirt out water from the opening. Soap wondering if you could slurp spaghetti through it.

[gilverrwrites]

Supernatural Taste and Smell Headcanons

I included a lot of characters (I think 24?), but if your fave didn't make the cut, just send me an ask!

Dean

Smell: Leather, cinnamon, and the kind of musk that only comes from an axe body spray, cause you know what man only buys whatever is quick and easy at the gas station. He’d also smell like gasoline.

Taste: Malty like beer, but sweet in the way bbq sauce is sweet.

Sam

Smell: I just feel like (when he’d not hunting) he smells clean, ya know? Citrusy and woody, kind of like D&G light blue, with undertones of like a ‘fresh’ scented fabric softener.

Taste: Kind of fruity but tart, like a berry smoothie.  Also just a little bit of like garlic, or mustard.

John

Smell: That man is a smoker, and you can’t tell me otherwise – at least later in life, way after the marines, and losing Mary. He always has a stale smoke smell on his clothes and lips. I recon he uses old spice or similar as an aftershave, so also like cloves/sage.

Taste: Again smoky, ashy, but also oaky and malty like bourbon.

Mary

Smell: Citrusy like Sam but darker, smokier (joke not intended) with hints of like jasmine, bergamot, and a little bit of vanilla. 100% the kind of smell that wraps you up if you come in for a hug.  

Taste: Chocolate, specifically the kinds with nuts and caramel, woman has a sweet tooth.

Castiel

Smell: I feel like all angels smell at least a little like parma violets, or some kind of sweet and subtle floral smell, be especially Cas. On top of that, he’d have like other earthy scentes, like honey,  patchouli, maybe a bit of amber.

Taste: Coffee, always coffee. When human/when he eats; grape jelly, and honey.

Jack

Smell: Like Cas he has the sort of clean, floral scent to him. I also think he would smell of peppermint and like a yankee candle version of warm vanilla. He just has a cosy, familiar smell to him.

Taste: Again I think minty, additionally like white chocolate and rose/flora flavours.

Bobby

Smell: Like old books, burnt candle wicks, motor oils, and nose hair singing whisky.

Taste: More than anyone else on this list (including Crowley) Bobby tastes like whisky. Not the good stiff though, that’s only for special occasions. He taste like Jim Beam and Jack Daniels.

Crowley

Smell: Like a bonfire!!! Smokey, warm, woody, with a hint of burnt sugar.

Taste: 100% Whisky, and dark chocolate.

Charlie

Smell: Charlie smells like she just stepped out of a fantasy book, like wildflowers, and peppercorn. Like strawberry and blackcurrant wine.

Taste: Like a vegan alternative to Nutella, creamy, chocolatey, nutty.

Meg

Smell: Surprisingly soft and clean. Milky, with almond and peach. Just a hint of leather and cedarwood underneath.

Taste: Salty and sweet, anise: like a strawberry liquorice.

Ruby

Smell: Like cedarwood, ginger, and pink pepper. Pleasant but sharp, and strong. Like it pulls you in from across the room.

Taste: Bold and sweet like cabernet sauvignon, starkly contrasted by pepperoni and cheesy pasta.

Lucifer

Smell: Similar to Jack, in that he smells clean and minty. However, his is sharper, harsher. There is lime, and moss, and mahogany.

Taste: Like pure Moroccan mint, with that like sweet sourness you get on things like a tangfastics or a sourpatch kid. Like if you’re not expecting it, or you taste it for to long it will make you squirm.

Gabriel

Smell: Like walking into the kitchen of a bakery just before opening and they’re prepping everything. Mocha, malted sugar, rich caramel, creamy vanilla.  

Taste: All of the above again! Just so sweet and creamy. Like a spoonful of sugar.

Raphael

Smell: Very similar to Cas, floral, but less earthy, and more sterile. Like aloe vera and antiseptic.

Taste: Again, very clean. He has a flavour the way cucumber has flavour? Refreshing, clean, but not notable.

Michael/Adam 😍

Smell: Kind of like the ocean, meets the forrest. Musk, white lilies, salt, collided with pine, sandalwood, and cedar. Cold, but familiar, ya know?

Taste: Hear me out: Fruit loops, and Dr Pepper. Like Michael has little say over what they eat, that’s all on Adam. And after the initial, ‘I haven’t eaten in 1200 years, I’m gonna eat everything I craved’ has worn off. He’s just like, a normal guy (who does not need to eat because he shares his body with an immortal angel). So, I can see him mostly reaching for snacks that make him feel good, that remind him of his mum, or his childhood, something comforting; like sugary cereals and fizzy drinks. I love them, I will take no criticism.

Rowena

Smell: Like an apothecary. Rich and indulgent. Very aromatic with lots of deep woody tones, sweet cherry, dark rose and other florally scents.

Taste: Like a bottle of mataro, or Nebbiolo wine. Spice, cherry, plum, smoke. She both smells and tastes intoxicatingly expensive.   

Chuck

Smell: Kind of musky, cottony, leafy. I don’t really imagine him smelling too strongly of anything.

Taste: Summary and tart, like a sea breeze cocktail. (Grapefruit, cranberry, lime – an acquired taste)  

Amara

Smell: Similar to Chuck, I sort of envision an absence of smell. Maybe just hints of amber, sandalwood, and a musky citrusy scent.

Taste: Like a white dessert whine, like Riesling. Dry but sweet. Honey, and pears.

Billie

Smell: Bergamot, rose, silk, and cocoa. Inviting and pleasant, but with an undertone of darkness.

Taste: Very similar to scent, sweet and warm but with an aftertaste of something bitter; blackcurrant and dark chocolate

Benny

Smell: Robust (Copper, ginger, tobacco,) but enticing (amber, cardamom, cinnamon).

Taste: I mean, I have tried really had to not add blood to any of the previous entries, but Benny undeniably tastes like blood.

Kevin

Smell: Not good. Pre-prophethood, not so much; I imagine like mint, green tea, jasmine, the kind of smell you would expects from a reasonably priced aftershave. During prophethood, the aftershave is long forgotten; its more fried chicken, old paper, and forgetting to shower for 9 days.

Taste: Like redbull, chexmix, and mouthwash.

Eileen

Smell: Like peaches, and roses, rich chocolate, and strong coffee.

Taste: Chocolate and coffee again, but hints of sparkly summer fruits.

Ketch

Smell: Like high end British aftershaves only the royal family know off, something with notes of fig, and oud, and other pretentious smells. The small of cigar smoke, and leather follow him around too.

Taste: Like earl grey tea, and dry gin.

Balthazar

Smell: Kind of like ketch, some high end and expensive (if he actually had to pay for it). But woodsier, and fresh. He would also have that hidden undertone of violet.

Taste: Creamy and hazelnutty, but there’s a constant aftertastes alcohol, and something metallic to him, no  matter what comes first.

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, girls kissing, boys kissing, smut, cooperative oral (m receiving), fingering (v), p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy

chapter four: touch tank (16k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #15.

You took my breath away

So now I can't suck in my stomach 

around you anymore

Touch Tank — Quinnie

The dingy apartment hallway has never looked so luminous in the late afternoon sun as you return home from your afternoon of shopping. You're swinging your little striped bag, its treasures concealed beneath pink tissue; the fingers of your other hand are closed around the lid of a smoothie, mouth currently too occupied by a brilliant smile to keep sipping fruity goodness right now. 

You can't wait to show off your recent purchase to your boyfriend.

Inside, Steve is seated at the kitchen table, fingers tap-tap-tapping on the keys of his laptop, old coffee cooled beside him. You drape your arms around his shoulders from behind, peering at the mind-numbing spreadsheet with its rows of number-filled rectangles. You wrinkle your nose at it, tightening your arms; your bag crinkles against his chest, and your smoothie drags condensation across his shirt with the force of your hug.

Steve huffs amusedly through his nose, gently taking the plastic cup from your hand and placing it beside his mug before affectionately clasping your forearms. "I take it your girls' trip was a success?" 

"Yes," you say, eyes bright, grinning cheek pressed to his. "We each got something new for Friday night."

 "Oh?" Steve's thumbs rub teasing circles against your skin. "And do I have to wait until Friday to see your 'something new?'"

"Mmm…" You hum thoughtfully, playful as you wiggle your hips. "I suppose I could be persuaded to offer a sneak peek."

Apparently, that's all Steve needs to hear. The way he closes the laptop so unceremoniously makes you laugh, arms releasing him so he can eagerly pull you to the bedroom.

The four of you have been playing together for a few weeks now, and it's been good. Quite good, actually. You've found yourself growing more comfortable with both Eddie and Chrissy with each successive encounter, sexual and otherwise. You don't know whether all couples who swing also go on double dates to restaurants or solve escape rooms together, but considering Steve's friendship and long acquaintance with them, it seems natural for you all to spend time together outside the bedroom. You enjoy spending time with Eddie and Chrissy— they're warm, sociable, and fun. And you trust them. Eddie had proven himself trustworthy when he'd promised not to tell anyone about your secret; you know he'd kept that promise because there's literally no way Steve would've kept quiet if he'd found out you've faked every orgasm he thinks you've had with him. Though you've never gotten as close to orgasm as you had that first time with Eddie, you've been thoroughly enjoying yourself since. No complaints from any of you, as far as you can tell.

So it hadn't been difficult to decide as a group that you were ready to take things to the next level: that you wanted to explore penetrative sex together for the first time. This Friday had been chosen for the occasion.

Friday nights had unofficially been designated as group play since that first time you'd gone to Insa, and though you'd sometimes see one another on other days of the week, Fridays were a given. This gave you a little less than a week to prepare for the next step in your ongoing journey of sexual debauchery; a little less than a week to imagine what it would feel like for Eddie to be inside you for the first time. To some extent, the promise of the unknown makes those nerves squirm in your chest, but mostly, you're excited about it. 

When Chrissy called today and asked if you wanted to go to the mall with her, you eagerly accepted. An afternoon filled with powdery-soft smiles, shared giggle fits, and eager shopping ensued as you prepared for this upcoming weekend. You'd gotten mani-pedis, visited Lush to explore their offerings of natural facemasks and body butters, and, finally, spent an inordinate amount of time browsing for a new set of lingerie, one worthy of the occasion.

Shopping for lingerie with Chrissy was not like shopping for lingerie with Steve or by yourself. For one thing, Chrissy is much more adventurous than you regarding her undergarments: her preference is for as much edge and as little coverage as possible. You are slightly more conservative, gravitating towards cheeky panties over thongs and floral lace over faux leather. She'd chosen her own lingerie fairly quickly— a fuchsia v-string that was more strap than fabric, crotchless and with a satin bow in the front, with a matching push-up bra. For you, she'd held up many potential options that you quickly dismissed, but one set she suggested caught your eye. With Chrissy's keen encouragement, you'd tried it on; when you'd heard her squeal of excitement and gazed with wide eyes at your reflection in the mirror, you'd gathered enough courage to step out of your comfort zone and try out some adventure for yourself. 

Now, you're cloistered in the walk-in closet, twisting your body to examine it from all angles before emerging to show your barely-patient boyfriend your new lingerie.

"You gonna come out soon?" Steve's voice is muffled through the door, and you picture him sprawled on the bed, hair flopped over his brow, full lips in a pout as you make him wait. 

"Yes, Steve— honey, dear, darling one," you say with sing-song playfulness, biting your bottom lip as you run your eyes one last time over your body in the closet mirror before cracking the door. From the sliver, you see him sit up from his sprawl, head whipping toward the closet.

"Finally, jee—" He cuts off, eyebrows nearly to his hairline, hazel eyes wide, mouth falling comically open as you push the door open fully to reveal your body. You flush warm, a little smirk stretching on your lips as his gaze rakes over your body, devouring the sight before him.

The first thing that attracted you to this set was the color— a deep red, rich and heady like sweet fruit. The panties are embroidered with tiny flowers, delicate and feminine, not quite a thong but with less coverage than you'd usually choose. The bra is stitched with matching embroidery, but it's not a push-up like Chrissy's. You don't need that; you've got enough going on as it is. Instead, it's boned with underwire for just the right amount of support, and it's unlined— sheer, so your nipples show through, dusky and darkened beneath the red fabric.

When Steve recovers, he just husks a simple direction: "Come here, now."

It's a little brusque, but you chuckle as you approach him, pleased that he's so affected by the sight of you. When you climb onto his lap, Steve seems unable to decide what to do with his hands— brush them over your waist, palm the swell of your breasts, squeeze your hips, or cup your jaw and draw you in for a kiss.

But when you gently capture one fluttering hand, guiding it down to show him that your new panties are crotchless, same as Chrissy's, that decides it for him.

You gasp sharply as his finger plunges into you, his other hand grasping at your jaw to pull you in for a searing kiss. You're already wet from the anticipation of him seeing you like this, so he slides in with no resistance, groaning against your lips as he feels the evidence of your excitement. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers drawing through thick strands as you open your mouth for him. His tongue in your mouth moves in tandem with his finger, stroking you inside, kindling the heat in your lower belly until you're rocking your hips into the heel of his hand. He presses it tighter to you, rubbing friction into your clit as you moan, pushing your breasts into his clothed chest.

Clothes. You realize then that Steve has on far too many clothes.

Pulling abruptly from his lips, you pant, "Take off your clothes, Steve."

Your hands accompany your direction, tearing at his shirt before he's even pulled his finger out of you. Together, you make quick work of it and his pants, hand finding his hard length as soon as his tight boxers are revealed, fingers wrapping around him as best you can through the fabric. He hums, hazel eyes dark with desire as he palms the back of your neck, pulling you into greedy lips that suck at your throat. "Wanna do you from behind," Steve rasps against your skin, and his words make your pussy throb with anticipation. That's your favorite position— face pressed to the sheets, ass in the air, Steve's cock reaching so deep inside you you nearly see stars.

You get wetter just imagining it. 

"Mmm," you moan, and Steve smiles broadly, huffing a chuckle that puffs warm against your skin. 

"Knew you'd like that suggestion, baby." 

"You like it, too," you remind him as you climb off, crawling across the bed until your head is resting just below the pillows; you drop your shoulders, widening your knees, peeking back at him as you sway. "I know you like to watch my ass bounce." You're teasing, but it comes out breathy and desperate as you see the way Steve's looking at your exposed pussy still framed by berry-red lace— like he wants nothing more than to stuff you full, to pound you until all you can do is cry out for him. 

Steve pulls his boxers down his legs, lifting one knee and then the other to drag them impatiently off and let them drop to the bedroom floor. He's long and straight, with a pale pink head that disappears into his fist as he strokes himself once, eyes still intent on your pussy as you watch him. As hairy as Steve's chest is, he's very fastidious about keeping himself well-trimmed beneath the waist, which only makes him look longer as he draws closer until you can no longer see him. You drop your head, fingers tightening on the bedspread as something brushes against your swollen lips.

You anticipate the head of Steve's cock, but instead, you feel the press of his fingers; and though it's not what you expected, you sigh in pleasure as he dips inside, stroking and working your inner walls until you're burning for more. "Steve…" you whimper, and he knows what you're asking for. You feel him press a warm kiss to one plush cheek before he withdraws, knee brushing your calf as he lines up with your entrance. 

The initial stretch is always the most delicious, and today is no exception: you moan, a long, low sound of relief as he presses inside until he nudges up against the end of you. "Fuck," you hear him say, voice husky with need as his palm finds the middle of your back, the fingers of his other hand digging into the heft of your hip. You obey his silent request, pushing your chest down to the bed until your back is arched further for him. "So fuckin' hot, baby," Steve murmurs. And then he slides almost all the way out of you before thrusting sharply back in, finally beginning to fuck you.

Your fire burns bright, stoked by the quick, deep drag of Steve's cock inside you, his hips slapping into your ass, his balls swinging against your mound, his fingers gripping tight to your hips, holding you in place so he can fuck you hard. It's really intense, this angle; your toes curl, and your fingers fist into the bedding as you pant and moan out your pleasure. Steve is even more worked up today than usual, and the knowledge that he's so excited by your body just adds to the twisting flames and the tightening of your abdomen as he jolts against that spot inside you. 

"Oh, Steve," you whimper, breath heaving, body rocked by his deep thrusts. Through the thin material of your bra, the bedspread drags against your nipples, making them harden and igniting tiny sparks of pleasure that kindle the burn in your belly.

Steve's breathing hard, too, with ragged gasps as he works to pleasure you, groaning when you squeeze around him as he hits especially deep. And maybe it's the fact that you'd just spoken— just whined his name— but Steve chooses then to remind you of what you'd agreed to try with him.

"Baby," he says, voice hoarse and a little breathless but still careful, "Do you think you could, like… try, uh, talking more?" 

You've had your eyes scrunched closed, entirely focused on the feeling of Steve's cock pounding you, but they pop open at that. "Oh," you say, a little wobbly as your body continues to rock under the onslaught of his cock. "Yeah, o-okay." 

You try to think of what to say; you really do. Little snippets you've heard from Chrissy knock against each other in your head: 'bad girl,' 'punish me,' 'lick my cunt,' 'fuck toy,' 'dirty slut,' 'shit— goddamn— cock— whore—' 

They swirl together until they're whipping by, stinging your outstretched fingers as you try to grab one. They stick in your throat as your eyes dart, freeze spreading in your chest the longer you stay silent. Just say something, you plead with yourself, anything, anything at all. Just say, 'Fuck my dirty little pussy, Steve.'  

But you can't. The words won't come out.

Your nostrils flare, your eyes prickling with frustrated tears as Steve's hips slow slightly. Quickly, you try to speak, but all that comes out is a stammer: "I… I—"

Steve's fingers loosen on your hips, rubbing gently along the plush of your ass, and you whimper in response to his soothing touch— a small, almost pathetic sound. "It's fine, babe. Don't worry about it." 

The softness in his voice makes the tears prick more insistently as your stomach churns with guilt. It's all he'd asked of you, and you couldn't even try to do it. "Are you sure?" You ask, voice tiny.

Rather than replying, Steve stops moving inside you, pressing close, draping himself over your back, wrapping his firm arms around your middle to hold you tightly. His body covers yours, warming you instantly, lips pressing to your shoulder blades, dropping kisses wherever he can reach. You can feel him murmur against your skin, bangs brushing you as he speaks. "Of course. I'm sorry I brought it up." Quietly, tenderly, he adds, "All I care about is being with you."

You melt at the sincerity in his voice, breath escaping in a sigh as the freeze drips away. "Okay," you say, more assured now. 

Steve drops one more kiss to your back, lips warm and dry and lingering there as he presses his hips experimentally tighter to your ass. You hum, flame flickering again as his length shifts inside you. "You really look so fuckin' hot right now," he rasps quietly against your back, and you hum as the compliment kindles the flame higher. "I can't get enough of you."

You bite your lower lip, pressing back into him, encouraging him as he rotates his hips against you, grinding his length deep. "Mmm, Steve," you murmur, breath quickening. "That feels really good."

"Yeah?" He grinds against you again, groaning as you whimper, pressing back in kind. "You ready for me to fuck you how you like it again, baby?" 

A moan slips from your lips, pussy throbbing as the silk of his words caresses you. "Yeah," you say, and though the air is cold when his warm skin leaves your back, the fire that reignites is hot when he grabs hold of your hips again, pulling back and thrusting into you hard. 

"Ah!" You cry out as burning pleasure twists in your belly; Steve resumes his pace, fucking you fast and hard, cock reaching so deep it's almost too much. "Steve!" You whine loudly, fingers clutching desperately to the bed, holding on as his hips pound into you. He's sticking to you now, skin clinging with damp sweat on every impact, groans nearly constant as his pace turns frenetic, losing that consistent rhythm as he gets close. 

"Fuck, y/n, you're gonna make me cum, baby," Steve moans, and his words flare low, increasing your pleasure as you cry out for him again.

And then you feel Steve's cock jerk, hips slowing as he gasps a ragged breath, stifling those groans in his throat, jaw tight as he cums inside you. You moan with him, panting with exertion even though he'd been the one fucking you. As he finally stops moving, holding himself inside, you press further back against him, wanting him as deep as he can get, relishing that point of connection between you. 

"Shit," Steve sighs, a sound of deep contentment as he carefully pulls out of you. You tilt further forward, raising your ass higher as you hear Steve's hasty footsteps pad out of the bedroom, presumably on the way to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. That's confirmed when he returns, and you feel the warm brush of soft wet fabric against you, gently wiping as you lower down and walk your hands back until you have enough leverage to kneel up on the bed. "Thanks," you say, twisting to take the washcloth from him. Your eyes run over pink cheeks flushed from exertion, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, and those roguishly disheveled brown waves flopping over his forehead. You smile, leaning forward at the same time he does for a soft kiss. When you part, Steve cups your cheek affectionately, pressing one more kiss to your temple before you head to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. 

You return to find him lounging on your rumpled bedding, scrolling on his phone; as he spots you, he drops it on the bedside table, opening his arms wide with a charming grin. You smile, climbing onto the bed, giggling as his strong arms close around you, pulling you down against him. You rest your chin on his chest, fingers playing in puffs of hair as he looks at you fondly. "Hey," he murmurs, arm slung across your back, fingers trailing lazy patterns as you lay half-across him. "I was thinking we could try that Indian fusion place for dinner tonight. I heard they have this habanero chicken tikka that's apparently knock-your-socks-off good."

You gaze into your boyfriend's face, whose eyes— their flecks of green, brown, and amber— are so comforting. So cherished. You feel a sudden surge of appreciation for him: for his sense of adventure, for the fresh experiences he provides you, for the plans he always makes for you to enjoy together. 

Your lips curl with a tender smile. "Sure. That sounds perfect."

-

It's around eight o'clock on Friday evening, and you're reclining on the loveseat, casually turning the pages of the novel you're currently reading called The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches. It's a cozy little fantasy about an orphaned witch and her journey to find a new family, and you aren't too far in, but you're very much enjoying the writing style and the main character. You find yourself so absorbed that your eyes don't even once flick to the clock in anticipation of your guests' arrival or to the television where Steve is watching some college sports game with rapt fascination.

You've long been ready for tonight by now— since seven, in fact. You'd showered, shaved, exfoliated, and moisturized; dried and styled your hair, applied light makeup, chosen your outfit— a casual pair of ripped jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, soft and clingy, low-cut and shirred at the bust— and slipped your red set on beneath it. It feels a little delicious to be wearing such casual clothes atop such sumptuous lingerie, like you're a precious stone wrapped deceptively in old newsprint. It really is a beautiful color, you'd thought as you pulled it out of your drawer, laying it gingerly out on the bedspread. Though the thought had occurred to you that the shade seemed awfully similar to the gash of red you'd once seen on stage, you dismissed it as happenstance. You were more concerned with the impact it would make tonight. Considering how Chrissy and Steve had reacted to you wearing it, you're curious to see if it will have a similar effect on Eddie.

When there's a knock at the door, you're the first one up, padding over before Steve has torn his eyes away from the television screen. It sounds like someone may have just scored the game-winning basket, judging by the raucous cheering that bursts from the speaker as the door swings open to reveal a lopsided grin and dark frizzy curls standing tall beside baby blue eyes and bouncy blonde waves.

"Hi, Chris!" You say warmly, and the television goes silent as you embrace her first, arms closing affectionately around her sharp shoulders. Bow lips kiss your cheek, and you press a return kiss to powdery-soft skin, giggling as she squeezes you extra tight before letting you go. She's dressed casually, too, in a pair of yoga pants and a thin fuzzy sweater. You meet eyes, pursing your lips against identical grins loaded with the knowledge of what's concealed underneath your hang-out clothes. 

You hear the greeting Steve and Chrissy exchange, followed by the soft smack of their lips, but your eyes don't stray from the black and white of the man before you: white Reeboks, black joggers, white t-shirt, black ink, pale quartz skin, midnight-dark curls. Casual, comfortable, not just in the way he's dressed, but also in the way his lips crook, one dimple emerging, brown eyes bright as he steps closer and pulls you in with one arm slung around your waist. 

"Hi," Eddie says, smoky and warm, chin tilting down.

"Hi," you echo, smile instinctual as you tilt up to kiss Eddie hello.

It's not a particularly long or deep kiss, but the press of Eddie's lips against yours makes those moth wings flutter nonetheless, swirling the smoke of his voice you've just inhaled.

Steve takes your place to greet his friend when you step away, and they clap each other roughly on the back as you look for Chrissy— she's in the kitchen, fridge door open as she bends to look inside. "Hey," you call to her, "can you bring over the fruit salad?" You fold yourself onto the big couch, one foot tucked comfortably beneath you, the other leg swinging as you sink back into the cushions.

"Sure!" You hear her reply, but your eyes are again drawn to Eddie as he approaches with a quirked brow, brown eyes twinkling as they bore into yours.

"You're gonna eat fruit salad during a horror movie? And here I thought I was the weirdo. Clearly, you've got me beat." 

You scrunch your nose, sticking your tongue out at him as he flops into the corner of the couch, legs spreading comfortably to own the space like he always does. Eddie huffs at your attitude, making your gesture his own but dialing up the drama— broad tongue lolling, stretched out to his chin as his brown eyes go wide. You try to stifle the snort in your throat, but it comes out anyway, just half-choked and squeaky. You look pointedly away, but not before seeing his lips curl with a tiny smug grin.

The sight of Chrissy carrying your glass bowl of fruit salad along with her hummus and pita chips is a welcome one, and you smile sweetly as you reach to take it, cradling it in the crook of your thighs. She drops her snacks to the coffee table, wry as she tells you, "I'm gonna supervise the drink-making— Steve tends to be a little heavy-handed on the vodka."

"Don't I know it," you reply, equally as wryly, eyes happily dipping to fruity goodness— mixed berries and plump purple grapes all crowded together, succulently tempting. You choose a grape and pop it into your mouth, relishing that first firm squish as your teeth burst the skin.

"Ugh." An exaggerated sound of disgust has your gaze slanting to the left, expression flat as you take in the crinkle of Eddie's soft nose and dark brow. He's well in the throw of his theatrics as he rants, "Where are the shitty snacks? Hot dogs, pringles, gummy worms. I'd even settle for the long-time partner of motion pictures: popcorn." He sounds like he's complaining, but as you see his eyes dance, you know he's just feigning it. "Is this really how you treat your guests? Fuckin' hummus and fruit?"

You roll your eyes so he can't see the mischief in them, plunking the bowl onto the coffee table with a sigh. You make sure to sound utterly fed up as you retort, "Oh, just eat a strawberry." Without giving him any time to react, you push the fruit past those smirking lips and into his mouth.

His suddenly slack face fills you with delight, and your suppressed smile breaks free as he stares you down while he starts to chew. You can tell he wasn't expecting you to do that, but that he isn't mad about it either. "This… is actually good," he says, talking through the mushy mouthful of red fruit, struggling to chew while his lips want to smile, face all puckered with effort, brown eyes fond.

"Could've told ya that," you say, reaching delicate fingers into your bowl and leaning casually back like you haven't just forcibly shoved fruit into a man's mouth. You pick out a raspberry, then a blueberry, then a blackberry, cycling through all the fruits until you get to another strawberry. 

But on its way to your mouth, your wrist is abruptly snatched and diverted toward that plush set of smirking lips. "Hey!" you exclaim, feigning outrage as Eddie tugs your arm toward him. Your elbow lands on his thigh as you unbalance; in your distraction, he steals your fruit with his teeth, expression utterly devilish as your mouth falls open indignantly. 

"What can I say? You've converted me," he quips, words thick with half-chewed fruit. "Just can't get enough of these strawberries. Who knew?" 

Your breath catches as his lips close over your index and middle fingers, playfully sucking any remnants of juice from your skin. You're torn between amusement and fluttering attraction as you feel the wet warmth of his mouth, the slide of his tongue against your fingertips, and the squishy mush of fruit inside that somehow manages to be both disgusting and just the slightest bit erotic at the same time. Eddie seems never to swallow before he starts to speak, perhaps because he's speaking almost constantly, and you're seeing the evidence of that first-hand now.

You're torn for a moment, trying to decide which impulse to act on— amusement, arousal, or disgust. In the end, playful amusement wins out.

"Ugh!" You echo his exclamation from earlier, yanking your fingers from his mouth and wiping them off dramatically on your jeans. You wag a finger at him, expression stern like you're reprimanding a dog, though a chuckle breaks through as you scold him. "Now stop that! Get your own fruit!"

Grinning widely as if he's delighted you've decided to play with him, Eddie leans toward you, folding his expression into an exaggeration of petulance. "But I want your fruit—!" You dodge his grabby hands, snatching the bowl and turning away, stiff arm against his chest, giggling as you deny him.

A soft voice, tinged with exasperation, interjects. "Children, children," Chrissy says, and Eddie withdraws immediately, lounging back into the corner of the couch, elbow casual against the armrest as if he hadn't just been nearly wrestling you for the fruit bowl. You shift over to make room for her, tilting towards her as she sinks between you, primly handing over the plastic cups she's carrying and keeping one for herself.

You peer into your cup, lips puckering at the transparent liquid inside. "If I drink this, it's not just gonna be straight vodka, right?"

She smiles fondly, weaving her arm through yours. "Don't worry, I kept Steve under control."

"You're supposed to wait for the movie to start, dude. That's the whole point of a drinking game." You look at Steve as he sits down on your other side, puzzled for just a moment until you glance to the left to see who he's talking to. Of course.

As he lowers his cup, Eddie grins wolfishly. "Just getting a head start, Stevie," he replies, and Steve shakes his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. It's a snug fit on the big couch with the four of you— Steve's thigh is pressed up against yours, hip warm where he's squishing you between his solid side and Chrissy's thin frame beneath her soft fuzzy sweater. But if you have to watch a horror movie, this is how you'd prefer to do it: enveloped by comforting warmth, surrounded by limbs you can latch to when your heart inevitably starts to hammer in your chest. 

"Are we gonna turn off the lights?" Chrissy asks, sounding eager, and you suppress your reluctant whine as Steve extricates himself from you to oblige. As the apartment is plunged into darkness, you nestle back into the couch cushions, plastic cup under your nose, somewhat trying to hide behind it.

"How scary is this movie?" You ask, carefully neutral though your stomach is already squirming with nerves. No one seems to be as distressed as you, not even Chrissy, who, though she's already clinging to Eddie, has an excited gleam in her eye. So you keep the extent of your discomfort to yourself. Mercifully, Steve soon settles back beside you, the comfort of his citrus and sea salt cologne smooth in your nose.

"I keep forgetting you've never seen Halloween, babe," he says, and you glance at him to see his hazel eyes are shiny with the reflection of the television— the only source of light in the room. "It's, like, a classic."

"Well," you grumble, "I'm only here to get drunk. What is it again?" Your gaze darts to the ceiling as you try to remember. "Drink when you see a knife, drink when you see a pumpkin—"

"How 'bout you just drink when you get scared," Eddie suggests, lips crooking with a playful grin as you glance at him, pouting. "That way, it'll get less scary the drunker you get."

You huff, torn between amusement and exasperation. "Sounds perfect," you say, voice edged with sarcasm.

Chrissy's arm tightens around yours. "It'll be okay," she says, shooting you an encouraging smile. "Just hold onto Steve and me." 

Her sweetness warms you, and you snuggle into her side, taking a subtle bracing breath as Steve starts the movie. Here goes nothing.

Halloween isn't nearly as terrifying as some of the other modern horror movies you've had the displeasure of seeing— it doesn't seem to be trying to induce heart attacks through jump scares and gruesome effects. Instead, it smolders with tension, though some shocking moments still have your hand frantically clutching for Steve's fingers and your head ducking against Chrissy's shoulder. You drink when you see the others drink and take some little sips in between, too, falling into a state where your body is half-loose with alcohol and half-wound tight with adrenaline. Midway through the movie, Eddie stretches his arm along the back of the couch, and when you notice it, you toss a wary glance his way, anticipating an attempt to scare you. It preoccupies you, the promise— or the threat— of his calloused hand, a constant presence behind your head, though when he doesn't return your glance, you go back to halfheartedly watching the screen. 

When you jolt as Michael suddenly appears in the kitchen to kill Bob, and Eddie's hand shifts, dread spikes as you assume the worst. But his fingers are gentle on the back of your head, and he cradles your skull in his broad palm. Your breathing settles as he plays with your hair, scratching your scalp affectionately while a knife pins Bob to the wall in a gravity-defying display of violence. Truthfully, it's a welcome distraction, and you lean into his touch, eyes flickering from Michael's eerie head tilt to Eddie's shadowed face. When he notices you looking, a smile soft on your lips, a corner of his lips crooks back at you before his attention returns to the movie. Though his hand withdraws not long after, you sigh a slow breath out of your nose, strengthened now despite the lingering suspense of the film. You even find yourself cheering Laurie on with the others when she has her final showdown with Michael, nerves almost entirely forgotten as you get caught up in your desire for her triumph. And the ominous final image of Michael's missing body, complete with his signature heavy breathing, has you grinning instead of cowering at the twist.

"So," Steve asks you when it ends, "what did you think?"

"Mmm." You twist your lips, begrudgingly admitting, "I guess it wasn't that bad." You don't want to encourage Steve too much, lest he thinks you'll be willing to watch more scary movies with him after this.

"Did you get drunk?" Chrissy blinks at you innocently, and you peer down into your cup to find it mostly empty. You feel warm and loose and a little floaty, but not excessively so.

You answer noncommittally. "Kinda?"

She beams. "Then that's all that matters." You chuckle, setting your cup on the coffee table as the guys get up from the couch. 

Steve stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck to the side, and your eyes are drawn to the sliver of skin between his t-shirt and the waistline of his jeans. He eyes you and Chrissy where you still sit on the couch together. "Shall we move this into the bedroom, ladies?" He asks, trying to be suave as he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms against his chest in that move men use to show off their biceps.

You share a look with Chrissy. "Despite how lame that line was," you tease him, "I think we're probably still in." She giggles as Steve pouts. 

"Hmmm…" Chrissy plays along, waffling her shoulders. "I'm not sure… that may have been a little too cheesy for me. I might just head home."

"Aw, come on," Steve says, face falling at your teasing. You take Chrissy's hand in both of yours, shuffling backward as you pull her lightly toward the bedroom— guiding more than pulling her, really, since she's giggling as she walks forward with you. 

"You can do it, Chrissy," you coax, eyes wide and encouraging as your heels hit the bedroom carpet. "Persevere through the cheese. You're so close… almost there—"

"Rah!" Your heart leaps into your throat as hands clutch your shoulders from behind, accompanied by a playful, gravelly shout. 

Your scream is not so playful— you screech, loud and genuinely afraid as your chest spikes with icy panic.

Chrissy frowns, stalking past you as the hands quickly release your shoulders. "Eddie!" She growls his name sharply, face all scrunched up as you twist to watch him back away. He heaves with chuckles even as he eyes Chrissy plaintively, gasping,

"Wait, Chris, come on, I'm sorry, I'm— ow!" Eddie braces an arm protectively against his stomach to ward off further smacks, looking simultaneously amused and rueful as he cowers from his much shorter girlfriend. It's the first time you've seen Chrissy actually get upset, and you can't help but think she looks somewhat like a pissed-off chipmunk. She'd be scary if she weren't so cute.

"Don't apologize to me," she says hotly, crossing her arms and cocking a hip. "Apologize to y/n. Now." And after leveling him with one last withering once-over, she stomps away with a sharp huff, leaving you with Eddie in the bedroom.

Your heart is still racing, but the panic has eased now that you're past the initial shock. Eddie peers at you, face falling into sheepishness as he takes in your tense expression. He edges toward you slowly, mouth pulling into a crooked line of contrition, but you don't budge. Eventually, he stops a short distance from you; his head tilts, eyebrows raising as he opens his arms in silent offering. It seems he's letting you decide whether or not to accept his offer of a hug.

For a second, you just stare at him, annoyed that he would scare you when you thought he'd known how nervous you were during the movie. But those brown eyes are gentle now, the way you've noticed they get sometimes. And you know Eddie was just trying to play around with you; you suppose that, in his mind, he was continuing what you'd started when you shoved a strawberry in his mouth. So you close the gap, looking up at him dully as you draw near. 

The crooked line of his mouth tilts with a tiny smile as Eddie hugs you, arms wrapping snugly around your back, and despite yourself, you sling your arms around his narrow waist, chin propped against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Eddie murmurs, voice puffing like hushed smoke against the side of your face and rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I didn't think you'd scream like that." 

You pout for one more moment in sullen silence before you relent. "It's fine," you grumble. "Just don't ever scare me again."

You feel Eddie's chest jump against yours as he chuckles once, but despite his laugh, his reply is sincere. "I won't."

And you expect him to let you go then— after all, his apology has been accepted. But Eddie doesn't release you yet. Instead, he sways you back and forth, just slightly, long enough to get you to sigh deeply as you relax into him. Your nose tucks against ticklish curls, inhaling smoke and delicate apples. "I'm sorry," he says again, quieter than before, lips grazing your temple as he turns his face toward you.

Your breath catches as his lips brush your skin, belly fluttering with wild wings as you feel his arms shift, palms dragging across your back in a slow caress. "It's okay," you whisper. And you've had your fingers wrapped around your wrist, locked behind the small of his back. But as Eddie shifts, as he touches you tenderly, after a moment, you touch him, too. You release your wrist to press your palms against his back, skin hot through his t-shirt. When you run them slowly upwards, smoothing over the plane of his back, Eddie's ribcage expands into yours in a deep breath, adam's apple bobbing as he presses you closer to him. And that earlier fear is nowhere to be found now; instead, you feel held. Cradled. 

Safe in Eddie's arms, like his calloused fingers are tending you somehow.

You can hear footsteps behind you, and you both loosen your arms and turn towards the bedroom doorway, where Chrissy is leading the forge with Steve close behind.

Her gaze whips directly to Eddie. "Did you apologize?" 

"Yes, yes, Chris, I apologized," you hear him say, though you're preoccupied with the soft embrace Steve wraps you in, citrus and solid limbs enfolding you against a broad torso. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah," you sigh, and you mean it. "I'm fine. He was just joking around. He didn't mean to be mean."

Steve chuckles against your hair. "Sounds like Munson," he says, dry and fond. "As long as you're good."

You pull back slightly to smile as you meet Steve's hazel eyes. "I'm fine," you say more firmly, and Steve seems to accept that, smiling back as his arms release you gently.

As you pad across the bedroom carpet to wrap your arms around Chrissy's shoulders from behind, tucking your chin against her fuzzy sweater, any lingering tension is dispelled. Voice lightly teasing, you say, "Thank you for coming to my defense, my knight-ess in shining armor, but I think our good bard here has been thoroughly vanquished. He's sworn never to frighten me again."

You grin up at Eddie from your place on Chrissy's shoulder as his lips crook, cheek dimpling at you. "A solemn vow," Eddie says, palm on his chest as he dips into a shallow bow. "One that shall never be broken upon pain of excruciating death."

You feel Chrissy huff a chuckle. "So dramatic," she says as she clasps your forearms, squeezing once before letting you draw away. As she turns, you detect the glint in her blue eyes as they fall on your boyfriend. "Well," she says, bow lips curving in a sultry smile, "In that case… Steve, would you like to do the honors of unwrapping this present?"

She motions down her body with a delicate hand, and you watch as Steve's eyebrows shoot up, face lighting with zeal. As she saunters over to him, you turn back to Eddie to see his dark eyes watching you, assessing. But the weight of his stare no longer overwhelms you with nerves like it had the first few times you'd spent together. You aren't hesitant to draw close to him, eyes on your fingers as they reach out and dip beneath the hem of his white t-shirt, dragging lightly along his waist. 

When you look up at him again, Eddie's brown eyes are warm as he allows you to push his shirt up his stomach. You gather the fabric as it reveals pale quartz skin and the dark obsidian of his inked body armor. "Are you nervous?" he asks quietly, slowly drawing his arms through the sleeves as you guide the shirt up to his neck. Gently, you pull it over his head as you consider the question. You can't deny that some nerves writhe in your stomach as you think about what you're all preparing to do— why you're undressing one another, how this occasion will become something more than what you've all done together before. You've pleasured each other in other ways, but there's something… different about knowing that Steve would soon be inside Chrissy and Eddie would soon be inside you.

"Just a little," you answer truthfully, laying Eddie's t-shirt on your nearby dresser. Your fingers dip to the waistband of his joggers, fingers pulling the string to unravel the bow as you admit, "But mostly, I'm excited."

You can hear the smile in Eddie's voice as he replies quietly, "Yeah, me too." His words flutter those moth wings again, and a small smile blooms on your face as you carefully lift the elastic of his black sweatpants, tugging them down his legs to reveal a loose pair of checkered boxers. He steps out of his joggers as they pool around his feet, pale legs long and gangly as he extricates himself, hand landing on your clothed shoulder for balance. He chuckles at himself as he finally kicks the pants out of the way, and a fond smile tugs at your lips as you meet his eyes, warmed to deep amber in the soft light of your bedroom. "Okay if I take these off?" he asks, thumb rubbing lightly against the button of your high-waisted jeans.

You swallow thickly, fluttering wings and nerves kicking up at the sudden imminence of your new lingerie finally being revealed to him. Still, you nod, voice quiet but unwavering as you confirm your permission. "Yes."

Eddie's calloused fingers are careful as he pops the button and tugs down your zipper, reaching inside to find the hem of your black shirt tucked into your jeans. He peels the soft fabric up your torso and over your breasts, and your nipples harden behind the sheer fabric as they're exposed to the cool air. As your shirt joins Eddie's atop the dresser— albeit in a little crumpled pile of Eddie-typical carelessness— you stare at it, suddenly shy, delaying the moment where you'll look at Eddie's face and see his reaction. Eddie pauses before his fingers find the waistband of your jeans again, moving slightly faster now as he works to remove your pants. You feel the denim drag down your legs until it's gathered around your ankles. 

"Lean on my shoulder." Eddie's voice is hoarse as he rasps his instruction, and your eyes dart to his face, widening as you see him: he's on his knees before you, dark curls wild around his face and kissing his shoulders, plush lips pink and parted slightly as he stares up at you with those eyes. They're startlingly dark now, dark with heat, with smoke and promise as you obey. Your fingers twitch against his warm skin as your hand covers the ink of his shoulder, and you lift your foot for him. Eddie stares at you for a moment longer before his eyes dip almost reluctantly to his hands as he pulls the jeans from one foot and then the other. His fingers briefly skim the back of your soft calves, raspy touch featherlight as you take a sharp breath— and then he's rising fluidly, towering over you again, nearly-bare body close to yours as you tip your chin to maintain contact with his face. Because you couldn't tear your gaze from him if you tried— from that sharp jaw, that strong chin, that soft nose, those full pink lips, and those eyes, wide and framed by long lashes, lit from within as he devours the sight of you in delicate red lace. His gaze lingers on the swell of your breasts, the dusk of your hardened nipples, the softness of your belly, the curve of your hips, the red embroidery that conceals the promise of your heat.

And the way Eddie is looking at you— when you'd imagined how he might react, you hadn't envisioned this.

Eddie's fingers trace the curve of your waist, trailing fire in their wake, and you tingle as they meet your skin. "Wow," Eddie says quietly. "You look…" He trails off, and a crease forms in your brow, expression hesitant, vulnerable. His eyes find yours as he finishes his thought. 

"You're beautiful." 

And Eddie's voice is husky with desire, but there's something more— something gentle, something sincere, something you can almost taste on the back of your tongue. 

Your smile blooms, sweet and melty. Roots stretch, quivering further down into the fertile peat at the bottom of you. But now, a tendril of green also peeks through the dark, striving to emerge from the earth. Small, fragile. 

Alive.

Firm arms snake around your waist from behind and the trails of fire fall from you as a bare chest presses to your back. As Steve hugs you, you turn your head to watch Chrissy's sensuous approach as she draws close to you and Eddie. Her fuchsia lingerie set looks incredible on her— breasts succulently lifted by her push-up bra, straps crisscrossing her trim hips, the bow sitting low on her mound to reveal the smooth skin underneath, teasing a glimpse of her bare shave. Steve kisses the curve of your neck, and Chrissy twirls showily as she sees you and Eddie looking, shoulder cocked, delicate hand bracing on the willowy curve of her waist.

"C'mere," Eddie says playfully, and Chrissy squeals, giggling as he snatches her around the waist, tugging her against him and dipping her in his arms. Steve drops more kisses along the column of your throat, squeezing you close as Eddie's hand cups the nape of Chrissy's neck, plush lips pressing to the happy curve of her smile.

Steve's voice is awed and nearly incredulous behind you. "Shit, you two really look so fucking amazing."

Chrissy presses her cheek to Eddie's, blue eyes brilliant as she tips her chin down coquettishly. "Why thank you, Steve," she replies, voice pitched low and sultry. 

Steve hums, and your breath catches as his lips skim your ear, quickly finding that sensitive place at the corner of your jaw. "This look still hits hard, babe," he murmurs to you. "Can't wait to get my hands on you again." A slight breathy moan escapes your lips as he cups your breasts, palming their weight as you lean back against him, eyes falling to half-lidded. 

Your buzz hits you suddenly as Steve touches you while Eddie and Chrissy watch, flooding warm through your veins as he guides you to the bed. Hazy, floaty, and loose, you fall against the duvet, and Steve follows you closely. The king-sized bed is more than big enough to accommodate Steve as he hovers half over you, cupping your jaw as his lips descend on yours. It's more than big enough to accommodate Chrissy as she lays down on your other side, bouncy waves tickling your bare shoulder, thin arm brushing yours as she shifts. And it's more than big enough to accommodate Eddie as he stretches out on the other side of Chrissy, smoke voice rumbling in the barest moan as you hear the unmistakable sound of their kissing— lips smacking, mouths moving like yours and Steve's are. Steve runs an eager hand down your body, wasting no time to dip between your legs, and your knee falls open for him as he begins to explore you, rubbing slow, teasing strokes up and down your pussy without dipping inside, without lingering where you need him most. Your eyes close and your hand blindly seeks the edge of Steve's jaw, holding his face as you kiss him deeply, trying to encourage him to touch you where you need it with the fervor of your lips. After a long moment, after he's teased you enough to make you feel a little desperate, Steve obliges. He starts to touch your clit, one finger brushing lightly against it at the same time that you hear Chrissy sigh, high and feminine, "Yeah, Eddie, right there…." 

The sound of her pleasure encourages your own, and your hips twitch up into Steve's hand, tongue searching for his as you moan again. And in an undulating kaleidoscope of moving bodies, heavy breaths, quiet groans, airy moans, wet tongues, hot skin, and pressing digits, you all encourage each other's pleasure until Steve is fingering you deeply, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit as you throb, as that fire begin to smolder inside. Beside you, you can feel the slight rhythmic shifting of Chrissy's body as Eddie fingers her, too; and as your head falls to the side while Steve sucks on your neck, Chrissy's warm breath ghosts your lips as she pants lightly. 

"Mmm," you hum as Steve adds a second finger, stretching you open, insistent in his demand for your fire to increase. The sensations are almost overwhelming as your heart thumps hard in your chest, pumping desire and alcohol through your veins: the warm brush of Chrissy's body against yours, the wet sounds of the fingers moving inside you both, the hint of Eddie and Steve's subtle grunts and groans as they enjoy giving you pleasure. You feel Steve unlatch from your neck as your nose brushes Chrissy's, your mouth half-open as you sigh, a hairs-breadth from her pink bow lips.

"You should kiss," Steve mumbles, and your lashes part to reveal the sight of baby blue eyes, hazy and heated beneath strawberry-blonde bangs. "Kiss each other," he encourages, his other hand finding your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he continues to finger you deeply.

In the languid heat of your drunken pleasure, the idea of feeling someone else's lips on yours as Steve fingers you is appealing, and the smoldering flames flicker, spreading at the thought. You blink, searching her expression for a moment until her gaze drops to your lips. And when she tips her chin, you lean in, shifting closer to press your mouth to hers.

Chrissy's lips are delicate, and the experience of kissing her is distinctly feminine compared to kissing Eddie or Steve. Maybe it's the softness of her skin, or the scent of her perfume, or the flavor of her mouth— sweeter than theirs, a sweetness you've already tasted after Steve kissed her during Strip or Dare, just stronger now.

After a moment, Chrissy's mouth opens, tongue swirling against the seam of your lips as she tilts her head— and you notice that Chrissy is much less careful than Eddie was when he kissed you for the first time. When Steve groans low in his throat, she instantly becomes bolder, pink tongue darting into your mouth as soon as you open your lips, licking wet and sloppy. You're taken off guard at first, but you try to keep up with her as she sucks your lower lip into her mouth, the aggressive sting surprising you as she nips it. "Shit," you hear Steve groan, and Eddie hums as Chrissy releases you, lips pink and slick as you both withdraw, resting your heads back against the sheets, still facing each other. 

Steve's fingers are pressing harder into you, your body rocking with the force of his hand as your gaze darts from Chrissy to Eddie— his eyes are half-lidded and hazy as he drops kisses against her shoulder, the dark ink of his arm draped across her body, pale hand moving rhythmically between her legs as her hips undulate up into him. You watch Chrissy's face as you feel Steve prop up on an elbow behind you, husking an eager question. "Can you do that again?"

Since you're watching Chrissy's face, you see the moment her blue eyes suddenly glint, a little cheeky smile tugging at her bow lips. "Only if you and Eddie kiss."

The rhythm of Steve's fingers falters inside you, and Eddie's head pops up, brown eyes widening, dark curls brushing Chrissy's porcelain skin as he looks past you at Steve. His face is skeptical, and you know without looking that Steve is sporting the same expression behind you. When they're silent, Chrissy adds, voice low and sultry, "Come on… it's only fair."

You're not especially invested in the idea of them kissing, but since Steve is the one who suggested you and Chrissy kiss, you do agree with her. "Kind of a double standard otherwise," you point out.

Eddie eyes Steve, brow still furrowed in a doubtful frown, and you hear Steve swallow hard behind you. "I guess…" Steve says non-committally, clearly unsure.

Chrissy's cheeky smile widens as she stretches out, legs long and shapely against the sheets, head cocking as she glances between Steve and Eddie. You've never seen her look so devilish, words sultry and loaded. "If it's a good kiss, I promise we'll make it worth your while."

You wonder what she means— her voice seems to tease at more than just another kiss between you. But you don't have long to dwell on it as Steve's hand suddenly stops moving between your legs. When he pulls out his fingers, you glance to see him with eyebrows raised, head rearing as if to say, 'Why not?' And when you look back at Eddie, he's no longer frowning or quite as skeptical. Instead, his mouth is pressed into a long, thin line of acceptance. "Are we doing this?" Eddie asks, half-disbelieving, and despite your earlier ambivalence, heat sparks low as you hear Steve say,

"Yeah, I think we're doing this, man."

Steve kneels up, and you bend your legs to make room as Eddie does the same. You and Chrissy cuddle close, eyes rapt on the forms of your boyfriends as they shuffle towards each other on their knees. Your gaze dips, catching on cocks still half-hard behind tight black briefs and loose checkered boxers, and you drape an arm across Chrissy's waist as your heart begins to race with anticipation. 

You've never been especially turned on by the concept of men kissing. You know that other girls find it hot, and you don't have any problem with it, but it's never been particularly arousing for you. But suddenly, the concept of these two men— whose mouths have explored your heat, whose tongues have dipped into your pussy— kissing each other with those same lips is wildly erotic. 

Of course, this is still Steve and Eddie, so you almost can't hold back from rolling your eyes as Steve stops moving closer and exclaims, "Dude, stop staring into my eyes like that." 

The exclamation is followed by Eddie's typical wide smirk. "What, like this?" He flutters his eyelashes coquettishly, pursing his lips, exaggerating a kissy face as he leans close. Steve shoves his shoulder hard, but Eddie just laughs, husky and deep in his amusement. You feel Chrissy shake her head in exasperation beside you as they push each other around a bit before Steve gets fed up. "All right, come on," he says.

And then they're close enough to touch, a careful distance between their waists and bottom halves. Steve's hand lands on Eddie's upper arm, and Eddie braces against Steve's shoulder as they lean in. Eyes wide, you watch raptly as they draw close, hesitating for a moment before their lips meet. 

It's tentative, light, about as chaste as chaste can be until Chrissy reminds them in a sing-song, "Make it good.” And then Steve and Eddie mouths begin moving more firmly. And at the sight of those masculine faces pressing close— Eddie's plush pink lips on Steve's, the tiny flash of Steve's tongue— your pussy pulses hard, heat throbbing insistently in your lower half, thighs rubbing together to try to bring relief. You hear Chrissy sigh a breathy moan, fingers drawing down your side as she watches them with you. Steve and Eddie don't kiss for long, but when they break away, you can feel how much slicker you suddenly are.

When the men glance at you both, their cheeks are stained pink, unimpressed as you and Chrissy titter with glee, clutching at each other. "Hope you enjoyed that," Eddie says wryly. 

"Oh, we did," Chrissy says with wicked delight, and you nod your enthusiastic agreement. "Go stand next to each other," she adds, voice almost a purr, tipping her chin to indicate the end of the bed. "And take out your cocks."

The men scramble to oblige, and Chrissy guides you by the arm toward them as their boxers are unceremoniously dropped and kicked away. She slinks to the floor, and you follow her, albeit a little less fluidly. Still, any concern you may have felt about your awkwardness whisps from your head as you take in the sight before you: Steve and Eddie side by side, solid tanned bulk next to limber predatory paleness, their lengths bobbing closeby. You kneel, still unsure what Chrissy has planned; you glance at her to see dainty fingers wrapping around the base of Steve's long cock, bow lips smirking sensually as she murmurs, "Join me, y/n."

Your eyes widen, and a thrill tingles down your spine as you suddenly understand her intention. And Steve seems to realize at the same time you do; he exhales a sharp breath, hips twitching slightly as Chrissy's tongue outstretches, wagging tantalizingly near the pale pink of his tip but not yet touching. Your face draws closer until you can detect the heat radiating from Steve's throbbing head, feeling utterly naughty as you stick out your tongue to match Chrissy's.

And then, together, you lick up both sides of Steve's cock.

Your eyes dart to Steve's face as his mouth falls open and he watches with helpless fascination as you and Chrissy lavish his length. You lick along his side, base to tip and then back again, lips curling as you watch Chrissy tongue lazily at his slit. "Oh, fuck," Steve groans, head tipping back as you suck underneath the base before drawing your lips to his tip, face close to Chrissy's. Together, as if you'd coordinated it, you begin to lick kittenishly at his head, tasting the salty musk of his precum, tongues brushing as you drag them against his heated flesh. "Shit, that feels so—" Steve cuts off with a desperate grunt as Chrissy wraps her lips around him, sucking sharply as you latch to the side.

As Steve's breathing becomes ragged, you register a second set of labored breaths. Your eyes flick to Eddie's as if by instinct; his gaze is locked on your faces, on your lips as you and Chrissy suck Steve's cock. You flush hotter under the intensity of his stare, and automatically, you reach out for him, hand drawing lightly up his calf, fingers tickled by his sparse hair. Chrissy pops off Steve then with a wet smack, pressing one last teasing kiss to his head. "Worth it?" she asks, looking up at him with a foxy smile. 

Steve runs a hand roughly through his brown waves, disheveling them. "Yeah," he replies, wide eyes darting to his friend as you and Chrissy shift your attention. "Dude, this is so fucking hot," Steve mutters, and you watch Eddie's adam's apple bob in a hard swallow as you and Chrissy settle before him, dark eyes flitting back and forth between you. You throb as your gaze settles on his thick length, which sticks proudly from that thatch of dark hair that trails upward to his navel. You lick up the side as Chrissy takes Eddie's head into her mouth without hesitation, bobbing deep as he moans hoarsely. But the sight of those dark curls ignites something carnal in you, so after a moment, you lick back down to Eddie's base to shove your nose, your face against the hair there. Eddie's scent is musky, heady, tantalizing as you kiss his heated skin, tongue darting out to taste the underside of his cock as Chrissy continues to suck him insistently. 

You glance up to see the evidence of your attentions, the reactions you so desire: that pink flush on Eddie's cheeks, that jaw tightened with tension, those eyes dark and inky. Eddie hums, higher than usual, as you mouth downwards, seeking more of his reactions. You suck one of his balls into your mouth, pulling lightly as you watch him with rapt attention. A little desperate crease forms between his brows; his nostrils flare, and his plush lips fall open in a delicious moan. The sight and the sound have you pulsing, desire twisting in your belly at the sudden desperation in his expression.

Abruptly, his calloused fingers are in your hair, tightening against your scalp, and when you moan around Eddie's ball, his hips jolt as he gasps. "Okay, okay," he rasps, voice tight and high as his other hand finds Chrissy's head, stilling her movements. "That's…" he chuckles breathlessly, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out as a sharp sigh. "Shit." 

Chrissy giggles as she pops off his tip, and you release him gently, instinctually leaning into his touch as his fingers flex against your scalp, scratching slowly. "Alright," Chrissy says, looking up at the two men. "We've had our fun. I think it's time for the main event."

Your stomach flutters at her pronouncement, wild wings and nerves mixing as you watch her rise fluidly, blue eyes locked on hazel. Your gaze flicks to amber brown. Eddie's eyes are deep and heated with desire as he stares down at you, his hand finally falling from your hair as you stand up. 

You're all silent for a brief moment before Steve runs a hand through touseled brown waves. "So, how are we doing this?" His eyes dart around the group, landing on each of you briefly. "I could flip a coin," he offers. And it strikes you as almost ridiculous— that you should decide which mixed couple will have sex first with a coin toss. But, considering the very prescriptive plan for how you're about to have sex, you suppose it doesn't make things much odder.

When you'd decided to try penetrative sex for the first time, Steve had been adamant that it be structured as follows: that one couple would have sex while the other watches and that you'd then switch roles— observers and performers. This was to ensure that everyone could enjoy the experience of both watching and participating, Steve had said. The logistics of it— how the guy would stand at the end of the bed and the girl would lay down on her back, surrounded on both sides— felt a little… Handmaid's Tale -esque to you. Unnatural. Almost a little transactional. But Steve had invested a great deal of time and energy in convincing the group of this, so you weren't going to question it.

Steve manages to find a quarter, and the sight of his hard cock bouncing as he flicks the coin in the air and slaps it onto the back of his hand is almost comical. "Call it," he tells Eddie. 

"Tails," Eddie says, and the flutters and nerves surge wildly in your stomach. 

Because when Steve reveals the toss, there's a fifty-fifty chance that Eddie's about to fuck you.

Steve lifts his palm, peering down at the result. Your eyes don't leave his face, breath caught in your throat until his gaze darts to Chrissy. "It's heads," he says, hazel eyes wide as Chrissy beams, blue eyes shining. 

Steve watches her, grinning as Chrissy flounces onto the duvet, taking his place at the foot of the bed as you and Eddie lay out on either side of her. And your head is thoroughly swimming now when you pillow it on Chrissy's shoulder and she wraps her thin arm around you. You blink slowly as you watch her reach down, pink-painted fingers wrapping around Eddie's thick length; your eyes catch on Steve's broad hand as he presses Chrissy’s thighs open for him. And then they dart restlessly, catching on fuchsia and ink and skin and skin and skin until they settle, finally, on your boyfriend's face as Steve lines the head of his cock up with Chrissy's entrance. 

It's surreal— the moment Steve pushes inside, disappearing into Chrissy as his hips cant forward, long bangs falling in a tumble over his forehead, dusting his eyelashes. You can feel her body shift against yours with the press of his hips, almost as if it's you he's fucking. But Steve's not fucking you. He's fucking Chrissy, sweet Chrissy with her powdery-soft smiles and her expensive perfume and her trim waist and her bow lips that open in a long, feminine moan as Steve slides home to the hilt. And it feels like there's a brief pause, a moment where things hang suspended, motionless, like the last few silent seconds of a song before the next track begins. In that pause, you suck in a slow breath, mixed emotions swirling as your gaze drags over the familiar curve of Steve's biceps, the thick hair on his chest, the breadth of his torso, the dip of his navel, and then the thin, pale legs spread open by his hands, splayed apart for Steve to take what he wants. For him to give Chrissy what she wants.

And then he's moving.

You can feel the brush of Chrissy's hair against your forehead, the sway of her body as Steve begins to thrust into her, strokes long and even as she arches her back against the duvet, a seductive stretch that accentuates the lithe lines of her body. You can see Eddie on the other side of her, the darkness of his wild curls as he ducks to her neck, kissing her there as Steve rocks her body. "Mmm," Chrissy moans, a sensual purr of satisfaction. "That's it, Steve— fuck me hard. Give it to me good, baby." 

He groans, lips pulled into a crooked smirk as he increases his pace, fucking Chrissy harder, hips slapping into flesh as the rocking of her body against you intensifies. "Oh fuck, you're so goddamn tight—"

So that's the kind of talking Steve was looking for. That swirl of emotion flares within you again— amorphous, scrambled, not entirely pleasant as you watch your boyfriend's eager eyes lock on Chrissy's perky breasts bouncing within fuchsia padding. Chrissy whimpers, fingers tightening against your waist and around Eddie's cock as she whines, "Touch me." 

You realize quickly that she doesn't mean Steve— he's already touching her, fingers pressing into her thighs, holding on tight as he drives into her. She must mean Eddie; she must mean you. So you oblige her: you gently touch her trim waist, fingers dragging featherlight against smooth skin as you draw your hand toward her belly button, up to her ribs, tracing random patterns. She sighs and hums, filthy words of encouragement spilling from her lips, egging Steve on. 

You don't watch the path of your hand as you touch her; instead, your eyes are locked on Steve's face, on the pinch of his brow, the heat you can see swirling behind his hazel eyes as he voices his desire. So it takes you by surprise when you feel the brush of calloused fingers against yours— fingers too rough to be Chrissy's, too far away to be Steve's. Your hand pauses, eyes darting to see limber fingers beneath ruddy knuckles, ghosting softly over yours.

Your breath catches as the raspy touch tingles your skin, fluttering low in your belly as Eddie's hand touches yours while you both caress Chrissy like she'd asked. You lift your head slightly to peek at his face, and your heart thumps as you see him looking back— dark eyes like molten ink, thick and drippy with promise. 

Eddie's fingers leave yours after the briefest moment, continuing their journey across Chrissy's body, and you do the same, tracing a path low on her hips. But the contact has shifted something within you. Whereas before, you'd been torn watching Steve fuck Chrissy, emotions swirling into a cloud approaching unease, you're now more focused on the tease of Eddie's touch, the anticipation of what's soon to come. You let your hand wander back towards Chrissy's middle, exploring, testing, hoping to feel the rasp of Eddie's fingertips again. And as his hand mosies across her skin— cupping her breast briefly, dragging over her side, dipping to her hip and then back up— it happens again. His hand finds yours, warm and rough as he draws his fingers over your hand, and your heart thumps as you feel it, a new feeling emerging within the emotional swirl inside. You tease Chrissy's ribs, dragging the backs of your fingers up her side before curving over to meet Eddie's hand again. And this time, you're the one to touch him: you stroke across the back of his hand, thumb brushing ruddy knuckles as your eyes flit to meet his again, finding molten ink as if by instinct.

Chrissy tilts her head then, and Eddie's eyes break from yours as she nudges toward him. "Mmm, baby, you're so hard," she murmurs sensually. "Is it turning you on, watching him fuck me like this?" 

You watch Eddie's full pink lips quirk with a tiny smile, but he doesn't reply; he just kisses her. You blink, eyes darting away to watch the rhythm of Steve's hips instead. You curl a little closer to Chrissy's rocking body, head slipping lower as you gaze up at your boyfriend. It strikes you how handsome he is then— how strong he looks as his abdomen rolls, skin damp with sweat, hair tousled attractively over his brow and against his neck as he works Chrissy to their mutual pleasure.

You hear the soft smack of Chrissy's lips as she separates from Eddie to moan loudly, back arching again against the bed. "Yeah, yeah, Steve, fuck me," she whines, drawing out the words, and Steve's hands shift suddenly— your eyes widen as you're jostled when he lifts Chrissy's hips, planting one knee against the bed, strong and proud as he fucks her even harder. 

Chrissy's eyes brighten with delight, lips curving with an eager smile. "Ooh, Steve," she squeals, "That's it. Fuck my naughty cunt, stretch me open—"

Her airy feminine moans mix with the impact of Steve's hips and his groans, hoarse and deep. "Yeah, baby, oh, shit—" His even rhythm begins to falter in a tell-tale sign of his approaching orgasm, and Chrissy giggles, purring,

"Is my tight little pussy gonna make you cum, Steve?"

You can see the desperation in Steve's face as his lips fall open, moaning, panting, cheeks flushed as he groans, "Yeah, yeah, fuck—" 

And then he's pulling out, wrapping one arm under the small of Chrissy's back to support her as his other hand grips his length, tugging quickly. You watch his pink head disappear into his fist once, twice— and then he grunts, hips canting, groans stifled in his throat as his cum paints Chrissy's porcelain stomach. It spurts in lines as he strokes himself evenly before slowing, squeezing tight near his head, and you watch it drip from his slit into thick drops above Chrissy's fuchsia thong. 

And the sight of Steve's cum on Chrissy's abdomen makes your stomach flutter with excitement— because it's hot and erotic, but also because it means that it's your turn with Eddie next.

Chrissy's arm tightens around your back, hugging you closer as Steve lowers her back down. She tugs you and Eddie close as she says, sweet and bright, "Mmm, that was fun!" 

The delight in her soft voice, coupled with the flutters in your stomach, make you feel affectionate. You smile, nose nuzzling against her collarbone, arm wrapping just underneath her breasts to hug her back, careful to avoid the mess of Steve's spend on her skin. 

"I'll get you a towel," Eddie offers, and the sudden sound of his smoky voice has your heart thumping as you feel the mattress shift when he gets up. 

Another hand squeezes your arm, and you twist away from Chrissy to look into Steve's face, flushed and radiant as he beams at you. You smile automatically back as he reaches for you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pressing kisses to your cheek. Steve seems happy, making you happy as you draw away, smoothing back his bangs as the mattress dips again— likely from Eddie returning with a towel for Chrissy. You chuckle as Steve’s bangs flop back into the same position, nearly covering his eye.

Steve's smile softens as he gazes into your eyes before kissing you tenderly. "Did you like watching me?" he asks, a quiet murmur close to your lips.

"Yeah," you say softly, fond as his eyes brighten at your answer. "You looked hot," you add, and when he beams at you again, you press one last kiss to his cheek. And then, you feel a soft touch against your hip. 

You turn your head quickly but keep your arms around Steve's neck, heart leaping until you register the pink-painted nails and delicate fingers. Your eyes find Chrissy's baby blues, her bow lips flushed and pulled into an encouraging smile. "Your turn," she says, and you feel Steve kiss your temple as you realize that her abdomen is clean, she's shifting over on the bed, and Eddie's standing at the foot, watching you silently.

Ink on quartz, black on white.

Steve gently removes your arms from around his neck. "Lie down, baby," he says, one hand applying gentle pressure to your shoulder.

But when your eyes dart from black and white to the soft indent of the duvet in the center of the bed, you frown. That feeling of unnaturalness hits you again; the prescriptiveness of just laying flat, waiting with Steve and Chrissy by your side for Eddie to fuck you. 

You don't want this to feel like some transaction. You don't want to just lie down. 

"Wait," you say softly, pulling from Steve's light grip and shuffling over until you're kneeling in front of Eddie. He watches you as you approach, hands hanging by his sides. And his cock is sticking from that thatch of dark hair, but you don't reach out for that. Instead, you cup his neck, drawing closer until you feel the press of his hot head against your belly, the rasp of his hands on your hips as they settle there. Eddie's brown eyes are deep as you gaze into them for a moment before tipping your chin and pressing your lips to his.

You can feel his warm breath tickle against your upper lip as he sighs slowly, leaning into your kiss. Eddie's lips are plush and soft as you move your mouth against them, coaxing him until his hands shift, smoothing over your skin until they meet at the small of your back, holding you closer. You drag your fingers up as he deepens your kiss, burying both your hands in the curls at the nape of his neck, belly fluttering, pussy pulsing as you feel his length twitch where it's pressed between your stomachs.

"They shouldn't have all the fun," you hear Chrissy say behind you. And then she giggles, lips smacking as she kisses Steve. You press a little tighter to Eddie, relishing the feeling of his warm chest against yours, the rasp of his thumbs as he rubs them softly against your back, the heady, tantalizing scent of him in your nose— smoke, apples, and musk, that scent that's growing ever more familiar, ever more comforting every time you inhale it. It swirls down, filling you inside, transforming into plumes of rich, heady feeling as you open your mouth for him, leaning into the soft brush of his tongue against yours. 

And once this moment no longer feels unnatural or transactional, you pull back to gaze into warm brown eyes. Eddie smooths your hair back, and you sigh, leaning into his touch as he murmurs, "Are you ready?" 

Your answer is immediate. "Yes," you whisper, and Eddie smiles softly as he kisses you one last time— so light, so delicate that it nearly makes your eyes sting. 

And then you lay down.

Steve's arm is underneath your head, your hair fanned across his bicep as his other arm rests just beneath your breasts. Chrissy's head finds your shoulder opposite Steve, and your arm curves almost automatically around her as she lays out on her side, arm resting in the curve of her waist, hip cocked, limbs long and willowy against the duvet. "Put your legs up," Steve tells you, and you rest your calves against Eddie's shoulders as he shifts closer. 

You feel a little exposed like this; your brow creases, vulnerable eyes peering at your painted toes— white nails even paler against the backdrop of Eddie's dark curls, which tickle the bottoms of your feet as he cocks his head. 

"Your feet better not smell," Eddie says, and your eyes flit instantly to his face, to those warm eyes dancing with his tease.

Scoffing, you retort, "They don't!"

Eddie snatches your foot suddenly, pressing his nose to your toes. You tense and squeal as he snuffles against your skin, trying not to squirm and kick him— but almost instantly, he releases you, hand returning to its place on your thigh. "Nah, you're good," he says teasingly, and his playful smirk spreads when you giggle. 

Steve presses his naked body tighter against your side; Chrissy's waves brush your skin as she turns her head slightly, staring between your legs. And when you see the playful smirk slide from Eddie's face, as you feel him shift a little closer, your own mirth fades as your gaze darts to Eddie's cock— somewhat shorter than Steve's but thicker, head blushed dark pink, bobbing just above the red embroidery of your crotchless panties. 

Your heart begins to thump hard in anticipation, sparks smoldering low as you watch Eddie's hand wrap around the base of his cock, guiding it toward your heat. Your hips shift as you feel his tip brush lightly against your slick flesh; you bite your lip as you inhale slowly, a little shakily. And when Eddie pauses, you meet his dark eyes, and you nod, hair brushing Steve's arm underneath you.

Steve's hand suddenly is at your cheek, turning your head to capture your lips in a deep kiss. Your eyes slip closed as you feel Eddie nudge against your entrance, hot and silky and unyielding as he presses closer and closer and closer—

And then you whimper into Steve's mouth as Eddie's head pops inside you.

The first stretch is always the most delicious with Steve, and it is delicious with Eddie, too. But though you already know he's thicker than Steve, you hadn't realized just how much thicker until he's stretching you open, inner walls burning as he eases in. It's a tight fit, and you suck in a sharp breath as he presses forward evenly. Eddie's not moving particularly fast, but it's still a little too intense, a little painful, so you pull from Steve's lips, brow crinkled as you glance up at Eddie to ask waveringly, "C-Can you… go slower?"

Eddie stops moving immediately, fingers tightening on your thighs. "Of course," he says quickly. And you make a tiny sound in your throat as he soothes his hands up your legs, rough skin rasping up your soft shins and down again to your thighs. It gives you something to focus on as you adjust to him, and you sigh, eyes slipping closed as Steve presses kisses to your cheek. Steve's lips and Eddie's hands relax you, and before long, the burn fades to a pinch. And when the pinch fades, too, you open your eyes, shifting your hips to encourage Eddie to move. 

You watch him as he presses forward again, eyes dragging over his features in a soft caress— the wild tangle of his curls, the softness of his nose, his full pink lips, the strong column of his pale throat, the ink of his dark armor as it cascades over his shoulders and chest and down his arms. And as you swallow him up with your wet warmth— as Eddie pushes further and further into you until his hips are snug tight to your skin, and his dark hair is pressed to the red lace of your panties— you feel that flickering flame burn hotter until you finally ignite.

You moan quietly as Eddie pulls out and then again as he presses back in, setting a gentle pace. And the drag of his thick cock inside you makes your breath quicken, your desire licking up your belly as Eddie starts to fuck you slow and even. 

Steve's voice is right in your ear, but he isn't speaking to you. "Does her pussy feel good?" he rasps, and the puff of his warm breath against your skin, coupled with the feeling of Eddie's cock inside you, makes your hips squirm. 

Eddie's fingers tighten on your thighs as he feels you move. "Y-yeah," he replies, and your breath catches as you hear his voice— it's rough but higher than usual, a little shaky, and the idea that being inside you affects him like that makes your desire coil tighter in your belly. Steve hums, sounding pleased as his lips trail over your jaw, dragging down until he's sucking at your throat. His hand finds your breast, kneading it lightly; on your other side, you feel Chrissy shift as she lays on her back, twisting her hips attractively, lifting one hand to play with your hair as you sway slightly with Eddie's gentle thrusts.

Suddenly, you no longer need gentleness. 

You build your courage up until you can say softly, "You can go faster now. If you want," you add shyly. Instantly, Eddie speeds up, and you moan as each impact of his hips begins to jostle you in Steve's grip. It's exactly what you'd wanted— Eddie's pressing in deep now, the steady, quick drag of his cock stoking your fire, pale hips smacking against your thighs. 

It feels good. It feels really, really fucking good.

"Mmm, I love watching you," Chrissy purrs, voice a sultry hum, and you glance to see her staring intently up at Eddie. "You're so fucking hot, babe." 

Your eyes dart to Eddie, too, and you watch as he chuckles breathlessly, jaw tense, nostrils flaring as he glances at Chrissy. Steve pulls your face to him, tongue snaking between your lips, and though you kiss him back, your eyes dart to Eddie again. And when that inky stare flicks to you, seeing you watch him as you kiss your boyfriend, Eddie groans quietly, a low rumble in his throat. 

Your hips twitch at his sound, excitement increasing at his reaction; as you shift, Eddie jolts against a spot inside that sparks deep in your belly. The sensation makes you gasp— your lips open wide against Steve's mouth, muffled against his lips as you whimper. You hear Eddie grunt, throaty and deep, as his fingers tighten on your legs. Your desire twists hotter, tighter as you elicit his reaction, at the knowledge that your sounds, your gaze, and your body give Eddie pleasure. That knowledge sinks inside you, sticky and thick, moving syrupy through your veins until you're burning with satisfaction.

Your gaze returns to your boyfriend as Steve pulls his lips from you. He strokes back your hair, cups your cheek, pupils swallowing hazel as he rasps, "That's it, honey, make him feel so fucking good."

And it's exactly what you'd just been thinking. But to hear Steve voice it….

He kisses you deeply again, and you let him, but that swirl of emotion begins to cloud within you as you ponder his words. Steve hadn't asked, 'Does his cock feel good inside you?'. And he hadn't said, "I want him to make you feel so fucking good.' And even his fingers kneading your breast or the sensual warmth of his tongue as it brushes yours can't distract you from that sudden realization.

You pull your mouth from his, head tilting as you sigh, hoping the curve of your neck will invite Steve's lips. And it does— he seems not to notice, mouth dipping to suckle at your throat as your body rocks with Eddie's thrusts and Chrissy trails her fingers up your side. And it's so much sensation— so many bodies around you, so many hands on your skin that you can't focus on any one thing, pulled along by the current of lust and desire surrounding you.

But then Eddie's nose brushes softly against your ankle, and you meet his eyes again. He nuzzles there, and his lips are plush, nearly ticklish, as his mouth ghosts your skin. You can feel his breath as he asks you a quiet series of questions, voice stuttering slightly with the rhythm of his hips: "Is it good? You want it faster? Slower?"

Eddie is standing at the foot of the bed. He's towering over you as you lay spread out on the duvet below him, feet to either side of his head. Physically, he's about as far away as he could possibly be while having sex with you.

And yet he's never felt closer.

That amorphous swirl of emotion transforms, blooming with heat and pleasure and flutters and more as you stare into Eddie's face. "No," you reply, "it's— it's good like this." Your voice is almost a whimper as you add, "I-It feels really good, Eddie—" 

You hear his breath catch sharply in his chest. And as you watch his face twitch, dark eyes wide as he stares down at you, you wonder at this reaction, at what may have elicited it. As Eddie fucks you a little harder, brow now contorting in pleasure, face beginning to flush, you realize: 

It's the first time you've said his name while you've been intimate. 

It may even be the first time you've said his name to him at all.

The knowledge that Eddie's name on your lips made him react— made him feel— ignites within you, and you're suddenly desperate for what you'd imagined that first time you’d been with him: how he'd sound and what he'd look like when he cums while you're having sex. And you've seen him cum before, but this… this is different. 

And you want it. You want it so bad that the burn in your belly turns to an ache that only increases as you moan, and Eddie moans, and your hips shift into him, and his fingers tighten on your thighs, holding you closer as he pounds you deeply. Steve is sucking on your neck, and Chrissy is humming eagerly as Eddie's rhythm starts to stutter, but they don't matter now. All that matters is the feeling of Eddie's length as it twitches inside you, the heat of his eyes as they bore into yours. His plush lips fall open, and that pink starts to spread on his black and white—

Clambering, shifting— the mattress dips, and suddenly the back of Chrissy's strawberry-blonde waves are all you see as she straddles your waist. She's sitting low on your stomach as Eddie thrusts into you, and the pressure sharply increases your pleasure. But you're bewildered, disoriented at the sudden change, eyes darting over her sharp shoulder blades as she asks, "Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, tight and high, and your breath catches as you feel him twitch inside you again. 

"Cum on me." Chrissy's sweet voice is whiny with need. "Please, Eddie, I want it."

"Okay, sweetheart," you hear Eddie say. And then that delicious stretch inside you is suddenly gone.

Abruptly, Eddie pulls out of you, and your hips jerk, pussy pulsing reflexively around nothing at the sudden absence of him. From behind, you can see Chrissy's arm moving as you stare at her back. Your brow crumples as you hear Eddie— that smoky voice moaning out his release as Chrissy hums with satisfaction. 

But you can't see him. You can't see anything but Chrissy.

In the aftermath of Eddie's release, everything calms, settling like a wave receding back into the ocean. The burn in your belly eases, the ache inside you fades, and the desperate want sinks into a quiet sense of emptiness as Chrissy kneels up, her weight no longer resting on you as she kisses her boyfriend. As Steve pets back your hair, you turn your face to him, looking into his hazel eyes— warm, comforting, familiar. He cradles your cheek, and you lean into his touch, relishing the softness of his hand against your skin as he kisses you tenderly. "That was so sexy, honey," he murmurs, sighing contentedly. "Fuck, I love you." 

You smile as his praise trickles into that small space inside, beginning to fill it. "Love you too," you reply, wrapping your arms around his torso. You ignore the soreness in your lower half as you shift your legs out from under Chrissy, draping one over Steve's hip in a full-bodied embrace. 

And as Steve envelops you with citrus and strength, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, hoping his scent will chase the lingering emptiness away.

-

Once everyone has cleaned up and returned to the bed to cuddle, you're wedged between Steve and Chrissy, warm and languid. Your body is soft with the afterglow of spent pleasure as Steve tucks his nose against the nape of your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind. You're warm and languid, but you aren't relaxed— you can't stop thinking about that tiny formerly-empty place inside, prodding at it with morbid fascination, trying to figure out the source of your unease.

Because it's filled now, but not with Steve's crisp scent, or his strong arms, or his praise, but with a vague sour tang that clings bitterly to your gums as you watch Chrissy lay half-across Eddie's chest, fingers playing in his dark hair. 

The feeling isn't overwhelming; it's small, barely there, really. You prod at it again, and it clings viscous and rancid to your fingertip. You know what it is because you've felt it before— typically when you happen upon pictures of gorgeous women with perky breasts and tight stomachs and trim thighs.

It's jealousy. You feel jealous.

You sigh slowly through your nose as your gaze runs over Chrissy's baby blue eyes, her pink bow lips, the softness of her strawberry-blonde hair as it cascades over Eddie's skin. Though you have felt insecure when comparing yourself to Chrissy, it's never been directed at her— just internally at yourself. She's never made you feel sour before. 

You decide it must be because your boyfriend has now had sex with her. You're resentful since she'd been able to talk dirty to him like he wants, since she can fulfill that desire for him when you clearly can't.

Yes, that must be it. 

You assess the weight of your feelings, measuring it against the memory of your girls' trip to the mall, your enjoyment of Chrissy’s company, and how her eager kindness and encouragement make you feel. And you consider the fun you've had with her— the fun you've had with Eddie and Steve, too. You'd grown to really appreciate the time you all spend together: singing karaoke, going on double dates, or even just hanging around your apartment. Steve seems happy with your arrangement, and so are you. You're enjoying yourself immensely, and if you're honest, you aren't ready to give that up just because you've gotten a little jealous.

I'm a big girl, you think. I can handle my feelings. It's not a big deal.

So you reach out, drawing your hand down the back of Chrissy's head, fingers stroking silky blonde waves as she glances at you. Eyes brighten; smiles are exchanged. And when she shifts toward you, thin arms wrapping around your neck as she tugs you closer and you giggle, the sour tang begins to fade. 

-

Late at night, once Steve's snores fill the dark quiet of the bedroom, you pull out your phone. The blue light illuminates your face as you swipe it open, navigating to the Spotify app. 

It's your turn to send a song this time.

You do this often. Every few days or so, your fingers will search blindly for your phone on your bedside table, bleary eyes peering at the screen once Steve's form is motionless beside you. And if there's a message on your lock screen, you'll carefully tug open your drawer, pull out your headphones, and listen to the song Eddie has shared. And if it's your turn to share, you'll pull up Spotify, searching for a track you're in the mood to share that night.

You know already which song you want to send Eddie tonight: Touch Tank by Quinnie. You discovered it about a week ago and have been listening to it often. It's sweet, floaty, and upbeat, and you like her voice because there's something soft and unpolished about it. You think she's an indie artist— it sounds like maybe she'd produced the sound herself. But the lyrics….

You'd smiled the first time you listened to them, perking as she sang, 'question your tattoos,' because you'd immediately thought of Eddie. But when you'd gotten to the chorus, you'd flushed and giggled, pressing cool palms to your heated cheeks, trying to ignore the curious glances from the other passengers on the subway. You couldn't help but think of Eddie again: his wild curls, bright brown eyes, and manic grin. That word had already floated up when you looked at him— pretty— so when Quinnie sang, 'He's so pretty when he goes down on me,' well… you couldn't help yourself.

You'd been debating whether to send it to Eddie, wondering whether he'd think the song was weird or awkward. But tonight, there's something different about you. Something new has emerged at the bottom of you, and though you don't consciously know it, it emboldens you. It guides your fingers to copy the link; it sprouts against the letters as you tap out your message. 'There's a line in this song that reminds me of you,' you write. And then, before those familiar nerves can freeze you, you send it.

You stare at the message, chewing on your thumbnail as you're struck suddenly with doubt. There are any number of lines Eddie could think you're talking about— the 'tattoo' line or the 'pretty' line, which you'd been intending. But what if he thinks I'd been thinking of the bridge? 'You took my breath away, so now I can't suck in my stomach around you anymore… Do you wanna wake up to me every morning…?'  

That's a little more… vulnerable than you'd been intending. And you hadn't even meant that part of the song. Why would you tell Eddie you want to wake up with him when you're waking up next to Steve? This was a mistake.  

Eddie hasn't seen it yet, so maybe you can—

Your chest pangs immediately with panic as the blue checkmark appears. You suppress a dismayed whimper. Why'd I waste so much time deliberating?!

You know there's no way you'll be able to go back to sleep now that you're waiting for Eddie to give his feedback on the song. When the bubble appears to show he's typing, your heart leaps into your throat. You scrunch your eyes closed, fingers nearly quivering around your phone as you wait. And then, when it buzzes once in your grip, you crack one eyelid, face contorted in a wince as you peek tentatively at the screen.

It's a short message; they typically are. But where Eddie normally would explain his score, tonight, there is no explanation. There is simply a row of six skulls out of five.

You blink, both eyes opening as you examine the screen. Six skulls out of five. That's… obviously good, right? You purse your lips, attempting to interpret why he'd chosen a skull emoji. 'I'm sorry,' you type, 'did I kill you with that one?'

There's the briefest pause after you send it, and his reply appears shortly afterward. You can almost hear Eddie's smoky voice murmuring in your ear as you read it: 'Nearly, sweet girl. A mortal wound. But, worry not: I will recover.'

'Good,' you reply, following it with two smiley faces. 

And the smile that grows on your own face is verdant. Your cheeks are supple and pink. Your skin glows.

You're just beginning to flourish.

[shiftyyyy]

faggot ewww ewwwwwww ewwwww you smell ewww you like jimboooo ewwwwwwwww wwww

ewwwww alfred brown smells 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 hashtag doll eye hate ewwwww mystery looks like ass i bet he smells and his rotting smelly balls smell like ass cheekz like ewww they’re hanging ewwwww old men balls ewwww i also hate your bunniez they smell like baddd ewwww yuki smells so bad she had shit all over her ewwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaa

OKAY NOW DONT START WITH ME YOU SODAPACK SMELLING FREAK. I KNOW I SMELL LIKE JIMBO AND THATS NOT A BAD THING TO ME ATLEAST. SMELLING LIKE SODAPACK IS TERRIBLE BECAUSE THE AMOUNT OF FRUITINESS THEY PROJECT OUT OF THEIR BODYS WHENEVER THEYRE TOGETHER ITS INTOXICATING. YOU NEED TO WEAR SOME KIND OF GAS MASK TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THEIR FUMES. THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE HAD TO MAKE A WHOLE NEW WEATHER WARNING BECAUSE PEOPLE COULDNT BREATHE TO THIS NEW GAS CALLED THE GAY AHH LICE INFECTION, AND YOU ARE THE MAIN REASON WHY IT SPREADS SO MUCH, YOU ARE A THREAT TO THIS WHOLE WORLD. YOU AND BOTH OF THOSE FREAKS ARE GONNA BE SENT TO DEATH ROW BECAUSE THE AWFUL TOXIN WHENEVER YOU GUYS AROUND MAKE PEOPLE PERISH IN MID ARE LIKE THE ASH BABY. YOU ARE WORSE THEN DEAD AURA WITH FLIES.

YOURE HATING ON ALFRED YOU FLYING SON OF A GUN. YOU WONT LIKE IT WHEN I GET MY HANDS ONTO YOU, THAT IS IF I CAN EVEN TOUCH YOUR FRUITY SMELLING AHH. IF I THREW AN AXE AT YOUR HEAD THE BLOOD WOULDNT EVEN BE BLOOD. IT WOULD BE LUCKY DAY FOR A KID WHO WANTS A FRUITY FLIPPING SUNDAE OR SOME CRAP. DONT EVEN START WITH MY WIFE NOW I SWEAR TO GOD. I CAN ASURE YOU HIS BALLS ARE JUST FINE. ATLEAST WITH MY WIFE I CAN GET IT AT NIGHT UNLIKE YOU. IM TIRED OF HEARING BRYCE COMPLAIN THAT YOUR 50 INCH SLONG CANT FIT IN THE TOP OF HIS LITTLE BOTTLE HOLE, “s-sorry babe it’s too big for me!!” TALK ABOUT A STINKY LITTLE LOSER. THE ONLY THING MAKING HIM SCREAM IS THE FACT THAT YOULL NEVER BE ABLE TO FIT IT IN. I TRIED TO PRAY TO KAO TO MAKE YOU GUYS STOP THAT NOT EVEN THE PUREST FORM OF HUMANITY CAN STAND SUCH A FRUITY PEBBLE SKITTLE BURST KOOL AID TUME YUMMIE HAWAIIAN PUNCH SMOOTHIE BLAST SMELLING CREATURES LIKE YOU TWO.

YOU BETTER WATCH WATCH YOUR BACK. I SEE ALL. I KNOW ALL. AND THE FACT YOU THINK ITS OKAY TO TALK ABOUT MY BUNNIES LIKE THAT??? BUNNIES ARE SELF CLEANING, THEY CAN ACTUALLY GET ALL THAT GUNK OFF OF THEM THEMSELV— **CoUgh— COUGH—** OH GOD WHATS THAT SMELL??? OH GOD ITS THE FRUITY SMELLING FREAK THAT CANT DO WHAT MY BUNNIES CAN. I BET YOU SAY THAT THEY STINK BECAUSE YOUR JEALOUS. THEY HAVE WHAT YOU DONT. SO YOU GO AND HATE ON MY BABIES FOR THAT? YOU DONT WANNA SEE ME WHEN IM ANGRY. IM FULL OF PURE HATRED AND DESPISE. IM EVIL. NOW BEFORE YOU GO AND HATE ON ME FOR “SMELLING SO BAD” TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT YOURSELF, GO TO A MIRROR. BUT WATCH OUT YOUR AURA MIGHT SHATTER THE GLASS TILL THERES NOTHING LEFT.

GOOD DAY. 😡

[tmnt-tychou]

Got a weird turtle ask, what do you think the turtles favorite drinks/sodas are? What do you think is a drink each of them can’t stand?

If you were gonna try to get a mutant turtle intoxicated, what do you think he would go for?

I'm assuming this is for Bayverse? We know Mikey loves his orange crush. (Raph probably loves it, too, which is why he has to hide it.) As turtles, I'd assume they are all partial to fruit-flavored drinks: juice, fruit soda and smoothies. None of them care for the taste of Coke/Pepsi. (Maaaybe Cherry Coke, but it's still not their favorite.)

For alcoholic drinks, they still favor fruity drinks. Raph and Mikey will drink beer. Donnie will drink wine. Leo likes to pretend he likes sake, but he really had to work up to developing a taste for it.

As far as getting the Bayverse boys drunk, they are so big and their metabolism is so fast that it takes a MASSIVE amount of hard liquor to get them smashed. I don't know if any of them have ever been shitfaced. At the most, they've gotten a little buzzed. Some of the smaller versions of the turtles have probably gotten properly drunk. And I'm sure all of them tried their first taste of alcohol under age. I mean, who is going to stop them?

Thanks for the ask!

[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Three - Maxie

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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For three days, Max went back to that café. On the first day and the second day, Bunny wasn't there. She was nowhere to be found around Monaco. Max tried to search for her, but his search came up empty.

On the third day, Max was ready to give up.

He still went back to the café as he had every day since, hope slowly dying in his chest. As much as he wanted to taste one of her fruity drinks on his lips, he couldn't bring himself to order one, not unless it was her hands passing it to him. Max had stuck to bitter coffees that he didn't much like the taste of.

As he rounded the corner, walking towards the café, he stopped. After three days of desperate searching, there was Bunny.

She was in a different dress this time, a pink one that made her look positively angelic. Her pretty lips were wrapped around the straw as her fingers, nails pink like her dress, wrapped around her glass.

Max flattened himself against the wall around the corner. As long as she couldn't see him. If she was alone, Max would have sauntered up to her, full of confidence and asked her out. He wanted to give her his number, to get to know Bunny even when he wasn't there in Monaco.

But she wasn't alone, was she? Max hated that he recognised the person she was with. Charles Fucking Leclerc. What the hell was she doing with Charles Leclerc? Did it mean she was from their world, too?

Max waited. He regularly checked around the corner, waiting for Charles to just piss off. He was getting antsy, and time was running out. Fuck, why did Charles have to be there?

At last, Charles stood up. He said something to Bunny, said something Max couldn't hear, and left. As soon as he disappeared inside of the café, Max pushed away from the wall and went striding towards her.

"Hey, Bunny," he said as he strode over to her and sat in Charles's seat.

Her eyes went wide and she looked at up him with a pretty smile. "Max, right?" She asked, her head resting in the palm of her hand.

He leaned forward, hands held together in front of him. "Listen, Bunny, I've got to go away for a little bit. But I would like to see you and I do want you to have my phone number," he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and passing it to her.

"Where are you going?" Bunny asked as she put her number into his phone and sent herself a text. "Anywhere nice?" A sultry smile crossed her lips, one Max was sure she didn't even realise she was wearing.

Max let out a chuckle and leaned back in his seat as he took the phone back from her. "I wish," he said with a chuckle, but he didn't elaborate further. He checked the time on his watch. "I've really got to go, Bunny. But I'll be back soon, I swear."

She sucked her smoothie through the straw and batted her lashes at him. "Goodbye, Maxie," she said and wiggled her fingers at him. It was an image Max never wanted to forget as he left, rushing away before Charles could catch him.

Not that Bunny knew. She kept watching Max, looking in his direction even after he'd disappeared. Her smoothie was quickly finished, just in time for Charles to sit back down opposite her.

"Was someone here?" He asked, immediately noticing the far away look in her eyes. She shook her head and went to drink more of the smoothie she had already finished. "Don't lie to me, Bunny."

"Nobody was here, Charles," she insisted. She looked down at her empty smoothie. "Can I get another?"

But Charles shook his head. "Sorry, Bun. But we've got places to be." He stood up and offered her his hand. She walked with, arm linked through his as they headed away from the café.

Charles led her to his car. He pulled open the passenger side door for her and held her hand as she climbed in, her free hand holding the skirts of her pretty pink dress down. Her head was against the window as she hummed along to the radio, leaving Charles to concentrate on driving.

How long had it been since Bunny Dupont had been back in France? She didn't know. But the scenery didn't look familiar as Charles drove her towards her fathers house.

Her phone buzzed in her little purse, but she didn't pick it up. Max was her little secret, for now, and she didn't want Charles to know. Charles would just put a stop to it, even if Max was a lovely guy. She drummed her nails against the purse in her lap as Charles pulled up to the gates that guarded her fathers house.

"Charlie," she mumbled, looking towards him. Charles out a hum, never tearing his eyes away from the road as the gates swung open. "What does he want this time?" She mumbled, eyes cast down at her lap.

Charles parked outside of the house, but he didn't climb out. He let out a sigh and turned towards her, his eyes kind. "I know, Bun," he said, his hand coming to rest on her thigh. It was more comforting than anything. "I'll be with you the entire time."

She climbed out the car and slipped her purse over her shoulder. Charles placed his hand on her shoulder as they walked up to the house.

It was incredibly strange that Charles had a key and she didn't. He let them into the house and pushed the door shut, locking it as soon as they stepped in.

She hated coming back to the house. The walls were lined with pictures, portraits of her brother. While her father was obsessed with her brothers death, he hadn't dwelled on it. After a year of desperately searching for his killer, they gave up. The statue of Louis Dupont she could see out in the garden had her shivering.

Charles kept his hand on the small of her back as he led her up the stairs. She had her own room in the house, but it had been untouched for years. The door remained partially open, revealing the pink and the soft toys that covered the room. It was a child's room, one she'd never felt safe in.

Her fathers office was at the very end of the hall. Charles knocked for her. He stood with his hands behind his back as they waited to be welcomed in.

As soon as Dupont called, Charles pushed open the door and let Bunny in. She pulled her skirts down as she approached her fathers desk.

"Hello, Darling," said Dupont. He stood from his desk and walked around to her, bringing Bunny into his arms. "How have you been?" He asked and kissed the top of her head.

Bunny stood, stiff as a board as her father returned to his chair. She didn't have much to say to her father; their relationship hadn't remained the same after Louis died. It had only gotten worse. "Listen, Bunny." For some unexplainable reason, she hated hearing her father call her that. "We have been invited to the Netherlands and I want you there with me."

"Mr Du-"

But Dupont fixed Charles with a look, one that had him falling silent.

"Papa," Bunny said as she stepped up to the desk. "I've never gone on a job before. Why do you want me?" She asked. "Why not take mom?"

Dupont let out a laugh, a mocking one that had Bunny's blood boiling. She hated it here. "Your mother used to be cut out for things like this, Bun, but not anymore. If I want to put my best foot forward, I have to bring my prettiest girl."

She couldn't stop the feeling of the bile rising. "Can Cha come with?" She asked as she reached her hand towards Charles.

A frown covered her fathers face. "Cha?" He asked. But then he saw the way she grabbed Charles arm. "No, Darling. Charles cannot come with us."

With her hands on her knees, she leaned over and threw up.

right so i've just discovered all of my tags on the last part didn't fucking work and i'm so mad about it

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minseok-smaus @formulaal @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris @evlkking @lilymurphy03 @hollie911 @customsbyjcg-blog @honethatty12 @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @not-nyasa

Series taglist (CLOSED): @doofensmirtzevil-inc @styl1shl1v @dreamsarebig @bokutos-babyowl @minmira95 @booksandflowrs @spookystitchery @purplephantomwolf @minchedchilli @starssfall @mellowarcadefun @the-ghost-lovwr @solidalibi @graydahlia21 @st4rshine @iloveyou3000morgan @vicurious28 @evie-119 @bigratbitchsworld @closestthingtocoffee @maximofflove @sillygoose5 @purplephantomwolf @thehufflepuffavenger1 @thatsusbitch @annispamz

[ynbabe]

TASM!Peter x Male reader- incorrect quotes

Cause that boy was fruity as FUCK and we were ROBBED! ROBBED I SAY-

Y/n: We’ll get back into there or die trying. Peter, trying to Spidey: No one’s dying. Y/n, a civilian, just trying to help: Not with that attitude.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Peter: Y/n likes to win. When he were 8, a little Club Scout friend of his bragged they could sell the most cookies. Peter: Damned if Y/n didn't walk the neighborhood till he got blisters on his feet, and won by 10 boxes. Y/n: Best part is, I wasn't even a Club Scout.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry, after someone insulted Peter: Murder literally doesn’t hurt anyone! Peter: What are you talking about? Of course— Y/n, holding out a hand to shut Peter up: No, no, he has a point—

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen: But what about Y/n? Harry: Don't worry about him. Harry: I once watched him fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating his hotdog like nothing happened. Peter: Well, you were the one who pushed him.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry, professional instigator: Hi could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire? Y/n, professional fool: Microwave for 40 minutes. Gwen, professional ‘my boys are stupid’ boys haver: WHY WERE YOU MICROWAVING A LEMON?! Y/n: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells and I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges, but I didn’t own any pots… Peter, currently microwaving a grape: Did you burn an orange too? HOW?! Y/n: Microwave for 40 minutes.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Peter: Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up all their emotions. Harry: Ridiculous. Give me some examples. Gwen: Wasps? Y/n: Terriers? Peter: Y/n.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen, watching Peter and Harry fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt? Y/n, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other. Gwen: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three? Peter, with superhuman powers but a Y/n lover: Y/n. Harry,  doesn’t want Peter to kill him: Y/n. Y/n, delusional and gay: Me.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry: Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. Peter: That's deep. Y/n: That means that ketchup is a smoothie. Peter: That's deeper. Gwen: ...You guys are idiots

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━.

Peter: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute. Gwen: No, that's not how you make cookies. Harry: FLOOR IT!! Peter: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!? Gwen: yOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN- Peter: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES! Y/n: DO IT! Gwen: NO-

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen: Blue M&Ms are the best. Y/n: whAT IS THIS SLANDER? Gwen: What about it? They are. Y/n: I WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH LIES ON MY CHRISTIAN MINECRAFT SERVER! Y/n: THE RED ONES ARE THE BEST! Gwen: YEAH? WELL YOUR MOM'S A HO! Peter, trying to stop them: They're all chocolate inside, the colors don't mean anything. Harry, to stop peter from stopping them: I like the yellow ones. Gwen and Y/n: SHUT THE FUCK YOUR MOUTH!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Peter: Why do you act like we’re three year olds? Gwen, exasperated: WHY?!? Gwen points at Y/n: YOU HIJACKED A COP CAR! Gwen points at Harry: YOU NEARLY TRIED TO KILL PETER! Gwen points at Peter: AND YOU THREW YOURSELF INTO A STORM MADE OF LIVING ELECTRICITY! Gwen: AND YOU ASK ME WHY????

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Gwen, in a room with Peter, Harry, and Y/n: It’s calm in here. Gwen: It scares me…

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Harry: *is hugging Peter* Y/n: Hey! It's my turn to hug Peter! Y/n: *grabs Peter* Harry: *pulling Y/n off Peter* What do you mean, "yOuR tUrN"? We agreed now is my time slot! Y/n: No, It's my turn! Peter: *suffocating* Guys, I love you, but just because you guys tried to kill me doesn't mean you can be hugging me to apologise constantly! Y/n: But we need the moral support! Harry: And you're small! Which is cute! Y/n: If we don't hug you right now I think our guilt will kick in and our bodies will stop functioning. Peter: *close to tears* Well- I, I guess.

[twistedcharismaaa]

Silk Dreams: Temptations

General Summary: The creation of Masego.

Summary: A deeper glimpse into the past of Masego and Charisma's relationship that leads to their awaiting future.

Author's Note: Hi guyssss! How are ya? I hope you guys are well! I miss you guys and love you guys so much! I’m here with a little update! I hope you guys enjoy it it! I know it’s been ten thousand years since I’ve last updated this. Please feel free to re-read as a refresher. I’m still rusty. I’m really insecure about this update to be transparent lol. So I really, really hope you guys enjoy this. I love y’all! Don’t forget to leave a comment for ya girl! I liveeeee for the commentary! Enjoyyyyy!

*Flashback*

She didn’t know what captured her first - his smile, his laughter, or his eyes. She swore he had the warmest eyes she’d ever seen. And he was absolutely clueless of the power that rested in those dark brown orbs. She saw her fantasies in them. She saw vast possibilities, endless resolutions, and more importantly, freedom. She wondered how many versions of herself that she could be around him and she wondered who he was outside the confines of these four walls that they both seemed to frequent every Friday afternoon. The Smoothie Café on 15th Street was quaint and quiet. It was something that she had been lacking recently. The art of simplicity. She wondered if he lived a simple life and she wondered what he wrote about when he typed on that laptop of his. Whatever it was, held a lot of importance. She figured it was important enough for him not to notice her. 

Neglect was never a stranger to her, but it still hurt all the same. She figured this is just the life of an attention seeker ever insatiable for the spotlight or maybe ever insatiable for love. Silently, she sighed before taking another sweet swig of her fruity delight of a drink. Carelessly, she stole one more glance from Mr. Pretty Brown eyes. But this time, to her surprise, his eyes were already resting on hers. Again, he had the warmest eyes she’d ever seen but yet, they were able to send a chill down her spine. She smiled timidly and he did the same. Slowly, he stood up from his table and began gradually walking her way. 

She pretended to busy herself with some random app on her phone. Again, she took another sip of her smoothie and waited impatiently for his arrival. Moments later, he stood in front of her table. 

“Excuse me,” he said politely. 

“Yes,” she responded, kindly. 

“I’ve noticed that we both seem to come here a lot. The drinks here are amazing,” he said, as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. 

“They are,” she agreed. 

“I figured it’s time for me to introduce myself. I’m Ambrose. All my friends call me Ro,” he replied, smiling. 

“Charisma,” she answered. “That’s a pretty name. Doesn’t it mean immortal or something like that?” She quizzed.

“Yeah, it does. It has Greek Origins. Thank you,” he replied, chuckling. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied, smiling. 

“Since we’re on the topic of pretty things, I think you’re absolutely beautiful,” he admitted. 

And just like that her smile grew even wider. 

“Thank you,” she answered. 

“If you’re not busy or anything. I would love to take you out to dinner sometime. Or maybe we can get a smoothie together?” He suggested.

Before she could answer, The sound of reality buzzed in the palm of her hand. Masego was calling. Quickly, she ignored the call. 

“I would love to,” she replied, eagerly.

“Bet,” Ambrose stated, happily.

Gleefully, they both exchanged numbers and then exchanged goodbyes. 

She watched Ambrose exit the Smoothie Café with a small smile on her face. Once the door behind him closed, she returned her attention back to her phone. It buzzed again, and again, and again. Her phone was flooded with missed calls and unread texts. Reluctantly, she read Masego’s last message. 

“I’m back in town …. I want to see you. I missed you,”

Instantly, she was reminded of how courteous her lover was. He was just so mindful. How mindful and considerate he was to announce his arrival back home after not speaking to her for over a month. She was completely ghosted. His prized jewel on the shelf collecting dust. He was absolutely polished and pristine. How kind he was to update her on his well-being overseas through Instagram stories and Twitter posts. It would only be right for her to match his chivalry. She left her lover on read and tossed her phone in her purse. She gathered the rest of her belongings and exited the cafe and entered a new state of illusion. 

——-

*Present* 

The crowd sounded like roaring lions. Their cheers echoed loudly throughout the building. Even with the door closed you can feel their adoration pulse. She couldn’t blame them though. She loved watching him perform on stage too. Quietly, she sat down and tried to think about all the things she loved about him. She even tried to think about all the reasons she had to stay and all the reasons she had to go. 

Breaking her many thoughts, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. It was Ambrose calling. Hesitantly, she ignored his call. Seconds later, he followed up with a text. 

“Did you end it with him? Have you talked to him? Call me baby, please,”

She read his text and instantly her heart broke. Ambrose didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve this. 

“Fuckkk,” she groaned. 

Tears welled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks as she texted Ambrose back.  

“No, he’s performing right now. Didn’t catch him. Will call later,”

Quickly, she locked her phone and tossed it to the side. She closed her eyes and tried to quiet her mind. 

——

Several moments passed and Masego quickly entered his dressing room sweaty and breathless. A sense of relief washed over him the moment he saw Charisma’s face. She was still there. He smiled widely and sat beside her on the couch. 

“You’re here,” he whispered. 

“I am,” she replied. 

“Are you ready to talk?” She questioned, sternly. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

“Good,”

———

How quickly dreams can turn into nightmares….

Part 3

@ghostfacekill-monger @geriixox @sapphichottie @chaneajoyyy @isisafrofairy @mooon-berry @savagescorpion @nzia-writes @nelleana @blackburnbook @fendionmyfeet @neewrites @themajesticnigerian @theycallmechanty @teardropzih @xxariaxxaxx @shewrites02 @straightouttasimulation