#go loud but make it shiny

[6th-for-truth]

6th house, but make it SHINE.

Everything-proof stickers available now on my Etsy: https://fanflairshop.etsy.com/listing/1850165335

[ymahousewine]

There's something you need to know about US health insurance

While the topic is still hot I want to mention something I think is important. I have made a post or two before but it bears repeating.

I once worked at a call center of one of the leading health insurance companies

The corruption and coddling of "the rich" is REAL.

None of the executives of Facebook, snap chat, twitter (any social media or tech company) pay deductibles

YES THE RICH DO NOT HAVE DEDUCTIBLES

Not only that but ELECTIVE SURGERIES (noes jobs, boob jobs, face lifts, tummy tucks ect.) for these people was also covered in full.

And these are RICH people. Not your neighbor who collects fancy watches with the lake house. Not the guy with the loud shiny car or the lady with fancy clothes. Oh no those neighbors might as well be paupers cosplaying as rich compared to these people.

The other thing that I need to tell you is this: the children of the rich are walking pharmacies. All the party drugs normal people go to jail for "abusing" yeah these kids have a script even if the medications don't make sense to prescribe together.

One of the most radicalizing moments in my time there was:

I had one call with a RICH person and let them know their elective rhinoplasty and boob job for their wife was covered with no deductible. The plan they were on was like $250 a month, for a billionaire, for the whole family.

Right after that call I had to tell a young woman that her medically necessary abortion would not be covered.

Walking out of that job was not difficult. Keep in mind, the call center reps have no control over what insurance will and will not pay for. They cannot "do you favors" and push a claim in faster. I have plenty of stories from my time there, from people loosing their minds to actual threats to completely incompetent supervisors. But the thing that stuck with me the most is that the unfairness and corruption is baked into insurance from the start.

It's designed to keep/make you as poor as possible

[toomuchdickfort]

I should be allowed as a tiefling to make obvious comments to wyll like ‘woag ur sharper than I am, cool’ and have him be like. I mean. I did. come about it by different means yes. Alas, I’ll just imagine t’evye staying the obvious to his companions and the just sorta blinking to try and figure out if she’s wanting to hear their thoughts or really only just noticing it

[chuluoyi]

Baby gojo and daddy gojo not wanting to share mama gojo😭✋i-

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 06:20 P.M 」

aww this is so cute of course this is the first i worked on after getting back from my weekend break <3 and actually i have this one similar ask too so i combined yours with theirs! here's some cute blinking gojo in phantom parade and okay now let us have some crack and make gojo suffer

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“bwah!” a nudge.

“myah!” a shove.

and then—

“waaa!” a… slap (?) on the cheek.

“huh?” satoru winced, touching where the baby’s palm just connected with his face, blinking rapidly. so he wasn’t imagining things. this really was happening in front of his eyes.

and it was the baby—his baby.

your giggles filled the air in response.

“hey, you,” satoru took on a very stern look and an exaggerated frown, glaring at his own son. the baby merely babbled at him innocently, blinking his wide crystal blue eyes that mirrored his. “bad, bad minion. this is a very serious issue. you shouldn’t do that, you hear?”

the serious issue being each time he tried to lean closer to steal a kiss from you, your son always found a way to repel him away with his tiny hands.

you snorted at his righteous tone. “he’s just protecting me. even your kid knows you’re a danger.”

a gasp left your husband’s shiny lips, mockingly in disbelief. “me? a danger? i make your life a heaven on earth!”

“heav—pfft—”

“i give you love, food, my body—” he emphasized, pointing at himself for a dramatic effect, and you threw your head back, dissolving into a fit of laughter even more, “—heck, i even give you this naughty baby!”

“wha—no! that’s team effort!”

“still! and now he is staging an uprising against me?” satoru cheekily eyed his child, who was now clutching the fabric of your blouse, tiny fingers playing with the shiny diamonds of your necklace—a gift from satoru too, actually.

“look at him go,” he grumbled, his eyes following each little movement his son made, then dramatically yelped when the boy pawed at your breasts. “hey! no touching! those are mine!”

“please.” you almost choked on your laugh. your silly husband always had a way to make things sound funnier than they actually were, and that was what made you fall in love with him more each day, really. “the milk is his!”

“he can have the cow’s! and more importantly, it’s thanks to me that you’re so milky—”

“satoru! you’re so uncouth i can’t—!”

“see? you’re laughing so much! this proves enough that i make you happy every day!”

later that night, after you put your baby to sleep in his crib, satoru gently poked his cheek, his expression tender despite his pursed lips. “he is out like a light…”

satoru might whine a lot, but ultimately, you couldn’t miss the look of adoration and fondness that made him the father of your child. even without saying it out loud, you knew that he would willingly put everything aside and sacrifice anything—first of all, himself—if it was meant for his dearest, most precious treasure.

knowing he'd do the same for you only served to melt your heart even more. and you felt full—so full, in fact, with warmth and love and anything that was soft.

you really do love him, don’t you?

“look at him, he’s like a shrimp,” your husband pointed out, still gazing at his baby in wonder as he kept poking and prodding at the chonky rolls of his little arms, and you thought, nothing could have been more precious than this.

“satoru.”

“yeah?” he turned instantly at the sound of his name, but before he could react further—

you stood on your tiptoes and planted a swift smooch on his cheek, putting the overflowing love you held for him in it. “mwah!”

“…?!”

for the next three seconds, satoru malfunctioned. the brush of your sweet lips on his cheek was so innocent that he was rendered speechless. heat steadily gathered on his face, turning him pink despite himself.

“you…” he groaned, collecting himself, a dopey smile was quickly plastered on his face to cover up his setback as you burst into hearty laughter. “now you’ve started it…” and then he latched on you with a glint of a joker, launching a full-blown tickle attack.

“a—ah! why?! satoru! ahahahaha!”

. . .

safe to say, your wheezes effectively awoke your son from his slumber, and as a bit of payback, you left satoru in the dust to deal with the crying baby, both of them whimpering in unison since he had absolutely no clue how to comfort the little one.

[zombii-writess]

ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

summary: ever since you've woken up in Twisted Wonderland, you've been in awe. i mean how could you not? magic was everywhere!

your friends just shrug it off, thinking that there was nothing special about this world, but you, oh you can't help but giggle like a child whenever something explodes, whether on purpose or accidently, in potions class. of course, someone has noticed the joy at the smallest things in your eyes, and he can't help but admire that.

characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus,

type: fluffy / gn reader / romantic / bullet points + lowercase intended / reader is yuu

a/n: had this in my head for a while but whenever im given the chance to write i forget everything, some characters might be ooc and like most of the stuff i just searched up lol

unedited

✁-----

[ⅰ] riddle rosehearts

riddle likes your enthusiasm about wanting to learn things. so when you came up to him with a bunch of questions regarding his world, you bet he pulled out a stack of books and plopped them on a nearby table.

"i hope your free for the next hour, [name], because we aren't leaving until your curiosity is satisfied."

he thinks you're going to whine and make an excuse to leave, but he's left silent when you nod and plop down on the chair, back straight and ready to learn at whatever knowledge was going to be thrown your way.

it ended being longer than an hour. you couldn't help yourself asking questions about certain things like wars, how magic came to be, how it was possible to for dorms to have their own dimensional pocket for its location, and blah blah blah.

and riddle couldn't help himself to answering your questions, which led to more questions and again blah blah blah.

finally, you guys get a break for snacks and refreshments, riddle decides to ask you about your world. is there truly no magic in your world? ...magicians? they give the allusion of magic without being able to use it? interesting.

and break ends without both you realize it, but this time, riddle's the student and you're the teacher.

[ⅱ] leona kingscholar

usually, leona doesn't care if you're around him whenever he's sleeping, he likes napping on you. as long as it's quiet and there's no ruggie bugging him about any assignments, he's a happy lion.

but he can't help flicking his tail in irritation at your constant staring at his tail and furry ears when he's trying to sleep. he knows you probably want to touch them.

yeah, leona knows he's good looking, but could've you done your sight-seeing when he's more awake and ready to tease you?

"hey, herbivore, is there something on my face?" leona opens an eye and stares at yours with his green one. he notices you eying his ears and with a loud sigh, he repositions himself to rest his chin on your belly. "only for 3 minutes"

giggling, you immediately reach over and stroked at his fuzzy ears. then comes the questions. "do you use different shampoo for your tail?" "how do you wear headphones?" "your tail is very pretty!"

while you chatted away and messed with his ears and hair, leona fell deeper and deeper into slumber. he'll answer your questions when he wakes up.

[ⅲ] azul ashengrotto

why did he agree to this? why couldn't he just tell jade and floyd to take and show you the beauty of the deep sea? but knowing them, they might pull something and that something was this!

stuck in a sunken ship, with you, in his octopus form! but he can't help but flush at your gentle petting towards one of his many arms, the appendage wrapping itself around your fingers. he curses at the twins under his breath.

azul tries to focus your attention on other things he has found in the ruined ship, "look at this jewel, isn't it shiny?" "no? well, uh, then what about these shells? don't they look prettier to look at?" but the more he brough items using his limbs, the more amazed you are.

"wow, your arms are useful, not to mention very beautiful." azul pauses, soaking up your words, heart fluttering. "this shade flatters you so much, i bet you look good in any color"

azul and you didn't realize how close you had gotten to each other, chests touching and eyes locked like nothing else mattered. "azul, you're very beautiful."

his heart clenches at your words, swallowing a bit and murmuring a small 'thank you.' azul's limbs tightening their grip around you. "thank you, [name]..."

[ⅳ] kalim al asim

he's a yapper like you, poor jamil is seconds away from slamming his head into a wall from your ramblings.

you're amazed at some crystal lamps he has? guess what's sitting on your desk in your dorm. what do you mean there's no such thing as enchanted jewelry in your world? don't worry [name] he'll cover you head to toe in enchanted jewelry.

but then kalim has an idea. what if he took you on a magic carpet ride? you liked it last time surely, you would want to do it again. you beam at the idea and before jamil could get a say in, kalim scoops your hand in his and drags you to the treasury where he keeps his magic carpet.

squealing in delight, the air smacked your face to which you buried yourself in kalim's clothing as you clung to him. kalim laughs with you as he guides his carpet up into the clouds. '[name] check out this view!'

you gasp at the sight; the moon was full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkled in the dark dome, the air was crisp and cold. kalim feels his face warm up at the sight.

he'll take you anywhere you want as long as you stay by his side

[ⅴ] vil schoenheit

you remind him of rook in a way, always admiring the simplest things and always impressed by the tiniest things. he's seen the way you look at him with stars in your eyes whenever he makes sparkles fly in alchemy and potions class.

vil knows your curious and he absolutely thrives at your constant attention on whatever he's doing. be it doing his make-up, skin care routine, or doing schoolwork. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind your attention behind cameras.

currently, he's doing your daily skin care date night while you yapped away about potions and his skin care.

"you make your own skin care products right? that's amazing, i couldn't trust making my own and expect my face to come out as clear as yours." you laugh

vil huffs as his pinky scoops up some lip balm, then holds your chin gently with his pointer finger and thumb and applies the product to your lips. which he totally didn't need to do all of that when there was a small stick.

"that's why i'm here, [name], i could show you some tricks i've learned through trial and error."

[ⅵ] idia shroud

after over blotting and apologizing to everyone, idia expects his life to remain the same, occasionally having interactions with his peers, you have shown up to his dorm, thanks to ortho, and expressed your curiosity in his hair.

idia stutters out an incoherent explanation, tips of his hair burning a pink from the concentrated look in your eyes, and once he finishes, idia goes to close his door but jumps at your hand gripping onto the door. you weren't satisfied.

eventually you invite yourself inside and after countless questions about him, you mention technology from your world and that catches his attention.

he listens to your explanation, occasionally snickering at the outdated technology your world had. when you ask about the technology from this world, idia comes out a bit more from his shell and goes on a 3-hour rant about technology from Twisted Wonderland, with you occasionally asking questions.

idia hopes you don't notice the tips of his hair turning pink, but of course, you ask him, admiring the color.

[ⅶ] malleus draconia

he admires that about you. for someone who'll live for a short time, you always cherish what little time you have. malleus has lived for a long time; he's seen things come and go, and over the years, he seems to have lost the passion to seek and explore what life offered.

but being with you with your daily late-night walks, with your rambling of how you found potions being able to heal injuries and sicknesses absolutely mindboggling.

malleus listens attentively to your speech on mythical creatures back in your world, how dragons were your personal favorite, and how in your world, in fae mythology, it's rare for a fae to choose to become mortal. that certainly catches malleus' attention. (i literally just googled this so idk if this is accurate)

he's certainly never heard of this statement, but it does intrigue him. now your speech leads to questioning him or questioning about his title as one of the top five powerful mages. how do you get that title? are you born with it or do you have to prove yourself to professionals? can anyone receive this title?

malleus just smiles and answers your onslaught of questions, heart fluttering at your attentive gaze

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still no reply.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From bugs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jackpot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lovifie]

Price had a young girlfriend and did not tell anybody until he decided to get married...

He probably didn't tell them until the night before the wedding…He asked them to come over for a little celebration and everyone expected a middle-aged woman. But when they saw a girl in her mid-20s opening the door with Price they were shocked

Soap probably even asked if she's his stepdaughter LOL

Hey, love!! 💗💗

I wrote you a little something...

I hope you like it 💗

❤️Mr. & Mrs. Price❤️

Fluff | Sugestive | 1547 words | Back to Masterlist

They were having a pint at a pub close to base when he told them. 

“I'm getting married next Saturday, you have the weekend free, so drop by so I can introduce you to the missus.”

Now, Ghost wasn't surprised he didn't know about his captain having a girlfriend, let alone a relationship serious enough to talk about marriage. What surprised Ghost was that neither Soap nor Gaz knew about it. 

“Married?!” Gaz asked, loud enough to make some people turn their heads. 

Price furrows his eyebrow, surprised by the reaction as if he had just told them about what he's having from breakfast. 

“I didnae ken ye had a pretty bird waiting for ye at home, Captain!” Soap says, just as loud.

“Yeah, I have for a couple of years now.” Price simply answers, shrugging his shoulders as he takes a sip.

“A couple of years?!” The three men ask in unison like a bad comedic joke. 

A chain of questions starts to unravel, curiosity for the mysterious woman pouring out; but Price waves his hand shutting them up. “No point in that, you are meeting her this weekend, easier that way”

They begrudgingly agree, keeping to themselves the mental image of the possible woman. She must be around Price's age, so between 40 and 50 years old; knowing how little the man likes to go out they probably met at work so she must be military too. Stern woman. 

Price tells them that is something minor, the close family and a bunch of friends; that they can join at the reception at his house and to dress nicely. 

“No ghost mask.” He chastises the man pointing at him. “I don't want work involved, alright?”

During the week until the wedding, they keep thinking about her, about how she must look like, her personality, her age, her eye colour.

“What do you think she'll look like?”

“In my mind, she's like Laswell… but being into men.”

And out of every possibility and different mental image, the last thing they expected was the pretty thing that opened the door for them on Saturday. 

Pretty little thing, around 25 years old, with the kindest smile on her face even when looking at the three giants on her doorframe, flowy white dress, little hair strands framing her cute face with the rest of it gathered up in an intricate updo in the back hold together with shiny pins and a silky bow. 

“Oh, you must be John's friends.” You say, voice sweet as an angel. “Please, come in, don't just stand there. I'm gonna go get him, be back in a second”

You step back, holding the door open for them, inviting them in and once inside you close the door, walking past them to reach their captain who is looking in the opposite direction, talking to somebody else.

“That must be the stepdaughter… right?” Soap asks what all of them are thinking. 

They stare as you walk up to Price, placing your hand on his lower back making him turn to look at you; a wide smile appearing immediately. He leans forward, his arm moving behind your shoulder and his hand keeping your jaw in place as he kisses you. 

Lips crashing against yours, closing his eyes and letting his tongue into your mouth tasting the champagne you were drinking just a moment ago. A passionate, sloppy kiss that would make a maiden blush at the impropriety of it even for the newlyweds.

“Mate, I sure fucking hope she's not.” Gaz answers after a moment.

The two of you finally pull back, telling Price about his friends arriving and he looks behind you to see them. He smiles, not as wide as when he looked at you, and gives you a quick peck before walking to the door. 

“Welcome, lads. Thank you for coming.” He says simply, crossing his arms and looking proud. You appear from behind him, hand resting on his arm slightly leaning to his side.

“Do you want anything to drink? To eat?” You ask softly, love pouring out of Price's eyes as he looks down on you. 

“I'll help you.” Ghost says, a curl of his lips you could identify as a smile if you wanted to. And once the captain is left with the sergeants, the attack starts. 

“How does an old churl like you manages to get a pretty thing like her?”

“Where do you even meet a doll like her?”

“How many years have you exactly been dating for?”

Ghost clears his throat when he turns around the corner on his way back, with you chirping on his side about how happy you are to finally meet them. He has a more natural smile on his face now, clearly infected with your enthusiasm. 

Price finally introduces you to them, exchanging everyone's name. You hug both the sergeants and shake Ghost's hand, the man glad that you made the observation of his lack of appreciation towards body contact. 

After a little chat, you excuse yourself; promising to get back in a while wanting to talk to your own friends still waiting around the room. It leaves Price on his own and that's when he tells the nosy men how he met you. 

You were his neighbour, sharing half the walls of the old flat he house to live in before moving in together. How he introduced himself to you one day when he saw you leaving your house, how he told you he was military so you wouldn't freak out if you saw him in the middle of the night or suddenly disappeared for months, how after a specially long deployment he got back and you dropped by hours later with a bunch of tupperwares with homemade food “I assumed you would be tired, it's nothing special but I'll save you the hustle of cooking”, about how he had wanted to marry you ever since, how he gave you the tupperwares back one by one so he had more reasons to talk to you, how he finally asked you out with the last one and how after that it all was easy between you two.

The four of them swiftly move to sit down on the kitchen table, Price still telling them everything about you and the relationship. Ghost is just as invested as the other two, trying to play it off as polite interest. Slowly and smoothly people leave the house as the day goes by, the sun having set a couple of hours ago; and you walk into the kitchen, sitting on Price's lap with a sigh. 

“I know it isn't proper of a good host, but these shoes are killing me.” You announce looking at the three men as you bend down and take them off, a sigh of comfort leaving your mouth as you lean back on Price. “I'm also sure you have endurance worse than some stinky feet.” You joke with a tiny chuckle making them smile. 

“Everyone gone, darling?” Price asks, his hands resting on your lap as you nod smiling. He looks up to the boys as he says. “Better to tidy up then”

“Jonathan Price, don't be rude!” You exclaim looking at him. “They are your friends and there are more than enough rooms for them if they want to spend the night. They have been drinking too!”

“Mrs. Price.” John says with a teasing tone, standing up and helping you stand. “Talk to me for a second, love.”

Price bends down to pick your shoes up, holding your hand to walk you to the living room. They hear the two of you whispering back and forth, then silence and lastly the unmistakable sound of kisses. They peak behind the door, managing to see you sitting in the backrest of the sofa with Price standing between your legs, grinding his hips against yours. You moan softly against his lips, before pulling back and whispering something they can't make out; Price pulls back as well and they sit back on their chairs. 

Price walks in just a second later. “Lads… thank you for coming, I'll see you when I'm back from the honeymoon, now… OUT!” He barks the last word making Soap chuckle as they all finish their drink in a gulp and start to walk out of the house, congratulating Price on the marriage and walking out one by one; meanwhile, you remain completely out of sight for them.

“They gone?” You ask for the top of the stairs, looking at Price with a smile. 

“Yep.” Price says locking the door.

“You didn't have to kick them out like that, though.” You say cocking your head with a smile.

“Oh, yes, I did.” He says, turning around to start to walk up the stairs. 

“Why? Afraid they might join?” You say winking at him, making him laugh before he throws you over his shoulder making you shriek.

“Wouldn't you like that, you little minx!” He jokes, landing a smack on your asscheek. 

You gasp dramatically holding onto his clothes. “It's Mrs. Price to you, young man.”

He chuckles, making your body shake, before he throws you down on the bed; him instantly crawling on top of you. 

“Who's your husband, darling?”

“You, Mr. Price.”

A bit more of this

[hvseung]

stuck (s. jy)

pairing: older ceo!jake x employee!reader (f)

genre: smut.

warnings: explicit smut, dominant jakey, profanity, cheating, oral (m receiving), minor mouth play, unprotected sex🥸, minors DNI !

wc: 4.4k

🎵now playing: slow down by chase atlantic

.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*

As the clock ticked toward 6:00pm, the office was slowly beginning to clear out, the only noises heard being the soft whirring of computers and a few stragglers murmuring soft goodbyes as they packed their things. However, here you were, furiously wracking your brain on how you were going to manage to get through the piles of paperwork, which had been dumped on your desk during your shift, in the span of the next half an hour when all you could focus on was the night ahead of you. After a long and grueling week, a peaceful night with your boyfriend, Soobin, was just what you needed. You smiled to yourself, already imagining his easy laugh and the way he always reaches for your hand without even thinking. You loved your boyfriend, obviously…. “Fuck this” you thought as you gathered your belongings, eager to leave and push the rest of your work responsibilities to the back of your mind. That’s a Monday job.

You adjusted the strap on your purse as you stepped into the elevator, mind too preoccupied to notice the hand quickly jamming between the doors just before they could slide closed. They opened again with a soft chime and you were pulled out of your daydream by the sight of your boss, Mr Jake Sim, standing on the other side. His tall frame, clad in a perfectly tailored suit, was almost the caricature of corporate authority. Of course, he was still here. He was always the last to leave, the type who believed in leading by example, even if it meant setting an impossibly high bar. You’d grown to admire his work ethic, even if it made the rest of you look a little lazy by comparison. “Heading out?”

“Yes, just about to.” You replied, trying to mask the slight annoyance in your tone. The last thing you wanted was to get trapped in a conversation about quarterly reports when you were this close to freedom. You shifted awkwardly as he stepped in. The silence between the two of you was loud, the only noise being the hum of the elevator as it began its descent, the small space amplifying the tension between you. It wasn’t that you disliked Jake; it was just… you two had history and he had a way of making everyone feel like they were being judged. His presence was a stark reminder that, in the hierarchy of the corporate world, you were just another cog in the machine.

12…11…10…9… You glanced at your watch, willing the elevator to move faster. You were eager to get out of the building, away from the sterile fluorescent lights and the endless stream of emails that had plagued you all day. You thought about texting Soobin, who was probably waiting in the car park for you right now, to let him know that you were on your way down. 8…7… But as if in response to your thoughts, the elevator jolted to a sudden halt. The lights flickered before the emergency lighting kicked in, leaving a dim and eerie glow over the two of you.

“Did we just…?” You murmured, looking up at the ceiling.

Jake moved quickly, pressing the buttons on the panel, but received no response from them. He pulled his phone out before sighing, the first sign of irritation breaking through his composed exterior “No signal.”

“No… no no this can’t be happening-“ You groan, panic evident in your faltering tone.

Jake responded with a short nod, his expression unreadable. “It looks like we might be in here for a while.”

As the minutes dragged on, you tried not the think about how long you were going to be stuck like this, or how it was ruining your plans with Soobin and how you didn’t have signal to let him know. Instead, you focused on staying calm, hoping someone would come to your rescue soon. But with every passing second, the shiny metal walls of began to close in on you. The silence between you and Jake grew heavier… and it wasn’t just the discomfort of being trapped. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you that neither had fully addressed but were both painfully aware of.

A year ago, things had been different. You had been one of Jakes top performers, a rising star in the department. You were quick, innovative, and always willing to go the extra mile. Jake had recognized your potential early on, and he had taken you under his wing, mentoring you and giving you opportunities to shine. You had spent long hours working together on projects, strategizing late into the night. You had respected his keen business acumen, and he had appreciated your fresh perspective and dedication.

It was during those late nights that something had shifted between you both. At first, it was just a shared glance that lingered a little too long, or a casual touch—a hand on your back as he guided you into a meeting room, or the brush of fingers as you passed papers to each other. Neither of you acknowledged it but it was intoxicating, this mix of professional respect and undeniable attraction. Both of you knew it was dangerous. He was your boss, nearly a decade older, with a reputation to maintain. You were becoming a crucial member in the company, with too much at stake to risk your career over something that could never be. Yet, the attraction was there, undeniable and electric, simmering just beneath the surface of your interactions. Not to mention your relationship.

But everything changed six months ago. You had been working on a major client pitch—one that could secure a crucial contract for the company. You had poured everything into it, sacrificing weekends and late nights, and Jake had been there every step of the way, guiding you, challenging you to push harder. There was an unspoken understanding between both of you, a mutual trust. The late nights grew longer, and the tension between you more palpable. There were moments when you were alone in his office, when knees would bump and the conversation would drift away from work, and for just a second, you would both forget who they were supposed to be. The lines blurred, and the unspoken attraction nearly spilled over into something neither could take back.

Then, just days before the presentation, he had unexpectedly pulled her from the project. No explanation, no discussion—just a curt email informing you that the project would be handed over to another colleague. You had been blindsided. You tried to ask him why, to understand what had gone wrong, but he had become cold and distant, shutting down every attempt you made to discuss it. Rumours circulated that the decision had come from higher up, that Jake had been pressured by senior management, but he never confirmed or denied them.

The fallout had been swift. You felt humiliated, betrayed by someone you had looked up to. You distanced yourself, retreating into your work, but the easy camaraderie you once shared was gone. You could barely look him in the eye during meetings, and your interactions became strictly professional, devoid of the warmth and mutual respect the two of you once had.

For you, being this close to him again brought back all the confusion, the hurt, but also the desire that had never fully gone away. The small space seemed to amplify the awkwardness, each moment stretching into an eternity as you both grappled with the weight of your unspoken history. Neither knew how to bridge the gap, or if it was even possible anymore.

Jake leaned against the wall of the elevator, his eyes flickering over to you every so often. You could tell he was uncomfortable too, if not more than you, but his poker face gave nothing away. He looked away, clearing his throat.

“You still seeing whats-his-name?” His voice was casual, but laced with an underlying curiosity

“Soobin?” You shifted awkwardly, playing with your fingers “Uh, yeah. I am.”

He nods slowly, as if he expected the answer, but still felt a pang of… jealousy? “Serious, huh?” He almost scoffed, feigning nonchalance.

“Yeah. We are.” I shrug, making Jakes eyes narrow slightly.

“Why him?” The question was blunt, almost blunt enough to be rude. He couldn’t help himself though, the thought of you with someone else, especially someone as carefree and easy going as Soobin, rankled him in a way that he couldn’t admit.

I scoff lightly. “Are you really going to do this now Mr Sim?”

“Oh, so its ‘Mr Sim’ now, is it?” He retorts, a familiar irritation settling in. “What happened to ‘Jakey’?”

“I’m pretty sure you made it clear that you wanted us to be strictly professional when you dropped me from that project.” You grit, the memory still a sore spot between the two of you.

He bristles at the reminder. “That wasn’t my decision,” he sighs, the excuse sounding weak now, especially in the confinement of the elevator. He turns to look at you properly. “And that was different. That was work. This… this is something else.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, don’t act like that.” He takes a step closer towards you, invading your personal space “Like you don’t remember the late nights, the tension, or have you conveniently forgotten all about that part?”

“Mr Sim don’t do this. Not now.” You finally meet his gaze, your patience warring thin.

“Why not?” He counters with a bitter laugh. “Seems like as good a time as any to have this conversation.”

“There is no conversation to be had,” You swallow harshly as he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you “it was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” His jaw clenches, the air thicker than it was. “Is that really what you think it was?”

You couldn’t deny that you knew full well what it was. You liked Jake, as much as you wouldn’t admit. The worst part being, he was everything your boyfriend wasn’t. He was everything you longed for your boyfriend to be. You felt awful, in fact, the knowledge of your feelings towards Jake had been eating away at you everyday since the day they started. The late nights working side by side, the discreet touching, it was more than a simple attraction; it was completely wrong. But that just made you want it even more.

The proximity was almost intoxicating, the familiar heat of his body igniting a fire in you that you had tried so hard to smother. You could smell his cologne, the same scent that you would spend hours trying to rid yourself of before going home after late nights spent with him at work. The memory hit you like a physical blow, and you found yourself holding your breath. You cursed your body’s betrayal, the way it ached for his touch, even as your brain screamed in protest.

Jakes gaze darkened, the last shred of his patience and self-control hanging by a thread. He lifted his hand, his fingers hovering a mere inch away from your face. It would be so easy. So easy for him to claim what he had been yearning for, to forget the boundaries he had placed between you.

“Would this be a mistake too?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Jakey…”

His resolved shattered. He surged forwards, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you hard against his chest, crashing his lips onto yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. The months of pent-up desire, the longing, the uncertainty, it all exploded in that moment. You opened your mouth to protest, but his tongue delved deep, silencing any words. He pushed you back against the wall, pinning you there as his lips claimed you with an intensity that was almost animalistic.

One of his hands reached to tangle in your hair, tugging it back to give him access to your neck as he began to suck and nip at the sensitive flesh. You gasp, almost whining, and he relished in the sound, his other hand gripping your thigh and hoisting it up to hold against his hip.

“Jake we can’t- not here.” You protest.

“Don’t care,” he retorted, his lips trailing to your collarbone. He nicked softly at the skin, his teeth grazing the flesh and leaving small marks “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.” He ground his hips against yours, making his intentions and arousal blatantly obvious. His hand caressed your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “You don’t understand how torturous it’s been, seeing you every day and knowing I can’t touch you.”

His hand slid under your blouse, his touch igniting sparks across your skin. It was wrong, so wrong, and yet it felt so right. He pulled the fabric taunt, his large hand splaying over your stomach. You arched into his touch, begging for more.

Jake smirks at your reaction; the small sighs and whines that leave your pretty lips as you subtly arch your back. He knows you want it as badly as he does, your body giving you away. His hand slides up your ribcage, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin below your bra.

“See?” He murmurs, his hand cupping your breast through the thin lacy fabric that he loved so much. “I knew you wanted this; wanted me.” His voice was gravelly, rough with desire. You knew he was right. Youd fought against it for so long, denying your feelings and convincing yourself you were happy with your relationship. But now, here, with jakes body pressed against yours like this, all your justifications seemed hollow. He tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his heavy gaze. His eyes were dark, almost predatory, and they pierced right through you.

“Say it.” He commanded and his hand kneaded your breast gently “Say you want me.”

“I want you Mr Sim.” You whimper without any hesitation.

“That’s what I thought.” His mouth was back on your neck, his tongue licking a hot, wet trail down the column of your throat. His teeth sink into your pulse point, sucking the skin into his mouth. You could feel his hand sliding lower, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your trousers. He was driving you insane, reducing you to nothing but a whining mess as he slowly unbuttons your blouse. He pops one button at a time, kissing and biting the skin in between each one.

You moan, tilting your head back to give him complete access to the sensitive skin on your neck whilst one of your hands reaches to tangle in his hair. He responds to your touch with a deep, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a purr. He pushed your breasts together, pulling away from your neck to purse his lips. You watched as a glob of spit falls from his lips and lands on one of your nipples before rolling down the crevice.

Jake moaned loudly, immediately ducking his head to smear his lips around your boobs, nipping and sucking at them. You moan louder, arching your breasts further into his mouth and allowing his to suck them properly. He devours your tits, each falling out of his mouth with a satisfying 'pop'. His mouth returned to yours, his tongue delving between your lips to devour you entirely. He catches your lip between his teeth, biting down gently.

“On your knees.” He ordered, and you obeyed immediately.

He inhaled sharply as he watched you sinking to your knees before him, his hands instinctively going to your hair. “Look at you, doll,” He muttered. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, smearing any lipstick that remained. “I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t approve of this.”

You whine, the mere idea of your boyfriend having completely slipped your mind. But you were too far gone to care, opening your mouth slightly, just enough for him to slip his thumb past your teeth. His eye darkened further, the digit sliding further into your mouth.

“You like sucking on my fingers, don’t you?” He chuckled; his voice thick with need. “Bet you like your boyfriends just as much.”

“No sir.” You shake your head meekly. “Like your fingers so much more.”

“Is that so?” His voice was a little raspier now, desperate for something more than just this back and forth teasing. “Then show me how much you like them.”

You take index and middle finger whole, gagging and swirling your tongue around the thick digits. Jake groaned, his eyes widening as he watches you take him so easily. He tightened his grip on your hair, pulling slightly. “That’s it.”

His unoccupied hand moves to the front of his trousers, undoing his belt and top button in one fluid motion. He was achingly hard, and the slight of you like this in front of him was thinning his patience. You pull your mouth from his fingers, reaching up in a desperate attempt to help him undress. He let out a hiss as your fingers make contact with his strained pants. “Yeah, unzip me then.”

The sound of his zipper being drawn echoed in the quiet elevator. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, your wet lips, the way your fingers fumble with his pants, the flush on your cheeks that gave away your mounting excitement. God, he was desperate.

You get his pants down, whining as he tugs your hair forward to press your cheek flush against his thick bulge. The feeling of you face against his clothed dick make him shiver, his hips canting forward involuntarily; seeking more contact. “You like that, don’t you? God your so dirty. Are you this dirty for your pathetic boyfriend too?”

“No sir, only you.”

“Good,” He groaned again, pulling on your hair again. “I don’t share.”

Your finger hook underneath his boxers waistband, tugging on the elastic and letting it snap back against his skin before pulling them down completely. He helped you, kicking the boxers down until the pooled at his ankles with his trousers He stood there, his lower half completely exposed to you, but he held your chin in his face, keeping you gaze on his.

“You see how much you affect me, doll?” He smirked predatorily as your eyes fixed on his cock, hard and flushed against his stomach. “But you’re gonna take care of this for me, aren’t you?”

Your tongue darted out, licking a tentative stripe up the underside of his boner. He let out a shuddered breath, his hand clenching reflectively in your hair. He guided your head closer, encouraging you to take him properly. You run your tongue over his slit before closing your lips around the head. He groaned, his body arching towards you and silently bidding you to keep going.

“Look at me when you suck my dick baby.” He ordered. Your eyes immediately catch his gaze; his half-lidded eyes that perfectly complimented his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight encouraged you, holding his gaze as you take him whole and wrapping your lips around his base. Jakes head rolls back, a deep, guttural moan escaping his throat. He pants as you begin bobbing your head at his base, your nose nudging against his lower abdomen with a soft gag. “Fuck, just like that.”

You speed up, taking him even deeper - if that was possible, desperate to take as much of him as you possibly could. His muscles clenched in response, his abs flexing as he drew in a gasping breath. He finally looks down at you again, eager to see what you look like taking him so far down your throat like this; and you didn’t disappoint. You looked at him through your eyelashes, sucking him so deliciously with a teary expression. He couldn’t look away; he didn’t dare. It was too perfect, so erotic and beautiful.

“You can’t look at me like that, YN,” He moans. “I won’t last.”

You immediately double down, bobbing and swirling your tongue like your life depended on it. You had a different purpose now; this was no longer about him, this was about you. You and your desperation to taste him. His hands twist in your hair, his grip border lining on painful.

“Holy fuck-“ He choked, his stomach coiled like a spring. He was so close to cumming, but he didn’t want to. Not yet, not like this. He moved your mouth off him, pulling you up to your feet and pushing you back against the wall. “Turn around. Now.”

As soon as your back is turned to him, his hands are on you in an instant. His fingers run up the clothed skin of your thighs before reaching around the unbutton your trousers. He undid the button and zipper with a swift, practiced motion, each tooth separating echoing in the cramped space. He pushed the material down, the cold air hitting your soaked core immediately. His hands glide slowly over the newly exposed skin, teasing you.

“So smooth,” He mused, his voice almost a soft whine. “I knew you’d be.”

He pushes your thighs together, rutting his dick between them. You moan in unison, his tip bumping against your clit. He just couldn’t help himself, seeing you so wet and puffy for him was making him borderline insane.

“Don’t tease me, Jakey.” You whine as he holds your thighs closer together. He chuckled at your pleading, the old nickname making his spine shiver. He ruts between your thighs one more time before abruptly slipping into your pussy. You gasp loudly as he pushes in, grasping onto the hand-railing in front of you as you adjust to his size.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” He groans as he grips your hips, pulling you back to take him fully as he finally begins to rock into you. “Does your boyfriend even fuck you?”

You were too lost in the moment, the feel of him, the way he held you, the sound of his voice, that you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak. But when he mentioned your boyfriend, a pang of guilt stabs at your chest.

“No?” He assumed, scoffing loudly. “I bet he doesn’t even know how to.”

His arm tightened around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. His hips speed up, making your head fall back against his shoulder with a loud moan.

“You need someone who can take care of you,” he told you, his breathing becoming a little ragged. “Someone who knows what you want, what you need.”

The only thing that can be heard in the confined elevator now is skin slapping, combined moans and your body hitting the metal wall with each deep thrust. You respond with a whine, pushing your hips back to encourage him. He catches your signal, slamming his hips against yours.

“That’s it, baby,” He hisses, his fingers digging into your hips desperately. “Take what you need.”

You could feel every inch of him. Every inch of his thick, veiny length as he filled you up perfectly with each thrust. It made your head spin as you moaned and cried desperately. There was no you could go back to your boyfriend after this, not now that you knew what real dick felt like. And he seemed to sense your realisation, the way your body arches against him, the way your eyes rolled back so beautifully. You were his now.

He increased his pace, his tip bumping against your g-spot with every harsh blow. The pleasure was mounting between you, both of your stomachs coiled like springs. But neither of you dared to say anything, too desperate to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

He could feel you getting tighter, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice; like you never wanted him to pull away. Jake moans, a needy whine in his throat. Every movement, every breath, moan – it was all for you. He was entirely wrapped up in you.

“I’m so close baby.” His hips bucked forwards more, aiming to get as deep as he possibly could.

The sound of his moans, the way he was falling apart because of you, it only served to push you closer to the edge. You could feel his eagerness and it made you want him even more. “Me too!”

“You gonna make a mess on my dick?” He pants, his tip continuing to slam against your g-spot. "Gonna make a mess like a good slut?"

“Yes!” You moan loudly. His hips stutter at your admission, his rhythm growing erratic and sloppy. “Wanna cum with you.”

“Please let me come in your sweet pussy, baby” He whines, desperately nudging his nose against you neck before attacking the spot with bites.

“Fill me up sir!” You push back against him again. But it wasn’t enough for him, he needed you to cum.

“Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum on this dick.” And that was all it took for your walls to clamp down on him and for your juices to explode down your thighs with a loud cry. His head dropped to your shoulder, his breathe catching in his throat, the feeling and sound of you pushing him headfirst into pure ecstasy.

“Fuuck, doll!” He came, filling you up perfectly with a loud whine as his arms wrapped around you in a vice-like grip. He stayed like that for a moment, panting into your neck. He didn’t want to move, his body taut with exhaustion. “You look so pretty when you fall apart like that. So pretty.”

He slowly pulls out of you, almost hardening again when he watches his cum drip down your thighs in thick globs. You flinch as you turn around, a ball of clothes hitting you in the face. Your fingers grasp the clothing, pulling them down from your face to glare at him. “Yeah, real classy.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolted, beginning its decent again. You sigh, relieved that you could finally escape the humid box you had been trapped in for the past 20 minutes. You both put your clothes back on, smoothing the fabric and fixing each other hair. The elevator finally reaches the ground floor, both of stepping out together.

“See you Monday?” He smirks.

“See you Monday.” You roll your eyes as you turn on your heels. You walk away from him and out into the car park, desperately hoping Soobin hadn’t left yet. Jake watched as you retreat out of his view, thanking god.

Thanking god that you didn’t notice him push the emergency stop.

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@ hvseung, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway. thankyou :)

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[murderofravens]

THIEF

pairing: the salesman x fem!reader

summary: he looked harmless enough. you should've known you were stealing from the wrong man.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON CON ELEMENTS but no actual smut, father issues, talks of abusive past (reader ran away from home) physical and verbal abuse, slapping, hitting and all that. age gap because of course, its my fic afterall. he's fucked up. that's it. read at your own risk.

A/N: shoutout to @muntitled for her incredible salesman fics and for inspiring me to start writing again. you're awesome.

prequel to VIOLATE

MASTERLIST

the station seems colder today. your eyes twitch as you look around, analysing the people waiting for their next train. a woman sitting on a bench, reading. a few college students who probably are in more debt than you. a homeless man mumbling incoherently to himself while trying to light a match. a group of teenage boys laughing at something on their phone— you make a mental note to stay away from that side, for the sake of your own safety. the lightbulb flickers as you take a seat on the dirty floor, contemplating your options. that woman looks a good enough target— but with the layers of clothes she's got on, you don't believe you'll have any luck with her.

you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. you don't look up, merely focusing your gaze on the floor and pretending to be lost in thought. you've learned it's much easier to get away with pickpocketing if you don't immediately look at the person you're stealing from. something about not looking suspicious. a pair of shiny dress shoes stand by the train tracks— and you allow your gaze to trail up, up, up. this man has some long legs, you think to yourself. a crisp, stoney gray suit, and broad shoulders. a briefcase in hand and a seemingly innocent gaze looking around.

someone financially stable, judging by the expensive watch on his wrist. on first glance, you decide he looks like the kind of man who would be too tired or bored to run after you if he caught you in the act.

he'll be paying for your dinners for atleast a week.

as you stand up casually, you spot your target put on a charming smile and walk over to where the homeless man is warming his hands. you can't hear the conversation because the man's back is turned to you, but you can tell he is trying to advertise something to him. he opens his briefcase, and you catch sight of bundles of cash in it. you feel your heartbeat immediately picking up. your body feels warmer now; imagining a bright future for yourself if you managed to get a hand on the briefcase.

you don't bother eavesdropping in the conversation, you have other priorities. luckily, the woman on the bench was reading with her legs spread forward. you take the opportunity and stumble over her feet, losing your footing and falling forward with a loud cry— crashing right into your target who stumbles forward onto the homeless guy who lets out a string of curses.

"watch where you're fucking going!" he yells, and you're sure the woman behind you called you a fucking nutjob as well.

apologizing profusely, you put on your best sheepish expression and pat your target's back, helping him up. he looks at you strangely, giving you a tight lipped smile, and when you slip out his wallet from his back pocket, he doesn't seem to notice. before you can get a hand on the briefcase, he tugs it back and guides it towards the homeless man, engaging in another conversation with him. you're quick to walk away without another glance, swearing to yourself on your missed opportunity. but you suppose a wallet is better than nothing.

the first thing you do is run out and aim towards a crowded area you can disappear into. you open the wallet and pull out some cash— no identification, no credit cards. just a simple paper card with some symbols on it. it makes you wince. you thought with atleast an address or a name, you could've robbed him, but the universe seems to fucking hate you.

you eat some noodles from a street vendor. it's one of your favourites. in moments like these, you miss home. but you figure that having to steal and feed yourself is better than always having to walk on eggshells around your father— wondering when the next hit might come. or what other aspect of you would he decide to fixate on till you start hating yourself. you were tired of that life. this is okay, you'll deal with it.

it's when you're walking back to that rusty apartment you've started calling home that you feel a strange, prickling sensation on your back. so far, you always wondered if what people said was true— that you can tell when you're being watched. right now, you can feel it— this strange, unsettling fear that something is following you. you abruptly look behind, but there's no one there. you consider taking a short cut— but decide it's the stupidest thing you could do, so you just run home as fast as you can and hope whoever it is, doesn't catch you.

you feel victorious as you open the door to your place. as you step inside, something kicks you in the back of your knees and you yelp before falling forward, right on your face.

"what the fuck!?" you shriek breathlessly, scared out of your mind as you lean on your elbows and try to sit up. there's a haunting shadow blocking your doorway, and you can feel your heart begin to pound nervously as you spot the man from the station.

"you look at home down there," he says calmly, accent heavy in his voice. "rightful place for a thief like you."

your voice is stuck in your throat— eyes wide as you let out sharp, heavy breaths. does he know? how long has he been following you? did he involve the police? what is he going to do?

"listen, man." you start shakily, sitting up, "i don't know what you're talking about—"

as you try to stand again, his foot comes up and collides with your shoulder, sending you to the floor again, "fuck!—"

he doesn't let you up as you lay against the floor, his shoe painfully digging into your collarbone, "not only did you sabotage my job tonight, but you also stole from me. i don't like thieves—"

"i hadn't eaten in days!" you cry out, a hand coming up to grab onto his leg, eyes pleading with him to have some sympathy. you really try. "i'll— i can pay you back—"

"by stealing from someone else?" he asks, amused.

"no! god—" you let out a choked breath. you're scared out of your damn mind, it's obvious, but more so because the violence and humiliation you're facing now is what you ran away from home to avoid. you don't want this man to violate you. you're tired of being scared. "i can— i can do a job! anything! ill work for you or- or— i'm sorry, please—"

the man takes joy in your cries, it's obvious in the amusement in his eyes. he's enjoying the way you stumble over your words and make a fool of yourself. but after a moment of begging, he pulls his leg back and gives you a moment to breathe. you sit up, choking on heavy breaths, holding onto your shoulder.

"let's play a game."

you look up at him with bloodshot eyes— barely holding back tears. his hand twitches.

you're shaking. this man just had his foot on your shoulder, and he wants to play a game?

when he doesn't get a response from you, he continues, "it's called ddakji. if you win, i'll give you cash." he opens the briefcase, smiles sinisterly as your eyes land on the object of your desires. "i saw you watching it, back at the station. such a shame your little plan didn't work, no?"

you grit your teeth, looking away from his taunting eyes. "and if i lose?"

"then i get to slap you."

your head snaps up— breathing getting heavy again. is this really what your life has come to? is it really worth it? you're back to square one— perhaps, you could leave your home, but the violence will always follow. the realization of your fate has a tear rolling down your cheek. you really try to sound tough when you gather the courage to speak again. "and why would i do that?"

"because you're desperate," he says calmly, leaning forward to brush the tear away with his thumb. the action has your heart fluttering for just a moment— many men have made you cry, but not one of them have ever wiped the tears. it's stupid. he quirks an eyebrow, settling you with a blank stare that shakes you to your core. "what have you got to lose, anyway?"

he's right, you think. would you rather take a few slaps and then live your life independently? or would you choose to live in fear about when you'd be on the receiving end of your father's wrath again?

you choose the former.

he explains the concept of the game and you get to choose the color of your tile— you pick the red one because it's your favourite color. with as much strength as you can, you try to flip his tile, but it merely jumps and then lands back like it was. it sends your heart plummeting down your stomach.

you know well what's coming next— it's all you've ever known your whole life. you flinch as his hand raises, but he stops midway. you tremble violently, eyeing his palm nervously. he eyes you curiously for a while, before another twisted smile appears on his face.

"you ever get hit before?" he asks, voice taunting. you swallow hard. "boyfriend?" he pushes his hand closer, making you flinch again. "ah, i know— father."

before you can snap at him, his hand collides with your cheek, making you let out a sharp cry. your face twists to the side and you take a deep breath— try to console yourself. it's just a game. he's not doing it out of malice. false promises.

you bite down on your lower lip to avoid calling him a fucking dickhead and telling him to rot.

he just smiles as he goes next. you pray to the gods he doesn't flip your tile— and thankfully, he doesn't. it makes you sigh in relief as he tosses a bundle of cash at your feet. you bend down to pick it up, "oh my god, thank you, thank you—"

he tsks, shaking his head, "game isn't over."

you go another round, and you win. you cheer heartily as you get another bundle of the cash tossed at your feet— and he sighs to himself. suddenly this game seems better.

you try to use your previous technique to flip his tile, and it doesn't work. it earns you another slap. it doesn't get better— you get as many slaps as you do cash. tears roll down your sore cheeks— they're heated and they hurt. you feel faint. only you know how much strength it takes to keep standing. you're sure your face will bruise tomorrow. he doesn't stop until you have half the cash from his briefcase. you can't hold back your sobs— you don't know what you're crying for. the cash, or the slaps? both, perhaps.

"you did good," he says, stepping forward and invading your personal space. his hands are warm as he cups your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears. you try to pull your face away, but one warning glare from him has you frozen in place. "look on the bright side, you decided to steal from me today and you earned some money. even if it came with a little beating. but you took it like a good girl, didn't you?"

his words should have you convulsing. you should be kicking him in the balls and hitting him with the nearest object you can find— but you're hypnotized— caught in a trance by his words of praise. against your better judgement, you nod, before shamefully averting your gaze.

he smiles tightly and steps away. adjusts the buttons of his suit jacket and looks around before going to the couch and sitting down. "why don't you go fetch me a glass of water?" he stretches his arms, shoots a provocative smile your way. "all this exercise has me feeling thirsty."

you want to tell him to shove his exercise up your ass and leave, but you decide to do as he said. you're in no position to threaten him. he's much stronger than you, and judging by everything else, much older as well. men like him are not easy to fool. and you really don't want to get hit again.

as you pour him a glass of water, you eye his briefcase again. if you could somehow manage to perhaps weaken him for just a moment— you could get all the cash and maybe run away. you would spike his water but you don't have any drugs. you have to do this the hard way. you pocket a fork and then head back to deliver him his water.

as he drinks, you kneel by his feet, gathering your cash. carefully, you pull out the fork, and with as much strength as you can, slam it down onto the side of his foot.

"you little bitch—" he groans loudly, wincing and throwing his head back and clenching his jaw before splashing the water from the glass on your face. it makes you squeal. before you can attack again, he pulls the fork out and tosses it to the side. your eyes widen and you rush to get it, but he sticks his leg out and you trip and fall on your face again.

a crunchy sound emerges as he steps on your wrist, his shoe digging into the delicate appendage. you let out a shrill cry.

"the one thing i hate more than thieves—" he snickers, looking down at you like you're an insect. he scoffs, twisting his shoe harder, making you choke on a sob, "is a little girl who thinks she's smarter than me."

"fuck you!" you sob, squirming on the ground, "let me go!"

"watch your language with me." he hisses back, narrowing his eyes. he glares before releasing a breathy chuckle, "you are the stupidest girl i have ever met. you were doing so well too. did you really think you could overpower me?"

"you hit me—" you sniffle, groaning in pain as you attempts to yank your hand back, "you hit me and you—"

he interrupts with a taunt, "maybe if you tried acting so smartly with your father, you wouldn't have had to run away from home."

you gasp before letting out another pained whimper, "how did you—"

"it's written on your face." he sighs, exasperated. like he's dealing with a toddler, not a girl who stabbed his leg. "if i let go of your hand, do you promise not to get hostile again?"

you glare at him silently through teary eyes.

"do i have your word?" he says louder, twisting his foot again.

"yes, yes—" you yelp, and with careful thought, he steps back. before you can make a move, he leans down to grab your hair and yanks you up. it makes you hiss in pain. he shoves you towards the couch.

"all this fighting has made me excited," he remarks with a chuckle, crowding you in. your eyes widen and you crawl away from him to the farthest end of the couch. he follows you like a predator, palming the front of his pants, and the realization of whats to follow makes you shake your head, "no- no, please, god—"

"shut the fuck up," he snaps strictly, voice eerily composed. he grabs your head, looks down at you with those black, empty eyes, his free hand carelessly unbuckling his belt. "you didn't think i'd let your little stunt go unpunished, did you?"

"you can do anything else—" you choke out, shaking her head. he yanks your face forward, makes your cheek press against the tent in his pants. you can smell him. you desperately try to latch onto any semblance of comfort you can find. "anything— anything but this, you can even slap me again—"

"hitting you is no fun if you're asking for it," he replies boredly, tugging your head back just enough so your teary eyes blink up at him pathetically. "i want to really rub it in this time. what happens when you mess with men like me."

you want to fight more— you wish you could. you desperately want to, but you feel frozen with shock. this day has turned into a nightmare you couldn't imagine even in the worst possible time. it's like everything you have done till now to avoid horrible, violent men, is laughing at your failure. you blink a few times, as if trying to wake yourself up.

"i've never done this before," your voice cracks as you voice your last attempt at begging for mercy— does he not have a heart?

he pauses and eyes you for a moment, and for a millisecond you think he'll reconsider. but then his mouth twitches, and your heart breaks as soon he pulls his pants down.

"even better."

A/N: this was more psychological and self indulgent that i expected, lol. i'm still not very well versed with smut, so i thought i might put this out before i try. feedback is always appreciated. i love him so much even though he's horrible. i guess that's what them father issues do.

[starboye]

starring: eddie brock x male reader x venom

request: hi!! can i request a eddie brock/venom x male reader smut where eddie finally introduces reader to venom and venom can’t help but let all his dirty thoughts about what he wants to do to reader out. i’m talking bondage, breeding, ass eating (ikyk his tongue goes crazy)

warnings: smut, monster fucking, freaky!venom, HUGE DICK VENOM, unprotected sex, creampie, ass eating, cum eating, ball and dick cleaning i guess

as much as eddie did NOT want to introduce you and venom, the pestering was getting a little to much from the both of you so he decided finally it was time, calling you over to his apartment and slowly letting venom come out from his shoulder, a floating head connected to a tendril coming out of your boyfriends back was weird but you've seen weirder.

"y/n meet venom and venom meet y/n" eddie says "pleased to eat you y/n" venom says without mush of a filet, your ass was nice looking and he wanted that "pleased to eat you to venom" you shake one of his tendrils and immediately wipe the sort of slime on your pants.

"i like him, he has a sort of humor" venom says out loud "venom" eddie tries to stop him from starting to embarrass him "don't worry i think you're kinda cool to venom" you say with a laugh "your lips look really nice can i cum on them" he blurts out unexpectedly "well that's enough talking from you v" eddie tries to get venom back inside his body but he takes over instead.

"well i mean if you want to but im not against it" you smile to show off your lips more the symbiote "when eddie told me about you i thought i wasn't going to like you but now that you're here i want to do so many things" he says and eddie already knows what this is going to turn to so he tries to stop him but venom is just to strong, staying in control for just a little longer.

"oh pray tell more" you scoot closer to him "well i want to eat your delicious looking ass, i want to fuck you till you cant think, i want to cum all over your pretty face, and i want to make you my boyfriend" he says all in one breath with a complete smile through it all "well we could do some of those things today" you say getting on his lap.

who would've thought you'd be so open to getting fucked by an alien but hey who am i to judge (you people would let a fox fuck you aka nick wilde but hey i would too) you're quick to start making out with him, his long tongue exploring your mouth and making it's way down your throat, he was surprised to see you had no gag reflex which had his mind running.

eddie watched from inside as you lubed up venom fat cock with your saliva and slide all nineteen inches into you "haha i told you the human could fit me eddie" venom cheers as you bounce up and down on his long shaft, an obvious belly bulge poking out from your stomach and sort of in your chest, but venom still knew you were a puny human so he took it slow with you.

letting you rock your hips back and forth of his cock until he could feel himself cumming, and listening to your moan about how you love venoms' big dick so much had him aching to fill your pretty ass up but the things is, is this safe like symbiotes can cum a lot and like i mean A LOT so like will this hurt you?

meh i guess there's only one way to find out, unloading his pent up cum into your stretched ass that was unable to hold his cum in you for to long before it was spilling out, you looked a little out of it but you were a live so that counts for something "now how about we try that other thing" you ask with a weak grin on your face.

venom flipping you over and shoving his long tongue down your hole to lick the excess cum out while you cleaned` him up down below, lick the cum from his fat balls and making sure his cock was all nice and shiny, eddie just had to watch as you slutted yourself out to the alien but he's not gonna lie he was kinda turned on by it all.

"can we keep him eddie" venom asks still face deep in your ass "id love to stay plus i cant really walk so" you chuckle and for some reason just hearing you laugh made venoms cock throb, he doesn't know why but maybe it's a sign to go again

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Guiding Light✨

Marcus Acacius x fem! reader

A/N: I was immediately inspired to write this after I saw the pictures drop Monday, and I conjured this up in one night. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem and @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading 🩷

Summary: You watch Marcus avenge himself week after week in the pit of the arena, but how much longer will it take to make you snap? How much longer can you go on watching when he’s the only man you want?

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Tags: Yearning, a little angst, soft dom! Marcus, feelings, confessions, jealousy, unprotected piv, oral (male/female receiving), fluff, reader’s nickname is Starlight

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  The arena is drenched in dark crimson colors as the clash of silver armor and jagged swords collide in unison. The audience is obnoxiously loud as their rowdy shouts and chants fill your ringing ears.  

   Thump. Thump. Thump. 

   You can basically feel your heart trying to break free of your insides that pound uncontrollably as you watch Marcus take out another large fighter from his right with only one jab of his shiny sword that catches sunlight and reflects in your wide eyes.

   Come on, Marcus. Win, stay alive!

   You swallow back a trembling whine as you sit on the edge of your seat, fingernails digging into the tough stone as you watch the man you yearn for take another blow to the back. You gasp as you watch Marcus flip the fighter over and finish him off with one slice of his silver sword, barely any sign of pain or fear in his vision that’s focused on taking out every single enemy that stands in his way of freedom.

   You sigh out in relief, fear flooding your veins as your eyes stay glued to every careful move he makes in the arena of death. 

   He stands in the middle of the expansive, gruesome arena, dodging left and right, taking out man after man, completely pulverizing anything and anyone that gets in his way. He’s the best in the game, the most experienced fighter, the champion that never falters, never loses. So why are you a complete mess when he’s in that pit of death?

   You’re not lovers, not exactly. You’re his plaything, the woman he calls to his bedchamber after every battle, every night that suits his needs. He doesn’t care if you’re asleep, doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of other pressing matters, doesn’t give a fuck because you’re his property that he can do whatever he wants with. And you have to admit you find that sort of… hot. You’ll do anything for that man. He can use you all he wants, as long as that means you have him.

   Your pulse thrums in your neck as you watch him completely dominate the arena. The blazing sun rains down on his broad body, leaving him in damp, silver armor, sweat glistening down his tanned skin, greying curls sticking to his forehead, dirt covering every inch of his muscular arms, his sculpted legs, his large hands. 

   You so badly wish you could be every speck of that dirt right now so you could lick up and down every inch of him until you were completely consumed in him, until you could see nothing but him for all eternity, until he melded his own skin with yours as you fused into one. 

   When the crowd chants and the last man falls to his death, the only man left standing is him, General Acacius, the man you’re completely wrapped up in. You have to pull yourself back together as your core burns hot, slick collecting just thinking of what he’ll do to you later tonight. You know he’ll take you, hard. 

   His golden flecked chocolate eyes find yours in the crowd in a heartbeat, a celebratory smirk curling against his plush mouth as darkness and trouble swirl through those beautiful eyes. You know what that means. He’s won you, and he wants you, now.

   When your eyes leave his, you see the emperor’s daughter, Mina, looking over his broad body with those bright blue eyes, her ashy blonde hair flowing down her back, and she’s nearly drooling over his victory, thinking that she can get him with her daddy’s command.

   You flare hot with jealousy at the thought of Marcus and Mina tangling together, their skin caressing over each other’s in his large bed draped with gold sheets that swallow their bodies whole till they’re nothing but shadows dancing in the midst of the night.  

   You see it now. The long walks they take in the gardens, the secret slurs in each other’s ears over dinners with the entire court, an arranged marriage as he fights for her love each time he’s in the arena. 

   It’s only in your head, only a sick mirage your jealous mind has conjured up. He barely glances her way half the time, his heated gaze only locked on you each time you’re in the same vicinity. It’s stupid really, the hate you feel for her because you could never measure up to a rich, beautiful goddess like herself. You don’t come from royalty, barely have a cent to your name, and that is why he could never love you, you think. 

   Mina has it all, and you’re just… you. 

   You swallow the lump in your throat as the audience still shouts and whistles from every direction as Marcus is called out and awarded as the winner of today’s events. You want to stay, but you get up quietly and leave, knowing he’ll want you waiting in his chambers when he’s finished. 

   He’s safe. That’s all that matters. 

   You quickly leave behind the bellowing noise of the arena, trading it for a quiet walk through the rose garden, past the trickles of clear blue fountains, entering into a quiet overlay of towering architecture that’s trimmed in carved stone and marble pathways. A place you could never even dream of setting foot in on a regular basis. You’re just a commoner, not royalty, not wealthy, not anything but his to take. And that will have to be enough. For now. 

   You slip past some guards, heading straight for his bedroom, his sanctuary so to speak. He calls it that because you are what he worships night after night in those sheets, inside those marble walls, against his broad body that makes every vibration buzz through your nerve endings. He is what makes this city even tolerable. 

   You throw the double doors open wide and slam them shut, letting the glow of the sunlight fade through the cascading window overlooking the city. The room smells of spice and aroma, the golden curtains sparkle as the sun kisses the see-through fabric and dips against the silky sheets that are bathed in a majestic golden hue. The king sized bed sits front and center as his grand bathing chambers lay to the right, just inside the hand crafted door that’s threaded with gold.

   This room, this place is exquisite, and you can’t believe the emperor is letting Marcus stay here after their falling out that happened just weeks ago. But the best fighter gets to stay in these living quarters. They get money, a title, a chance at freedom from the arena if they’re lucky. That’s what Marcus is fighting for. To be free from this hellish prison, and you just pray to the gods that no one will take him from you. You’ll surely wither and fade away the moment something goes wrong in those walls of torture and murder because he’s all you know anymore here in Ancient Rome. 

   Before you can delve into anymore feelings, you hear the crash of doors being opened behind you, and then you hear the disposal of swords and shields being tossed in a heap on the floor, then you hear the deep, ragged breaths of the one you’ve been waiting for. Marcus.

   You try to twist around, but strong arms envelop you from behind, and a warm breath blows huskily down the shell of your ear. “Enjoy the show?” he smirks as his meaty hands find the back of your long gown and rip, tugging it free as it falls to the floor around your ankles. 

   Your mouth drops open as warmth blooms in your core, hot and heavy like the room begins to feel. “Marcus! I liked that dress,” you pout.

   He grabs the back of your hair and tugs playfully while one hand snakes around your waist and pulls you flush to his silver armor, making you gasp as he cups your bare breasts and starts kneading them together, like he needs you right this very second and can’t wait any longer to get his experienced fingers on your burning skin. 

   “I’ll buy you another one. Not like I don’t already have one hanging in my closet,” he teases, pinching your pebbling nipples together as a slight moan leaves your lips. 

   “Needy thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles, pulling you closer as one hand slips down and ghosts over the sheer panties, the only thing left on your bare body. 

   “For you, yes,” you whine, stifling a moan as his calloused thumb glides over your clit, sending a shiver down your spine as you fight to keep standing upright. 

   “Greedy thing I see, wanting to come already?” he teases as he tugs his hand away from your slick center and rips your ruined panties in half, leaving you completely bare and absolutely wet with desire and famished for his touch. 

   “Turn around,” he instructs with a bite as he assesses you from head to toe, licking his bottom lip in anticipation the moment he sees how drenched you are for him.

   Your gaze drops over him, still clad in silver armor, his leather wristbands splattered in dried blood, his Caliga boots biting into his toned shins, the leather kissing his muscular thighs. He quickly loses the wristbands and stalks toward you, backing you up till your back is pressed into the corner of the bed, chest heaving as the possibilities swarm your hazy mind.

   “My armor, unthread it,” he demands as his dark brown eyes pierce into yours as sweat glistens across his tanned forehead, dirt still caking his dark skin as he stands fresh from a win of a long day in the arena. “Now,” he growls as he loses his patience while you stand there staring like a lovesick puppy.

   “Yes, sir,” you nod as your fingers get to work unlacing the gold threads of his armor, making sure your movements are swift and cordial, knowing he doesn't like waiting too long to have you. 

   His eyes follow you with every turn, every move, like he’s some kind of wild animal that’s stalking his prey, ready to pounce and devour at any minute. You have to keep your eyes off his as you unfasten his belt, the silver armor falling to the floor as you tug it off his broad body until he’s standing only in the leather material that covers his upper thighs and the boots that shine against his banged up ankles. 

   You stand there a minute and admire the gorgeous fighter that stands in front of you. Tall, extremely handsome, greying curls slicked back with the sweat from the sweltering sun in the arena, dirt etched across sculpted, tanned skin, eyes the color of bright sunlight and charcoal mixed together to make the prettiest honey-glazed eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. This man is like a god, and you’d happily get down on your knees and worship him at his beck and call. 

   His blazing eyes slide down your bare body and end at what’s left on his, nodding for you to finish the job. “Well, don’t just stand there. Finish undressing me,” he bites out with scalding irritation, clearly ready to forget his long day in an arena where hyenas bark at him day after day. He wants a release, and that release is you.

   You quickly tug the leather material down his legs, taking his underwear to the floor as his hard cock stands at attention against his sculpted abs, his coarse, wiry, dark hair trailing down the base of him as you gulp with wide-eyes.

   He’s so big, so thick, so very… god-like. 

   He sits down on the wooden chest that’s sprawled at the end of his bed, spreading his muscular legs wide as he points to his dusty battle boots. “Knees on the ground, Starlight,” he instructs firmly with a gravelly tone that makes you clench your thighs together.

   “Yes. Of course, Marcus.”

   “Sir,” he corrects as you bend down and start to unlatch the straps of his fighting boots, slowly stripping them off as you toss them to the side. 

   You idly sit there on your knees, one arm twisting around the back of his thigh as you spread him wider, almost drooling at the sight of his thick cock dripping precum around the angry red tip. Your mouth parts open, and you lose all train of thought. The only thing you want is to choke on that beautiful cock till he tells you to stop.

   He strips you from your fantasies as he grabs a fistful of your hair, leaning down as he bites out slow, deliberate words. “Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to be a good girl and wrap that pretty little mouth around my cock?” His eyes twinkle with a seductive glare, and his dirty words melt all the way down to your heated core until you can actually feel them around your aching clit.

   “Yes, sir. Wanna be your good girl,” you pant as you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

   He smirks and sits back as his rough hand guides you forward. “Then get to work,” he growls, tugging you forward with his hand wrapped around your hair until your lips meet his dripping tip.

   You take your tongue and run it flat up the base of him, following along the bulging vein as you lick up the salty precum that gushes around his swollen tip. 

   Gods, he tastes so good, even after a long day in battle without a bath. You actually prefer to go down on him like this when his musk is drenched around the coarse hairs at his base, sweat pooling down his glorious body as you bathe in the aroma of him. Battle and all, this is when you like him most, when he completely takes charge and dominates you around his chambers, instructing you with filthy words and crude actions. This is how you like it. All hot and sweaty and desperate and messy.

   He groans as you take him deeper, hollowing out your cheeks as you fill your throat with his thick cock, gagging around his massive size as he starts to bob his hips, fucking your throat in steady strides as his large fingers wrap around your soft waves. 

   “That’s it, right there, atta fucking girl,” he moans, tipping his head down to yours as he watches you through the black pits that consume his wide eyes.

    “Look at me,” he demands as he pulls you back up to breathe, letting a bead of saliva connect to your plump lips from the tip of him as you suck in a deep breath, feeding your lungs as you look up into eyes that could eat you alive. 

   “There she is, my good little Starlight. Sucking my cock just the way I like it, yeah?” he coos, threading his fingers through your hair and stroking the back of your neck like you’re a well trained dog on a leash just waiting for their master to give you orders.

   “Mhm. You just taste so good, all hot and sweaty,” you purr as your hand slides down the base of his shaft, squeezing his balls as he grunts in pleasure, tightening his grip on your neck as he pushes you back down. 

   “Yeah? Put those pretty lips to action then, gorgeous,” he growls. 

   He takes you to your limits, cock throbbing as you choke and gag around his thick length, drool dousing him as he fucks you hard and deep, taking exactly what he needs after going through hell and back himself in one day.

   You groan, tears licking your eyes as you swallow the salty taste of him, letting him move you at his leisure, making your body do exactly as he pleases. Before you can get another good taste of his deliciousness, he pulls you off and throws you on your back in the silky sheets, watching him grab some of the gold cords from his armor. 

   Your breath escapes you as he crawls over your body, the dirt caking his broad arms as his hungry eyes nearly devour you whole as he carefully binds your wrists to the headboard, stilling your writhing legs as he starts to slowly spread them. 

   Your heart is beating wildly like ocean tides collide with your body, and your core is humming for Marcus to touch you in every single place he can get his filthy hands on you.

   He takes the tips of his fingers and melodically strokes them down your neckline, skating between your peaked breasts, teasing along your inner thighs until you’re a writhing mess beneath him. “Marcus, please,” you beg, nearly panting his name raggedly as you beg for his touch. 

   “Sir,” he corrects sternly as he stares at you with dark eyes in warning.

   “Sir,” you apologize with a meek voice.

   He chuckles and drags his finger higher, teasing around your drenched folds as he hikes one leg over his shoulder, your other folding around his back. 

   “Now, I want you to look up and watch, can you do that?” he asks as you tilt your head and swallow a gasp as you stare into the reflection of you and Marcus in between the sheets that will soon be soaked.

   “Want you to see what belongs to me, what I own,” he growls dominantly as he sinks down to his elbows and breathes in your musk deeply as your pussy shutters at just the feel of his hot breath.

   You groan in waiting, and then his mouth is on you in a flash. He licks a thick stripe up your center as your wrists tug at the golden clasps, your fingernails digging into your skin as you moan in pure ecstasy when his tongue circles meticulously around your puffy clit. 

   “Oh, yeah,” you whine as the feel of his thick fingers curl up inside you, reaching that sweet spongy spot that makes you dizzy every single time.

   He chuckles as he pulls you down further, your bound wrists biting into the cords as he swirls his tongue exceptionally fast, groaning at the taste of you as his messy curls fall against your thighs. You want to reach down and lace your fingers into those beautiful locks, want to hear him groan as your nails dig deep into his scalp as you moan his name around the spacious chambers of his living quarters, but you’ll work with this for now, until he says otherwise. 

   He pulls your bundle of nerves into his warm mouth, sucking and teasing as he looks up from under hooded eyes and stares at you playfully with his pupils expanding into dark pits the more he feasts on you. 

   You buck into his mouth as his fingers plunge in and out of you, creating the most obscene wet noises that reverberate off the marble walls. He releases your buzzing clit with a pop, licking the slick from his lips as he groans at the sweet taste of you.

   “This is exactly what I needed, Starlight. Needed to drink you down, taste the savory flavor of this sweet pussy, needed to drown in you,” he pants as he dives back in, licking and sucking and fucking two thick fingers inside your dripping hole until you start to see black dots flick across your vision.

   “Yes, come for me, Starlight,” he purrs, his gravelly voice melting your insides into warm lava as you snap and let the white hot heat take control.

   You throw your head back into the plush pillow and let your moans fill the room as you clench around his thick fingers and release everything you have to give him.

   “Just like that, Starlight. Fuck, yes,” he growls as he licks you clean, lapping up all the slick until you’re completely spent off the way he just demolished you.

   You feel his broad body climb over yours, carefully untying you from the headboard as your arms fall slack to your sides. You feel as if every wave of ecstasy just crashed into you, the high tides pulling you out to sea as you agreeably follow the darkness. Marcus pulls you out of the lapping waves and carries you back to shore where it’s safe and warm by his side.

   “Come here, Starlight. Just lay back and take the pleasure,” he purrs as he glides his massive cock into your slippery folds, spreading you wide as he starts to rock his hips back and forth, feeding himself inside you as your walls clench up around him. 

   You lay back into the dampening sheets as his body presses you deeper into the mattress, his hands tangled in your hair, your own legs wrapped tight around his broad back as you moan with every stroke of his cock. You feel the pressure inside you coiling tight, feeling as if you’ll come undone again at any second. This is what you love, what you revel in, what you need most in this world. It’s him. 

   You lay sprawled in the damp sheets, bodies tangled together like magnets colliding as you stare up into the wide mirror, the motions of his broad body reflecting in your wide eyes as you take the pleasure again and again.

   “Marcus,” you cry out, pleading for him, begging him not to stop as you watch him take you harder, your nails dragging down his back with every deep thrust he gives you as he kisses the back of your cervix repeatedly. 

   “Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, Starlight?” he coos against the shell of your ear as he traces his lips up up up until he’s hovering straight over your lips, his mouth teasing as he nips at your bottom lip.

   “Marcus,” you repeat, your heart straining for him to kiss you.

   Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. It’s all you want, all you need. Like air to fill your lungs, he’s all it takes.

   It takes him less than two seconds to collapse his lips onto yours like he’s as desperate for air as you, like he might die if he doesn’t fill the space between the two of you. You moan into his mouth, tasting salt and sunlight crash against your taste buds as his tongue licks inside your panting mouth. He groans into the kiss, tangling his large tongue with yours as you chase him and let him swallow you down like it’s his last night to live.

    He deepens the kiss, pulling you flush to his chest as he turns you around while still inside you, landing on his back as he laces his fingers through your locks, moaning your name with every lick and every taste he takes from you. It’s like the gods have blessed you, bringing you this man, this mountain of a man that feeds your every need. And gods, you don’t think you will ever get enough of him.

   He disconnects from your swollen lips, resting his sweat covered forehead on yours as he concentrates on his swift strokes inside you, planting his hands firmly on your hips as he takes you for the ride of your life. “Yeah, that’s it, Starlight, You’re almost there, I can feel how much you’re squeezing. Let it out, let me feel it,” he growls through clenched teeth, trying not to fall apart before you do.

   He speeds up his thrusts, filling you fuller than anyone else has before, rutting into you at just the right angle where you can feel him start to uncoil all your tethered connections as your body slackens against his hold on you. 

   One more hard, long thrust and you’re done. “Marcusssss,” you moan, feeling the heat slide down and spill over his entirety as you fall flush into his strong chest. He takes initiative and thrusts deeper, much harder than before, desperate to chase his own release.

   He threads his brows together and groans your name quietly, his lips lingering over the shell of your ear as he takes three more breaths and then spills ropes of hot white cum inside your sticky core. 

   You moan together in ecstasy, bodies entwined as he empties his seed inside you, chests heaving with exhaustion as he carefully pulls out from inside you and collapses on the bed with a thud, your body slack against his as the damp, dirty sheets shift around your naked bodies. 

   After a few seconds of ragged breaths, he pulls your back flush against his sweaty chest and drapes an arm around you, holding you close as you let the sun slowly slip behind dark clouds that paint the sky violet colors.

   “You need a bath,” you giggle as you lace your fingers through his.

   “So do you,” he chuckles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a huff. “Just let me lay here a few more minutes. I’m exhausted,” he murmurs as he pulls you as close as humanly possible to his warm chest. You cozy up to him and sigh, relaxing into his warm touch, reveling in this soft moment that seems more rare than nights you get him all to yourself. 

   The room is sweltering, his scent clinging to every part of your body as you bathe in the smell of sweat, dirt, spice, and something that smells a lot just like him. He’s like your very own glass of fine wine, the perfect combination of class and just downright filth. He’s just… perfect. Perfect for you, the only man you truly want. And maybe that’s because you’re in love with him. Maybe that’s why you cling to him as much as you can, afraid he’ll be taken from you at a moment’s notice.

   You can’t lie to yourself, you’re absolutely terrified each time he steps into that arena, knowing the emperor wouldn’t even bat an eyelash if a man slaughtered him to shreds. You fidget against the damp sheets, cringing at the thought of blood filling his lungs, his body parts pulled apart by barbarians as he takes his last breath and slips into the dark abyss. 

   You clamp your eyes shut, thinking of Mina dragging him off to get married, thinking of him choosing another woman over you once he’s offered to cut ties in the arena if he marries someone with a higher title. You tremble at the thought of him leaving you all alone, like you never meant anything to him, like you were just a ragdoll for him to control whenever he wanted, like you don’t mean a damn thing other than knowing you’ll always be there at his command when he wants to blow some steam off from the arena. 

   You fight the uncontrollable tears that lick the backs of your eyes, plead to not break down in front of him, beg the gods to have some mercy on your soul if you were about to lose this man. You can’t lose him; you won’t lose him, unless he walks away and tells you to stay like a helpless dog losing their only person they know will take care of them.

   You can’t stand it, can’t hold in the emotions any longer, so you let them flow, feeling the tears like icy shards spilling down your burning cheeks.

   “Hey, hey, hey. Are you crying?” he asks with alarm in his deep, gravelly voice.

   “No,” you croak out as another tear falls like raindrops on the bed. 

   “Hey now, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” he pushes softly, turning you around till you’re facing his direction, concern laced in his soft brown eyes.

   You stare at him with sad eyes, nervously twisting your fingers in the silky sheets that are now covered in grime and sweat. You can’t tell him you’re scared to lose him, you just… can’t.

   “Starlight, talk to me. Tell me what it is.” His fingertips brush off a falling tear, and you shake your head slowly. 

   “It’s nothing…”

   He cups your chin and tilts your head up to where your eyes are aligned with his, and in those eyes swims the most sincere gaze he’s ever given you in his entire life. “It’s not nothing if it’s making you cry. Now talk to me. I’m right here.”

   His fingertips feel like velvet dragging across your cheek, soft brown eyes weighing into yours as he gives you his full attention. And it’s no use now hiding your feelings; you need to just clear the air and get it off your chest.

   You take a deep breath and focus before you choke your words out. “I’m scared, Marcus.”

   “Scared of what?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he hears you out.

   “Of losing you…”

   He sighs and runs his thumb gently down your jawline, stroking it up and down as the soothing feeling seems to settle your nerves. “Oh, Starlight. You’re never going to lose me.”

   You swallow the thick lump in your throat, holding back tears as you shake your head. “I could lose you any day in that arena. The things they put you through, the people you have to kill, the absolute horror you have to go through just to stay alive!” 

   His eyes go wide, but he lets you continue. “I don’t want to watch you die, Marcus! I don’t want them to keep feeding you to the wolves like you’re some kind of mindless entertainment for the city of Rome!”

   He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, slowly opening them back up as he cups the back of your neck. “I know, baby. I know…”

   Baby? That’s new….

   “Just trust me that I know what I’m doing, and that I’ll fight like hell to win my freedom back,” he sighs, his eyes glistening with a look like pain etched in the crevices of those golden brown irises.  

   “What if your freedom meant taking a wife, marrying someone with a title…” you whisper, barely able to lock eyes as he scrunches his forehead together.

   “What?” he asks with lines mapped against his tanned skin, considering your ridiculous question. “What do you mean take a wife with a title?”

   “Someone like Mina,” you murmur quietly.

   “Mina?” he asks with wide eyes.

   “She’s been obsessed with you ever since you first stepped into that arena. The way she looks at you… she could have you with a snap of her fingers if only she asked her father. And Marcus, I don’t want…”

   “Whoa there, slow down. Mina? Where is all this coming from? I have no interest in Mina.”

   You gulp, eyes dropping to the twisted sheets as you feel your heart stutter in your chest. “I overhear her all the time. The way she swoons over you, the way she dreams that one day you’ll notice her in the arena. And then… and what if you want to get married? Not even to her, but to someone with money, a title, someone royal, maybe someone that’ll get you out of here quicker? What if you…”

   You close your eyes tight, afraid you’ve spoken too much, afraid you’ve ruined everything as you lay in a heap with your heart pounding in your chest like a ticking time bomb. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did that, if you saved yourself from the brink of death. But I… I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, too. If you were to choose someone else…”

   You let the tears collect in your eyes, feel them slipping down your face as you try your best not to throw anything else frantic and chaotic into the stormy clouds above Rome. You’ve already said too much, too fast. You weren’t supposed to say anything.

   He lifts his head and stares at you, wordlessly assessing your fragile features as his eyes turn a soft brown, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes become glossy like yours. “Starlight, no. I don’t want Mina, I never did. And I would never ever leave you for someone else, even if it got me out of that pit faster. The only woman I want to see is you. If I haven’t made that clear before, I’m sorry. But… baby, you belong to me. You’re mine.”

   “I’m… yours?” you ask carefully, your tears spilling over the edges uncontrollably as you cling to his chest.

   “Of course you’re mine, Starlight. You’ve been mine since the first day I locked eyes on your beautiful face,” he whispers, curling a lock of hair behind your ear as you breathe in deep, surrounding yourself in the very essence of him as he tells you exactly how he’s felt the whole time this has been going on. “I’ve been yours longer than you know.”

   You whimper out a sigh, threading your fingers through his tousled hair as you stare into starry brown eyes that you’d really like to slip in and stay for all eternity. “Really?” you ask with wonder in your eyes.

   “Really,” he nods. “Do you know why I call you Starlight?”

   “No,” you whisper quietly, shaking your head as a fresh tear streams down your skin. He catches it with his thumb and caresses your cheek gently as his calloused fingers soothe your cloudy thoughts. 

   “Because you’re the brightest thing I see every single time I step into that arena. The only thing that keeps me fighting week after week in that bloodbath is you, so I can get back to you.”

   His answer leaves you completely breathless as you suck in warm air, your body still as you look longingly at the man that starts devastating wildfires in your heart.

   “Me?” you ask in a shaky breath.

   “You,” he nods with a smile. “The very first time I stepped into the arena, the first thing that crossed my vision was your eyes. Those beautiful, sparkling eyes were the only thing I focused on, the only thing that kept me from losing myself on that battlefield was you.”

   You gasp, his deep words taking the breath from your lungs as he confesses about the first time he noticed you, saw you, really, truly saw you. You weren’t invisible to him. You were never invisible. “Marcus…” you say shakily as he strokes your jawline lovingly. “But… I… I’m just a simple woman. I have no titles, no money to my name, no prospects. I’m just… me,” you state slowly.

   He sighs, cupping his hand around the back of your head as his fingers lazily stroke through your strands gently. “I don’t care, Starlight. I don’t care about money or titles or really anything about an important name. What's life of riches and freedom if I can’t have you?” 

   You swear your heart blooms like lush roses in your chest as you hear those words repeat again and again in your mind. He wants you, he wants you.

   “I want you,” he repeats, as if he can hear the sounds of doubt play in your mind like a music box that won’t stop spinning. 

   He cups both sides of your face and looks at you with pure intent in his glossy brown eyes. “I want you every day, every minute, every second, and I burn for you in that arena,” he promises as his lips graze over yours delicately. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you sitting in the audience all wide-eyed and beautiful. And I want you even more now that I have you, want you by my side every minute of every day because I can’t stand the thought of losing you. And I’ll fight like hell to earn my freedom back because I love you.”

   He loves you.

   “Marcus, I…” 

   He crashes his lips against yours, a hot, needy, yearning kiss that nearly sends you soaring into the night sky as his lips surge like fire through your very veins. It’s soft like snow, kissing at your eyelashes as you let him pull you flush to his chest, needing to be as close as possible as love burns through your bodies, connecting them together as if this is the very first time you both ache to collide together. 

   “I love you, Marcus,” you whisper against his lips.

   He pulls you on top of his chest and sinks his mouth down on yours, slowly slotting his tongue in your mouth, drawing lazily circles as he drinks you down as you allow him to take all of you. Whatever he wants, whatever he needs from you he has. He tastes like the stars that shimmer in the sky, and you’ll be his entire galaxy, his Starlight that’ll guide him off the battlefield of the arena and back into your arms where he’s safe from harm.

   When he disconnects from your mouth, he stares at you, his soft brown eyes shimmering up at you as he runs his calloused fingers tenderly through your hair. “You’re mine, Starlight.”

   “I’m yours,” you repeat, smiling down at him as he brushes his lips against your forehead, kissing you with love written all over his touch as he pulls you up from the bed. 

   “Come on, my love. Let’s go take a bath,” he says softly as he picks you up and carries you to the bathing chamber, his strong arms cradling you against his warm chest as he places a lasting kiss to your forehead. 

   All your worries are shed, all false pretenses are gone, everything you were mourning over is suddenly lifted off your shoulders as they fly away into the night sky. This man is yours, and he’s never ever planning on letting you go. 

   Starlight shines brighter than any Roman Empire games, and you’re his guiding light back home.

[superhoeva]

older bf!logan is the kinda guy that wants to treat you to a special night of an oiled massage but gets distracted halfway through with how pretty you glisten in the candlelight.

the pads of his fingers are slick with oil and spit as they rub over your swollen clit. at this point, he’s flipped you over, back against his chest, a pool of wet dampening the towel under you as he rubs you to your third peak of the night.

you squirm and pant, gasps rocking your chest while his hands works relentlessly, teasing you with a few dips into your slit before dragging them back upwards.

you don’t remember when logan flips your back to the tainted sheets of the bed. all you know is that he’s naked now and just a soaked in the oil as you are. he grinds into you, cock spilling out a few beads of precum as he chokes out his groans.

“fuck, you should see yourself, sugar. nice and shiny for me. pussy feels so good, dragging up and down my cock.”

the whimper he receives in return and way you grip at his biceps tells him you want only one thing. a sly grin ghosts across his lips at the pouted look furrowing your eyes brows.

he continues the mashing of his shaft into the lips of your center, finding it hard not to roll his eyes at the noise that sounds when his head glides across your clit.

“you know what to do if you want somethin’,” he reminds you in a tone that makes you want to scream. “gotta tell me. use those words, remember?”

you’re babbling out before he’s finished talking.

“fuck, please, want it inside so bad,” you whine out, and he just barely dodges the way you reach down to grip him. “lo, please. can i please feel you inside me? wanna feel you come inside me.”

logan pants at your words, considering your request. you asked so nicely. so sweet with all your ‘pleases’.

all of a sudden, however, he’s feeling a little mean. even with the pulsing and throbbing of his lower half, the way your eyes water whenever you don’t get what you want satisfies one of logan’s deepest hungers.

the only response he gives you is a deep grunt and harder grind of his hips. his pace picks up to something almost unbearable and he keeps it there until he's spurting out long ropes of cum that pool onto your stomach and chest as you lets out a few tears.

logan's attempts to milk himself dry are interrupted by a surprising flip. the man's fatigue makes it easy to roll him onto his back. he's still trying to catch his breath when you climb atop him, hands moving to grab his wrists and hold them as well as you can against the mattress.

you don't let logan's small, impressed chuckle go on for long. they melt into a loud, punched moan when you slide him, sensitive head first, into the heat of your soaking walls.

"oh, fu-fuck."

an even louder sound rips from logan as you start to ride him hard, hands clenching into tight fists at the way you squeeze around his dick.

"s-shit, 's sensitive, baby," logan hurries to remind you through heavy breaths and clenched teeth. yet all he can do is lie there and recite a mixture of your name and groans, chest heaving in its gleam. the sight of him, along with how deeply he reaches inside you is enough to ricochet a fourth orgasm through you.

ass bouncing, you ride the mind-numbing waves and are unable to take your eyes off logan. head angeled backward and eyes clenched shut, he pulses inside you with a strong throb. god, you could cheer in victory at just how fucking remarkable he sounds as you wring out another round of spurting cum.

logan wants to wriggle out of your hands and grab your still-winding hips, but he's too far gone to even think about doing such a thing. he's nothing but putty that you're free to mold and shape into a stark difference from what he was just ten minutes ago. completely yours for the taking...

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐕 - 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛����𝐲 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader, mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutt, dubcon, daddy!kink, size difference, innocence kink, HEAVY MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL AND DRUG CONSUMPTION, mentions of depression, mentions of self-medication, seriously, if you're sensitive about that kind of stuff please do not read, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You're done with both Ari and Steve. But they're not quite done with you...

𝐀/𝐍: Here it is. Again, I'm putting up a disclaimer: Please beware of the strong mentions of irresponsible alcohol and drug consumption in this chapter. Also be aware of the depictions of depression in this chapter. Stay safe & only read what you are comfortable with. This is a dark story. This is chapter 4 of Wicked Games. It is 33.6k words. Enjoy, besties!

Steve: Hey. Look, I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday. Things got out of control and I really did not mean to scare you. Could we talk in person?

Steve: I did plan a date for us. I know you don’t believe me, but I did. For whatever that’s worth. Look, just text me back, okay? Or answer my calls.

Steve: Sometimes I just get like that. Even if you don’t understand, just reply and say you’ll talk to me. I’ll explain everything. Please.

Steve: Can’t you see I’m trying? I want us to work.

Steve: It wasn’t just about sex to me. I know that’s what it looked like but it wasn’t.

Steve: ?????

Each time your phone pings with a new text, you feel a stronger urge to just throw it out the window. Oh, why couldn’t he just leave you alone? You feel awful and on edge, the night’s sleep had done you absolutely no good. You’d tossed and turned the whole time, crying and feeling sad about how terribly your “date” had gone down yesterday. How you’d been used. How it was all just about sex for him, no matter what he claimed.

Your phone starts pinging again.

Ari: Are you okay?

Ari: You need to tell me exactly what he did to you. I’ll set him straight, I promise. I just need to know what he did.

Ari: You were really worked up yesterday so I gave you your space but I’m worried. And pissed off. Just answer me.

Ari: Pick up your phone.

Ari: I’m coming over.

No, no, no. You don’t want him to come over. You don’t want to see either of them. To hell with their mood swings and cocky egos and fake concern for you. Now you know there was only one thing that men like Ari and Steve truly ever wanted from you – sex. Fuck them both. If Ari came over now, you’d scream your head off and not let him in again.

You were done. Completely and irrevocably done. Not just with Ari and Steve, but with men and relationships in general. You were going to make a solemn vow to yourself that from now on, that–

A sudden knocking on your door interrupts your thoughts. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you feel the anger surge through you. Who the fuck was that? Ari? He’d only just sent his last message a minute ago – how was he already here?

A wave of anxiety overtakes you suddenly… What if it was Steve?

Another knock. But it sounds a lot softer than Ari’s usual loud banging – which was what he did on days where he’d forget your dorm key at home.

“Y/N?” You hear a faint, familiar voice from the other side of the door. “Are you there?”

Huh. That was definitely not Steve or Ari…

It takes you about five seconds to haul yourself off your bed and across the room. You open the door cautiously, only to find Sharon standing there. Her face is swollen, red and blotchy, her shiny and usually pristinely styled hair scraped back in a low, sad ponytail. Not a trace of makeup on her face, and she’s wearing a loose, wrinkled St. Andrews sweatshirt instead of her usual cheerleading uniform.

“Ari broke up with me!” She bursts into tears, pulling you into a hug that you have no choice but to return. And the guilt is immediate, spreading throughout your body, thrumming through your bloodstream along with dread. Of course, you knew Ari had dumped her… for you.

“Oh, Sharon…” you mumble against her sweatshirt, a huge lump forming in your throat, “I’m so, so sorry.” Sorrier than you realise…

Sharon sniffles, “I know we’re not really close, but I just didn’t know who else to talk to about this. All my friends are also his friends, or girlfriends of his friends, and…and…and I just needed someone who was my friend, and not his, and–” She breaks out into a fresh wave of tears, hugging you tightly again, burying her face in your neck as she cries. You awkwardly pat her shoulder, feeling like the world’s worst person.

“Come in,” you say reluctantly. Sure, you had your own problems, but you weren’t just going to leave her crying out in the hallway, were you? Especially not since you were basically the reason for her tears.

She smiles weakly, “Thank you.”

You manage to quickly type out a message to Ari while she isn’t looking:

Sharon’s here. Don’t come over. And stop texting me.

“It just came so out of nowhere,” she says, following you into your room and sitting on the edge of your bed, “Well, we weren’t having sex like how we used to but I just assumed he was stressed about basketball or something.”

“Wait, the two of you weren’t having sex?” You blurt out a tad too eagerly, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You sink down beside her, “I mean… wow… so you guys weren’t being – uh – intimate?”

Sharon shakes her head, using the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe her eyes, “Not for, like, the past month. But I really didn’t think he was cheating on me… But he basically told me he was dumping me because there was someone else.”

Your heart jumps up to your throat, “H-He said that?”

“Yeah. Well, at first, he kept saying the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ crap.” She snorts, aggressively twining a loose strand of her blonde hair round and round her pointer finger, “But I told him to be honest and just tell me straight up, and I was yelling and so upset and finally he said that there was someone else. Can you believe that?”

Your hands feel clammy, the guilt and anxiety churning around in your stomach like a witch’s cauldron. Should you tell her now? Tell her that you’re the reason her boyfriend dumped her? That you’d been sleeping with Ari behind her back for months? Oh God… You were an awful person, weren’t you? Well, you hadn’t known about Sharon at first… and back then you were innocent enough to believe Ari when he said he’d broken up with her. But you’d wisened up to that and still had sex with him at the party, hadn’t you?

You gulp, “Sharon, there’s something–”

“And can you believe that for a split second I thought it was you?” She says suddenly, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Your blood freezes, “I, I–”

“I know, I know… Totally ridiculous, right?” She laughs. And you’d expected her laugh to be all cute and twinkly and perfect how she is, but it’s low and hoarse and ironic. She squeezes your arm, “I hate that my mind even went there. I don’t know you that well but I just know you wouldn’t do that to me, Y/N.”

“Sharon–”

 “It’s just that one time, at that basketball practice when the ball hit your face. The way Ari carried you off… I just got this feeling in my gut, you know?” She laughs again, “But that was just Ari being Ari, stepping up and taking charge of a situation when no one else would. And it’s awful of me to even think you’d do something like that when you’d just got struck in the face and were probably in a lot of pain. Gosh, I’m so sorry for even thinking it!”

She hugs you again. You can smell her sweet perfume, and it goes straight to your head, making you feel sick. Or maybe it’s the guilt eating away at your insides that’s making you feel sick.

“There’s something I have to tell you–”

“–We were together for almost a whole year, you know?” Sharon cuts you off again. “I was gonna take him home for Thanksgiving and everything.” She’s still hugging you, and her cheek rests against the bare nape of your neck. You weren’t used to being this touchy with your girlfriends, but you continue to pat her back nonetheless, feeling like the world’s most awful person ever.

“He’s just the world’s most awful person ever!” She cries, “Like he threw our relationship away like it was nothing! And I was so good to him, Y/N!”

“I know, I know,” you say softly. You feel a wave of disgust for Ari overtake you, but the disgust you feel at yourself overshadows it completely.

“But maybe it’s for the best,” She sits up suddenly, her eyes wide and glistening, an almost daring look on her face, your hand still encased in hers. “Maybe me and Ari weren’t meant to be, and he was just a stupid phase in my life.”

“He’s just a fuckboy,” you agree truthfully, despite feeling rotten over your role in all of this. “You can do so much better than him, Sharon.���

She nods, “Yeah, I think so too. I mean, he’s super hot and all, but…” And then she pauses, looking at you with a curious expression. She bites her lip, still holding on to your hand. “Maybe this is too much information, but lately, even when I was, you know, taking care of myself… I wouldn’t think of him. I’d think of someone else.”

“That’s good!” You say enthusiastically. “Who were you thinking of? Like an actor or singer or something? Or a cute guy in one of your classes?”

She stares at you a bit longer, before suddenly dropping her gaze, “Yeah, something like that. Anyways, thank you so much for being there for me, Y/N. I know I just barged into your room unannounced.”

At that moment, your phone vibrates. Once, twice, three times. More texts. You’re thankful you left your phone facedown; in case they were from Ari and she saw.

“That’s probably Steve, isn’t it?” Sharon says.

You nod quickly, suddenly in a hurry to stop talking about Ari, “Yeah. They’re all from him. He’s been texting me nonstop since last night when me and him had a fight.”

“Oh no. Is everything gonna be okay?”

You shake your head tersely, not wanting to talk about the disastrous date. “No. Me and him are over. Forever.” And so are me and Ari.

Sharon nods, giving you another hug. “Men are trash. I’m so glad we have each other, Y/N. I’m so happy we’re friends now.”

You swallow harshly, hoping the guilt isn’t so evident on your face. Inside your head, there’s about a million different thoughts racing each other. Should you tell her about Ari now? Or wait till later when she was more distanced from the situation and less distraught? Oh God, it was like problems followed you wherever you went! First Steve, then Ari, and now Sharon was in the mix too. And the worst part was, how kind she was being. How genuinely good she was and how she didn’t deserve to be lied to in the least.

I’ll tell her, you promise yourself. I swear I’ll tell her soon…

***

“You need to stop moping around so much,” Wanda says as the two of you walk down the corridor after a lecture. Well, she walks. You just drag your feet. It’s been two days since the “date” with Steve and the subsequent scene with Sharon in your dorm room, and your emotions have been all over the place.

“Like okay, so the Steve thing didn’t work out. It’s not the end of the world, is it? Just get over it.” Wanda continues scanning the crowd of people in the hallway.

“I just feel like nobody wants a relationship with me, Wanda.” You say softly. “All they ever seem to want is sex.”

“Huh? Yeah, that really sucks,” she says distractedly, standing on her tip-toes to look over the sea of heads all milling around or heading to their next class. “Where’s Curtis? He agreed to meet me here.”

Your stomach drops. Curtis again? Oh, you hope Ari’s not with him! You’d successfully been able to avoid him since the night he’d left your dorm room, and you didn’t want to break that streak now.

Wanda spots her boyfriend a moment later and squeals, jumping up and down trying to get his attention. Thankfully, he isn’t with Ari. But he is standing in a cosy corner of the corridor, deep in conversation with a tiny brunette cheerleader. You watch as she laughs at something he said and puts her hand on his chest.

You glance warily at Wanda, but she still has that determined bright smile on her face as she charges over to him, pulling you along with her.

“Curtis! Hey!” She wraps her arms around his neck territorially, plastering her lips on his. The cheerleader smirks, and you see her wink at him before she leaves. Only then does Curtis finally give his girlfriend some attention. You stand there, awkwardly staring at your shoes for the next five minutes while they noisily kiss next to you.

“You still in a bad mood, sweetheart?” Curtis grins once the two of them finally break apart.

“She’s always in a bad mood,” Wanda interjects before you can respond, “Hey, Curtis, you wanna check out the new drive-in theatre downtown? I don’t have any more classes today and I know you don’t either.”

Curtis yawns, “I don’t know. I kinda just wanna chill today.”

“Oh. That’s fine too, I guess. You wanna just grab lunch on campus?”

“Nah. I think I’ll just head back home. I have stuff to do.”

Wanda nods, “Okay, can I come too?”

He shrugs, “Sure. If you must.”

They start towards the exit, and you have no choice but to follow them. But when Wanda stops to talk to one of the girls in her Philosophy class, Curtis shoots you a smirk.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come back to my place too?”

You frown, “What would I do in your room with you and Wanda?”

The spark in his eye is nothing short of devilish, “I could think of a few things the three of us could get up to.”

“You’re disgusting, Curtis.”

“You sure about that? I have some more of those magic pills you’re such a huge fan of. The three of us could have some fun.” His eyes rake over your body brazenly, and you feel the urge to throw up. So, it was true. All men viewed you as an easy hook-up. A slut. Ari, Steve, now Curtis too.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Wanda is your girlfriend and you should have more respect for her.”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re one to talk about respecting girlfriends.”

The jab stings, especially since it has a ring of truth to it. But you glare up at him nonetheless, “Fuck you.”

“Are you and Ari both perpetually in a bad mood these days or what?”

“I’m not speaking to Ari, so I wouldn’t know what kind of mood he’s in.” You answer curtly.

“He’s in a shitty mood, I’ll tell you that much,” Curtis snorts. “You’d think he’d be over the fucking moon after finally dumping Sharon, but now all he does is glare at his phone because you won’t answer his texts.”

Sure, Ari had been continuously texting and calling you for the past two days, but you’d gotten better at ignoring him. The last text you’d sent him was when you’d told him not to come over because Sharon was there.

“Are we ready to go, babe?” Wanda asks, waving goodbye to the girl from her Philosophy class.

Curtis stretches and grunts, “Yeah, let’s go,” He looks over at you, “You need a lift to wherever you’re headed?”

“No, she doesn’t!” Wanda interjects quickly, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the exit impatiently, “You wanted to be alone, didn’t you, Y/N?”

You shrug, “Sure.”

Watching them leave hand in hand, you stand there in a sea of people – and yet you feel more alone than ever. You know you need to snap out of this funk, but it’s so hard. Even now, as you look around, you can see about five different couples. All happily hanging out, talking, eating lunch together, kissing, holding hands. Would you ever experience anything normal like that?

You’re about to leave when someone grabs your wrist, yanking you sideways. You yelp, barely catching a glimpse of Ari’s brown waves before you’re pulled into an empty corridor.

“Ari! What the fuck–”

“Stop it with the ignoring my texts shit!” He spits out, eyes already blazing, “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Let go of me.”

Surprisingly, he does. But he blocks your path with his huge frame, stepping in front of you every time you try to push past him. This continues for a solid minute and a half before you finally huff and give up trying to escape.

“I went to see Steve that night.” Ari says finally.

Your stomach churns at the mention of the blonde’s name.

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“He wasn’t at home. And the other guys in his frat wouldn’t say where he was,” he runs a hand through his hair, “But I’m guessing he was probably hiding out at his parent’s house.”

That was exactly where he was. You knew that.

“Please tell me you didn’t go there.”

Ari regards you closely, as if you’re made out of glass and he’s trying to formulate his sentences as carefully as he can. “I didn’t,” he says finally, sighing, “I was about to, but–”

“Good,” you interrupt, “I don’t need you fighting him or whatever. Not on my behalf.” You narrow your eyes, “How do you even know where his parents’ house is?”

He hesitates, “I don’t know off the top of my head, but I would’ve found out.” He grabs your hands, his blue eyes looking earnest, which is a look you aren’t used to seeing on him at all. “He’s clearly avoiding me, but look, the sooner you tell me what exactly happened between you and him, the sooner I’ll deal with it.”

From over his shoulder, you see a group of cheerleaders walk by. In a panic, you snatch your hands away from him. Was Sharon with them? Had she seen you with him? No. She wasn’t there. And yet now you feel more paranoid than ever.

“We can’t do this, Ari,” you mutter, trying to sidestep him again, “We can’t be seen together now or ever again, so just move so I can leave–”

“No.”

“Yes!” you try not to explode or lose your patience, “This isn’t right, okay? You and me, we’re not right. Sharon doesn’t deserve us going behind her back, she doesn’t–”

“I told you, I broke up with her.”

“That doesn’t make any of this okay, so just move!”

He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs your arm again, tugging you somewhere deep into the corridor before you have a chance to stop him or finish your sentence. And he’s too strong to fight against, so you don’t even try it. The last thing you want is to put any more attention on you or him. Even if Sharon wasn’t around, one of her friends could see you with him and report back to her. And after everything that happened with you and Sharon, you wanted to come clean to her yourself, rather than have her hear about you sleeping with her boyfriend behind her back from somebody else.

“The supply closet? Really, Ari?” You plant your hands on your hips, watching as he shuts and locks the door of the dimly lit room.

He shrugs, “If it’ll get you to stop running away from me...”

“Well, why can’t you just get the message? I’m running for a reason.” You try to push past him, but the closet is way too small to allow that type of movement. He easily grabs your waist and lifts you back in front of him, making you scowl. “Look, I don’t know what you expected would happen between us when you dumped Sharon, I already told you we’re done. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Ari has the audacity to look confused, “Since when do you care about her?”

“Since I developed a brain and realised what we did behind her back for months was wrong!” You explode, hating the fact that you have to spell this out for him. “You know that she came to my dorm room the day after you dumped her? She was a mess, Ari! All because of us, and she doesn’t even know it!”

 He sighs, “If you want, I could come clean to her and tell her it was you who I was sleeping with. You shouldn’t have to deal with that, it’s my problem, anyways.”

“No, you don’t say anything, Ari! I’m going to tell her myself.” Soon.

“Okay, but trust me, don’t worry about her too much. She’s a strong girl, she’ll bounce back.”

You stare at him incredulously. Strong girl? Bounce back? Oh, he was infuriating!

“Whatever, Ari.” You mutter, once more trying to push past him but he places you back in front of him with such ease that it’s almost comical.

“What happened to you that day with Steve?” He asks again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s none of your business.”

He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “You came home in tears with your dress all torn up and you expect me to just go about my business as if all that was nothing?”

“Yes. It shouldn’t be too hard for you considering you’ve left me in tears yourself a couple of times.” You think back to the frat party, how he’d left you drunk, high and in tears in the bathroom. By the guilt that flashes in Ari’s eyes, he remembers too.

“I told you I was sorry about that.”

You shrug, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways. You used me, and Steve used me too.” Your voice almost breaks but you clear your throat quickly, not wanting to cry in front of him.

“What do you mean Steve used you?” Ari grabs your shoulders with a note of urgency. “Did he do something you didn’t want to do? Did he fuck you? Goddamit, I told you not to speak to him!”

Shaking out of his grasp, you feel another flash of anger. The same flash you’d felt surge through you the night you’d kicked Ari out of your dorm room. A part of you wants to start yelling and screaming again, but you know you can’t do that here.

“What does it matter, anyways?” You snap, feeling the walls building up around you. Half of you wants to scream and the other half wants to curl up and cry. The two emotions swirl inside you like a whirlpool, making you feel lightheaded.

A handful of seconds go by and all Ari does is stare at you. You can hear him breathing hard, almost erratically, as if deciding his next move. Finally, he bends down so his face is level with yours, his hands leaving your shoulders to cup your cheeks instead. His eyes, so bright blue despite the dark mustiness of the supply closet, bore into yours so intensely.

“Did. He. Fuck. You?”

“No.”

“Did he hurt you?”

You don’t answer, instead staring at the dark nothingness beyond Ari’s shoulder. Maybe if you focused on it hard enough, you could dissociate and float away from this situation. Float away from anyone else who could hurt you or use you or manipulate you. Float away from the guilt, the shame, the sadness, all of it.

Instead, you feel the wind being knocked out of you as Ari roughly pushes you against what feels like a shelf. The wooden edges poke against your back, and your mouth curls in pain.

“Listen to me. I’m not fucking around anymore, okay? You need to tell me what happened right fucking now.” Ari growls, his face inches from yours. It seems like someone’s ignited a fire in his eyes, twin fires – one burning bright in each eye, and you can practically feel the heat of his anger radiating from his being.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry out pitifully.

Like a hot poker, Ari drops you immediately, regret seeping through his features before he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…” He pauses, and for a second his whole face screws up and contorts, like he’s inwardly examining every corner of his brain to conjure up the right thing to say. “Look, I care about you. A lot. And these past two days have been torture, knowing that he did something to you and I couldn’t protect you.”

He sounds sincere, but you know it’s all an act. He doesn’t mean it, he’s only trying to be nice so he can have sex with you later, the voice inside your head cackles.

“So just tell me what he did, and I’ll–”

 “WHAT PART OF IT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW, ARI?” You burst, “What part of the whole ugly thing would you like me to relive first? The part where he promised he’d take me out on a date but he took me to his bedroom instead?” You duck your head in shame, “I suppose I should be used to that by now, but I was stupid enough to let myself hope.”

Ari draws his breath but stays silent.

“Or would you rather I tell you everything he said? Down to the last fucking detail? How he basically implied that I was the world’s biggest slut?” This time, you can’t keep the tears at bay. “H-He said… He said I should stop acting like a nun because I had no problem with you fucking me at the party!”

You don’t mention the part where Steve had also said you’d had no problem spreading your legs for Steve too the night of the party. You have yet to come to terms with and address that little detail, and so you push it back to the depths of your mind for now. Ari couldn’t know about that, not when you didn’t know yourself.

Instead, your face crumples up, and before you realise it, you’re heaving with tears. Waterfalls pouring down your cheeks as you cry and cry. You don’t even notice Ari picking you up, you don’t notice him sitting down on a nearby stool and holding you in his lap. Carefully holding your head against his chest, rocking you back and forth as his other hand rubs up and down your back.

So much for all your bravado, so much for keeping up a strong front and resisting Ari at all costs. Here you were again, crying in his arms like you always ended up doing.

“H-He was so awful!” you sob, burying your head deep in Ari’s shirt, inhaling the manly scent of his aftershave, and it calms your hurting heart a little bit. But not enough. “He said all these mean things, and he…he wouldn’t stop, Ari! I k-kept saying no, but he wouldn’t listen at all! It was like something came over him!”

You fist the soft material of Ari’s jersey, taking comfort in the feel of his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. His familiar, manly scent and his soft hair tickling your face as he holds you carefully against him. And despite everything, you can’t help but note how strange this is. Of course, Ari had held you while you cried about a dozen times – but this seemed different. For one, he wasn’t cooing sweet manipulations into your ear. He was just… silent. You risk peaking up at him through teary eyes, to see him looking straight ahead with a grim look on his face, the beginnings of a sneer forming on his lips.

“It’s okay,” Ari says softly, his voice sounding thick as if there’s something stuck in his throat. Was this what true, earnest sympathy sounded like coming from him? Or was it all just an act? You’re too busy crying and seeking solace in his warm chest to really mull it over, and the beefy basketball player continues to stroke your back, “It’s okay, baby. He won’t hurt you anymore. I promise he won’t.”

“JUST SAY IT ALREADY! Just say ‘I told you so!’” You sob, “He didn’t care about me at all, Ari! Just like you said. He was just using me. He just wanted sex, or to get back at you, or both!”

He doesn’t say I told you so. Instead, his lips press down on top of your head, kissing you gently. And you know you should push him away, but you reason with yourself to hold on to him just for a little bit longer. Just till you felt a little bit better. Was that so wrong?

“He won’t hurt you again,” Ari repeats firmly, now cupping your face with both his hands so you look him dead in the eye.

“He scared me so bad, Ari!” you sniffle, “H-He punched a wall when I said I wanted to leave, and then…and then he wouldn’t let me go!”

Ari mutters something unintelligible under his breath, before using the corner of his sleeve to wipe your cheeks. “How did you get him to stop?”

“I couldn’t. But thankfully, his sister was there and she stopped him.”

Ari freezes, “His sister?”

“Yes.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Not really,” you look down at your hands. Recounting the whole horrific ordeal with Steve had caused them to start shaking, and you grip at your skirt to get them to stop. Before you know it, Ari’s larger hands cup your own, holding them in place on your lap, stilling them, calming you.

“Well, don’t worry,” Ari says firmly, “he won’t touch you ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His face looks earnest, sincere. A large part of you feels comforted by him, but there’s also a dwindling doubt in the back of your mind. A little speck of mistrust growing larger and larger, fuelled by all the times he’s hurt you. Fuelled by how Steve had hurt you. Despite the fact that you don’t want to, you snatch your hands out of his and shoot up off his lap as if he’s shot you. No. You weren’t going to do this again. You weren’t going to fall for his false promises. Not this time.

“Stop lying,” you say shakily, backing away from him slowly. “You don’t care about me so stop pretending like you do. You just want me for sex, and you’re angry that someone else got close to having me like that too. But you don’t actually care about me or how I feel, Ari, so just stop lying!”

He stands up too, frowning, “I’m not lying. I dumped Sharon. I’ve been texting and calling you this whole time. Hell, I’m standing inside a fucking supply closet just to get a minute alone with you. What part of that says I don’t care?”

“You don’t care,” you repeat softly, “It took me a while to realise it, but now I do. All I’m good for is sex.”

“That’s not true–”

“Yes it is!” You cry, “Remember all the times I begged to be your girlfriend and you came up with a bullshit excuse each time? It’s because you knew that I wasn’t worth anything more than a hook-up for you!” You shake your head bitterly, “God, you must’ve been laughing behind my back at how stupid and naïve I was for expecting more from you. Steve’s probably laughing too. You’re both the same and I’m not going to let you or him or anyone else hurt me ever again! So, for the love of God, just leave me alone!”

You turn to leave, but Ari grabs your hand.

“What’s it going to take to show you that I care about you? Because I’ll do it.”

You don’t turn back around, waiting two long seconds before you tug your hand out of his grip. But you do open your mouth to respond – except nothing comes out. Instead, you sigh. There was really nothing more left to say, was there? Except perhaps just one more thing…

“Nothing, Ari. People don’t just change overnight. Especially not people like you.”

You step out of the supply closet, carefully shutting the door behind you and finally walking away. And hopefully this time, it’s for good.

***

Ari: WTF. Why did you change your lock???

Ari: Stop avoiding me.

Ari: If you weren’t so hellbent on ignoring me, you’d know that I have changed. Just give me a chance to prove it to you.

Ari: ???????

Ari: Steve’s still dodging me, by the way. Me and Curtis went over to his frat house but he wasn’t there again. Clearly, he’s afraid of me, but don’t worry. I promise I’ll make him pay for what he did.

The days go by, and Ari continues to text you daily all while you lock yourself up in your room and pretty much avoid the outside world. And his last text makes you want to tear your hair out. Why couldn’t Ari just butt out of your life and stop trying to fight Steve on your behalf!? You’d never asked for that; you didn’t want that! You just wished the whole ordeal with Steve had never even happened, you wished you could will it out of existence.

And speaking of Steve, he still texted you too. Not as frequently as Ari, which made him better at taking a hint than he was at planning first dates. But you still received a message from him every now and again…

Steve: I get it. I fucked it all up.

Steve: I need to see you again. I’ll make it right. Please.

And sure, there was a tiny part of you that did want to hear Steve out. But you were afraid of him, afraid of what he’d do or say. Plus, he’d literally lied to you, pretended he was interested in having a relationship with you when really, he just wanted sex. So, who was to say he wouldn’t lie again? Oh God, everything felt so wrong, how could he possibly make anything right!?

And why couldn’t you just block them both and move on!? You wish you could, yet you can’t find it in you to block or delete either of their numbers. Not Ari’s, and not even Steve’s. Maybe it’s the naïve little girl inside you, the insecure little girl who wants to hold on to the only male attention she’s ever gotten – despite the fact that your relationships with both men had gone up in smoke. And so you settle with just muting and archiving their chats. Out of sight, out of mind – except not really. But it’s the best you can do for now.

And you feel more alone now than ever. With Wanda always preoccupied with Curtis, you had nobody to confide your heartbreak in. But ironically, you began to grow closer with Sharon. On the rare occasions you actually left your dorm room and made it into campus for your lectures, she always seemed to find you. You realised quickly that she no longer hung out with her usual cheerleader friends. Either she herself had opted to leave them, or they’d decided to leave her because she was no longer the basketball captain’s girlfriend. Either way, you didn’t ask.

“It’s probably one of them,” Sharon mutters darkly one day as the two of you walk past a gaggle of cheerleaders, “The bitch he was cheating on me with. It’s probably one of them.”

You gulp. You had yet to come clean to her – but you could never find the right moment. And as time went by and she started spending more and more time with you, it got even harder to just drop the bomb and be like, oh hey, by the way! That bitch who your boyfriend cheated on you with? That was me!

But apart from all that, Sharon was good company. Both of you were dealing with heartbreak (she seemed to be dealing with hers better than you were dealing with yours), and so there was a kind of understanding between the two of you. Not to mention, hanging out with her turned out to be useful in keeping Ari away from you. Any time he spotted you on campus, he’d start making a beeline for you before freezing when he realised you were with her.

“You know, I think I figured out why both Ari and Steve treated us the way they did.” Sharon pipes up one day whilst the two of you are leaving campus. “It’s because we’re too nice.”

“Hm?” You barely utter a word, just wanting to get home and wallow in bed. You hadn’t told Sharon the extent of what had happened between you and Steve on your “date.” All she knew was that it was over, and you never wanted to speak to him again.

“Yeah, it’s because we’re too nice. Bad bitches don’t get their hearts broken, but nice girls always do.” She says, unscrewing her lip gloss and touching up her lips. Unlike you, she’d gotten some of her pep back since her breakup. In a way, you were glad. You’d rather her be happy than you – she deserved it after getting cheated on. 

You manage to laugh cynically, which eggs the blonde on as she continues.

“I’m serious. From here on out, let’s promise not to take any shit from anyone. That way, no one can hurt us again.”

No one hurting you ever again? That sounded like a dream. You knew you could be naïve at times, especially months ago when Ari had first started hooking up with you. Back then, you really thought you’d hit the jackpot and found yourself the perfect boyfriend. Now, months later, it was like you’d mentally matured at rapid speed. Could you be tougher now? Stop being the stupid, naïve little girl that kept getting played by men?

“That’s easier said than done,” you remark softly.

Sharon shrugs, “It’s worth a shot. I think if you act like an ice queen well enough, people are gonna know not to fuck with you. So, like, next time Steve tries to approach you or sweet-talk you into taking him back, just act like you couldn’t care less. Keep a strong resolve, he’ll get the message.”

You think back to all the times in the past you’ve tried to keep a strong resolve. Not with Steve, but with Ari. And every single time, you’d ended up crumbling and crying in his arms. Giving him the perfect opportunity to manipulate you again. Would the same thing happen with Steve? Who could be extremely charming and angelic when he wanted to be? You hoped not…

Turns out you don’t have to wonder that for too long. Because as you walk up to your dorm building after parting ways with Sharon, you see Steve sitting on the stairs of the entrance. He stands up quickly when he spots you, and your heartbeat quickens. Oh no, why was he here!?

“I didn’t mean to ambush you,” Steve calls out when you stop dead in your tracks a few feet away from him. “But you wouldn’t return any of my calls.” He starts making his way over to you, and you remain frozen in place. Despite every cell in your body screaming for you to run.

“Please, stay away from me.” You mumble.

Steve stops short, holding his hands up defensively, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to apologise.” His face softens, and you notice how he’s got a bit of facial hair now, like he hasn’t shaved since you last saw him. His hair looks scruffier too. He’s also got dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept. In fact, in his black hoodie (the hood up) and black sweats, he looks about as depressed as you feel.

“Sorry, I’m not interested in your apology.” You stick your nose up and resume walking, trying your hardest to follow Sharon’s advice and be the stone-faced ice queen who didn’t let anything phase her.

Steve, of course, follows you up the steps and into your building.

“I wasn’t thinking straight that day in my bedroom. Sometimes I get like that.”

“I don’t care.” You try to sound nonchalant, but now you’re a bit scared. What if he followed you all the way up to your room? Forced his way inside? Locked the door and had his way with you like how he’d tried to last time? There was no Kira here to pacify him, either… Abruptly, you turn around, trying to keep your voice from shaking, “Steve, please don’t follow me inside.”

He bites his lip, looking every bit as handsome as he always did. Which sucked, because he deserved to have somehow become ugly after how horrible he’d been the last time you’d seen him. But no such luck, he still looked angelic. A bit dark and twisted and scruffy, but angelic nevertheless.

“But I need to explain to you why I acted the way I did.”

A bitter chuckle forces itself out your mouth, fear momentarily forgotten. “I know why you acted the way you did. You wanted sex, and you thought I was so naïve and easy, that I would easily provide it for you. And when I didn’t, you lost it.

“No, that’s not it at all!”

You jump at his tone, but try to keep your expression unfazed. “Well, I don’t care and I’m not interested.”

He clenches his fists, his jaw tensing too. But he relaxes when he notices the way your eyes widen in fear, and how you take a few steps back.

“Please, fuck, just don’t be scared of me.” He holds his hands up defensively again, and this time, you notice one of them is bandaged up. The one he punched the wall with. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, you already did that, Steve.” You turn back around and continue walking up to your dorm room, trying so hard to appear nonchalant.

“I’m not the best at controlling my emotions, okay?” He calls out behind you, and the steady patter of his footsteps reveals he’s still following you as you go up the stairs of your building. “My parents, they’ve made me see a bunch of doctors for it, and lately I’ve been able to cope but I’ll admit, something inside me snapped that day, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have, and–”

 “DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? I SAID I’M NOT INTERESTED IN ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY!” You reach your door before angrily whipping around, “Just leave me alone, alright? I don’t care if you’re sorry, it doesn’t take back the fact that you lied and made it seem like you wanted to date me when really all you wanted was sex! Not to mention, all the vile things you said and how scary you got. Now just leave me the fuck alone!”

Quickly, you slip inside your room and slam your door shut, locking it at lightning speed. Steve calls out your name, he knocks, he rattles your doorknob. And all you do is lean against the door, breathing fast and willing yourself not to cry. It was okay, he wouldn’t hurt you. There was a locked door between the two of you.

“(Y/N), please. Just give me another chance,” Steve knocks again, “I know I acted like a complete asshole, okay? I knew it the second I snapped out of it. And I really didn’t mean to say all those things.”

You feel that sudden flash of anger again. Bolting through you like lightning. After everything he’d said to you, after he’d forced himself on you… The best he could come up with was “I was an asshole and I didn’t mean it,”!? No, you couldn’t let him get off that easily. There were things that needed explaining and questions that needed to be answered.

Before you can think better of it, you throw the door back open. Of course, he’s still standing there, and you muster up the toughest, most ice queen-esque expression you can possibly make.

“Fine. We can talk.” You fold your arms over your chest, “But you need to answer me honestly. So don’t try to lie or manipulate me.”

Steve nods immediately, “Okay. Thank you.” He steps forward, as if he’s trying to get into your room. You quickly raise a hand up.

“No. Out here.” You don’t feel comfortable being in a bedroom alone with him. You take a deep breath, “You said that I spread your legs for you the night of the party. What did we do? And don’t lie.”

“We hooked up.” Steve meets your steely gaze evenly, before shaking his hoodie off his head and running a hand through his scruffy hair. It’s gotten long enough that the ends are starting to curl up, kind of like how Ari’s do – not that that was relevant at all right now. “In the cab when I was taking you home. We didn’t have sex, but we hooked up and I got you off.”

You wrack your brain, willing yourself to remember that night. But all you can muster up are fragmented pieces of memory. In the car with him, and you remembered how good he’d smelled. You remember his varsity jacket, and how it had somehow ended up around your shoulders. But… what else? Oh! You remember being in his lap, you remember the car hitting some bumps, and… Oh.

You nod slowly, “So then why did you lie? At the practice game, when you could’ve mentioned what happened?”

Steve exhales, “I did, but you were all confused. I thought you’d remember, but when I realised you didn’t, I just… Well, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I just… didn’t.”

For a guy who was so hell bent on explaining things to you, his explanations sure did suck.

You laugh bitterly, “No, you were too busy flaunting me in front of Ari’s face during that practice.” God, how could you have been so stupid!?

“Look, I said I’d answer everything and tell you the whole truth,” He shifts from one foot to the other, scratching his neck as if debating whether to say what he’s about to say, “And yes, I’ll admit that a part of me was using you to get to Ari.”

It feels like a punch to your gut. You’d suspected it, but the fact that he was so readily confirming it made it all the worse. With just a few words, Steve had confirmed all your insecurities. Not only did he not want to date you, not only was he just using you for sex… Oh no, as if that wasn’t enough, he’d also been using you as a pawn in whatever sick, longstanding rivalry he had with Ari.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

“Please don’t cry,” Steve steps forward, closing the gap between the two of you. And you’re so distraught by the bomb he’s dropped on you, that you don’t even try to run away from him. Instead, you lean against the door, breathing heavily, trying to keep your tears at bay.

He continues, “This is me being honest, alright? Something Ari never is with you. And yes, I wanted him to be jealous, I wanted to get a rise out of him, so I flaunted you in front of him. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you. I still care about you.”

“How can you possibly say you care about me after everything you’ve just admitted?” You manage to get out as you try to get your breathing back into order.

“Because I do care! I think I’d know what I’m feeling better than you would!” He’s growing visibly frustrated. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so bad at explaining shit.” He smacks his forehead hard several times and yet you don’t even have it in you to flinch.

“Goddamit, look, I’ll start from the beginning.” He takes a few, gulping breaths. “When I first saw you at the party, it had nothing to do with Ari, I didn’t even know that you knew him. I approached you that night because you looked cute and lost, and I liked how feisty and sweet you were–”

“That’s a lie!” You wipe at your eyes roughly, “That’s a fucking lie, Steve. Aren’t you forgetting what you said last time you saw me? You knew what Ari and I did that night, you called me a slut for spreading my legs for him in the middle of a party! And you expected I’d do the same for you.”

“No, that’s not it at all!”

He gulps as if trying to get his breathing even once more, and you realise that’s his way of calming himself down. And you can tell that he’s trying, that he’s trying so hard not to have a meltdown like last time, and you just look at him apprehensively. You know you could back away at any moment, slam the door in his face again and lock it and be done with him. And yet, your feet remain planted in place, as if a part of you just has to hear him out.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut. It’s all a big fucking blank in my head, like I blacked out and said all those things. And I never saw you and Ari fucking at the party or anything like that. I only found that out days later through the grapevine. But I shouldn’t have used it against you, that was wrong of me. I’m sorry I fucked it all up by saying that. You didn’t deserve it.”

You shake your head but he hurriedly continues, “I was always going to ask you out, Ari or no Ari. It’s only when I saw how jealous he got when he saw you with me, that I realised how much he liked you. That he liked you more than he liked his own girlfriend. That’s when I realised I could be with you and get back at him at the same time.”

Get back at him!? For what? Did you even care, at this point?

Anger. Fear. Confusion. Pure fucking discombobulation. That’s what you feel. So much so, that you don’t even know what to say or how to act.

Steve takes your lack of response as his cue, moving forward and reach out to cup the side of your face slowly. And you fucking hate how soft and warm his hand feels, how it’s bigger than your whole head yet feels gentle at the same time. Gentle, when the last time he’d had his hands on you, he’d been holding you down on his bed while he tried to force himself on you.

��But I like you too,” Steve says quietly, almost like a whisper, “I like you more than he ever could. And whenever I like something, whenever I have something good in my life, I always fuck it up. But this time, for once in my life I want to make things right.”

“I kept telling you to stop,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as the memories from that night barge their way back into your head. “Y-You ripped my dress.”

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.”

“You wouldn’t stop, Steve. It’s like you weren’t there, like something came over you and you weren’t there anymore.”

He nods fervently, his fingers stroking your cheek, “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t help that I’m like this, I really fucking wish I could be normal and react normally to things like how other people do. I wish it more than anything in the fucking world.”

It’s like he’s a completely different man from the one you’d first met and thought you knew. The man who’d been so shrouded in mystery, oozing with confidence and charm. His intense aura, the smoothness with how he’d spoken to you in the past. But in this moment, it’s like all of that had melted away. And here he was, stripped back. Rough round the edges with bags under his eyes, an earnest look on his face. And this time when you look into his eyes, for a moment it’s like you really see him; you see someone fighting to be normal, desperate for another chance. Oh, should you…?

And then you blink. And there it is again: Steve, the very same man, saying all those vile things to you. All because you wouldn’t fuck him. Him ripping your dress, him holding you down. Him losing his temper. Him punching the wall. The way he’d held you so hard, not letting you leave. That dark, faraway look in his eyes. How scared you’d been… And here you were, letting him cup your face and speak all tenderly with you!?

What if he got like that again?

It’s like a lash of electricity jolts through you. You push Steve away hard.

“Listen to me carefully, Steve, because I’m not gonna say this again. You’re not who I thought you were. You lied about what happened on the night we met, and you lied about your intentions with me. It doesn’t matter if you say you wanted to date me, because your past actions speak louder than whatever words you’re saying now.” You take a deep breath, “That’s why I want you to leave me alone. Forever. Just walk out right now and never look back. Because I’m done with you. And I really, truly mean it.”

He freezes, an unreadable expression on his face. A myriad of emotions flitter through his eyes. Shock, sadness, anger. Disbelief. Resignation. And then…

“And what about Ari?” He says quietly, “You’re choosing him?”

“No, I–”

Steve spits out a bitter laugh, as if he wasn’t gently cupping your face and promising you everything just five seconds ago.

“You don’t know him, (Y/N). Okay fine, I wasn’t completely honest with you and I guess that means I’ve fucked things up between us forever. But you think Ari hasn’t lied to you?”

“I know he’s lied–”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF IT!” Out of nowhere, he raises his voice. And it cuts you like a sword, reverberating off the walls. You flinch at the booming loudness of his words, the aggressiveness back on his angelic face and now he’s scaring you again. “You don’t know what he’s done, okay!?”

“You’re scaring me.”

You try to say it calmly, but your voice breaks right at the end. Steve blinks rapidly, several times. Breathing hard, he looks down at his fingers which are enclosed tightly around your arm. Just like that day in his room. Like a hot poker, he drops it immediately. And again, it’s like he’s waking up from some sort of a momentary trance. Or rather, a momentary wave of anger.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats in a low tone, “but if you knew the things he’s done, you wouldn’t have picked him–”

“I HAVEN’T PICKED HIM!” It’s your turn to explode. “I didn’t pick him, Steve. This isn’t about picking anyone. I’m done with you, and I’m done with Ari too. I’m picking neither of you. Goodbye.”

You turn around and slam your door shut before he can get another word out.

***

“It’s like, a fundraising gala type thing held at the Hilton. The money raised gets split down the middle, half going towards the basketball team and half towards the cheerleaders,” Sharon explains, twirling a piece of her blonde hair around her finger. “Which, by the way, I think is totally lame, because the basketball team doesn’t even need any more funding. Unlike the cheerleaders.”

She swivels around in your desk chair, her sock clad feet waving around in the air. Outside, the sun sparkles and a gentle breeze flows in through your window. The weather had been great lately, as if the atmosphere knew you’d finished the final chapter of the Ari and Steve saga and closed the book on both of them. As if nature itself was willing you to go outside and begin your new chapter, one where you were sexy and single and thriving.

So then why could you still not find it in you to step outside of your room on most days?

“I’ve been on the planning and decorating committee for the Athletic Society’s Annual Gala for the past two years,” Sharon continues, “it’s like, one of the biggest events of the year. All these important sports execs and school alumni show up, not to mention half the college. Wanda, I’m guessing you’re going with Curtis, right?”

“Huh?” Wanda glances up from her phone for a split second, looking as if she has not the slightest clue what Sharon is on about. Burying her nose back into her screen, her acrylics start tapping ferociously. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess who she’s texting. In fact, you were surprised when she’d showed up alongside Sharon outside your dorm room this morning. It was very hard to pin down Wanda lately, since all her time was devoted to her boyfriend.

Sharon raises an eyebrow before shifting her attention back to you, “Well anyways, I think this would be a great opportunity for you to get out of your funk, Y/N. We could go together! As friends, obviously.” She adds hastily.

You manage to muster up a smile, “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on! It’s been weeks since you ended things with Steve!” Sharon says, and you no longer shiver when his name is mentioned. It’s like the last confrontation you had with him cleared up the fog in your head a little bit. It still depressed you to the core, to know that you’d been used, but at least you didn’t flinch at his name anymore. That was something.

He’d also stopped texting you at all anymore. Which you should be happy about, and yet you still found yourself looking at your chat with him. God, what was wrong with you!? He’d finally left you alone just like how you’d wanted him to, and yet a part of you still felt like it was yearning for him.

“And I know how much you love dressing up and doing your makeup. Hey, we could even go shopping together for dresses!” The blonde claps her hands, clearly unaware of your current inner turmoil as she works herself up into a frenzy.

“We could make it into a proper girl’s night,” She sits on the other end of your bed with a bounce, “Hey, Wanda, why don’t you get ready with us too? You could always just meet Curtis there.”

Wanda scoffs, “Uh, no. I think I’ll go with my boyfriend, thank you very much.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “Ugh. Fuck boyfriends. I was gonna go with Ari, but that’s obviously not happening anymore. Plus, a girl’s night sounds a lot more fun.”

Your poor, gullible, traitorous heart jolts. “Ari’s gonna be there?”

Unlike Steve, Ari was still texting you and trying to somehow see you in person. You’d successfully avoided him since the supply closet meeting. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either. God, were you just incapable of not thinking about the two fuckboys who had fucked your entire life up!?

“Yep, but it won’t bother me, I promise.” Sharon says determinedly, “The banquet hall is huge, so I’ll easily just avoid him. He’s probably gonna be super busy, anyways. Word has it that they’re giving him the Basketball MVP award this year.”

“Oh,” you breathe, before quickly clearing your throat, “I don’t know, Sharon. It sounds like fun, but–”

“Curtis says that he’s going to the gala with the basketball team, and that no one else is bringing dates,” Wanda interrupts you as she reads the latest text from her boyfriend. Finally, she looks up, “I guess I’ll go with you girls, then.”

“Great!” Sharon cheers, “You’re in too, right, Y/N?”

You smile, not really knowing what to say. Being in the same banquet hall as Ari and Sharon? At the same time? That was just trouble waiting to happen.

But is this how you were going to spend the rest of the college year? Letting your feelings towards Ari dictate where you went and didn’t go? You think about the old you, the one before Ari or Steve or anyone. The one who loved to dress up and go out to have fun. Before Wanda had got a boyfriend, the two of you used to go out all the time. Another girls’ night wouldn’t harm anyone, would it?

Sharon senses your hesitation, “Come on,” she urges, “It’s not like Steve’s even gonna be there. It’s strictly a St. Andrews’ event.”

You bite your lip. You doubted you’d ever see Steve again. Clearly, since he no longer texted you either. And a part of you is bittersweet as you think about what could have been. Absentmindedly, your eyes divert to your desk chair, where his blue and white varsity jacket still lies. You hadn’t even thought to throw it away. You bet it still smells like him…

Oh God, you had to get over him. Get over both of them and get the fuck out of this funk you were in. So what if Ari would be there too? This was your chance to prove to yourself that his presence didn’t make a difference in how you lived your life.

You take a deep breath, “Okay. I’ll go.”

***

 PART II

“Open up, sleepyhead. I’m not leaving and I’ll camp outside your door if you don’t open it.”

You’d woken up the next day to a loud knocking on your door. And you’d tried to ignore him. You really had. It was so much easier to just remain in bed, rotting and feeling sorry for yourself despite the promise you’d made yourself to get over the two men who’d betrayed your trust, and get out of the funk you were in. But the knocking was incessant, going from soft-knuckled raps to full on banging. You were sure he’d wake up your entire building, and then you’d have to pay a noise fine.

That’s why I’m opening the door, you think to yourself. Not because I actually want to see him.

And there’s Ari, standing outside your door with a picnic basket under his arm. And he looks kind of funny, his big athletic self holding such a dainty little thing. He also looks extremely pleased with himself, and you don’t even have the energy within you to argue with him or tell him to leave. You and him had gone non-contact ever since the confrontation inside the supply closet. Or rather, you’d gone non-contact whilst Ari tried to find ways to talk to you. He couldn’t corner you on campus anymore because you were usually with Sharon, and you’d changed your locks so he couldn’t exactly barge into your dorm room like how he used to.

“Go away, Ari.”

“Hey, nice to see you too. I come bearing food, because I know you haven’t eaten. And don’t ask me how I know, I just know.” Ari says breezily, and you frown at how chipper he’s acting. As if the last time you’d seen him you hadn’t stormed away and told him the two of you could never see each other again.

He follows you inside, and you quickly swipe Steve’s varsity jacket under your desk so he doesn’t see it. You don’t know why you still haven’t thrown it out but you really can’t be bothered to get into another fight with Ari over it.

Earlier in the day, Sharon had texted you asking if you’d wanted to hang out. You’d declined, finding the comfortability of your bed and the prospect of watching old reruns of trashy reality television much more interesting. What you hadn’t expected was Ari Levinson of all people showing up at your door, however. Although, you’re not too surprised. He was still texting you nonstop, wanting to show you how he’d “changed.”

Ari plops the picnic basket on top of your desk, and you sigh, sitting down on your desk chair while he grabs a stool. You already know how this is going to go. He’d tell you to open it, you’d say no, he’d say yes, you’d say no again. Then he’d open it and make you see the contents anyways. You decide to stop wasting either of your time and look inside the basket yourself.

“Cheese sandwiches?”

“Uh huh. And don’t knock it till you try one, sweetheart. My mom makes these for me.” Ari winks before flashing you a smile. And doesn’t contain even a hint of his usual cockiness or smugness – it’s just a regular little smile that makes his eyes light up all pretty too. And you’re not used to it at all, it looks almost displaced on his face. Was he being genuine? You can’t even tell anymore. But probably not.

You pick one up and eye it carefully, and your heart can’t help but throb at the thought of him standing in his kitchen making it for you. Big, bad basketball captain fuckboy Ari Levinson carefully cutting the sandwich into little triangles and packing it up for you in this little picnic basket. How had Ari even gotten hold of a picnic basket to begin with?

“So, it’s a family recipe?” You take a cautious bite.

“Yep. Passed down from generation to generation. Don’t ask me how you make it because it’s a Levinson family secret,” he grabs a sandwich of his own and wolfs it down in two bites, “I mean, you could always become a Levinson yourself and have my kid, then I’d tell you.”

Your cheeks heat up. Oh, a few weeks ago he didn’t even want a relationship with you and now he was joking about marriage and kids?! Would you ever understand him?

“It must be some recipe,” you remark, trying your best to keep your tone even and unamused. Instead of looking at him, you observe the sandwich. It tastes good – he’s used some type of expensive artisan bread and fancy cheese. A step above your average grilled cheese, and it tastes even better on an empty stomach since he was right, you hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

“It is. Have another one,” he thrusts another sandwich in your hand.

Your frown, “Ari, stop, I don’t want–”

“You haven’t eaten all day, (Y/N).” His tone drops, growing more serious.

“Well, stop acting like you care!” You shoot back.

But Ari looks unperturbed as he helps himself to a third sandwich (he was going through them remarkably fast), “I do care.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I fucking do,” he says, the slight sharpness in his voice taking you aback. “What other girl have I cooked for and lugged a fucking picnic basket halfway across campus for?”

You settle back begrudgingly, taking another bite out of the sandwich, “I’d hardly call this cooking.”

You know you sound mean and bitter, but it’s like you can’t help it. Like there’s a deep black hole filled with anger still swirling within you. Anger at both Ari and Steve and you don’t know how to sort through it or make it go away.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’ve never cooked for me so I’d say you’re hardly an expert on the subject.” Ari shoots back, grabbing another sandwich from the picnic basket as well as a can of soda. “You want a coke?”

“No.”

You start tearing your sandwich into tiny pieces just so you have something else to focus on and you don’t have to look at his face. Because you’re afraid this newfound earnesty of his, afraid it would reel you back in hook, line and sinker. Afraid he was just putting on an act to convince you he’d “changed.” That’s also why you’re being cold – you can’t let your walls down with him again. Not this time. Not when Sharon was literally your friend now.

“So, I was thinking we could catch a movie after we eat,” Ari continues talking all casually as if the majority of the conversation so far hasn’t been extremely one-sided. “Have you seen the new Godzilla vs Kong? Probably not, you’re not into stuff like that.” He pauses only to consume his sandwich in two huge bites, before grabbing another one. His voracious appetite almost makes you smile. Almost. The only other times you’d seen him look this starved was when he was going down on you…

No, stop! Don’t think about that!

“Sure, we could watch some girly movie instead, but you’d have to pick it because I have no idea about shit like that, obviously–”

“I told you; we can’t go anywhere that Sharon or someone might see us. Besides, the last thing I want to do is go out with you. In fact, you can show yourself out now because I’m gonna go back to bed–”

Ari slams his coke can down on your desk with a loud clunk. You jump, before narrowing your eyes at him. First, he practically broke into your room, then forced you to eat his dumb sandwiches. Now he was making obnoxious noises? Oh, you were just about done with him–

“That’s it.” he grunts, standing up to his full height. You gape up at him, suddenly nervous. You barely have the chance to yelp before he grabs your arm, yanking you up with him.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

He lifts you up off the ground with ease, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You start pounding on his back immediately, but you only hear him snort in return.

“Put me down right now, Ari! I’m not in the mood for this! Put me down!”

“I gave you a pass to be a little sassy, but you need to remember who’s in charge.” He starts walking across the room. And you may as well have been an insect on his back with how unbothered he was by you wiggling and trying to fight out of his grip. Oh god, what was he going to do?!

Panic bubbles up in your chest, your heartrate increasing tenfold in about five seconds flat. You struggle harder against him, before realising there’s no use. He was way too strong. You shut your eyes and brace yourself; any moment now he’d throw you on the bed and have his way with you just like he always did, just like how Steve had tried to do, and you’d be powerless to stop him because you couldn’t stop anyone, and they all just wanted one thing, and–

“Please don’t,” you whisper, on the verge of tears, “Please, I can’t have sex. I don’t want to have sex, please don’t make me. Please, please don’t make me.”

Ari freezes, and you wish you could see his expression but in your current predicament, dangling over his shoulder, you cannot. But then he starts walking again, and he goes straight past your bed. That’s when you notice the picnic basket in his other hand.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you.” He mutters.

Oh. But then what was he doing?

You get your answer less than a moment later, when he swings your door open and carries you outside. That’s when you start punching his back again.

“Ari, take me back inside! I’m serious, okay? Someone’s gonna see–”

“Then I suggest you stop making so much noise that’s gonna attract attention towards us.” He shoots back, giving you a reprimanding pat on your thigh. Not your ass, you note, but your thigh. Immediately, you shut up. But you fix a scowl on your face, vowing you’d keep it there permanently until he could see it.

A minute later, he dumps you unceremoniously into the passenger seat of his car. By the time you scramble into sitting position, he’s already in the driver’s seat. The doors, predictably, are locked.

“So, it wasn’t enough that you barged into my dorm room uninvited. You felt the need to kidnap me, too?” You snap, irritated yet at the same time slightly amused. But you can’t let him know that. No, you had to maintain your ice queen persona.

“Please,” Ari snorts, starting up the car. “You were talking about going back to bed. If anything, I’m doing you a favour. It’s a nice day, sweetheart, let the sun shine on your face for a few hours.”

You deepen your scowl, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not going outside.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m literally not, Ari. Because you didn’t even think to let me put my shoes on.” You wiggle your bare toes, suddenly feeling the strong urge to smile at the ridiculousness of your whole predicament. But you pout to cover it up, suppressing whatever amusement you’re feeling because you don’t want him to see.

“Don’t fucking pout, it makes me want to kiss you.” Ari murmurs, keeping his eyes on the road but you can see him licking his lips.

“Don’t.”

“Did I say I was going to? I said I want to. There’s a difference.”

Again, you want to smile. You quickly turn your head away, looking out the window instead, watching the trees and buildings roll by as he drives you out of campus. “Whatever, just stay away from me.”

“Don’t be a brat.” There’s a warning edge to his tone, one that you’ve come to know very well. But surprisingly, you don’t feel unsafe. For once, you feel like maybe he won’t just stop the car in the middle of nowhere and try to fuck you.

You’ve been in Ari’s car before, and you’re no stranger to how it always goes when you’re in here. Back in the early days of you two hooking up, he’d pick you up in the dead of the night. And you were so innocent, you’d think of these midnight drives as romantic, magical even. He’d have a cigarette in his mouth, his long hair either slicked back or flowing in the cool night air. A wild look in his eyes as he’d pull you inside and kiss you headily while still trying to focus on the road. And he’d have one hand on your thigh, squeezing it before pushing his fingers between your legs.

In his hazy, smoke-filled car, you’d always find yourself underneath him. Splayed out in his backseat while he licked his lips and loomed above you. His dark silhouette so handsome, and you remember thinking how he was such a bad boy, and you were such a good girl, and how hot it was. He’d tell you how much he loved the tight little skirts you always wore, and yet he’d always rip them in half and then laugh and kiss you when you pouted. Tell you how he’d been waiting all day to fuck you, how he just couldn’t wait now that he had you, that he’d been thinking about you and him, that he just had to have you now.

You remember feeling like such a little girl compared to him. Ari was a senior after all, and you only a freshman. Once, you’d tried to impress him by wearing red lipstick. That night, he’d pulled you over the console and made you suck his dick. Till your red lip prints were all over his fat cock, and he’d told you how you were such a good girl, and he loved how cute you were, and that he knew you were trying to impress him.

 All those nights in his car, and you remember each time you’d ask him if he’d broken up with Sharon, and each time he’d tell you that he was “working on it.” That he didn’t see a future with her, that you were so much more special. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I,” he’d say, blue eyes dreamy and you thought he sounded so earnest. And eagerly you’d say the same, excited that someone like him could ever be that interested in someone like you.

And then he’d push you into the backseat, or he’d stay in the driver’s seat and pull you into his lap. Or sometimes, if the place you were parked at was secluded enough, he would take you on the hood of his car. Fuck you in every way imaginable, use your body for his pleasure whilst also giving you the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt. And sometimes, the moonlight would reflect off his eyes and make him look like something so special, and you’d feel so special, and you’d feel like you were in a movie. You still remember it now.

You doubt Ari does, though. You doubt those nights were ever special to him.

“Where are we?” You ask fifteen minutes later when he pulls up somewhere. You peer out the window and see trees – a bunch of them. He’s parked in a clearing, only a single dirt road leading up to it and the rest of the area covered in a thick forest of trees. The sun sparkles through the leaves, and you can hear birds chirping louder than you ever do back in the city. “Are we in the woods?”

“Yep.” He’s out of the car in an instant, grabbing the picnic backet which he’d thrown haphazardly into the backseat before making his way to your door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“If you think I’m going to hike out into the woods barefoot–”

Ari scoffs, “Don’t worry your pedicured little feet off, princess,” he turns around, “Hop on.”

You eye him carefully, as if you’re assessing a threat. Going into the woods with Ari of all people may not be the best of gameplans for someone who was actively trying to avoid men in general. When Steve had forced himself on you, it had been in his room and luckily Kira had been nearby. The secluded woods, however, were a completely different story.

And yet, it’s like you know deep down that Ari won’t do anything. Not this time. Then again, you’ve been wrong about him before. Were you being naïve all over again?

Maybe you were, but you hop on to his back anyways. His muscular arms catch you easily as you wind your legs around his waist. Your arms lock around his neck and you nestle close to him instinctively. So close that you can smell his grape shampoo, and you admire how pretty his hair is, how it curls up slightly at the base of his neck like he’s a movie star or something.

You hate how you’re still so attracted to him.

He gives you a piggyback ride all the way into the woods, and it’s kind of neat being up so high. Ari was so tall, and with you on his back you felt like you were six foot six inches too. So this is what he sees, you think to yourself, finally indulging in the nature that surrounds the two of you. The way the oak trees soar up as high as skyscrapers, how the smaller trees sway with the breeze. The rustling of the leaves, and you think you hear a distant trickling of water, too.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” Ari breaks the comfortable silence, continuing to trek forward into the woods.

You’re about to heartily agree, before you remember the cold persona you’re meant to be adopting with him. So, in the dullest, most bored and nonchalant voice you can muster up, you say: “It’s whatever, I guess.”

He snorts.

You frown, “Are you laughing at me?”

“Nope.” He sounds amused.

“Yes, you are!”

“Well, it’s cute how you’re trying so hard to be something you’re clearly not.”

You’re thankful that he can’t see the way your jaw drops open, “And what exactly do you think I’m trying to be?”

He shrugs, inadvertently bouncing you up and down on his back.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I like this sassy side of you. Especially since I know you’re still the same naïve little baby on the inside.” He looks back at you, and you catch a glimpse of his glittering eyes, framed by those impossibly long eyelashes.

“I am not!”

Ari chuckles, “You can act as tough as you want, it amuses me how cute you look when you do it.”

You scowl, despite the fact that his constant flirting was starting to thaw you from the inside out, making your cheeks burn and your mind feel more muddled than ever. What was the truth and what was a manipulation? This was him just trying to win you over so he could fuck you, right?? Or maybe, maybe he genuinely liked you… Maybe–

You forcibly make yourself scowl again, “Fuck you.”

“Say that again and I’ll drop you,” He threatens.

“Don’t you dare!” You squeal, winding your arms tighter around his neck, almost choking him.

He snickers as if he’s cracked the funniest joke in the world, before continuing to walk. The two of you settle into another spell of comfortable silence. You take in all the bushes full of wild berries, the pretty flowers that are luckily in full bloom, scenting the air with a sweet fragrance that tickles your nostrils pleasantly. Another gentle breeze has you relaxing more against Ari, and you’re almost about to nuzzle your face against his strong shoulder before you catch yourself and freeze.

“I discovered this place last year,” Ari announces five minutes later, gently setting you down on a patch of vibrant grass. To your delight, only a few feet away from you is a stream! The water flows and sparkles in the afternoon sunlight, rushing over rocks and plants and making a pleasant trickling sound that has an oddly calming effect on you. And the grass feels nice against your toes, so much so that you don’t even mind your bare feet on the ground.

You don’t say anything, just watching as Ari settles down beside you with the picnic basket. You stretch your limbs out, secretly happy that he brought you out here, that you didn’t spend another day rotting in bed.

“I found this place last year,” Ari repeats, “A few of us were camping nearby and I hiked out further away to see if I could get cell reception. That’s when I found this place.” He leans back, lying down completely with his arms crossed behind his head, “It’s nice and private here, huh?”

A thought enters your head, jolting you down to the core, “Private? So, this where you brought Sharon? Or your other hookups?”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here.”

The straightforwardness of his answer jars you, and you find you have no quip or jab to respond with. Instead, hesitantly, you lie down too. A few inches away from him, but he makes no move to grab you or pull you closer. A large part of you is relieved, but you want to strangle the tiny part of you that’s disappointed that he’s not touched you.

“It’s nice.” You say finally.

“Yeah, I come here sometimes. To admire the nature or whatever.”

That makes you pause, and you look at him incredulously. He’s lying there with his eyes closed, yet he’s got a completely straight face.

“You? Admiring nature?”

Ari scoffs, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, actually.” You can’t imagine Ari of all people, who only cared about basketball, partying and sex, to be one with nature. Unless it was weed. “What aspect fascinated you the most?”

There’s a long beat of silence.

“I don’t know, the plants and shit?”

You can’t help but burst out laughing. And it feels good, to just let go and laugh for a bit. To just forget about how shitty you feel and just laugh. Even if it’s just for a moment, to just forget about how awful Ari’s been to you in the past, how awful Steve turned out to be too, just forget it all and allow yourself to laugh. And you can’t even remember the last time you laughed.

“Haha, very funny,” Ari rolls his eyes, but you can see the slight smile playing on his lips before he clears his throat. “Alright fine, I couldn’t give a fuck about nature. But I do like this place, it’s good for when I need to think.” He hesitates, “When I was dating Sharon, I felt like I never had the space to really think, and so I’d come here.”

You cease your laughter immediately at the mention of her name. Now that you were friends with Sharon, it made it a lot harder to talk about her with Ari. Because now, she was actually a person to you rather than some distant illusion that you tried not to think about. And it wasn’t her fault that Ari felt he couldn’t think with her around. She wasn’t the villain here, Ari was.

You clear your throat, heart suddenly beating very fast. “C-Could I ask you a question? And please don’t lie, okay? Just be honest with me, Ari. For once.”

He nods, not saying anything else.

“Were there others?” You ask hushedly, your tone wavering slightly as you voice the thought you’ve never wanted to speak into existence, never even dared to wonder about. “Was I just one of many girls that you were cheating on her with?”

Ari sits up, rubbing his temple. You watch him carefully, watch how his eyes scrunch shut before opening. He blinks several times, his lips pressed into a thin line before they part and he exhales slowly. Then, he turns your way, looking you dead in the eye.

“No. There were other girls before you, but once I slept with you, it was only you from then on out.”

“Yeah, me and Sharon.” You say bitterly, although the guilt is eating you up inside. You feel guilty for even feeling hurt or bitter, because he was never yours to begin with. Sharon was the girlfriend – she had every right to feel hurt and bitter. You? You were just the other woman. All you should be feeling was guilt and shame. Especially since here you were, out alone with him again when you’d vowed yourself you wouldn’t do this.

You sit back up too, and he makes a move to grab your hand but you shuffle away quickly. You hug your knees, resting your chin against them as you huddle into yourself. You can feel his gaze penetrating holes into you, but you only focus on the steady flow of water in the stream.

“Even with Sharon, it didn’t feel right sleeping with her. Not after I’d been with you.”

 “Then why didn’t you break up with her?” Your voice breaks at the last second, and you turn away from him so he can’t see the lone tear that trails down one side of your face. Just a second ago you’d been laughing and now here you were, crying over the same question that had plagued your mind for months. The question that had been beaten to death, and yet you knew you’d never get a straight up, honest response.

Ari sighs, and you hear him moving closer to you. A second later, he takes hold of your chin, gently turning your face back to him.

“Hey, listen to me. I was an asshole, okay?” He sucks in a breath, closing his eye again for a handful of seconds. You want to look away but you can’t help but watch him, watch as he breathes, watch as he finally opens his mouth again. “Before you came along, I was this guy… This hotshot guy who could do whatever and everyone would just worship the ground I walked on. And, well, I guess I thrived on that. I liked how easily I could use women. I knew I had a girlfriend but I liked how I could get any girl to sleep with me–”

“I don’t want to hear this,” you mumble, pushing away from him.

“No, wait, I’m just trying to explain myself.” He runs a hand through his mane impatiently, “Look, I’ll admit it. All those times I strung you along, it was to feed my own ego. For a while, it felt like I was on top of the world, like I had two girls and neither of them knew any better, and–”

“Stop telling me this,” your voice hitches, more tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I was being a fucking asshole, that’s what I’m trying to say!” Ari grabs your hand as if to stop you from running away, a note of frustration in his tone. Or was it desperation? “I’ve never been good with voicing my feelings and all of that shit, but that’s what I’m trying to do right now. When I saw you with Steve, it’s like he was taking my girl, taking away everything I’ve always wanted. The night of the party, and then again at the game, when I saw you with him… It got me so fucking heated, and I’d never felt like that before. It felt like I was wasting my time in a relationship I clearly didn’t want to be in, and he was moving in on the girl I did want to be with.”

You look up at him, breathing heavily yet not daring to say a word.

“I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m sorry for using you. I’m sorry that it took you being with someone else for me to finally wake up and realise you’re the only one I’ve wanted this whole time.” His hand slips up to cup your cheek, and it’s like you’re frozen. You don’t know if you want to stop him or if you want to lean into his touch. You don’t know if this moment is even real. If this stream is real or if the woods are real or if Ari is real or if he really is saying everything you’ve ever wanted him to say.

“Why couldn’t you have said all this before?” You say shakily, afraid to look him in the eyes in case you see anything other than sincerity, in case you see even an inkling, even the tiniest spark of a hint that he was manipulating you.

“I was immature.” He continues to wipe your tears, before making you look up at him. “I was just so wrapped up in being the guy who could have any girl I wanted, but I promise you I’ve grown out of that now.”

“Really?” Your voice comes out so small, filled with hope mixed with a bit of hesitance.

Ari nods, “You said before that people don’t change overnight. But if you let me show you, I’ll prove to you that I have. And that I’m serious about us.”

Ice queen persona be damned. You feel more tears well up in your eyes. “Y-You are?”

“Yes. I wasn’t going to mention this but…” He runs a hand through his hair, brushing back a wayward lock that flops over his forehead, before taking hold of your hand, “There was an NBA scout at the last game. He said they want to sign me, that a lot of teams are eyeing me as a draft pick.”

Oh. The NBA. That put everything into perspective for you. He wasn’t like you, with three and a half years of college ahead of you. No, he was almost done… And then he’d be gone. You’re happy for him – the NBA was a huge deal after all. But you also feel a little sick, like time’s going by too quickly, like maybe you’re not ready to let go yet after all.

Your mind also briefly flits to Steve. Had he been approached by an NBA scout too? You think back to when you’d last seen him, outside your dorm room with the dark circles under his eyes, the withdrawn look on his face. He didn’t look like someone who’d just been scouted by the NBA. Oh God, were you feeling bad for him now?!

“Congratulations.” You say slowly, not really knowing how to feel. Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of Ari holding your hand, and now it’s like you don’t want him to let go.

“The reason I’m telling you this is because I have it all planned out. Our future.” Ari continues, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him look. “I know you’ll still be in school, but I really think we could make it work. And by the time you graduate, I’ll have made it. We could settle down together, and I’d make it all up to you. That’s how serious I am about us.”

You simply just stare at him in complete awe. Who was this man? It was like an alien from outer space had taken over Ari’s body. Because the Ari Levinson you knew was a manipulator and a cheater. A man who stayed away from commitment with a ten-foot pole, a man who had just now professed to you that he enjoyed two-timing his girlfriend because it made him feel like he was on top of the world.

And yet… And yet you’re only just a girl, and you can’t help but picture the story his words are painting for you. Just indulge yourself a little bit, just a tiny little bit… You know you’re teetering on thin ice, and you know how dangerous it is to allow yourself hope when it comes to Ari. Hadn’t he squandered your hope time and time again for all those months he never made you his girlfriend?

But you can’t help but imagine, can’t help but think maybe this time he means what he says…

“We could buy a house in the countryside?” You whisper.

Ari cracks a smile, “Sure. And you could pop out a few Levinson babies too, make cheese sandwiches for all of them.”

“I’d have to establish myself as a model or a fashion designer before that.” You say, feeling the corners of your lips twitch upwards as you dare yourself to dream.

He looks amused, “Fashion designer, yes. Model, no. Too many pervy photographers.”

“I’ll be a model if I want to be one!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No way.”

“Yes way!”

“Fine. I’ll be in the NBA and you can be a model. Maybe. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He chucks you under the chin playfully, like how he used to do all the time. And you giggle, feeling like you’re floating. Like the two of you are encased in a bubble and you’re floating and time’s standing still and just for this one moment you could pretend everything was alright and your future with him was as secure as he was making it out to be.

“And you’d never lie to me again?”

He nods, “I wouldn’t. Never again.” And then he takes a deep breath, “There’s this fundraising gala thing coming up, and I’m supposed to win an award. I’d love it if you could come with me as my date.” He says with a note of seriousness in his tone, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

But rather than let you answer, he instead cups your face with both hands, pressing his forehead against yours. Immediately, the smile on your face freezes, and now you can feel every pore, every muscle, every cell in your body screaming. Screaming for what? For him to kiss you? Oh God…

“Let me kiss you,” he breathes out of nowhere, sounding like he’s parched. “Please, baby. I know I’ve fucked up but I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

“Oh, Ari…”

“Please.”

You never thought you’d live to see the day where Ari Levinson was begging you for anything. It was such a stark contrast from how your relationship had begun, almost as if the tables had turned now. Were tables capable of turning that quickly? Or was this all part of an act? Oh, you’re sick of asking yourself that question! What’s real and true is that earnesty in his eyes, and you want to kiss him so bad too. So fucking bad.

He moves closer, and so do you. Inch by inch, almost like first-time lovers. His lips purse slightly, looking so warm and soft and inviting. Closer, so close that they brush against yours for a second, and you can hear him breathing and you know he can hear you too. You wonder if he can hear your heart too, hear how it beats louder for him than it does for anyone else.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmur, but your words are laced with doubt. Just one kiss, your mind cajoles you, just one kiss won’t hurt.

There’s a gentle breeze around the two of you, swirling softly. Rustling through his hair, feeling cool against your face. Encasing the two of you in a private whirlpool where it’s just you two, and the sound of the stream, and the beat of your hearts.

“I know, but I want to so bad,” Ari’s hands are cupping your face so tenderly, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he slowly angles your face upwards. “Please, let me kiss you. Just once.”

It’s like the breeze jostles you forward, as if the universe wants you to kiss him. Your willpower’s hanging on by just a thread, your mind swarming with memories of every time you and him had kissed in the past. How magical it had felt for you, how it felt like you could never find someone who’d kiss you like that again. Oh, fuck your willpower!

He surges forward one last time, but his lips have barely touched yours before you pull away, turning your head to the side. Breathing hard, the anticipation still burning through your body in waves. Heart beating like crazy, and yet you swallow and shake your head.

“Ari, we can’t,” you force yourself to say firmly.

Ari sits back, looking slightly dazed and yet running a hand through his hair in frustration. For a second, you wonder if he’ll be mad, call you a tease for leading him on. Call you a slut, tell you how the least you could do was kiss him in return for all he’d done for you today. But he just sighs thoughtfully.

“Not until I come clean to Sharon about everything,” You explain, “And I know about the gala, Sharon told me. I-I’m actually going with her and Wanda, like a girls’ night.”

He raises an eyebrow before nodding slowly, “Well, as long as I get to see you there when I go up on stage to accept the award.”

“Yeah, but we can’t talk or interact or anything. Sharon’s my friend now, and I owe her the truth before anything more can happen between us.”

Ari gazes at you carefully, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eye. “So, it’s just the Sharon issue then. You forgive me for everything else?”

You hesitate. Well, did you? Did you forgive him for leading you on? Lying to you multiple times? Manipulating you? Leaving you drunk and high and alone in a party bathroom? God, why did he have to remind you of the asshole he’d been all this time, up until very recently? It pops the bubble your mind has created right now, the one that you and him were encased in, in this little clearing in the woods.

“I don’t know if I forgive you.” You say honestly, hoping he doesn’t question you further.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he lies back down on the grass, stretching his long limbs out to make himself comfortable. You watch him as he lazily grabs another cheese sandwich from the picnic basket, wolfing it down before offering you one. Stifling a smile, you shake your head.

Ari shrugs, “Well fine, more for me.”

And it’s later, after the two of you sit there by the stream in comfortable silence for a little while longer. After he’s piggy-backed you back to his car, and after he’s driven you back home. It’s when he’s pulling up to your building, that he puts his hand on your knee to make you look at him.

“I know you said before that nobody changes overnight, but that doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying until you see that I have.” He says firmly, his hand feeling so warm on your leg, causing heatwaves to radiate up and down your whole being. “And I know you, baby. I know you like me too. I know you want this to work out between us too. And it will. Once you tell Sharon, and we’re free to be together, everything’s gonna work out. You’ll see.”

Oh, he was so cocky! And yet, it’s a different type of cockiness than what you’ve usually come to associate with him. It’s more of an honest sincerity, this confidence that one day you’ll be his. And oh, you want to believe him! You really do! You want to believe in a perfect world where Ari proves himself to be more than just a manipulative fuckboy, a world where Sharon understands and forgives you for everything.

A world where you forget all about Steve Rogers, and never find yourself thinking about him… Thinking about what could have been.

You say nothing, not until he’s carried you back into your dorm room. Not until he’s about to leave. That’s when you speak.

“Ari?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He looks surprised, as if he hadn’t really been expecting you to say anything at all after his whole speech. The truth was, you’d been silent for a while now, ever since the two of you had almost kissed in the woods. But there’s a newfound serenity inside you, a feeling that wasn’t there before.

“For what?” He asks, a shy little smile on his face. One you’ve never seen on him before.

For bringing me outside. For taking me to your special place. For not making a big deal out of it when I didn’t want to kiss you. For carrying me. For not losing your patience with me. For making me laugh. For making me smile again.

“For the cheese sandwiches.”

***

The night of the gala is cold for springtime, the blustering winds revving up and roaring to life. Looking outside your window, you can see the smaller trees swaying roughly against the unforgiving nature of what looks to be the beginnings of a windstorm. It gives you a peculiar foreboding feeling, listening to the ominous whistling of the winds, so loud as if they’re warning you. You back away from your window, and yet something inside you doesn’t close it and lock it as you know you should.

You float back over to your vanity table, feeling pretty in your new dress that you and Sharon had gone shopping for, just how she’d promised. You haven’t felt this pretty in a long time, and as you gaze at your reflection, you feel another pang of foreboding. Quickly, you busy yourself with powdering your nose and fixing your hair, wondering if maybe you should have agreed to get ready with Wanda and Sharon after all. You’d told them you wanted some alone time before the busyness of the gala. Some time to yourself where you could draw a bubble bath, and then shave and pluck and preen and pamper yourself till you felt somewhat ready for the big night out.

And it had made you feel better, your solo pamper session. Sure, your thoughts had spun into overdrive as they always did. Replaying all your recent interactions with Ari, with Steve, even with Sharon. The reflection made you chuckle at one point, because when had your life become so like a tumultuous soap opera? With secrets and lies and betrayal and deceit coming from all corners?

A loud gust of wind knocks you out of your reverie, and again you feel it. The feeling that something big is swirling up in the atmosphere, like the howling wind itself is trying to warn you that soon, it would all come to head.

“Fuck you! Try an’ scratch me again and see what happens!”

Your head snaps up at the sound of the familiar male voice. And it’s the proximity that makes your heart skip a beat. The voice sounded close, like it was coming from mere feet away from you. Fearfully, you look back at your window, only to see that same angelic face you know so well seemingly levitating outside.

“Steve?” You whisper, blinking several times. He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you wonder whether you’re imagining things. Slowly, you venture forward, back to your window which lies open. And that’s where you find him, standing on the ledge outside of your bedroom window which was two storeys high.

Steve whacks a wayward branch that looks to be tangled in his jacket. And his movements are oddly sluggish as he flips the bird at the tree adjacent to your building which the brand is attached to. “Damn stupid fuckin’ tree, tryna pick a fight with me,” he mutters before his eyes fall on you, and they brighten up instantly, “Hey, baby girl, fancy seeing you here!”

And then he bursts into a fit of giggles, while you just stare at him in awe, your mind still not having come to terms with the fact that Steve had somehow climbed all the way up to your window. In the dark. With the wind blustering insanely around him. Warily, you peek downwards, heart jumping all the way up to your throat when you see how he’s just casually balancing on the extremely thin ledge, the street below looking very minuscule with how high up your floor was.

“How did you get up here?” You breathe, still half in shock that he’s here that you forget how explosively your last encounter with him had gone down.

“Who, me?”

“Yes, of course you. Who else!?”

He shrugs, “Scaled that tree over there, then it decided to scratch me so I fought it off an’ jumped onto the ledge. Now here I am!” He ends his explanation with a flourish that causes him to stumble backwards. It almost happens in slow motion; you don’t even have a chance to react to what you’re seeing. But he catches his balance again just in time, grinning up at you mischievously.

“Whoops!” He laughs heartily, a type of laugh you’ve never really heard from him before. He shuffles along the ledge till he finds a spot he’s more comfortable with, leaning in through your window and shooting you a smile, “almost fell to my death there, didn’t I?”

“Steve, you need to get back down. You’ll hurt yourself.” You bite your lip, wondering whether you should let him in through your window just so he’d be safe. But the thought of being alone with him within the four walls of a bedroom again gives you the creeps, and so you refrain.

“Maybe I want to hurt myself,” he answers, staring at you almost quizzically. His lips are full, his cheeks flushed. His hair looks longer and even more unkempt than last time, that stubble still on his face, his eyes dark and unfocused. It was weird, because you’d always known Steve to be meticulously well-groomed and almost preppy with his clean-cut good looks. He was still handsome as ever now, but he looks darker, almost tortured, with dark bags under his eyes and even his cheeks looked kind of hollow.

“I’m serious, climb back down.”

“I just wanted to see you again,” he breathes softly, and his entire expression morphs to tender as he reaches out to touch your face. “And I knew you wouldn’t let me in the normal way.”

You can’t help but flinch away, and he sighs, bringing his hand back down to grip at your windowsill, “You’re so pretty.”

That’s when you smell it. Vodka. Suddenly, his erratic behaviour makes a lot more sense. His pupils are dark and blown out, and he’s swaying dangerously on the spot.

“You’re drunk, Steve.”

“Nah,” he bats his hand dismissively, but with such force that he stumbles forward. And again, your heart lurches in your throat, thinking he’s going to fall. But lithely, he grabs on to something or the other, regains his balance, and flashes you another smile, “okay, maybe a little bit. But being drunk helps.”

You frown, not knowing whether to feel scared or concerned, “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, “Helps to forget all the shitty stuff.”

A wave of anger passes through you, “Shitty stuff? You mean like all the awful things you said to me when you tried to force yourself on me?” Hell, maybe you should be the one drinking if it meant you could forget how he’d called you an easy slut.

Steve bows his head, still swaying slightly, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Stop it, Steve. I’m serious.”

He sighs again, “So am I. I hate how I lose control like that. It’s like I zone out, and something takes over me and I’m there on fucking standby. Watching this one version of myself lash out and say all these shitty things an’ I can’t do anything to stop it.  And when I zone back in, it’s too late an’ I can’t take anything back.”

He explains with surprising eloquence, despite being so drunk.  And God, why did he have to look all rugged and heartbroken right now? Dismissing him would be so much easier if he was ugly.

There’s an emotion swelling up inside you as you look at him now, but you try to suppress it. Instead, remembering your ice queen persona, you cross your arms over your chest and force yourself to narrow your eyes. “Is that your explanation? That you zoned out? Because honestly, the lack of accountability–”

“I don’t think you’re a slut,” Steve interrupts you, “you’re sweet, and beautiful, and innocent. That’s what I thought the night I first saw you. And sure, I guess I used you because I was trying to get back at him–”

You flinch. There it was again. The reminder that Steve had indeed used you. And you’d fallen for it… Hook, line and sinker.

“–but at least I’m honest enough to admit it. Doesn’t that count for something?”

He finishes, blinking up at you with large eyes framed with those impossibly thick lashes, as if waiting for you to respond. When you don’t, he sighs, swaying again as another strong gust of wind attacks from the outside.

“I like you a lot, okay? I know I haven’t known you as long as he has, but it doesn’t matter. I think what we have is special.”  He swallows, his eyes squinting as he searches across the plains of your face, either trying to gauge your thoughts or trying to come up with the right words to say next. “And I know I fucked it up because that’s what I always do. So fuck it, I don’t care anymore.”

He shoves his hand inside his jacket, conjuring up a glass bottle of Gray Goose vodka out of what seems to be thin air. Your jaw drops open as you watch him take a hearty swig from it – and it was already half empty!

“Okay, that was a lie. I do still care.” He wipes his mouth roughly, stumbling about and still very much on the window ledge. “There’s just so much going on inside my head,” he says, and he demonstrates by smacking the side of his head with his open palm, “School, basketball, taking care of Kira – all of it just keeps building up. And I try my best, okay?” He loses his footing and sways some more, “but it’s never enough, and all my thoughts get louder and louder, like voices fucking screaming inside my head, and then I just explode. And I get so fucking angry, and it’s always directed towards the wrong people – whoops!”

He slips. You cry out in terror and impulsively grab hold of his arm. But he regains his balance and barks out a laugh, as if he’s tripped whilst taking a simple stroll in the park and not currently balancing on top of a very high and very dangerous ledge.

“It wouldn’t matter if I fell, you know?” He muses, taking another long swig of the vodka. And he doesn’t even flinch as the bitter liquid goes down his throat, as if the taste no longer has any effect on him. “I mean, my life’s a fucking mess already. Basketball’s completely fucked, anyways…”

“What do you mean?” You ask, your heart pitter-pattering in fear. His overtly reckless behaviour is scaring you, and you realise you’re holding your breath as you watch him callously standing there.

Steve shrugs, “Got kicked off the team today.”

Oh. You feel a surge of pity. And you know you shouldn’t. Not after how he treated you. And yet you can’t help it. Tonight, Ari was going to win an award for being the best basketball player of the season, and in the summer, he was going to the NBA. You can’t help but feel for Steve’s starkly different fortune.

He takes another gulp of vodka, “Coach said I couldn’t control my emotions and I’d keep costing the team if I continued playing.” He gazes off into the distance, and you try to gauge his expression but it’s quite unreadable. He laughs bitterly and smiles again, but it looks more like a grimace, “Fuck him. He’s right, but fuck him anyways.”

“Steve, this is dangerous. You could fall–”

“Fuck basketball,” he continues swaying around like he hasn’t even heard you, “it’s not like I was ever gonna make it to the NBA, anger issues or not. No, I have to become a surgeon. Like my parents.” His words slur and ring with sarcasm, and he barks out another laugh, “If I don’t fuck that up too…”

“I’m sorry that happened, but–”

He scoffs, “Can’t even fucking imagine being a doctor. My patients would probably be scared of me, just like how you are.”

“Please, just get down–”

“And Kira…” His expression morphs from bitter to sad in less than a second, and he clutches your hand suddenly. The one that you hadn’t realised was still holding on to his arm. And you don’t pull away, almost like you don’t want to. Either that, or you want to keep hold of him so he doesn’t fall.

Steve coughs, “God, I wish I took care of her better. I feel so fucking guilty, living on campus while she lives by herself in our house. Our parents are never home, they don’t even know what she went through… How she doesn’t even speak to anyone but me, how she doesn’t go out anymore...”

Another long swig. It’s a wonder the bottle isn’t empty yet. You want to interject, beg him once more to climb back down to safety, or at least hand you the vodka so he doesn’t drink anymore. But he’s not done speaking, and cuts you off when you try to get a word in edgewise.

“My parents, the award-winning heart surgeons!” He raises the vodka bottle up in the air in a mock toast, “They’re here, there, everywhere around the fucking world!” Another swig, more swaying. “Everywhere except for at fucking home. So then I have to handle everything, don’t I?”

“Steve–”

“They don’t even know how bad she’s gotten, how their own daughter’s shut herself off from everyone.” Steve shakes his head in both resignation and frustration, “and I try so fucking hard, okay? Try to help her with her anxiety, help her make new friends. God, all I do is worry about her. And school. And basketball. While they jet across the world doing their fancy surgeries and not giving a damn about her or me. Fuck them!”

Whoa. Wow. Okay. Now, you look at Steve with new eyes – you had no idea there was so much going on in his life, in his head. It still didn’t excuse the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d forced himself on you – and yet… Yet you can’t help but feel another pang of sorrow and pity for him.

His eyes are dark and stormy as he looks out into the early evening sky, before looking back to you. His gaze falls down to your hand holding on to his arm, and he smiles softly.

“You were the only thing in my life that was good.”

You shake your head, your barriers going back up, and you try to pull your hand away, “No. Stop lying, Steve, just don’t even try it, don’t even–”

“No, it’s true!” He insists, holding on tightly to your hand as if he’s on a sinking ship and you’re his only lifeline. “That one week before I fucked it all up, that one week when we were just texting. I’d be on my phone, smiling like a fucking fool. You can ask Kira! She knew about you because I couldn’t stop talking to her about you.”

You bite your lip, and despite everything, you find yourself wanting to believe him so bad. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind has Steve clutching your hand even harder as he teeters on the ledge, bringing his face closer to yours, his eyes hooded and lashes fanning over those impossibly sharp cheekbones.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

“Don’t, Steve…”

He sighs, breaking eye contact as he plays with the glass bottle in his hand. But his other hand seems to move off its own accord, his pointer finger trailing up your bare arm. And it’s so intimate, that simple touch, leaving a trail of fire and goosebumps in its wake. Your skin feels like it’s buzzing, burning almost, as he traces his finger up your shoulder blade, as if he’s testing to see how much you’d let him touch you.

“I miss you.”

You feel your resolve crumbling…

“No, you don’t. All we did was text for one week. We never even went on a date, so you can’t possibly miss what you never had.”

“And yet I still miss you.”

He leans in, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips look so pink, so warm, so hesitantly inviting. Slightly pursed, as if he doesn’t know if it’s going to happen but he’s going to try anyways. Another sharp gust of wind blows past, almost pushing him into you as if even the universe itself is cajoling you to just give in to him. You can smell the alcohol on his pores, and yet you can also feel his warmth, his musky cologne, the way his breath hitches as if he can’t believe this kiss is actually happening…

Except you turn your head at the last second, and he sighs.

“Should’ve seen that coming,” he says to the evening sky, “lost my place on the team, lost my girl, I wonder what I’ll lose next? You wanna take any guesses? Hey, maybe I’ll lose my balance! That would be funny, wouldn’t it?”

You watch as he looks down, all the way down to the ground with a peculiar gleam in his eye. The type of gleam that reflects that he’s a man with nothing to lose. And it’s a long way down. What the hell was he thinking?!

“He really fucked her up,” Steve murmurs softly to himself, a whisper that almost gets lost in the great gusts of wind that swirl around the two of you. “And I tried to do something about it, tried to get back at him, but I fucked it up. I always fuck up. Maybe it’s best if I just–”

“Steve, stop it! Stop being so reckless!”

You tug hard at his arm, and at the same time a heavy wind blows. Steve stumbles again, but mercifully, he falls forward instead of back. Through your window and right on top of you. You both land on the floor with a thud, and despite how drunk he is, he manages to bring his hands out in front of him, preventing you from getting crushed by his huge frame.

“Whoops. Sorry, baby.”

He flashes you a cocky smile, as if he hadn’t just been teetering on your window ledge in the middle of a sad, drunken rant. The bottle of vodka is still snugly clutched between his fingers, somehow having also survived the fall onto your hard bedroom floor.

You open your mouth to tell him to get off of you, but the words die inside your throat. Instead, you look up at him, at his face so close to yours. So close that his nose is an inch away from brushing against your own. And his eyes, navy and blown out and yet still so pretty, blink down at you imploringly. The last time, when you’d been in his bedroom, they’d looked so stormy and far away. And here, now, he was drunk and yet he looked present. And you realise that you don’t feel unsafe at all.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” Steve says, slurring and stumbling over his words.

“Don’t.” You warn him, although you notice your own lack of conviction. In that moment, had he actually done it you don’t think you’d have objected too much. But you don’t want to give in to him, not after how scary he’d been last time. Despite everything, you still haven’t forgotten.

He nods slowly, “I know, fuck, I know…”

Shakily, he gets off of you, swaying slightly as he gets on his feet, and then he yanks you up too. Before you can stop him, he takes another swig of vodka before his eyes once again settle on you.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, biting his lip as his dark eyes drink you in. In your form-fitting emerald dress that wraps around your body like a second skin of smooth satin. The ruching which accentuates your curves even more, the delicate lace detailing, the smooth dip of your cleavage. The gleam of your bare legs that peak through the slit of the dress. The demure heels that makes them look longer than ever. And yet you can’t help but shift shyly under his intense gaze.

“You’re all dressed up,” Steve says softly, reaching out to touch you before thinking better of it, curling his outstretched hand into a fist and pushing it down to his side, “You look… incredible.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“You going somewhere?”

“Uh… yes.”

He nods before his brow furrows, “Is he taking you out?”

“What–?”

“Levinson. Is he taking you out? Are you two together now?” His tone hardens, and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. Oh, please let him not get all angry again like how he did last time!

“No.” You say firmly, “There’s this gala, this fundraiser thing at the Hilton Hotel. That’s where I’m going. Me and Sharon and Wanda.”

“No Levinson?”

You shake your head, “N-No, Steve.” It was only white lie, because you weren’t going with Ari and you probably wouldn’t speak to him tonight. It was a girl’s night out, if anything. Plus, you’re scared that Steve might flip out if he knew that Ari would be there too.

“You promise?” He looks at you meaningfully, and he’s got that same intense look again. The look you’ve grown to associate with him, that eery, almost glassy stare. “Promise me, Y/N. Promise me that you aren’t going out with Ari.”

You don’t owe him anything, certainly not any promises. And yet, yet you can’t help but nod, “I promise, Steve. In fact, Sharon and Wanda are on their way to pick me up.”

Steve nods approvingly, looking somewhere beyond you. His eyes look sad once again, and he takes another long, lingering sip of vodka. “Good girl. You stay away from him, okay? All he does is hurt people.” He shakes his head, his mouth pulling downwards in a grimace, “He hurt her so bad.”

You frown, “Hurt who? Sharon?”

The blond doesn’t answer, but he continues talking to himself. “What did she ever do to him? He didn’t give a damn about her, and now look at her…”

You feel an uneasy wave of guilt, “You mean Sharon, don’t you? I know…”

Steve frowns, opening his mouth to answer you before he grows distracted by something beyond your shoulder. A slow smile spreads across his face, and he stumbles over to your desk in the corner of the room.

“My jacket!” He grabs the blue and white varsity jacket he’d given you the night of the party, “You still have it. You kept it.”

“You can take it back!” You say quickly, a bit too quickly judging by how his face falls. Quickly, he drops the jacket as if it’s made of hot coals, a bitter look enveloping his features.

“You should throw it away. Or burn it.” He says simply, throwing his head back and taking a hearty sip of his vodka, “thought you would’ve looked cute wearing it to one of my games but I since I won’t be playing anymore, there’s no point anymore, is there?”

What follows is an uncomfortable silence. And oh, why was he making you feel bad for him now?! After everything he’d said and done? But then he’d apologised too… Were you being too hard on him? Now you feel more confused than ever!

You sigh, “Steve… Look, I just don’t know how to act around you. One second, you’re so intense, and you’re calling me a slut, and you’re being all scary. And then the next it’s like your entire personality changes. And I just… I don’t know what to believe, okay?”

“Why can’t you just believe that I’m sorry for what happened? I’m sorry for all of it.”

You shift uncomfortably, looking down at your heel-clad feet. You wrack your brain, trying to choose your next words carefully, “I… do believe that you’re sorry.”

He stands there expectantly, as if waiting for you to say something more, to say that you forgive him, perhaps? But you don’t think you do. Do you? A few more empty seconds pass before he clears his throat.

“They put me on some kind of medication. Added it to the ones I already take.” He volunteers, breaking the silence. He avoids your gaze now, instead focusing on his bottle of vodka, tossing it from one hand to the other and tapping at the glass. “For my anger and mood swings, or whatever.”

You nod, “That’s good, right? You saw a doctor?”

He snorts, “No. My parents just heard about me flipping out and contacted the family physician Got him to prescribe me all these different pills. But this,” he raises the vodka up in the air and waves it around, “This helps more than any medication ever could. It stops all the screaming in my head. And luckily, Mom and Dad left the house full of booze, so I’m all good to go.”

You nod slowly, furrowing your brow, “Steve, maybe you shouldn’t be drinking while you’re on medication–”

Your phone vibrates loudly from its place on your bed, the sound shaking you from the inside out. Even Steve blinks several times, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding as you make your way over to your phone. It’s like the bubble of intensity the two of you have been encased in has popped, and now you’re back in the real world. It was crazy, because being inside the bubble felt intoxicating, like everything was moving in slow motion, like you were in some sort of fairytale and the troubled prince had just climbed in through your window.

Your screen glows with a new text.

Sharon: We’re on our way! Wanda’s already so drunk lol we’ll be there in ten minutes!

Oh no. You’d rather your friends didn’t run into a drunken Steve Rogers when they came to pick you up. Especially not when you were supposed to have sworn off men anyways.

“Steve, you–”

“–I need to go,” he completes sombrely, picking at a piece of loose thread on the sleeve of his expensive-looking sweater, “I know, I know.” His eyes narrow, “That wasn’t Ari, was it? Who texted you just now?”

“No.” 

He relaxes, “Good. Okay, I guess I’ll leave then.”

You chew your bottom lip anxiously, “H-How will you get back? You didn’t drive here yourself, did you?”

He waves your question off as if it isn’t important, backing away towards your door, “You don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

“Steve Rogers, don’t you dare drive back home in the state you’re in!”

He just stares at you, that same bittersweet look on his face. Finally, he nods, “I’ll be fine. I came here with Bucky.”

You nod, “Okay, then. As long as you don’t drive…”

Steve shoots you a sad smile, one that doesn’t really reach his eyes. His eyes that are still glued on just you, only you. He crosses his hand over his chest, “I promise I won’t. Scout’s honour… Although I was never a scout, so who knows if you can take my word. Ha ha.”

He finally makes it to your door, almost as if he’d been walking in slow motion, wading through quicksand. Why? Because he didn’t want to leave? And you feel a lump in your throat, one that won’t go no matter how many times you swallow. There’s an odd yearning inside you, like an itch on your hand. No, an itch in your heart. Your fingers twitch as if wanting to reach out to touch him. Did you not want him to leave, either?

You press your lips together, rooting yourself in place as you watch him go. At the last second, he turns back around again.

“I am sorry, okay? Sorry about everything.”

Once more, all you do is nod. The expectancy in his eyes fades away and he sighs, his hand resting on the doorknob as he goes to shut the door. 

A second passes. But it feels like the longest second you’ve ever lived. Like your heart seems to beat about a thousand times in that one second, like a drum reaching crescendo. Feeling like you’ve reached that part in the movie, that page in the book where the climax happens and then everyone can breathe again. Outside, the winds seem to be charging up again, readying themselves for an almighty, blustering blow. And you can feel the booming whistle of the winds ringing all around you, when you suddenly drop your phone on your bed and rush over to the door before you can think better of it.

“Steve, wait!”

You press your lips to his in a searing kiss, catching him completely off-guard. He stumbles back slightly, either by how strongly you’ve jumped on him or because of his own inebriation. Either way, he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you against him as he reciprocates your kiss.

And you don’t know why you’re kissing him, but it’s like your body’s gone past the point of rationale. Like your lips and your limbs have a mind of their own and your brain is no longer part of the conversation. And Steve’s lips feel so soft, and this time you feel like it’s you in control. He’s too drunk to take charge, you suspect, as his lips move languidly against yours.

Your hands cup his face, his bristly skin pricking the pads of your fingers, and yet it doesn’t bother you. Not when he’s kissing so softly, so cautiously like he’s afraid he could hurt you again. It’s you who presses your tongue against his, stroking it, biting and nipping at his lips. He smirks at your overexcitement, finally injecting more passion into the kiss by tipping your head back slightly and pressing his lips harder against yours.

He tastes like vodka, but you don’t mind. He also tastes kind of sweet, kind of irresistible. And oh, you know this makes no sense! And you know you shouldn’t be kissing him! What about Ari? What about your own dignity? What about swearing off all men? What about–?

You pull away as abruptly as you’d kissed him, and both of you stand there breathless for a handful of seconds. Your lips still tingle pleasantly, and before he can say anything, you gently pry the bottle of vodka from his hand.

“I’ll keep this, okay?” You say softly, holding it behind your back. There’s still quite a bit left in it, and Steve looks like he’s one sip away from disaster. Or at least a very bad headache tomorrow morning. You pray it’s only the latter.

But he’s got a sparkle in his eye now, and he doesn’t spare the vodka a second glance, “It all went away for a second.”

“What went away?”

“All the fucking screaming in my head. All that pressure I was telling you about. Kissing you made it all go away. Your lips are magic, baby girl. Better than the vodka.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say, but you feel a lurching pull in your heart nonetheless.

“Yeah, like I’m numb to it all now. Comfortably numb. And it’s such a fucking relief.” He closes his eyes for a second, as if he’s savouring the feeling. You’re so intently looking at him that you don’t even notice when he grabs your hand, and his eyes flutter open, “So you forgive me?”

You hesitate, “Steve, I…I don’t know.”

His serene smile freezes on his face, and he drops your hand like it’s a hot poker. You feel it again in your heart, that lurching fee ling that you can’t place. You watch as his face falls, almost in slow motion. And it feels like you’re sitting front row in the cinema, watching his expression turn sad, his eyes clouding over once more like he was depending everything on your forgiveness.

“Okay. Goodbye.”

He stumbles out of your room, out into the stairwell where he trips before grabbing on to the banister.

“Steve, please be careful,” you say again, your tone laced with worry.

He glances back at you, that ever-charming smile back on his face. Back from when you’d seen it that first night when you’d met him. Almost like he’s put on a mask. He gives you a sluggish thumbs-up, “I’ll be fine. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I just hope it lasts…”

What the hell did that mean? Should you go after him? You hear your phone vibrate loudly, and you glance back at your bed to see it glowing with several new texts. But then you look back at the stairwell to find it empty. He was gone. Gone like a gust of wind. Gone like he was never there.

But he was. You can still feel him on your lips.

As if in a dream, you float back into your room and pick up your phone. Two new texts.

Sharon: We’re five minutes away! Traffic’s crazy lol.

Ari: Hey. I just want to say that I’m happy you’re coming tonight. Even if we don’t get to speak, just know you’ll be on my mind all night. Fuck. That was cheesy. Anyways. See you there :).

You sink down on your bed, already feeling exhausted and mentally drained. Despite the fact that the night was nowhere near over yet. In fact, it hadn’t even begun.

***

“Where’s Curtis?” Wanda wonders aloud, scanning the sprawling banquet hall and immediately grabbing a flute of champagne from an elegantly dressed waiter holding a tray full of them.

The banquet hall where the gala is being held at the Hilton is reasonably full, and you recognise a bunch of familiar faces from campus – both students and professors. Everyone’s dressed smartly – the men in tuxedos and the women in evening gowns and dresses. Sharon and the decorating committee have done a great job; each table swathed in ivory cloth, with red rose centrepieces and golden gilded chairs. Matching golden lights against an otherwise dark room gives an almost ethereal ambiance.

“He’s probably over on table 2 with the rest of the basketball team,” Sharon nods to a table at the front of the room near the stage. “I did the seating arrangements and the place-cards.”

Predictably, table 2 is the rowdiest table in the entire banquet hall. Clearly, the basketball team didn’t give two fucks about what was considered proper black-tie etiquette. You can see Ransom Drysdale and Andy Barber having some kind of a drinking competition, chugging down wine glass after wine glass as if they were cans of beer. Lloyd is acting like their referee, half on top of the table as he tries eggs them on. Colin is laughing his head off as he looks to be live-streaming this whole performance on his phone. And then there’s Ari.

And oh, he looks so breathtaking! Your heart physically skips a beat when you see him. His brown hair slicked back sexily, but the ends curling around his stiff white collar. His tuxedo looks well-tailored and expensive – Armani probably – and a white bow tie that makes him look more handsome than ever. He’s sat in the middle of his table, looking very much like the leader of his group. A smirk on his face as he watches his teammates horse around, but then his eyes meet yours, and the cocky smirk turns into the most adorably lovesick smile that does not look like it belongs on his face – only because you’ve never really seen him smile like that ever before.

“Oh gosh, there’s Ari,” Sharon says, coming up closer to your side and making you snap your eyes away from her ex-boyfriend immediately. The blonde takes a few deeps breaths to calm herself, “And he’s looking straight at me! Well, who cares? I’m not gonna let him affect my night. In fact, I’m gonna go over to him to prove how unbothered I am–”

Before you know what’s happening, she starts making a beeline straight over to table 2 – with you in tow! Wanda follows, her eyes still searching the room for Curtis as she downs her champagne quickly.

“Hello, Ari,” Sharon says stiffly, hanging on to your arm for dear life. You hope you don’t look as mortified as you feel, watching as Ari looks up at the two of you, his charming little smile still on his face.

“Hi.” He answers her, giving her a quick nod before his eyes shift to you, and you see them sparkle as he looks you up and down, taking in your emerald dress, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards again in another sweet little smile. Oh God, damn him for being so obvious!

“Well, I just came here to congratulate you on your award,” Sharon says, a determinedly happy-yet-nonchalant look plastered on her face. “So, well, congratulations.”

Ari nods again, physically tearing his eyes away from you, “Thanks.”

“Where’s Curtis, you guys?” Wanda interrupts the awkward exchange, looking expectantly at the basketball team. You watch as she grabs another champagne from another cocktail waiter who happens to pass by, downing it as quickly as she had the first.

Ransom snickers, “He’s somewhere around here, sweetheart. But I wouldn’t bother him if I was you, he’s kinda busy.”

Wanda doesn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before she’s off, weaving across the banquet hall at lightning speed. You watch her, mildly concerned as she grabs yet another glass of champagne, her previous one still in her other hand. She’d been antsy the whole ride over, because apparently Curtis wasn’t texting her back, and hadn’t since last night.

“She’s already a mess,” Sharon murmurs to you under her breath before smiling brightly at Ari, “Well, see you around, Ari.”

He nods at her for the third time, before his eyes rest on you once more. There’s a hint of yearning within them, and his lips twitch as if he wants to say something. Oh, when did it get so easy to read his expressions? Did you know him that well now? He gives you a soft, private smile – one you know is meant just for you. One that seems to convey a thousand words in just a single twitch of a muscle. You almost return it, before remembering who you’re with.

“Thank God, he didn’t bring her,” Sharon mutters to you as the two of you walk away from jock table.

“Huh?”

“The little skank he cheated on me with. I would’ve died if he brought her along as his date.”

You gulp, eyeing one of the champagne flutes yourself. After tonight, you absolutely had to come clean to Sharon. There was no other choice, you’d kept this secret long enough. And if it meant she’d no longer be your friend, then so be it. You deserved that. But no more excuses, you had to tell her tonight after this event was over.

And the event itself is fine. You hang out with Sharon while she makes small talk with a bunch of different people. You don’t talk much, simply staying quiet and observing. People’s outfits, their makeup, their shoes, everything. It’s nice to be out and about again, after spending what felt like an eternity rotting in your dorm room and feeling sorry for yourself. You even find yourself catching Ari’s eye every now and again, and each and every time he’d give you his sweet little private smile that made you want to die. You’d look away, of course, or busy yourself with talking to Sharon or someone else, just so you wouldn’t smile back. Even though you wanted to. You really, really wanted to.

You do get a handful of texts from him though.

Ari: You look beautiful.

Ari: I can’t take my eyes off you.

Ari: Seriously, I don’t think you realise how beautiful you look right now.

You don’t reply, but you know he can see you looking down at your phone and smiling like crazy.

About a half hour into the gala, the hosts beckon everyone to sit at their assigned tables because the award ceremony is about to begin. That’s when you notice that Wanda’s been missing for a while now. You scan the room while a retired basketball coach hobbles his way onto the stage, beginning a very long-winded speech on how he’d single-handedly led the St. Andrews’ team to victory back in 1993. Where the hell was Wanda? You realise you’ve been so wrapped up in the event and playing secret smiling games with Ari from across the room to notice that you hadn’t seen her since the three of you had arrived here.

Luckily, you spot her stumbling towards the bathrooms that are in a corridor off the main banquet hall. Stumbling being the key word, and you quietly curse yourself for allowing her to drink so much. God, Ari was just so distracting! Even when you weren’t even speaking to him, just his presence alone was making you forget about everyone else!

You tell Sharon you’re going to get Wanda before quietly sneaking away, hoping to discreetly bring her back before she wanders off somewhere else. You just hope

“Wanda, hey! Wait up!” You catch up to her, “Let’s go back to the banquet hall.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Leave me alone, Y/N. I’m looking for my boyfriend.”

Oh. She still hadn’t found him yet?

“C’mon, our table’s this way,” you try again, grabbing her hand, about to lead her away. Then you notice her eyes light up as she looks beyond your shoulder.

“Baby, there you are!” Wanda slurs brightly, snatching her hand out of your grip and making a beeline down the hall. You whip around to see Curtis closing the bathroom door behind him, his other hand wiping his mouth. His tie loose around his neck and top collar button undone. And you also see a tiny brunette in a silver dress slip out of the bathroom behind him, the dim lights of the hallway swallowing her up as she slinks away into the darkness, Wanda not even noticing her.

“Wanda.” Curtis blinks, looking entirely unperturbed. “You’re here.”

She hits him playfully on the shoulder, “Of course, I’m here. I came with the girls, remember? And I wanted to support you!”

He scratches the back of his head, “Yeah. Cool. Look, I’m gonna go back to the boys–”

“Great, let’s go!” Wanda links her arm with his, making his jaw tense and eyebrow raise. And you watch this whole ordeal with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Babe, remember how I told you this event was a no date kind of thing?” Curtis carefully peels himself away from her, making her pout. You cringe when she doesn’t get the message, grabbing his bicep again, her manicured nails like talons holding on with all her might.

“But I missed you, baby,” Wanda smiles up at him drunkenly. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

Curtis visibly cringes, “Come on, babe, don’t be like this.” Again, he dislodges his arm from her grip, pushing her off of him not-so-gently. “I’m here with the team tonight, but I promise I’ll come by your room later. Maybe. Like way after midnight probably.”

You can’t hide your disgust, openly frowning and shaking your head at him. God, why did all men suck so much?

“Come on, Wanda,” You grab her hand once more, “You don’t need him to enjoy your night. Let’s go.”

“Um, fuck off, Y/N, I’m talking to my boyfriend right now.” Wanda pushes you off her before sidling up to Curtis again.

You gape at her, feeling a pang of hurt. She’s just drunk, she didn’t mean to say that…

Curtis sighs, rolling his eyes, “Listen to your friend, Wanda. I gotta go.”

“I’ll come with you!”

For a third time, she grabs on to his arm tightly. That’s when Curtis huffs, clearly annoyed.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is going on between us, but stop acting like we’re in some serious relationship or whatever.” He says, a frown bordering on disgust on his face as he shakes her hand off of him.

Wanda gapes, and even your mouth drops open. How dare he? How fucking rude!

“Baby, you don’t mean that–”

“I mean sure, we have fun together but please don’t get the wrong idea, Wanda. You can’t just chase me down at these public events like you own me or something. That’s not how this works. In fact, all it does is make you look kind of desperate.” He continues, getting his phone out and nonchalantly scrolling through it as if this whole painful conversation isn’t even worth his time.

How the hell was he speaking to his own girlfriend like that?

“I-I’m sorry for being desperate, Curtis,” Wanda says earnestly, her eyes wild and pupils dilated, “Please, don’t do this! Don’t break up with me like this!”

He rolls his eyes, “Do what? I’m not doing anything! I can’t break up with someone who was never my girlfriend to begin with. Sure, we had fun for a few weeks but it’s not like we were ever exclusive, let alone dating. You were too clingy for my liking anyways.”

“Curtis, that’s enough!” You admonish, your heart breaking for poor Wanda. Curtis was a joke.  You can’t believe he’s standing here denying he was ever in a relationship with her. Hell, you’d been a third wheel to them enough times in the past month to know the two of them had definitely been a thing. How the hell was he just so casually gaslighting her now, as if none of that ever happened? God, you would never understand men!

Curtis glances at you, a devilish twinkle in his eye before he turns to Wanda again, “Hell, I’m pretty sure I tried to sleep with your friend Y/N before I settled for you that night at the party.”

“Oh, you’re such an asshole!” You explode, pulling Wanda away, “Stay away from her, you piece of shit! C’mon, Wanda.”

What you haven’t noticed is Wanda standing deathly still. She snatches her hand away from you, a look of absolute loathing, shock and betrayal on her face. And a part of you wants to see her give an asshole like Curtis a piece of her mind. But then she turns to face you, her eyes drunk and accusatory.

“Y-You…” she points at you, swaying in her heels from all the alcohol in her system, “You slept with my boyfriend?”

“What? No, he tried to sleep with me, but I wasn’t interested. It really wasn’t a big deal–” You try to hold her hand to calm her down, hoping she doesn’t make a big scene.

“Later, ladies.” Curtis grins, squeezing past the two of you and strutting over to table 2 with the rest of his team. You watch him for a moment, slack-jawed at his nonchalance and how badly he’d just hurt your friend.

“I can’t believe you!” Wanda hisses, pulling away from you yet again. “I can’t believe you slept with him!”

You shake your head desperately, “No, no, no! I didn’t sleep with him! That’s not what he said!” You take a deep breath, stopping yourself from raising your own voice out of desperation to get her to understand. Instead, you speak slowly: “Wanda, I did not sleep with Curtis. Yes, he did try it on with me ages ago but nothing happened.”

“You’re the biggest bitch in the world, Y/N! I can’t believe you slept with him!” Wanda sputters, tears welling in her drunken eyes. It’s like her brain has only selectively heard what he’d said and is running with it, and she’s unable to compute what you’re saying to her now. “I knew you weren’t above sleeping with other people’s boyfriends but I never thought you’d do it to me!”

“No, please, just listen! You’re not understanding–”

“Let go of me!” She bats your hands off her when you try to grab her again, backing away and stumbling out into the main banquet hall. “Don’t even speak to me again, Y/N! How dare you sleep with Curtis?! When you knew how much me and him meant to each other!”

Helplessly, you watch her as she marches across the banquet hall, and you trail behind her with a lump in your throat. You’d have to wait until she was sober to explain things to her properly, which was another conversation you weren’t looking forward to. But for now, you just watch her, hoping she doesn’t injure herself with how determinedly she’s walking. You expect her to head towards Curtis’ table, which is why you freeze when she walks straight past him and up towards the stage.

The retired basketball coach is just about done with his speech, and you nervously rejoin Sharon who is also looking at Wanda climbing up the stairs of the stage with a confused look on her face.

“We need to go get her,” you murmur.

“Why, hello young lady,” the retired basketball coach greets Wanda warmly, “Are you here to present the first award?”

Both you and Sharon spot Wanda eyeing the microphone with a gleam in her eye, and the two of you stand up in unison, exchanging alarmed looks.

But Wanda is quick, bumping the retired coach out of the way with her hip. She grabs the mic, tapping it quickly many times in succession. A high-pitched feedback echoes across the room, and more eyes turn towards her from all the other tables in the hall. The retired coach gives her a confused smile before shrugging and slowly hobbling away. A number of stagehands look on in confusion, checking their clipboards to see if this was part of the show.

And that’s when Wanda starts talking.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an award of my own!” She grips on to the mic like a vice, teetering on the middle of the stage. Her hair’s messy, her face stained with dried up tears. The straps of her dress slipping down her shoulders, and the half empty wine glass still in her hand, the remaining contents of it sloshing out onto the polished wooden floor.

“What the hell is she doing?” Sharon whispers from beside you. All around you, everyone in the banquet hall is whispering amongst themselves, and now all eyes are glued to your drunken best friend on stage. The tables full of professors, coaches and alumni all look around in bewilderment, frowning as if Wanda being on stage is all part of some kind of skit before the award ceremony.

You glance over at the jocks on table 2. Ari shoots you a perplexed look, Ransom’s got his phone camera out, Andy’s grinning from ear to ear. Colin has the decency to look away, an embarrassed look on his face. And Curtis? Curtis leans back on his chair, an amused look on his face as if he’s ready to kick back and enjoy the show.

That means it’s all up to you.

“Wanda!” You hiss, glad that your table is close enough to the stage that she can hear you, “Wanda, you’re drunk. C’mon, let’s go to the bathroom so I can fix you up.”

She looks down at you and smirks evilly, before looking away as if she hasn’t even heard you. Instead, she once more taps the mic once, twice, three times. She giggles drunkenly, “Testing, testing, is this thing on?”

“Wanda, babe, come down please!” Sharon joins in, but she also gets promptly ignored. She bites her lip before turning to you, “God, how did we not realise how drunk she’d gotten? She’s gonna make a fool of herself.”

“Wanda!” You try again, raising your voice slightly, “Come down, Wanda, please! The awards ceremony is about to begin!”

“It’s already begun! And like I said, I have an award of my own,” Wanda says, looking beyond you but never fully at you. You can see her lip curled slightly, and either it’s a smile or a sneer – you can’t really tell. But it makes your blood run cold, and a strong sense of foreboding washes over you again, like how it had earlier in your bedroom.

Quickly, you make your way over to the stage, hoping to pull her off before she said anything to embarrass herself too much. And it’s when you’re climbing up the stairs at the side of the stage that she resumes speaking:

“I know you’re all here for some… some random basketball award,” Wanda slurs, “But I wanna get my award out of the way first. And it’s the award for St. Andrews’ college’s biggest fucking slut.”

You’re halfway up the stage by now, and it’s when you step up on to the polished wooden floor that you pause, her words sinking in and a horrific feeling dawning on you. Oh no…

“And look! Here she is, the slut herself!” Wanda cheers, pointing straight at you with an unsteady hand. She throws her head back and laughs, her other hand gripping on to the mic for dear life. “Everybody, please give it up for Y/N! She already knows she’s the winner, nobody else could ever compare! Y/N is undoubtedly the biggest fucking slut on campus, and she wholeheartedly deserves this fucking award!”

Pin drop silence. For the first second, that’s all you hear. Silence that’s so loud, it’s almost deafening. Ringing in your ears, closing in on you like a siren. Then, you feel the waves of heat. Red hot fire radiating all over your body. Your face, your arms, your neck. Everywhere. You can’t quite believe what’s happening, but you know there’s a banquet hall filled with strangers staring straight at you as if you’re swathed in a spotlight.

“Curtis, get your girl the fuck off the stage!” You hear Ari say somewhere in the distance, and you can see him getting to his feet.

“No fucking way, that bitch isn’t my problem anymore.” Curtis whispers back, a note of glee in his tone.

You remain frozen on stage, your heart thrumming up to your throat. Wanda cackles, drunkenly beckoning you closer. Someone – either a professor or a coach – tries to coax her off the stage but she bats him away as if he’s an insignificant fly.

“C’mon, Y/N! Don’t be shy, come accept your award!” Wanda holds up her now empty wine glass as if it’s a trophy, “Ladies and gentlemen, don’t be mistaken! Y/N isn’t normally this shy! I mean, she certainly wasn’t when she fucked my boyfriend!”

A hushed gasp fills the hall, followed by a host of whispers. There’s a tiny voice inside you, telling you to run. Just run, run, run away from it all. But your feet don’t move, firmly planted in place as your whole body buzzes with heat and the lump in your throat gets bigger and bigger. Why was Wanda doing this? Oh God, what was happening!?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ari scrape his chair back and stride over to the stage, a venomous look on his face. At the same time, you feel a warm hand on your shoulder as Sharon comes up the steps to stand beside you.

“Wanda, honey, that’s enough.” Sharon says softly, holding her other hand out to your drunken friend. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“Don’t you honey me,” Wanda spits out, “And don’t look at me as if I’m some sort of fool. If anyone’s a fool, it’s you, Sharon!”

Oh no. You feel yourself going light-headed.

That’s when Ari jumps up on stage, looking huge and menacing as he strides over to Wanda. He grabs her by the upper arm roughly, “Carla, shut the fuck up right now if you know what’s good for you,” He hisses.

“Well look who it is! Mister Knight in Shining Armour, here to save the fucking day!” Wanda laughs, and at least she’s not speaking into the mic anymore, but did it even matter? “Y/N doesn’t need your help, Ari! She’s a fucking slut who enjoys sleeping with other people’s boyfriends, and she’s proud of it! You’re proud of it, aren’t you, Y/N!?”

You’re in no condition to answer her question. Now, your body seems to be experiencing rapid hot and cold flushes. Icicles, then fire, then icicles, then fire again. And your face feels like it’s been stabbed by a thousand pins and needles. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before, almost like an out of body experience. Like you’re floating except it feels terrible instead of liberating, and there’s absolutely no way for you to escape the impending doom.

Someone’s directed the live band to start playing again, and the room fills with music to combat the earth-shattering silence. But you know everyone’s eyes are still on the spectacle that’s taking place on stage. Everyone’s looking at you. And it’s like all your insecurities from the past month had come back in full force. Except so much worse, because now everyone thinks you’re a slut.

To your horror, Wanda goes to speak into the mic again. But Ari quickly snatches it out of her hands, throwing it aside and shooting her a glare, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

“Okay, Wanda, you’ve made your point,” Sharon interjects gently. “I don’t know why you’d spread all these lies about your own best friend who’s been nothing but good to you, but it’s done now. Let’s just go.” Again, she reaches for Wanda’s hand, only for the latter to shoot her a sneer.

“Stop acting so holier-than-thou, Sharon. You’re not worth shit anymore, not since you got dumped,” Wanda laughs, suddenly aware of who exactly is on stage with her. She glances from you to Ari to Sharon, a look of evil glee spreading across her drunken features. “Why don’t you ask Ari again why he dumped you? Or better yet, why don’t you ask your new best friend Y/N?”

The band’s now playing an upbeat song, the lead singer urging everyone to get up on the dance floor in a bid to distract them. A few people do, but most stay planted in their seats, their focus still on the stage. Not that any of that even matters, not when Wanda’s words hit you like a ton of bricks. Out of your peripheral, you sense Sharon inhale sharply from next to you, and a deep feeling of dread starts spreading across your chest.

“Curtis, get the fuck up here and deal with her,” Ari seethes through gritted teeth. Curtis rolls his eyes, slowly making his way up to the stage like a panther going on a leisurely stroll.

“She sleeps with everyone’s boyfriend!” Wanda explodes, pointing another accusatory finger at you. “She doesn’t care about ruining relationships, all Y/N cares about is herself, Sharon! That’s why she’s been sleeping with Ari for months behind your back! And I kept her secret because I was being a good friend to her! Little did I know she fucked my boyfriend too!”

“That’s it, you’re fucking done,” Ari yanks Wanda off the stage, roughly pushing her down the steps all while keeping an iron grip on her forearm.

Thankfully, and yet a little too late, a stage hand drops the curtains. Dramatically, they fall down, shielding you from the stare and gossip of the audience. But you don’t feel any better. No, all you feel is pure, frozen shock. And the chaotic pantomime continues, even with the stage curtains now drawn.

“She’s been fucking Ari this whole time! She even fucked him out in the open at that frat party. In front of everyone, because that’s the type of slut she is!” Wanda cries out, stumbling over her words that act like bullets directed straight for Sharon. And, of course, you. “And she fucked Curtis too that night! Like the biggest fucking whore in the whole world! It’s true ‘cause he just told me! And God knows what she did with Steve, she probably let him smash too! As if slutting around on one campus wasn’t enough, she had to target a guy from a different college, and–”

She’s cut off by Ari plastering his huge hand over her mouth, all while she struggles and fights against him. He continues dragging her down the steps before throwing her into Curtis’ arms. Immediately, Wanda pacifies, grabbing on to Curtis for dear life while the buzzcut-haired man holds her gingerly.

“Get her out of here. I don’t care where the fuck you take her, I just want her gone.” Ari orders, narrowing his eyes when Curtis opens his mouth, “Don’t fucking argue with me, Everett. Go.”

Curtis rolls his eyes again, cautiously taking hold of Wanda who shuts up momentarily when she notices who’s holding her. She looks up at him with shining drunken eyes. “Curtis! You came back for me! Oh, I forgive you for fucking Y/N! I know she’s a huge slut and she probably seduced you! It wasn’t your fault at all, baby, I know that! Please let me be your girlfriend again, Curtis, please, I’ll do anything–”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Curtis grunts as he drags Wanda towards the exit. Thankfully, she’s docile enough in his arms, and easily goes with him.

Leaving carnage in her wake.

They all think I’m a slut, you think it again, still frozen in place. And I am! I am, I am, I am! I’m a backstabbing slut and this is what I deserve. Total public humiliation.

You pull yourself out of whatever catatonic state your body wants to shut you down into. The stage curtains are drawn and you’re protected from all the stares of the guests, and yet you feel like you can still hear the buzz of their whispers. The gossip formulating, your name on the tips of all their tongues. Spoken with disdain and disgust. Oh, you want nothing more than to just shut down and disappear. But you can’t. You can’t shut down yet, not yet. Instead, you force yourself to face Sharon head on, and come clean about what you should’ve come clean about ages ago.

“Sharon, please, just let me expl–”

“It’s not true, is it?” Sharon says slowly. Her cheeks look red, her eyes stricken, as if Wanda’s drunken bombshell has reached out and slapped her across the face. Her mouth downturned as if she’s about to cry, and yet she’s using every fibre of her being to hold herself together.

Ari chooses that moment to come up next to you, instinctively putting his hand on your shoulder. And Sharon looks from him to you back to him again. And then her face falls, and it’s like it’s all happening in slow motion and you’ve got a front row seat to someone’s heart being broken in real-time. Her face crumples as realisation dawns on her, and a whimpering sound leaves her mouth.

“It is true…” She breathes.

“I am so, so sorry,” You begin, not even knowing how to start. You feel numb and disorientated, like Wanda’s screaming expose has hit you like a freight train you may never recover from. And yet you know not to be selfish enough to make it all about you in this moment, not when Sharon looks so betrayed right in front of you. And yet a tear rolls down your cheek as you look at her, “Sharon, please understand how sorry I am. I know I should’ve told you before, there’s literally no excuse–”

“You’re right, there isn’t.” She cuts you off coldly, but the iciness doesn’t reach her eyes which shine with a mix of tears and betrayal. “How could you? You were supposed to be my friend. Th-This whole time I thought you were my friend…”

“Hey, leave her alone,” Ari interjects, positioning himself in front of you protectively. “If you want to be angry at someone, be angry at me. She’s already been through enough tonight.”

“DON’T YOU DARE DEFEND HER, YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT!” Sharon bursts out in a blaze of fury, “For once in your life, show me a little bit of respect and don’t fucking defend the girl you cheated on me with right to my face! I was your girlfriend once upon a time, Ari. And you act like it meant nothing.”

Her voice breaks at the end, and she fiercely wipes away her tears. It smears up her makeup too, but she looks like she’s past the point of caring.

“All I’m saying is to leave Y/N out of this, Sharon. Whatever happened between me and her wasn’t her fault at all. You and I can discuss this privately.” Ari says, his tone hard and serious. He’s standing tall, as if being exposed for your joint betrayal has him completely unfazed. You, on the other hand, feel like you’re about two feet tall.

Sharon looks at Ari incredulously, before her eyes shift back to you as if she can’t help it. “I trusted you, Y/N.” She says brokenly, “I..I liked you. I liked you so much. You have no idea how much I…” Her voice trails off for a second before it hardens: “…and this whole time you were going behind my back.”

You swallow harshly, “I’m so sorry. Please, I know what I’ve done is unforgivable. But just believe me when I tell you that I’m so, so genuinely sorry. Wh-When me and Ari started… I didn’t even know you back then and I know that doesn’t excuse it–”

“IT DOESN’T EXCUSE IT!” Sharon screams, and beyond her shoulder you can see a few people peeping through the curtains as if to continue watching the show. “It doesn’t excuse it at all, Y/N! You had so many chances where you could’ve come clean to me, but you chose to lie to my fucking face.” She laughs bitterly, as if she can’t believe all this is actually happening. “Oh God, how stupid could I have been? All those times when I was crying to you about my breakup, or when I was trying to help you get through your boy troubles… All that time you were sleeping with Ari and I never suspected a damn thing?! Oh, you must’ve been laughing your ass off behind my back!”

You scramble to explain yourself, you want to say more, but it’s like your throat’s closing up now. Like you’re experiencing some type of allergic reaction. Your skin feels like it’s crawling, like your self-disgust has just boiled over the edge and you’re covered in the shame and guilt that’s been festering inside you. Except it’s now also mixed with the sheer humiliation from everything you’ve just experienced. What could you possibly say to explain yourself? She was right. She was one thousand percent right.

They were all right about you, the voice in your head cackles. Steve and Wanda and probably everyone else who’s thinking it right now. You’re a slut.

“Leave her the fuck alone, Sharon.” Ari threatens lowly, dropping his hand from your shoulder and taking a menacing step towards the blonde. “I mean it. Not another word.”

Sharon tilts her head, and you find her looking at you. Really looking at you. As if she’s searching the plains of your face to detect the level of your honesty. And you want to look away, want to look down because of how humiliated you are. But you look back at her meekly, feeling like a fucking backstabbing rat. Oh God, why had you not just come clean to her weeks ago when the two of you had first started becoming friends? Were you truly that spineless? Were you really that much of a coward?

“Get out.” Sharon says coldly, the hurt on her face now replaced with an impenetrable mask of stone-cold indifference. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want to look at you. I thought we were friends but it’s like I don’t even know you. And I never knew you. So just get out of here. GET OUT!”

Her venomous words make you jump. Your lower lip quivers, and you feel like the dirt at the bottom of everyone’s shoe. Ari turns around, tries to grab your hand but you back away quickly. Your heel catches on something and you stumble. Regaining your balance, you see Ari coming towards you, and Sharon staring you down from behind him. The pity and concern in his eyes, the pure betrayal in hers. Oh, you don’t want any of it! You just wish you’d disappear!

You take off into a run, your heels clacking on the wooden floor noisily but you don’t care. You do exactly what Sharon’s told you to do – you run. Gathering up your dress so it doesn’t get caught in your shoes. Oh, and who cares if it did? Who cares at all? Certainly not you.

You run out into the full banquet hall, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze. Trying to block out what they’re whispering. You know they’re talking about you; you know they’re looking at you as if you’re the biggest backstabbing whore in the whole world. Which you are. Oh, how spectacularly everything had fallen apart!

Somewhere behind you, you can hear Ari calling out your name. But you don’t stop, don’t look back. Not this time. You weave through the crowd, your tears blurring your vision but you don’t dare stop. Out into the hotel lobby, down the marble steps adorned in grand red carpeting with gold tassels. Feeling like a warped Cinderella who wasn’t the helpless princess after all, but instead the backstabbing villain. Out the front entrance, and the doorman stares at you but you don’t care, and the outside cold hits you like a ton of bricks.

As if on cue, the wind roars loudly, slapping you in the face with all its might and fury. And you remember earlier tonight, when you’d wondered whether the winds had been trying to warn you about something. Oh, your intuition had been right! Why hadn’t you just stayed at home?! Now, the wind swirls around you threateningly, and you just stand there in the bitter cold, as if daring it to attack you. All around you, the grass rustles, the trees cower, the very ground seems to shake as gust after gust hits at you, and your hair comes loose, and you’re about to start crying in earnest, and–

“Y/N, wait! Stop!” Ari grabs your hand, his familiar warmth shooting through your entire body. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you fiercely. Your burst into ferocious tears that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in. Loud, wracking sobs muffled by his strong chest as he holds you close. “I’m so sorry that happened, baby. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I did!” You cry, another gust of wind hitting you like a wake-up call, and you push off of him with tears streaming down your face. “I did deserve it, Ari! I deserved all of it!”

There’s an invisible whirlpool around the two of you. Maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, but it’s like a swirling of energy, entrapping the two of you together on this stormy night. The wind howls around you both, ringing in your ears as if to warn you again, telling you this is all wrong, wrong, wrong!

And Ari looks at you like his whole heart’s in his eyes, and they glisten with emotion that you’ve never seen in him before. And he holds you close, and cups your face. He wipes your tears as if to soothe you, but how could you soothe someone who was so beyond repair that perhaps repair wasn’t even an option anymore? How!?

“Let me take you home,” he whispers, “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. Please, let’s just go. And I swear I’ll deal with everything; I’ll deal with all of them. I’ll make them pay for hurting you. Just please, stop crying and come with me.”

“No!” You snatch your hand out of his and step back, shaking your head fiercely. “Don’t you get it, Ari? We’re not right together and we never will be!”

“That’s not true–”

“Yes, it is!” You sob freely, “How many people do we have to hurt for it to sink in that we just don’t work?” Ferociously, you wipe at your tears, not that it matters when new one’s flow down your cheeks freely, “All we ever do is fight, Ari! We just run around in circles and fight and hurt each other and hurt everyone around us! And now I know it’s ‘cause we just don’t work, and we never will!”

“No.” Ari says firmly, “I’m the one who hurt people, okay? Not us. Just me. And you got caught in the crossfire and I’m fucking sorry.”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters, Ari. They all think I’m a slut and they’re all right! And I’ll never live this down and I don’t deserve to live it down! So just leave me alone, okay? JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“NO!” Ari roars, louder than the wind itself, and louder than you too. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you alone! I told you that I care about you, and I’m never gonna leave you alone. So just… just come on. Let me take you home, baby. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The blustering winds form an impenetrable current around the two of you, whistling and swirling with rogue leaves like a tornado that you seem to be trapped in with him. And in an ironic way, it perfectly encapsulates your relationship with him: a whirlwind. A tornado. A constant uphill battle filled with fights and arguments, always one step forward and then two steps back. Maybe it was time to just give up, to come to terms with how it just didn’t work between you and him.

You sniffle weakly, “Nothing can make this better. Whatever there was between us, it was never going to work. Not when it started out as a lie.”

Tenderly, yet charged with an electric emotion you can’t quite pinpoint, he cups your face again. Your freezing wet cheeks welcome the warmth they bring, despite everything.

“I’ll make it better,” Ari repeats, softer this time. He presses his forehead against yours. “You mean more to me than Sharon or anyone else ever did. And I know our relationship started out wrong because I lied to you. Constantly. I know that. But I promise you I’ll make it all better and you’ll never hurt again how you’re hurting now.”

You feel like you’re at a crossroads. You’ve gone through more emotional turmoil in these past few weeks than you have in any other point of your life. And each time, you’ve fallen back into Ari’s arms in a heap of tears. So, what about this time? Would you do the same thing again? Another circle? Another fight? Another heartbreak?

“I’m in love with you.” Ari breathes. And in that moment, even the winds stand still. And his eyes look like twin oceans with stars scattered inside them. And those stars in his eyes, those stars get bigger and bigger till they’re all you can see. And you can’t hear anything anymore, except for his breathing and yours. And you can feel only one thing, and that’s his hands cupping your cheeks as he gazes at you with a look of desperation mixed with something else. Something passionate. And honest. “I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve never been in love before but I’m pretty positive that I love you, and I promise I’ll protect you from ever being hurt again.”

In the distance, beyond his shoulder, a branch from a tree falls to the ground. As if unable to stand the wrath of the wind on this night. It crashes down, all the way down till it’s no longer a part of what it had once always known. You focus on it for a split second, before some kind of magnetic pull makes you look back to Ari.

“Why does it always take some sort of traumatic event for you to say these things?” You whisper, letting his words bounce off you. Not letting them permeate into your heart and set camp, not allowing them to let you hope. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted to hear from him!?

“I’ve felt this way for a while,” he says earnestly, “I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. But I told you, I’m ready now. For everything. I love you, and I want everyone to know it.” He draws you closer, cradling your face in his warm hands. How are they so warm on such a cold night? How was he so warm when you felt so cold, cold, cold?! So freezing cold from the inside out?

I love you. I’m in love with you. I promise I’ll protect you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Oh, his words were finding their way into your heart! You take a timid step closer, allow yourself to look into his eyes. Everything was crashing and burning around you. Your life was ruined, and so was your reputation. Everyone thought you were a slut and you had no friends left at all. But Ari was here. Solid. Real. Right in front of you. Saying all the right things on a night that had gone so horrifically wrong. Should you allow yourself this? Did you deserve it? Did he?

His lips have barely brushed against yours when you hear a loud shatter right next to you.

“You told me you weren’t going to be with him tonight.”

Steve. Standing less than a foot away from you. A glass bottle lying broken by his feet, the smell of vodka strongly emanating from him. His hair falls over his forehead, swaying gently in the roaring wind. His eyes black, blown out, barely there. Hooded, like he’s sad. Betrayed. Oh, how did he even get here!?

Your jaw drops open, “Steve, I–”

“How fucking dare you show your face in front of her after everything you put her through?” Ari growls, pushing you behind him before squaring up to Steve. “Get the fuck out of here, Rogers. Before I break your neck.”

You swallow harshly, “Ari, don’t…”

Steve sidesteps Ari, and those sad eyes look straight at you. Penetrating down straight to your soul.

“You kissed me earlier tonight, but now you’re choosing him.”

He says it matter-of-factly, his words slurring slightly but still clear as day. You feel a pang in your heart. From your peripheral, you see Ari bristle at Steve’s words, clearly taken aback by what he’s just revealed.

You open your mouth, but it feels all dried up. Like you’re back in the middle of the stage with an audience of people watching you get exposed for your betrayal.

“You don’t have to answer him.” Ari says to you, quickly recovering and grabbing your hand protectively before turning back to sneer at Steve. “Get the hell out of here. Tonight isn’t the night for your bullshit.”

“He’ll only hurt you,” Steve says, ignoring Ari and looking directly at you. “I told you; all Ari ever does is hurt people.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Steve, or else I’ll–”

“Or else you’ll what, Ari? I don’t give a fuck what you do.” Steve finally looks at the brunet, squaring up to him till they’re both face to face. Each as big as the other, each as menacing as the other. But that’s where the similarities end. Ari looks wary, on edge. And Steve? Steve looks like he has nothing left to lose.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you’ve been dodging me all these weeks?” Ari barks out a laugh, but it sounds hollow, almost forced. And his eyes keep darting between Steve and back to you. “I’m telling you for the last time, Rogers. Walk away so she doesn’t have to see me kill you.”

“Stop acting like some kind of fucking hero, Ari. You of all people should know that’s not what you are.” Steve fires back, “You’ll hurt her, just like you hurt–”

“My car’s parked around the corner. You know what it looks like. Go, I don’t want you to see this.” Ari says to you, his hand dropping yours as he keeps his eyes on the blonde in front of him. You watch as his fists clench by his sides.

There’s a pause before Steve laughs. And just like Ari’s from earlier, Steve’s laugh sounds hollow too. Like neither of them are enjoying this confrontation. And neither are you, and yet your feet remain planted to the ground. The winds are still howling around you, encasing the three of you in a whirlpool. And within it, you sense the strongest feeling of foreboding you’ve felt yet.

“You still haven’t told her, have you?” Steve accuses.

A dark, anxious feeling pools inside your chest, twisting your veins, reaching straight for your heart. More secrets? “Tell me what, Ari?”

“Go to my car, I’m serious.”

“I heard your little speech from just now. I heard all your promises. How you’ll never hurt her again,” Steve shoves Ari. And it’s a drunken shove, but a hard one. “How you’ll protect her,” another shove, “How you’re in love with her.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve. You have no idea what you’re–”

“Tell me, is that what you told my sister too?”

Everything stops. Even the wind, with how fierce and mighty it had been all night, comes to a screeching halt. It’s like the grass stops rustling, the trees stop swaying. You think your heart has stopped too. Steve’s sister? Kira? Ari knew her? The dark, anxious feeling doubles up, multiplies in a millisecond. You feel like your insides have turned to tar, and your blood freezes in the worst way possible.

“Wh-What’s he talking about, Ari?” Your question comes out soft, timid. As if you’re afraid of the answer.

Ari’s head whips around, and his cheeks are flushed. His jaw tensed, his eyes wild. Quickly, he shakes his head, “He doesn’t know what he’s saying, okay? Clearly, he’s drunk, and high off of something, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying–”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID KIRA EVER DO TO YOU, ARI?!” Steve erupts, making you jump. Ari flinches too, but Steve closes in on him, his dark eyes blazing. “What did she ever do to you? Except trust you?” He laughs bitterly, “Maybe that was her mistake. Trusting someone like you.” And then he looks straight at you, “Don’t make the same mistake, Y/N. He’ll run you out of this place just like he did my sister.”

Your lower lip quivers, “What do you mean?”

Ari grabs your hand and pulls you back, “Let’s just go. He doesn’t know what he means. He has no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”

Like it’s a hot poker, you pull your hand out of his grip, staring up at him incredulously.

“I have no fucking clue, huh? As if I haven’t been in the same house as her, watching her lock herself up in her room and cry for the past fucking year!” Steve says, and this time he squares up to Ari again, grabbing the brunet’s collar to make him look at him. “As if I haven’t watched her become a fucking shell of her former self, as if I haven’t watched her lose her smile, lose her personality, lose her fucking will to interact with anyone. All because of you!”

Now it’s Ari’s turn to shove Steve, and he does it with full force. Steve stumbles backwards, and Ari looks at him in fury. And yet he doesn’t say anything, nothing at all. And the sticky black tar coats your heart and starts seeping into your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. Making it hard for you to make sense of what’s going on. Oh god, what exactly was Steve saying?! And why wasn’t Ari denying anything?!

“You can’t even deny it anymore, can you?” Steve spits out, “And now you’re out here actin’ like a fuckin’ superhero, promising Y/N the entire world. Well, why don’t you answer my question, Levinson? Is that what you promised Kira too? Is that what you fucking promised her before you spread those pictures of her to every fucking person you know?”

That’s when you feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. You feel faint, dizzy. Like you’re no longer real. Ari turns to look at you, and you can’t even begin to decipher his expression but it’s like you no longer want to look at him. Pictures? Like nudes? Ari? Spreading private pictures of Kira around campus??? You shake your head, willing him to say something, to deny it all vehemently.

“She’s my sister,” Steve’s voice breaks, an outpouring of emotion that you’ve never ever seen from him. His face red, his fists clenched but not in anger, more so in desperate sadness. “She’s my sister and you were my friend and you fucking broke her, Ari. She couldn’t handle it, everyone talking about her, laughing at her. You ran her out of school, and you broke her. And now you’re gonna do the same thing to Y/N too.”

Ari swallows, looking stricken how you’ve never seen him look before. He sucks in his breath, and when he speaks, it sounds like it’s a stranger talking: “Don’t even act like you have Y/N’s best interests at heart, after what you did to her. And you have no idea what you’re sayi–”

“This is who he is!” Steve erupts again, this time looking straight at you, “My sister was so fucking trusting, she did whatever he asked her to. She sent him pictures that were supposed to be private, all ‘cause he told her to. She never should’ve trusted an asshole like him but she did, she trusted him with everything she had, and now look at her.” He shakes his head, his entire body shaking from either anger or grief or both. “And Kira, she was so broken over it, she told me never to mention it again to anyone, she made me promise not to. But you need to know who he really is. He’s a fucking asshole who’ll hurt anyone! He hurt Kira, he hurt Sharon, and he’ll hurt you too.”

“Let’s go,” Ari says to you, gathering himself and grabbing your hand, “Let’s just go and I’ll explain everything.”

For the second time, you snatch your hand away from his and shake your head, your mind racing and you think you’re going to be sick. Oh God, how many more times would Ari lie to you? “Don’t touch me.”

“Baby, I said I’d explain–”

“You knew Steve’s sister this whole time?”

“Yes, but–”

“Wh-Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you mention it even once?” Your voice sounds high, like you’re about to start crying from shock. And betrayal. You suck in your breath. He’d been hiding this from you, so what else was he hiding?

He tries to grab your hand again, but you take a step back in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare touch me. Y-You’re a liar! You lied again. You told me you wouldn’t lie to me but you lied again!” Oh, you feel like you don’t even know him anymore! Did you ever truly know him to begin with? You think back to Kira, so anxious that she couldn’t even look you in the eye. Had Ari really hurt her so badly? Spread around nude pictures of her and ruined her life and then continued on with his own as if none of it had even happened? “H-How could you do that to her? How could you–”

Ari opens his mouth to speak, but that’s when Steve tackles him. You scream, caught off-guard as the two behemoths fall to the ground. The wind resumes its wicked gusts, and this time it’s like it’s taunting you. Taunting you for forcing yourself time and time again to live in this fairytale utopia where Ari and you could ever possibly work. Each slap of cold air on your face reminding you that nothing, nothing in the whole world, could ever make the two of you work.

And maybe it was written in the stars, maybe this fight was bound to happen between the two of them. And yet you can’t make sense of it, watching with stricken horror as Steve grabs Ari’s collar again.

“You sick, twisted bastard! Fuck you for ruining my sister!” Steve punches him, but Ari quickly dodges it. And Steve’s movements are slower, sluggish. You feel sick thinking of how much he’s had to drink tonight. He was already drunk hours ago when he’d showed up at your dorm room, but now? Now he looks doubly wasted, teetering on the verge of no return and completely past the point of even caring about it.

Steve’s fuelled by alcohol and a tragic rage. No, rage was the wrong word, because the anger he was exhibiting now was nothing like when he’d punched the wall or when he’d lost his cool at basketball practice. Now, it felt different. Like he was charged by his own sadness, and an underlying sense of resignation. Like a part of him didn’t care what would happen to him by the end of tonight. Like he was getting all his punches in before he… before he…

“Stop!” You finally find your voice and yell out, but it doesn’t carry, your words getting lost in the wind. Ari shoves Steve off of him, dragging both of them to their feet. Steve throws another punch, and Ari dodges it just in time so instead of his fist connecting with his jaw, it slams painfully against his shoulder. But Ari doesn’t flinch.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!” Ari snarls, drawing his fist back to punch back. That’s when you throw all caution to the wind and run forward, coming between them.

“Don’t, Ari! He’s drunk, and he took all this medication, and…” your voice trails off, but the worry is evident in your tone as the realisation hits you. His medication for his mood swings. How much of it had he taken? Ari pauses, still glaring daggers at Steve, who looks back at him just as venomously.

“HIT ME, LEVINSON! DO IT, JUST HIT ME!” Steve shouts, louder than the wind itself. “It’s not like I’ve got shit to lose, so go right ahead! I’ve said what I had to say and now I’m fucking done.” His face twists, veins popping in his forehead, his blonde locks brushing over his wild eyes as they rest on you. His gaze softens somewhat, like a drunken, tragic hero. “I’m done, Y/N. It’s okay, I’m done. And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for scaring you. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Why was he talking like that? You have no time to contemplate his words, however. Because Ari steps forward in front of you, his fist clenched to his side. And you’ve never seen him look this angry, and once more he draws his fist back, and you try to find your voice to stop him but nothing comes out. And the wind hits its crescendo, and there’s a clap of thunder serving as an exclamation point to this disastrous evening. Your entire body jerks, as if expecting something terrible to happen, and you close your eyes and you brace yourself…

A loud thud. You open your eyes, a scream getting caught in your throat when you see Steve on the ground. Motionless.

“Ari, what did you do!?” You cry.

Ari turns to you, breathing hard and yet he’s got a confused look on his face. His fist is still clenched but he shakes his head in shock.

“Nothing. I swear I didn’t do anything, he just… He just collapsed.”

You run over, crouch down next to Steve, trying to survey any damage. Sure enough, his face looks pristine, apart from a bluish-purple hue to his pale skin that you hadn’t noticed before. No signs of having been punched, however. But it’s his eyes that catch your attention, stricken and looking straight up. Almost like he’s unresponsive, when just a second ago he’d been on his feet and just fine.

“Oh god, oh my god. Steve!?” Your voice goes high with panic. With trembling hands, and quick, flurrying movements, you shake his shoulders. But all that does is make his head loll back, and he’s still staring up at the sky with a glassy look on his face, not reacting to you at all. Almost like he’s on another planet. Trying to keep your panic at bay, you quickly try and feel for his pulse, and that’s when you really start to lose it.

“Oh my god, Ari, he-he doesn’t have a pulse! I can’t find his pulse, I c-can’t– ARI, DO SOMETHING!”

Ari, who up until this moment seemed to be frozen in shock, staring at his still clenched fist as he stood over the two of you, seems to finally snap out of it. He springs into action, pushing you aside and crouching down next to the blond. He grabs his wrist while you look on, horrified beyond belief over what exactly was happening in front of your eyes.

He knew that mixing alcohol with his medication was dangerous, you think to yourself, another bout of sick realisation dawning on you. He’s pre-med, he’s studying to be a doctor. Of course, he knew! Had he… had he meant to do this? Oh God…

“He’s got a pulse,” Ari mutters, “He’s got one but it’s weak.”

Tears gather in your eyes as your head starts to spin, “H-He was on this medication, he told me earlier F-For his mood swings or something. And he was drinking too, and he probably took his pills and he drank and, oh God, I should’ve done something! I didn’t think it was that bad, I didn’t–”

“We need to call 911.” Ari says firmly, and you’re relieved that at least one of you is keeping their wits about them. You don’t know whether Ari’s just good under pressure or whether he’s in genuine shock too, judging by the frozen look on his face. Nevertheless, you watch him as he stands up, getting his phone out of his pocket and dialling the number.

And, almost like in cruel irony, the howling winds that had been swirling around you have now gone silent. Deathly silent. It’s like the three of you are in a vacuum, and yet you can barely even hear Ari talking on the phone. All you can hear is your fucking heart in your chest, and the racing of your own thoughts: this is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault…

“Come on, Steve!” You urge, grabbing his hand and almost recoiling because of how limp and cold it feels. He’d been so warm when you’d kissed him hours earlier, so warm and soft. And it seems like lightyears ago, that kiss followed by the breathless silence. How you’d noted how he looked like he was one sip away from disaster. Oh, why hadn’t you done more? You could have sobered him up, but you’d been so wrapped up in your own problems. And now?

“P-Please, don’t do this. Just wake up. Or say something, just please!” And you don’t know why you’re having such a reaction – wasn’t it you who’d told Steve hours ago how you and him barely even knew each other? How there was nothing between the two of you? How he’d ruined all of that? Then why, why, why was your heart burning up right now? Like a ball of fire deep in your chest, waiting to explode. You tap his cheek desperately, noting the blueish tone of his lips, wondering why you hadn’t noticed that earlier. Beating yourself up over it.

“They’re coming,” you hear Ari say behind you, “An ambulance is on its way. It’s gonna be okay.”

But you don’t even hear him, too busy thinking back to when Steve had been in your dorm room earlier tonight. The sad look in his eyes as he’d turned to leave after your kiss. You can feel your tears soaking up your freezing cold cheeks now as you squeeze his hand.

“I forgive you, okay? I forgive you! Just wake up, please! Steve, just wake up! Didn’t you hear me? I forgive you!”

Your tears blur your vision, and his face becomes a pale blur. Fiercely, you wipe your eyes with your one free hand. And vaguely, you can feel Ari’s hand on your shoulder. And his is so warm. And Steve’s is so cold. Hot and cold. Cold and hot. You don’t even notice when you feel your own hand being squeezing lightly.

“That’s good,” Steve says faintly, his lips barely moving. You gasp and move closer, hoping you haven’t imagined it. His eyes flutter gently, like he doesn’t want to keep them open anymore. But his face looks relaxed, so relaxed that it’s scary, and it feels like you’re looking at a ghost. Those blue lips part once more. “Don’t worry about me. I’m comfortably numb, remember? I think I finally made it last…”

“No, no, no, no…” you scramble, watching as his eyes slip shut. You squeeze his hand again, shake at his shoulders, tap his cheek. Oh no, no, no, no. And all around you, the trees start swaying once more. The great gusts of wind continue, almost like they never even stopped, and another branch falls to the ground. The grass rustles beneath where Steve lies, and the moonlight shines on his face, making his pallor look a deathly kind of beautiful. Like an angel.

And it reminds you of the first night you’d met him. The night you’d dreamed of him. He’d looked like an angel in your dreams too.

The wind whistles with great might, and it sounds like a cackle. As if it’s mocking you. And Steve is still, and Ari’s still holding firmly on to you, and you can barely hear the blare of the siren as the ambulance slowly approaches.

A/N: .....did Steve just.... OH MY GODDD. Well, if you made it this far then congratulations!!! I really hope y'all liked it. I'm so scared it didn't live up to expectations. I KNOW there was no smut but you guys I tried my best to see where I could fit it in... I just couldn't justify putting it in anywhere in the story and it actually making sense, pls understand! UGHHH I'm just so insecure about this chapter, but if you liked it PLESE PLEASE let me know what you think! Any thoughts, comments, feedback would genuinely be appreciated SO much like SO SO much omfg. Like any favourite parts etc? I really wanted to focus on romantic scenes between reader and the two guys and i hope i showed that! BUT YEAH PLS LMK WHAT YOU THINK ILY ILY.

Okay and as usual, here are some questions!! (y'all don't have to answer them, but just in case anyone does!!!)

Which romantic scene did you prefer? Steve coming up reader's window or Ari taking reader on a picnic? OR NEITHER???

What are your thoughts on Carla Wanda after this chapter??? LMFAOO.

Why was Sharon more upset with reader than with Ari? Hmm.....

Did Ari really spread Kira's nudes around :( ?? Or do you think there's more to the story?

TEAM ARI OR TEAM STEVE? ( if he's okay that is damn )

AND THAT'S IT! Hope y'all enjoyed it! I'm gonna stop yapping now bahahaha byeee ily ily ily

[shouyuus]

Pitfighter!vi who makes you keep eye contact with her and say her name while she fucks you because she wants you to know that it’s HER who’s making you feel that good 🙏 (request ish but also responding to the vi thirsts thingy)

i... have such a thing for eye contact!vi u have no idea.

18+, mndi, smut, slight angst, and fluff at the end

"eyes on me, princess --" she says, twisting your jaw towards her as she fucks her fingers into you, her makeup in black streaks running down her cheeks, her skin peppered with cuts and bruises, fat and dark as summer plums.

you whine, blinking up at her, your lashes clumped with salt as she fucks you through the nth orgasm that night, and you know that it's one of the bad nights, one of those nights where she comes home angry off a loss and already drunk. you bite your lips, her name trembling on the tip of your tongue even as she forces your mouth open to bury her own groans in the depth of your throat.

"moan for me --" she says, her voice a honey-bee's rasp against your lips, thick and syrup-sweet, but just as suffocating, the way it slicks across your tongue, "say my name --" she breathes.

you hiss, eyes squeezing shut as her dull nails scrape along your inner walls, making your legs kick out, your belly roiling within you at the relentless pressure.

"vi --" you force out, the breath punching from you as she angles her fingers up into that one gummy spot inside you that has you keening.

"i said look --" she clasps her whole hand around your jaw, squeezing so tight your mouth falls open, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth, "at --" she thrusts three fingers into you, "me."

you force your eyes open to meet her gaze -- and it's well-dark depths. you make a noise somewhere between a sob and a whimper, feeling her fingers digging into the soft plush of your cheeks as she gives you face a tiny little shake.

"vi, please --" and you don't even know what you're begging for anymore. mercy, perhaps, or just some kind of absolution. she stares at you, her gaze flickering from one eye to the other, as if searching for the answer there to a question she's never had courage enough to ask out loud.

finally, she lets you go, and your head thumps back against the pillows, though your hand reaches out to clasp around her wrists as she holds you by the hips and fucks you into the mattress, groaning when she feels you clamp down around her.

she laces her fingers with yours, this one single tenement of softness, as she groans, feeling you come apart around her.

she doesn't say much as she pulls out of you, staring at the shiny slick that coats her skin, brings it to her lips for a taste before shooting you a sharp, crescent-moon grin.

"violet..."

and she stills at the sound of your voice wrapped around the full weight of her name -- like a wish, or a promise. she sighs, leaning down to drop a kiss to your shoulder. you sit up, your fingers still linked through hers.

"it was a bad night," she'd say, looking anywhere but at you, pulling away to run her hands under the murky water from her tiny sink. you watch her from the bed, the mattress nothing more than a few stacks of cushions shoved together, empty bottles littering the floor.

"yeah?" you ask, shifting back a few inches as she settles on the edge of the bed, her head hung low. you reach forward, waiting for her to pull away. but when she doesn't, you curl yourself around the bend of her back and press your cheek to her shoulder, careless of the inky black paint that transfers from her skin to yours.

she lets you hold her for a few, long, solid minutes. they slick by like river water, made thick with silt or shimmer. you trace your fingers along the dark, smudged-out shapes of her tattoos -- and you think to yourself that she's beautiful -- even like this, broken and bruised and so, so angry.

"look at me," you whisper, turning her head with a finger, and she gives a the tiniest bit of resistance before letting you coax her face towards yours, her eyes bright in the slantwise light.

the moon slits a scimitar sliver through the sky, and down here, even the stars take on a sickly purple glow. but, as vi looks you over, allows herself the pleasure of admiring your face, she thinks that you somehow have the gall to be beautiful, even now.

she doesn't stop to think that you might be thinking the same of her.

you are.

"have you got a fight tomorrow?" you ask, reaching out to trace a thumb across the smudged paint on her cheeks. your finger comes away dark, but the tattoo beneath her eye's just a bit more visible now. she shakes her head.

"no. medic said i've gotta take a few days off."

she scoffs, her gaze cutting away.

"good," you say, "a break is good."

"i don't need a break," she gruffs, and you laugh.

"i know. but... that means you can sleep in tomorrow."

she quirks an eyebrow, "i can sleep in any day i want. the fights don't start till --"

"i know, vi -- i'm just saying," you say, imploring as a grin twitches over her lips, "we can... do something together, if you'd like."

vi blinks, "we?"

you purse your lips, looking down at where your fingers are inches from hers.

"unless --"

"yeah. no -- i mean -- it's fine. we -- we can."

and for a second, she sounds so nervous, so uncertain, that you almost laugh. because since when has vi been this bashful in your presence? but when you look up again, it's to catch her watching you with a strange, halfway light in her eyes. and you're not sure if it's the moon or the stars, or simply the cheap alcohol eating through both your veins, but you fancy that it looks just a little bit like affection, stained at the edges with tenderness.

it spreads warmth through your limbs, and tingles at your nose and your fingertips.

"okay then," you say, nodding, even as she pushes you back onto her makeshift mattress and slots her lips over yours once more.

the kiss is long, but soft. and when she pulls away, you're both just a bit breathless. though, not on the heavy, panting way you usually are off the deep, desperate kisses she gives you. no, this is something sweeter, something lighter. something that tastes very much like heartache at the back of your tongue.

"c'mere..." you say, tugging her into you even as the pair of your collapse onto her bed, her rucking the thin blanket haphazardly over the shape of your bodies, nothing more than a tangle of limbs, her cheek pillowed against your sternum, her lengthening hair tickling your chin.

you run a few fingers through the rough patches at the sides of her head.

"the dye's coming out."

vi grunts, her body heavy as she sinks into the heat of your embrace.

"whatever. let it grow."

you grin to yourself, thinking that you'd always loved the natural color of her hair -- bright as rubies in the hungering dark. but as you thread your fingers through them again and again, vi shifts against you, looping her arms around your middle to pull you into her.

she mumbles something into the skin of your chest that you don't quite catch.

"hm?" you ask, leaning down.

she sighs, her breath hot as it washes over your collarbones.

"you'll still be here in the morning, yeah?"

you pause, wondering for a second if it's a question or a plea.

you let out a tiny laugh.

"if you want me to be, then... yeah. i will."

vi only curls her fingers against your waist. she burrows her face more deeply into your chest, holding you close, and then closer.

"right," she says, shifting till the both of you are comfortable, "yeah," she adds after a few more seconds.

then, she lifts her head to look at you, her eyes catching yours in the dust-stricken moonlight -- and you can swear that she's smiling.

"good."

"goodnight, violet," you whisper, as her eyelids flutter shut, and she softens against you.

"night, princess. see you in the morning..." she says, her voice quiet and just a bit slurred.

"yeah. see you then."

[luveline]

jadey, could I request some hurt/comfort with hangman (or Steve or Eddie if you’d prefer) where he asks reader out and they’re like “are you sure this isn’t a joke? or a prank? or a bad decision you’ll regret tomorrow?”? and he’s really sweet and kind about it? cause ngl with how shitty my dating life’s been so far, any man that approaches me with romantic intent is gonna have to do so with the same gentleness and tact as someone who rescues and rehabilitates neglected dogs.

“Look out,” Liv says, nodding toward the front of the arcade and then quickly turning away, “Harrington’s back.”

Why she says it like a chore you’ve no idea. You hurry to clip your mirror compact closed and shove it under the desk into a bucket of Chinese finger traps and pencil toppers. You look ridiculous in your polo with your Palace nametag taking up a solid two inches of your chest, but Steve Harrington used to wear a little sailor’s uniform with tiny teeny shorts, so perhaps he doesn’t hold it against you. You really hope he doesn’t. 

Steve looks less smiley than usual —he isn’t surrounded by his usual troupe of friends, the younger kids Nancy Wheeler’s brother and the gaggle of dorks that keeps getting bigger. He pretends they piss him off, and sometimes they really do, but when Max needs to go stand outside for a minute he always goes with her, and when Dustin flinches at a seriously loud noise, he clasps the boy by the shoulder and tells him it’s alright. He clearly doesn’t mind that he’s inherited a brood of younger siblings.

But today he’s frowning, nearly, something steeled about him as he stops at the desk. You smile carefully and he smiles back, but it quickly fades as he opens his mouth, you assume to talk. For a second, nothing comes out. 

“Hi,” he says finally. 

“Hi, Steve.” 

“How are you?” 

“I’m good, yeah. Thank you.” You raise your eyebrows. “How are you?” 

“Nervous.” He scratches the back of his neck, peeking quickly down at his hand and then wiping it roughly into his thigh. “Shit. Listen, I think you’re so pretty, and I practised this part in my head but it’s not– I got another look at you as I was coming in and I forgot what I was gonna say.” 

You don’t mean to ask, but, “You think I’m pretty?” 

“It’s dire,” he says seriously, hair flopping into his eyes and half-heartedly batted away. “You’re beautiful.” 

He says it so simply, it doesn’t compute. 

“Oh. Well, thank you,” you say softly. 

“Shit.” Steve shoots a look at the door. You follow his gaze, wondering what the hell he’s looking at. Did he bring somebody with him? You’d thought he was alone, but maybe he’s not. 

“Steve, are you okay?” 

“That’s why. This is why I’m– I’m fucking up monumentally. I didn’t think I’d be nervous. Like, sure, I felt like I was gonna throw up all morning but I’m usually better at the asking part.” Steve straightens up. A light beige polo is neatly buttoned at his neck, and his hair looks nicer than usual, super shiny under the overhead. When he turns to you, the red light coming off of Dig-Dug paints him with a pink hue, emphasising the dash of blush filling the tops of his ears. “You wouldn’t want to hang out some time, would you? Or– shit. I don’t want to hang out. I do, but– Do you want to go on a date?” 

“With you?” 

He winces. “With me, yeah.” 

You’re quiet for so long it makes you both uncomfortable. Slowly, Steve’s face starts to lose the squirmy nervousness he’d brought in with him, and a familiar softness fills his eyes, his brows pinching at their starts, lips pursed. 

“You look upset,” he says. 

In the tens of times you’ve seen Steve Harrington come in here, and the fewer times he’s come up to the desk to talk, you can’t confess to thinking he’d ever ask you that. You’d imagined it once, how he’d lean against the display of teddy bears and smile at you just so, like you already knew what he wanted. 

“No,” you say, watching his expression for some sign that this is a trick. It doesn’t seem like it is. You can’t say you think he’d be that cruel, but you can’t not ask, either. “I’m wondering if this is a joke.” 

“A joke? No.” Steve frowns. “Did someone do that before?” 

“Just doesn’t make any sense.”

Steve is a nice guy. He’s asked you so many questions about yourself you can’t remember what he knows and what he doesn’t, but you aren’t eager to tell him why you think what you’re thinking now. 

You shy away from him, letting your eyes fall to the pencil erasers. 

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching across the desk without touching you, “hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not kidding around, I’ve wanted to ask you out for ages, but I– guess I thought this would go better if I waited. You don’t have to say yes.” 

“You really want to go on a date with me?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

“You swear?” 

“I swear. I mean, duh. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with you? I sort of wake up thinking about you.”

Your eyes fly to his face. “What?” 

“Not in like, a loser way. In a cool way.” 

You still don’t really believe Steve wants to take you on a date until he’s knocking on your door, 7PM sharp, handing you a bouquet of twelve red roses and a hopeful smile. “Told you,” he says, grinning as you step down onto the path with him, something you recognise as nervousness in his smile, but elation, too, “Jesus, I knew you’d look pretty, but this is just something else. Who wouldn’t want to take you out?” 

You hit him very gently with the flowers. “Stop.” 

He grins. “No. Don’t think I will, babe.” 

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!human!reader, from behind, rough sex, use of sex toys ( cockrings ), don’t ever wear or allow someone to wear a ring for longer than 30 minutes pls, noncon ( reader asks to stop, satan doesn’t ), all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹’𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ poll winner [ satan + cockrings ]

this had been a terrible idea.

but you’d only started to realize it now, when Satan wouldn’t slow down or ease up. it was the same, loud PLAP, PLAP, PLAP! over and over. heavy balls slapping against your swollen clit as he fucks you relentlessly.

“I— need—“ you were panting, trying to clench your fists, but the devil king had a tight grip on both of your elbows, keeping your arms jerked back towards him, using them like levers to wrench your body back into his rough thrusting of hips. “B—break!!”

a low growl vibrates from deep within his chest, the muscles in his arms tightening, veins bulging. he holds you in a vice as soon as you utter the word, as if solidifying the fact that he’s not going to let you go anywhere until he’s done. “Not so fast, hng, you’re the one that wanted me to wear this fucking thing in the first place, weren’t you?”

it was almost a taunt.

but it was the truth. you’d talked him into securing the tight, shiny gold ring around the thick base of his cock. watching in awe when he hissed through his teeth as the sensation of being forced to stay hard, even when he wanted so desperately to cum. the pressure of the ring, squeezing him, didn’t allow him to.

and this was your punishment for denying him.

“And now you’re bitching about it?”

your eyes cross as his pounding seems to find a new speed and velocity, and you choke out a pleading cry. “It’s b—been hours—! You can take it o—off!!”

Satan chuckles, and releases your arms. “Oh, no, I don’t think so.” he grunts, watching you collapse forward against the bed and slump into the mattress, but the second you reach your arms forward, as if to pull yourself out from under him, he presses all of his weight down on your back, his knees jabbing into the backs of yours, pinning you in place and keeping your trembling legs spread open so you have nowhere to go. you feel the solid ring like a hard bumper, hitting your cunt as he buries himself as deep as he could possibly go. “You see, I like this. Tenderizing your poor, little pussy. Making sure you walk funny after this. And now that I can do it for hours with this little toy of yours?” a raspy, breathy chuckle tickles the shell of your ear that you can hear even your own, loud cries that it’s too much, before he nips at your lobe roughly with his teeth. “I’m not done yet. Not even close,” he hisses the threat through grit teeth, his pace settling back into the usual quick-fire pounding that turns your mind to mush. his moans and growls that would usually lead to his climax hypnotizes you, and before long your whimpers of protest had melted back into moans for him to keep going. to fuck you stupid and break your fragile, human body with his cock. “That’s more like it,” he groans, grasping your hips to hold you down so he could plow, “I’m fucking you senseless, little girl. Gonna break ya, and it’s all your fault for showing me this handy, little toy.”