#his voice is unfortunately attractive
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calsvoid ¡ 3 months ago
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the way i perk up like a dog when i hear taylor swift
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badumtisss112 ¡ 1 year ago
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No brain. No. We are not any bit attracted to a T.V screen guy in Hazbin Hotel.
Right?
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....
RIGHT?????
...
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ah fuck...
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wishing-stones ¡ 2 years ago
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did you see the xtale zine promo with xgaster and xchara?
I SURE DID ANON. Lemme tell you, I chomp at the bit every time someone I write for has an "official" voice actor, because it's really hard for me to pin down what I think they sound like otherwise. (With the exception of Error, bc I love Audiospawn's rendition, and that one's my headcanon.)
So after I had my "Holy shit, voices" moment, I actually sat and watched how they interacted, because I actively write XChara in R&R right now. Happy to say that my characterization of "stupid, smarmy, smug little asshole" (that you get to see all of about seven paragraphs of in the beginning of chapter 30) is about right on the money. Also, that voice is exactly the kind of voice I imagined on him, so it was a little surreal going "hey, that sounds like what I hear in my head."
XGaster's was fun, because his is one that I had a hard time mentally hearing consistently. I'd love to hear what he sounds like without the artifacted, filtered voice (so, when he wasn't Captain No Legs) but the evenness in which he speaks is super nice. (I guess Epic!Gaster is the same VA, so there's my answer, but he didn't speak a whole lot. Gonna have to watch it again.)
Also extremely curious as to what XGaster's stupid fear is. It's probably in the zine itself, which I will be preordering the physical copy (and digital copy) of.
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running-in-the-dark ¡ 1 year ago
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#hahaha okay well. that last post. with the song title. made me check if there's a music video for that song because I like it#and there is#and I didn't know I wanted to see Corey Taylor pole dancing but. I'm glad I did?#also fascinated by the comments under the video#because oh my god I'm sorry but he has never really been particularly attractive to me before#but he sure as fuck is now#like yeah man I won't forget seeing him in that outfit but that is a very good thing imo#anyway. I love stone sour okay. and I guess he's hot now. that's confusing lol#that's unfortunate. people with fucking amazing voices should never be hot too. it's too much 😔#noooo. and he's short too?? come on don't do this to me#I'm never allowed to look at him again#personal#(how the fuck did I manage to never really look at him in. idk 17 years? very very unfortunate that it had to happen now.)#(okay tbh I get it. I was always distracted by his neck. that sure is. a neck. I mean. I appreciate it. nice neck. but. distracting.)#yeah yeah it's just the issues again. it's fine he can be hot. whatever#(and I have just been reminded why I don't like slipknot. forgot how absolutely fucking terrified I am of those masks :) good to know. won't#ever look up pictures of him again! that also explains why I didn't really ever look at him that much. there were like. maybe 3? stone sour#music videos whenever I liked them. and it was before YouTube. so. if I saw those I saw them way later. so. probably saw like the pictures#in the cd booklets if there were any. don't remember 🤔 but anyway yeah I most likely just never saw his face that much. interesting.)
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8lyme ¡ 5 months ago
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Heat Rises
Logan Howlett x f!Reader
SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot
WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.
a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men
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It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.
You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.
The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.
You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.
You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.
Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.
"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.
"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.
"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.
"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.
You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.
"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.
"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.
"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.
"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."
He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.
It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...
And torso.
Fuck he was shirtless.
Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.
Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.
All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.
A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.
He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.
You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.
"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.
These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.
You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.
"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.
"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"
He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.
"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"
Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.
"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"
"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."
Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.
"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.
"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."
"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.
"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."
Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.
"What the fuck is a Snooki?"
---
Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.
Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.
Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.
This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.
He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".
And then he almost tripped over his own feet.
You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -
Logan just about stopped in his tracks.
Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.
"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.
"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."
He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.
Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.
"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"
Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.
He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.
"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"
Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.
"What the fuck is a Snooki?"
---
You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.
The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.
You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.
"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.
"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."
You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.
"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.
"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.
You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.
"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.
"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.
"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.
Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.
---
He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.
It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.
He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.
You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.
He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.
The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.
You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.
You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.
You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.
You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.
You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.
Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.
He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.
You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.
Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.
You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.
Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.
"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."
You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.
"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"
"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.
Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.
---
He huffs at you when you reach his side.
"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.
"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"
You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.
You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.
You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.
"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.
He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."
"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.
"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.
"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.
He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."
"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"
"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.
"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."
Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.
"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "
"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.
"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."
Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.
"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.
"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.
It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.
"You're cold," he states.
"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.
"You look cold," he once again states plainly.
"I'm not, stop talking to me."
"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.
"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.
He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.
"I don't hate you," he says quietly.
"You're acting like it."
"I don't."
The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.
"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.
"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.
"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.
"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."
He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.
"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.
"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."
"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.
"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.
He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.
"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."
Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.
"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."
"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.
"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."
"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.
"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.
"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.
"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."
"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.
"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.
"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.
"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.
"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.
"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.
"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.
"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.
"Oh, come on!"
You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.
"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."
"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."
"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.
"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.
"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.
Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.
"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.
"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.
You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.
One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.
You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.
He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.
"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.
"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.
"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.
The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.
The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.
"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."
"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.
"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.
"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.
You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.
"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.
"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.
"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."
"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"
You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.
"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.
He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.
More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.
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saeun ¡ 1 year ago
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he's married ?! nanami kento.
sum. he's easily the top most handsome guy within his job. his relationship status is unknown, so what happens when his co-workers ship him with a female worker?
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nanami is well known within his company. tall, insanely fit, and an attractive voice. it's not uncommon for men and women alike to find themselves thinking about him often. what's not common is knowing about his love life. no one knows anything and he would've kept it that way. but when push comes to shove, and you're shipped with someone who's not your beloved, nanami will make it known that he's not only taken but married.
in the coffee-break room there are three guys. now, there's nothing unusual about this — no, no. they're just three guys that are co-workers... except there's a twist. they aren't your regular co-workers, they're your uncommon trio of male gossipers and nanami just so happened to be their newest victim.
"shh, shh! he's here," guy one, tichi, whispers to the others, raising his eyebrows and pointing his chin to nanami's position.
the other two take a quick glance, nodding their heads when they've seen nanami's back faced towards them. it's a perfect moment to strike up a conversation, especially since it's just four men here.
guy two, tacho, shuffles his feet to the empty space near nanami. he pretends to open a sugar packet, fiddling with it as his eyes peep over nanami's shoulder. his heart skips multiple beats when the man himself turns around.
"morning to you, tacho," nanami greets, nodding his head before he turns his attention back to his cup of coffee.
"y-yeah, morning!" he stutters, awkwardly smiling in return. he turns his head to the other two in the background, mouthing the word 'help' to them. unfortunately, they do not give the aid to their friend. instead, tichi fakes a series of coughs and guy three, toeny, gives him a confident double thumbs up. there's no hope, tacho sighs.
it's a silent moment between the men — only the sounds of coffee brewing and a spoon coming into contact with the mug can be heard. tacho's mouth itches him, he happened to remember his group's recent conversation about nanami. he must ask — even if it costs him a mutual co-worker.
"so, nanami," he begins, waiting for nanami to give him the undivided attention.
nanami doesn't face him, but he hums in response. tacho doesn't mind this as an answer, so he continues, "i was wondering if the rumors of you being with the new worker, yeri, are true?"
there is one big lie in that question: there are no such rumors. it's just a theory the trio has been gossiping about every night. nanami's been helping out yeri for quite some time, one can only think that they have a special connection going on.
"that is bullshit," nanami gives a firm answer. nothing more, nothing less.
tacho's stunned, he blinks a few times to recollect himself. "oh — so you're not with her?"
nanami doesn't answer yet, but the two in the back give their unwanted reactions. tichi clicks his tongue three times, shaking his head in disappointment at tacho's second question. it's obvious dumbass, he thinks. toeny, on the other hand, presses his lips in a thin line, pretending to read a magazine that's been on the counter.
nanami reaches into his pocket, whipping out his phone. the trio's confused until nanami speaks.
"i am married man. this is my wife," he educates, pressing the power button to show you as his lockscreen.
he collects three gasps, internally nodding at their shock. that's right, i'm gladly taken.
"all this time you've been... MARRIED?!" tacho's voice heightens, he drops his spoon in shock. it's unbelievable yet somewhat believable.
nanami breathes out a 'yes', raising his arm to show the wristwatch. "she bought this for our five-years anniversary recently. it's quite expensive, going over four-thousand," he brags, emphasizing on key words.
he's been waiting for the precious day where someone indirectly asks for his relationship status. the day has come and he will spend it bragging about his beloved.
nanami doesn't give them a chance to speak, he carries on with his bragging, "she's a very lovely woman. all my bentos are made by her and she writes little notes for each. some may think it's childish but that's bullshit! they just haven't experienced the love of a woman. matter of fact, her most beautiful moments are when she's freshly awake. the smile she gives me is nothing but angelic."
his speech doesn't stop there, but it did for the trio. his words went in one ear and out the next. nanami's blabbering about his wife immediately set a blank face upon tichi, tacho, and toeny. they're jealous and also surprised.
"the way a woman can change a man will never not be amazing," toeny whispers, blankly gazing at nanami's ongoing speech.
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12K notes ¡ View notes
illyrianbitch ¡ 8 months ago
Text
Body Count
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Pairing: Reader x Azriel
Summary: Anxious about how your lack of experience compares to Azriel's, you ask him about his body count. Unfortunately for him, he misunderstands the question gravely.
based on this funny lil request!
Warnings: angst if you squint, miscommunication, silly az and silly cassian making fun of silly az, mentions of death/killing, a sweet lil kiss! fluff!
Word Count: 3.3k
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 
You’ve always had a soft spot for Azriel. 
It wasn’t just his mysterious aura and brooding looks that made him irresistibly attractive to you— though those definitely added to the appeal. Azriel was thoughtful. He was attentive. He seemed to understand you and your needs in a way that none of your other friends could. 
Your feelings for him had grown over time, blossoming into a full-blown crush.
And for the most part, it seemed like Azriel enjoyed your company too. 
There was a playful flirtation between you two, a spark that you hoped would ignite into something more. It had grown even hotter these past two months, through conversations that were held entirely too close to one another, stolen glances, and brief touches that sent shivers down your spine. 
But deep down in your stomach, there was something holding you back— a bitter, nauseating feeling. You weren’t just nervous, you were insecure. 
It wasn’t a secret that Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand had their fair share of lovers. After all, they were all extremely attractive and had lived for centuries longer than you. But the idea of Azriel’s love life had begun to spin itself into an anxious, terrifying web in your mind. You weren’t experienced in such matters— at least, not nearly as experienced as Azriel must've been. The thought was daunting to you. Terrifying, really.
It was late at night now, and the last of your family had bid their goodnights, retreating to their respective rooms and homes. You found yourself alone with Azriel in the dimly lit living room, the small crackling fire mixing with the remnants of the celebration that lingered in the air— the heady scent of wine and the distinct smells of each of your loved ones. 
You stole a glance at Azriel, noticing the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes bright with mirth. His shadows were calm, dancing playfully around his feet and his arms. He caught your gaze instantly, offering you a lopsided smile, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a way that made your heart flutter.
This was your chance— a perfect, quiet moment to confess something to him. To tell him how you felt. 
But the nauseating feeling in your stomach bubbled up once more. You bit the inside of your cheek. Perhaps it was the perfect moment indeed. Not to confess your feelings quite yet, but to get rid of the spider web of overthinking you’d created. 
Summoning up the courage, you leaned closer to him, the alcohol emboldening you. "Hey, Az," you began, your voice soft and hesitant.
Azriel turned to you. "Yeah?" 
You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can I ask you something?"
Azriel’s face seemed to soften. "Of course."
You held his gaze for a moment, taking in the hues of his eyes that seemed more golden in the firelight. A small blush rose to your cheeks and you swallowed nervously, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. 
"What is your body count?" 
Azriel blinked. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as his mouth slightly parted, and you watched as his gaze seemed to dance around your face. He opened his mouth to respond, but a hiccup escaped him instead of words.
"I'm just... I was just wondering," you stammered, your cheeks burning hotter with heat. "If you're comfortable sharing, that is."
Azriel smiled at you, letting out another small hiccup as he repositioned himself to lean closer.  His shadows seemed to reach out towards you, a subtle, almost subconscious gesture of reassurance. "It's alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't mind sharing."
He took a moment to compose himself. “8,754.”
As if you’d been doused in icy water, your alcohol-induced haze dissipated instantly. 
"Oh," you breathed out, your eyes widening in shock. "Oh."
You would’ve tried harder to hide your shock, but the only thing you could focus on now was the large, heavy, number. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of it settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. 
You expected a large number, sure. You told yourself that you could come to terms with it, learn how to be comfortable with the gap in your experiences. But you hadn’t prepared yourself for this large of a number, and suddenly you felt… uneasy. 
Azriel watched you closely, his expression quickly filling with concern. "Are you alright?" 
Azriel had been with over 8,754 people?
You nodded slowly. Unable to meet his gaze, you casted your eyes towards the carpet in front of him. "Yeah, I'm fine," you murmured, "I, uh, I think I need to go home. I must’ve drank too much."
Azriel seemed to sober up immediately. His shadows, which had been lazily swirling around his feet, suddenly grew still, sensing his shift in mood. He sat up straight, a look of worry crossing his features. "Here, let me walk you to your room," he offered, his wings slightly unfurling as if ready to rise.
You avoided his gaze once more, shaking your head quickly. "It's alright. I got it," you insisted, standing up a bit too quickly. You swayed slightly, and his wings twitched as if he wanted to reach out and steady you. You quickly regained your balance. "Goodnight, Az."
Azriel watched you go, shadows trailing after you slightly before retracting back to him. His wings sagged, a sense of helplessness washing over him as he watched your retreating form disappear down the hallway.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶�� 
Azriel was tense. Every muscle in his body, every movement he made, it all felt constrained– stressed. Troubled. His shadows swirled restlessly around him, their hurried movements perfectly mirroring the deep agitation he felt in his gut.
Days had passed since his last proper conversation with you. He missed it— missed your presence, missed your laughter. He’d grown so used to your company, had begun to look forward to your conversations and the small flirty banter that he’d gained the confidence to indulge in. But you were distant now— awkward, even. And it was driving him mad. 
It was hot out, the afternoon sun blaring down on him and Cassian as the sound of clashing blades filled the air. Heavy sweat trickled down their faces, to a point where Azriel’s hair clung to his forehead like glue. 
But Azriel’s mind was anywhere but the training ring. And his brother quickly noticed.
"Alright," Cassian said, stepping back and lowering his weapon. "Either you're losing to stroke my ego, or something's going on."
Azriel grumbled, parrying another blow. "I'd never lose for your ego.” His wings twitched in annoyance. 
Cassian frowned, a scrutinizing gaze watching Azriel's movements closely. Something was definitely off. He tied his hair back up, securing it tightly. "Alright, spill it."
"No," Azriel replied curtly, his grip tightening on his weapon. His shadows seemed to wrap tighter around his form, as if trying to shield him from the conversation.
"No?" Cassian echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm not going to talk about my feelings with you. We're not twelve.”
Cassian let out a small scoff, raising his hands in exasperation. "By the Cauldron, Az, just tell me why you've got a stick up your ass."
Azriel glared at him. A moment passed. And then he sighed, sheathing his weapon. 
"Y/N has been avoiding me, it seems."
Cassian frowned. "Are you sure?"
The question only brought a scowl to Azriel’s face, who threw Cassian a glare. 
"Yes, Cassian. I'm sure."
There was an itchy, prickling feeling of annoyance filtering through Azriels skin. His shadows flared out briefly before settling back into their usual orbit.
"Well, what did you do?"
Azriel’s shadows twisted tighter and his wings rustled uneasily.
"I didn't do anything.” 
Cassian gave him a skeptical look, crossing his arms. "Really?"
Azriel threw him another withering glare. But when Cass only responded with a raised eyebrow, Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly. "At least, nothing that I'm aware of."
"Alright," Cass said, "Maybe you offended her somehow. What happened the last time things were normal? Can you remember?"
Azriel paused. He remembered quite clearly despite the drunken haze he had been in. He grimaced as the memory drifted into his mind, bright and clear as day. 
"She asked me for my body count.”
Cassian’s eyes widened. He stilled, leaning forward slightly. "And?"
"And I told her.”
There was a pensive look on Cassian’s face, a furrow forming between his brows as he processed Azriel's words. He narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What is your body count?" 
Exactly like that other night, Azriel replied without hesitation. "8,754.”
Cassian coughed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I-I’m sorry?" he spluttered, caught off guard by the staggering number.
Azriel's confusion deepened, a frown marring his features. "You know this.”
"No," Cassian countered, shaking his head emphatically. “I do not know this.”
Azriel clenched his jaw, offering Cassian a cold unamused and irritated stare. “Yes, you do.”
"Apparently not.” Cassian let out a scoff. “Hell, I would’ve remembered if you slept with almost nine thousand people, Az. That's more than me."
Azriel’s face twisted into a scowl, a deep crease forming between his brows. His wings flared slightly. 
"Slept with? What the hell are you talking about?" 
Realization flickered in Cassian’s widened eyes, and suddenly, an understanding dawned on him. "Oh," he breathed out, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He let out a hearty laugh. "Got all the skills in the world but that brain still fails ya, huh Az?" 
Azriel fought the urge to send a swift hit to his brother's jaw, if only to knock the amused grin off his face. 
"Can you be serious for one godsdamned minute?" Azriel snapped.
Cassian's laughter subsided, his expression sobering as he met Azriel's gaze— only slightly. The grin still persisted. "Body count doesn’t refer to your kill count," he explained, "It’s how many people you’ve fucked."
Azriel's face dropped and the color drained from his cheeks. From behind him, his wings fell limp. "You can’t be serious.”
"Deadly serious, brother.”
Azriel glanced to the ground, his mind racing through that moment with you. He thought back to your response, to that small “Oh” that haunted him, to the way your eyes widened. He’d simply assumed that you were disgusted by the amount of lives he’d taken, that you’d spent the night imagining how much blood was on his hands. For some reason, this new reality of what the question meant— it felt even more intimate. Oh gods.
"So does Y/n think that I..." he trailed off.
"That you've fucked almost nine thousand people?" Cassian finished for him, a subtle grimace painted on his features.
"But I haven't," Azriel protested.
"Well, you should probably be telling her that." 
Azriel didn't waste another moment. He turned on his heel, desperate to immediately find you and explain the very apparent miscommunication. 
"Wait!" Cassian called out. Azriel paused, turning around with an impatient glare. 
"Take a bath. You stink," Cassian said, wrinkling his nose for emphasis.
Azriel's glare deepened, and he flipped Cassian off before continuing his stride toward the exit.
Cassian's laughter boomed behind him, the sound trailing after Azriel as he walked away. "eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-four," Cassian muttered to himself, still chuckling in disbelief.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 
Azriel rushed down the hallway. Following Cassian’s unasked for advice, he was freshly bathed, hair still damp and clinging to his forehead. His shadows flitted nervously around his feet, his wings twitching restlessly at his back. 
He had no time to waste. Azriel really liked you. He needed to find you and clear up the misunderstanding before it began to fester into something deeper, something much harder to clean up. 
He found you in your room, catching you just as you were about to leave. “Y/n,” he said, as he came to a stop in your doorway. His voice was a bit louder than he intended.
You jumped, letting out a small scream as you spun to face him.  You caught his gaze as your hand flew to your heart. “Azriel,” you breathed out, a nervous smile playing on your lips as you steadied your breathing. “You scared me.”
He gave you a sheepish smile, his wings shifting slightly– a small, but clear sign of his embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said softly.
You let out a small laugh. “Hi, Az.” 
His smile grew. “Hi Y/n,” he responded, walking further into your room. “Are you heading out?”
You blinked in an attempt to break away from his gaze, casting a quick glance down towards your window. “Oh, yeah. I was just gonna go walk about Velaris, get some fresh air.”
Azriel hesitated for a moment before asking, “Would you like some company?”
You hesitated too, a part of you wanting to say yes. But then the infamous number came to mind, and the bitter, nauseating feeling returned. “Maybe another time?” you said, trying to sound as genuine as possible.
Azriel could tell you meant it, but the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Alright,” he responded softly, his wings drooping slightly. “Enjoy your walk.”
A wave of sadness rolled through you at his response, at the way his shadows seemed to still at your rejection. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in his wet hair and the way his eyes seemed to plead with you. 
“I’ll see you later,” you said, offering him a small smile before making a move to side-step him. 
Before he could overthink it, Azriel reached out and gently grabbed your arm. The touch was soft, but it stopped you in your tracks. You turned back to him, finding yourself suddenly very close to him, faces only inches away.
His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. A giddy flutter spread through you as his touch sent warmth racing through your veins. You melted into his grip, feeling a hunger for his closeness after just a few days without it. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, before flickering down to your lips. You took a deep breath.
“I’ve taken 8,754 lives,” Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and hesitant.
Your eyes widened in surprise. You took a step back, properly facing him now, trying to process his words. “What?”
Azriel looked sheepish, his eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. 
His shadows fluttered around him.
“The other night, you asked me what my body count was. I told you 8,754.”
You nodded slowly. “I remember.”
“I thought you were asking how many people I’d killed. Not—” he paused, a small blush reaching his cheeks. “Not how many people I’ve slept with.”
Your lips parted in an O of realization. You took in his face, observing how his shadows swirled tirelessly around him. Azriel offered you a small, unsure smile. A small laugh left your lips.
“Why would I be asking you how many people you’ve killed?” you finally asked. Your voice was soft with confusion and a hint of amusement. A small gleam grew in the shadowsinger’s eyes. 
“I don’t know,” Azriel responded honestly. “Why were you asking how many people I’ve slept with?” 
You blushed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s silly.”
Azriel reached forward, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him. His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. You fluttered at the sudden closeness, feeling a rush of warmth and nerves flow through your body. 
“It’s not,” he insisted softly, his eyes holding yours with unwavering sincerity.
“I just wanted to prepare myself. I haven’t… I’m not experienced in these types of things.” You paused, holding his gaze for a moment. And then the corners of your lips tugged into a smile. “But gods, it’s good to know I don’t have to compete with the experience of almost nine thousand previous lovers.”
Azriel’s expression softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You never have to compete with anyone, Y/n. Especially not with me.”
A warmth settled in your chest. His thumb stroked your hand, a soothing rhythm that seemed to cause butterflies in your stomach with every touch. 
“Well, that’s good to know,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze.
“Yeah?” 
Azriel’s voice was soft now, a low cadence that made you feel like puddy in his hands. 
“Yeah,” you confirmed with a small smile.
The smile on his face grew further. You traced the movement with your eyes, taking in the small smile lines and dimples that formed. His smile dropped slightly as he frowned, brows furrowing slightly. 
“Wait.”
You tilted your head curiously. “Hmm?”
“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed 8,754 people?
 “I know you have your reasons.” You shrugged gently. “Also, I don’t have to compete with dead people.”
Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, as if a weight had been lifted off him. A chuckle left his mouth. It was warm and genuine, and the sound resonated deeply within you. “Just one of the many reasons why I like you.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“You like me?
Azriel nodded, his gaze unwavering— something soft, almost sacred. “I do.”
A rush of warmth spread through you at his confession. You took a moment to let the words sink in. Your grin widened. “I knew it.”
Azriel shook his head, a smile of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t really trying to hide it.”
Your grin widened even more and you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. His thumb continued its gentle rhythm on your hand.  “Do you feel the same way?” he asked. 
“I wasn’t really trying to hide it,” you admitted, mirroring his previous words with a soft smile.
Azriel’s expression seemed to soften further, his eyes reflecting a warm sense of longing. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. 
Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek delicately, his touch sending a shiver down your body. You took a deep breath, feeling his scarred fingers run alongside your cheek. He met your eyes again, his gaze heavy, seeking something— permission. 
“Can I kiss you now?” 
Words eluded you for a moment as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You simply nodded, breath catching in your throat as you whispered, “Please.”
For another fleeting moment, his hand cradled your face delicately, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your heart ache. And then he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was sweet and fervent.
It was shy at first— a hesitant, tentative meeting of lips that conveyed unspoken feelings that had never been fully addressed until now. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming your senses. You pressed yourself further into his touch, fingers moving to tangle themselves in his hair as you pulled him closer. 
Azriel let out a sound of content as the kiss deepened, his shadows wrapping around you both like a protective embrace. You felt their cool, feather touch around your body, felt as lone tendrils weaved through your hair. 
When you finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as he savored the closeness between you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your cheek. 
“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he murmured.
You let out a soft laugh. 
“Me too.”
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 
permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 
@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 
@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg
@evergreenlark
azriel tag list🫶🏻:
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4K notes ¡ View notes
captain-hawks ¡ 8 months ago
Text
patience
soshiro hoshina x f!reader
It's more than a little difficult to hide your attraction to the Vice-Captain of the Third Division when you accidentally find yourself sparring with him in your pajamas in the middle of the night. Especially when he's wearing that goddamn shirt.
wc: 4k
c: 18+ ONLY, smut, slight power imbalance, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), edging, unprotected p in v
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“You get sloppy when you’re tired.”
A knee digs into the back of your own as you find yourself pinned face down on the training mats, the steady grip of a hand trapping both of your wrists against the small of your back. The vice-captain’s voice is tinged with amusement as he lets you go, easily dodging the kick you send his way as you roll in the opposite direction and jump to your feet, breathing hard.
“Fuck you,” you pant out, though there’s no real heat behind your words.
He raises an eyebrow.
“—Vice-Captain Hoshina,” you finish, offering him a patronizing smile.
Clicking his tongue against his teeth, Hoshina begins to circle you slowly, “Officer Furuhashi had to do seventy pushups last week for that, ya know.”
While he’s not wrong about your sloppy footwork, the late hour is hardly the top contender of blame for your piss-poor performance in this impromptu sparring match.
Rather, the real issue at hand is the workout shirt that Hoshina’s currently wearing, the black, skin-tight material leaving little to the imagination as it clings to his firm, defined abdomen. 
Clad in nothing but your pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you had made the mistake of slowing down to peek into the slightly ajar door to the training room on your way back to the dorms, curious who was still awake at such a late hour. Your breath had hitched at the sight of the vice-captain working through a series of complex sword maneuvers by himself, mouth going dry as you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of his bare hands and arms—features normally obscured by his suit on the field—and that goddamn shirt.
Naturally, he’d spotted you lingering and cajoled you inside, mouth curving sideways in a smirk as he reminded you of a few glaring mistakes you’d made earlier during training with the squad.
Now, your level of exhaustion is a moot point when it’s all you can do to reign in the traitorous swell of desire building in your chest as the sleeves of his shirt dig into his biceps each and every time he moves. The muscle that keeps fighting against the high neck of his shirt isn’t helping, either. 
This heady, insistent tug you feel toward him, this dizzying, smoldering attraction that has a penchant for clouding your better judgment—it’s nothing new. Your eyes developed this unfortunate habit of instinctually straying to the vice-captain the day he volunteered to give you a tour of the base when you transferred to the Third Division, a problem that only increased tenfold the first time you had a front row seat to his…competency in dual swordsmanship.
(It’s borderline embarrassing—the way even thinking about him wielding those blades sets your heart racing.)
You’ve learned to ignore it, despite the flirtatious undercurrent to each and every interaction you share.
And yet—sparring alone with him right now while the rest of the base sleeps, sweat dripping down your back as your skin burns all over with the ghost of his touch, seeing this stripped down version of one of the Defense Force’s most lethal weapons in a moment that feels far more intimate than it has any right to be…it’s difficult to remember why you should.
Hoshina uses his forearm to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, tongue darting out along his bottom lip, and a subtle shudder runs through you as you track the unconscious movement. Unfortunately, his keen eyes don’t miss the trajectory of your waning focus, and he takes advantage of the opening, the room quickly spinning as you find yourself on the floor beneath him once again.
This time, you’re lying on your back, both hands pinned above your head, his fingers incidentally laced with your own. Hoshina’s wide-eyed and panting, and you can tell you at least accomplished something—he clearly hadn’t been intending to hit the floor with you until your survival instincts kicked in enough to gracelessly drag him down on top of you. 
As you go to pull free, you find something solid pressed between your legs, and it’s an effort in and of itself to stifle your gasp at the feeling that instantly curls hotly in your gut at the friction. Belatedly, you reorient yourself to find that you had hooked your left leg around his waist during the fall, and the firm wall of muscle that you’re two seconds from accidentally dry humping is his thigh that’s slotted between your legs.
Hoshina’s face sobers as he stares down at you, and you swear you feel his fingers flex minutely against your own, his expression now unreadable. 
Seemingly continuing his earlier thought, he muses, “Well, I guess I get sloppy when I’m distracted.” Your heart thunders in your chest as you find yourself balancing precariously on the tightrope of what could very well be an incredibly bad decision. 
If you were smart, you’d let this moment pass.
If you were smart, you’d tap out and tell him you’re going to bed, letting out the rest of your frustration with a hand between your legs, your soft, quiet moans muffled by the spray of the shower water or the layers of your duvet.
But the words are wrestling their way past your teeth before you can stop yourself as you ask, “What could possibly distract the vice-captain of the Third Division?”
He laughs under his breath, and for a wild moment, you think he’s about to kiss you when he leans in, but his lips skirt the shell of your ear instead as he murmurs, “You don’t normally wear this when we’re trainin’ with everyone else.”
Hoshina’s lower half nudges you slightly for emphasis, his hands still occupied by your own, and you belatedly realize—with embarrassment—that you’re the one now essentially holding them in the grip of your fingers. However, the thought is quickly replaced by another jolt of pleasure as the movement presses his thigh just a hair more firmly against the heat between your legs.
At the slight widening of his eyes, you also realize something else—that soft, little moan in your head wasn’t so silent after all. 
He tilts his head and sighs, “You make this real difficult for me sometimes.”
You’re far too aware of every place your bodies are touching.
“What do I make difficult?” you ask carefully, surprising yourself with your boldness. 
He regards you with a look like you should already know what he’s referring to. “Ignoring the things I think about when I’m around you.”
Your mouth goes dry, a polar opposite to the arousal now soaking into your panties. “Maybe you should stop ignoring them,” you whisper before you can think better of it. 
Hoshina groans, fingers tightening around yours, eyes falling shut. “Don’t say that.”
Freeing one of your hands from their entanglement with his, you reach up, pushing his dark violet locks out of his face. “Why not?”
He leans in, mouth so close to yours you can feel the heat of his exhales as he murmurs, “Cause I might be the vice-captain of this division, but I’m not above fucking you right here on the floor.”
Heat sears insistently in your lower abdomen, and you shift just enough to press into him again. He audibly breathes out through his nose, and you tilt your head slightly askew as you stare up at him. “Are you asking me to beg, then?”
You’re suddenly very grateful to have unconsciously pulled the door shut behind you when you walked in, given that this training room can only be opened from the outside with an authorized key fob after hours.
Hoshina laughs a little incredulously under his breath, tongue curling against the inside of his cheek. “I’ll make you a deal.”
You raise a brow, imploring him to continue.
“We’ll forget about those pushups for that mouth of yours, but…” he trails off, one finger ghosting over your lips. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”
It’s instant—the way your brain briefly short circuits as you take in the full meaning of his words.
“I—what?”
He smirks. “You might be one of the most talented officers in this division, but your patience could really use some work.”
Well, he’s not wrong.
Smiling up at him sweetly, you shift so that your leg presses against the erection noticeably tented at the front of his pants. “Then teach me.”
You’re not prepared for it—the way all of the air leaves your lungs when Hoshina’s lips come crashing into yours. There’s no pretense to the way he claims your mouth, swallowing down the tiny little gasp that crawls up your throat, one hand cupping the side of your neck as the other reaches out to pin both of yours back to the floor. You push back a little, just for the thrill that arches down your spine when he tightens his grip, pinning you down even harder. 
His tongue dances along the seam of your lips, thumb stroking the sensitive spot where your neck meets your jaw, and he groans a little when you part them, deepening the kiss. A blistering wave of arousal floods your veins as Hoshina does what can only be described as fucking his way into your mouth with his tongue, and you’re helpless to control how eagerly you take him in. Truthfully, you’ve never felt quite so turned on over the taste of someone else’s saliva, so desperate to feel the filthy, slick slide of their tongue and lips slotting and tangling with your own.
It takes you a minute to realize that you’ve started grinding against his thigh, but clearly he’s well aware, because as soon as you stop, he murmurs against your mouth, “Go ahead, keep going.”
Compiling without hesitation, you drag your clothed pussy down against the friction of his leg once more, and he bites down on your lip as you moan at the delicious sensation. 
“Does that feel good?” he asks coyly.
You nod, losing any lingering senses of embarrassment over dry humping your vice-captain’s leg as you observe the way his pupils are blown wide with lust, gasping and panting as you rut against him even harder. Panties damp with arousal, you wouldn’t be surprised to find a wet spot forming against his pants, as you can already feel the surplus of sticky fluid dripping down your ass cheeks. 
You could come like this.
“Stop.”
Freezing immediately at the tone of Hoshina’s voice, you open your half-lidded eyes to stare up at him, lips parted slightly.
“Didn’t say you could come yet,” he reminds you, expression tinged with amusement. “But show me how wet you are.”
He releases your hands, and you nearly whimper when he pulls his knee away, shifting to place his knees on either side of you. He slides both hands down your sides, stopping at your hips, and he trails two fingers along the waistband of your shorts, curling one of the short, loose strings around a digit before continuing his journey down your mound. 
A hum of satisfaction leaves his lips as he feels the way your juices have soaked clear through the little cotton shorts. You whine in frustration when he drags a slow, deliberate circle over your swollen clit through the fabric, rocking your hips upward.
Hoshina looks like he wants to say something, possibly to chide you for your impatient behavior, but clearly the other thought in his head wins out when he slides his hand up the bottom of your shorts and hooks a finger in your underwear, tugging them aside. 
Despite his teasing, the pressure of his fingers through your clothing is still nothing compared to the feather-light touch of his fingers drifting down the length of your slit. 
“Fuck,” he murmurs softly in approval, sliding one digit into your wet hole. 
Your pussy spasms at the sensation, and you moan for him, which only spurs him on further, earning you a second finger. The stretch still isn’t enough, and you buck your hips into his touch eagerly. 
“How the fuck are you so wet,” he mutters, one hand slipping up your shirt to clutch your side as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the lewd, wet squelch contending with the rising volume of your moans.
It’s impressive—how close you are to coming already with just two of his fingers massaging your slick, tight walls, his thumb barely teasing over the bud of your throbbing clit. It’s nearly laughable compared to how long it took the last man who touched you to get you off. 
“You look so pretty when you’re about to come,” Hoshina comments, curling his fingers inside of you, and you gasp.
He swiftly removes them, lips curling upward at the dismayed look on your face as you cant your hips upward into nothing, the wave of pleasure building inside of you unceremoniously crashing at the breakers before reaching the shore. 
“Hoshina,” you whimper, not caring if it sounds a little pathetic as your chest heaves.
“I thought we were working on your patience,” he replies, before sticking your fingers in his mouth and licking your slick arousal clean off of them.
The warmth stirring inside of you turns molten, and your nipples feel achingly hard against the cotton fabric of your t-shirt. When he reaches down to cup your chin, your mouth falls open of its own volition, and you don’t hesitate to take his spit-soaked fingers between your lips instead. 
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out as you suck on the digits, a thin trail of saliva escaping in the process and dribbling past your lips. 
You reach up, threading your fingers into his hair, and you tug his mouth down toward yours. He strays off course, licking the spit from your chin and dragging his tongue across your lips. 
He follows the curve of your jaw with his mouth, lips blazing a trail of kisses down the side of your neck until he begins to nip and suck at your collarbone while his hands slide down to ruck up your t-shirt. He seems pleased by your lack of a bra, eyes darkening at the sight of your plush breasts bared before him. His fingers are precise as they cup one, thumb slowly dragging across your peaked nipple before he leans in and laps at the supple, sensitive skin. 
You arch upward into his touch, gasping out his name, and he groans, taking your peaked bud into his mouth. Despite the fact that you know he won’t let you finish, you reach between your legs anyway, keening as you dip two fingers into your empty, wet cunt while Hoshina turns his attention to filthily sucking on your other breast. Legs spreading wider against the cage of his own, you plunge a third finger in, and Hoshina makes a displeased sound, mouth abandoning your tits to trail down your stomach. 
“D’you think of me when you touch yourself?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice, his hands gently pulling yours away from between your legs before sliding off your shorts and panties. 
“Maybe,” you pant out, fingers now pressing down into the soft mats beneath you.
“Maybe?” he echoes, nose brushing against your clit.
He pauses, and you can feel the warm huff of air that hits your slit as you whimper a strangled “Yes” when he lazily begins to slide a single finger back into your needy cunt. 
Another fresh thrill of arousal shudders through you as he calmly replies, “Good girl,” before he spreads your legs even wider and drags his tongue through your folds.
You blink back the spots from the bright ceiling lights that dance against your eyelids as your entire body arches upward off of the mats, the grip of his hands on the globes of your ass the only thing keeping you grounded as Hoshina groans lewdly at the taste of your pussy, lapping another broad, hungry stroke, 
You’d do anything to come at this point, tears now pricking at the corners of your eyes as another blazing hot onslaught of pleasure trickles through your limbs, ruthlessly dragging you toward the edge.
He abruptly stops again, his lips covered in the slick sheen of your arousal when he looks up at you.
“Hoshina, please,” you whimper.
“Soshiro,” he exhales roughly, hips aligning with yours as he makes his way up your body to press a wet, filthy kiss to your lips.
“Soshiro,” you repeat a little breathlessly, and he kisses you again, more roughly this time. 
You can feel his thick erection as it presses down against your naked mound through his pants, and there’s little you can do to hold back your urge to roll your hips upward, dragging your wet, naked heat along his shaft. 
“Soshiro,” you say again, more desperately this time, and he groans, grinding back down against you with more fervor at the sound of his name on your lips. 
Slipping a hand between your bodies, your fingers fumble with the button of his pants, and he’s quick to take over, making quick work of the zipper. He guides your hand to his dick, wrapping your fingers around its thick girth as he asks, “You wanna feel this inside of you?”
The mere suggestion makes your woefully empty walls clench, and you can feel a fresh dribble of arousal leak from you. Giving his cock a few experimental pumps, you nod feverishly.
“Put it in then,” he murmurs, and there’s something undeniably erotic about the way he lazily stares down at you, waiting.
You guide his shaft toward your slick cunt, rejoicing just a bit in the slight shudder that wracks through him as you rub the flushed, leaking head of his cock against your slippery folds, his precum mixing with the lubrication of your wet juices.
If you thought you were desperate to come on his fingers and tongue, the heady buzz of need that’s been steadily buzzing inside of you is nothing compared to the gushing flood of desperation at the feeling of Hoshina’s length splitting you open. You’re a little too tight for him, but it feels so good—the way he replaces your hand with his own to stuff his cock the rest of the way inside of you. Your cunt greedily clenches down on each inch until you’re suddenly empty again. 
Hoshina—Soshiro—fucks like he fights: all teasing, taunting confidence. Every move he makes is pointed, purposeful. So you know he’s left you woefully empty now solely to bask in your frustrated reaction, just to hear your subsequent gasp of pleasure when he plunges back inside of you once more. 
You’re so fucking sensitive right now, it’s ridiculous—white-hot bursts of pleasure ignite in your abdomen with every little push and drag of the shape of his cock against the plush, tight grip of your cunt. 
“Fuckin’ hell,” he hisses, exhaling roughly as he pulls out of you entirely once more, firmly gripping the base of his cock like he’s just as close to coming as you are.
Leaning down, Hoshina drags his lips across yours in some messy approximation of a kiss, his breath hot against your cheek as his mouth veers off. Turning your head to the side, you nip at his bottom lip, and he molds his mouth to yours, tongue slipping into your mouth. 
Your muscles tense with anticipation as you feel the heavy weight of his cock pressing against your cunt, your ass lifting off of the mat to chase the friction with brazen need. But Hoshina’s hand slips between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his shaft, and he positions himself lengthwise with your slit. 
Any sounds of protest promptly die in your throat, only to be replaced by a wanton moan that Hoshina swallows down as he deepens the kiss while he begins to roll his hips, sliding his throbbing cock up and down through your drenched, sticky folds. 
“Oh fuck,” you gasp, fingers digging into his back as you writhe beneath him, nearly seeing stars each time the head of his dick catches against your sensitive, swollen clit.
There’s a thin line of spit between your lips as he breaks the kiss, watching you burn from the inside out with relentless, intoxicating tremors of pleasure.
“Not yet,” Hoshina murmurs, slowing the rocking of his hips as he lines himself with your quivering entrance once more. “When I make you come, it’ll be on my cock.”
When he buries himself inside of you this time, you choke out a sob, the ache between your thighs reaching a fever pitch as he stuffs your pussy full to the hilt. And you swear he must feel the way your cunt is gripping him—begging him to stay buried deep inside of you, to finally let you cream all over his cock—because he sounds wrecked as he roughly moans your name against your mouth.
One of his hands slides along your arm, fingertips lacing with yours as the other cups your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. 
“You feel so fucking good,” he exhales, eyes wide, his hair far more mussed than you’ve ever seen it on the battlefield.
Despite the protest of your trembling, tightly-wound limbs, you wrap your legs around his waist, keening as you use the heel of your foot to press him even deeper inside of you and pant out, “Harder.”
He doesn’t hesitate to oblige, his steady strokes turning rough when he begins to pound into you, a litany of curses tumbling from his lips as your tits shake with each snap of his hips. 
You’re so fucking close—and you know he feels it, how fucking badly you want to give in to this torrential downpour of pleasure that’s threatening to drag you under.
“Come for me,” he finally commands in a sultry, gravelly tone that you’re certain will fucking haunt your wet dreams for years to come. 
It’s not difficult to obey—not when your entire body has been reduced to a dripping, trembling, desperate coil of tension, slipping along the tightrope of a tauntingly close climax for far too long. Shockwaves of the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt grip every nerve ending from head to toe as your climax erupts, and Hoshina’s groan is downright filthy as he feels your pussy gush all over his cock.
“Shit,” he pants out, muscles tensing hard as you ride out your orgasm, eyes falling shut while your cunt spasms and contracts against his shaft. “Shit, shit.”
You’ve only just finished when he quickly pulls his cock from your quivering hole and groans loudly, barely giving his shaft half a stroke before ropes of hot, thick cum are spurting all over your bare chest, spilling all over your tits.
It’s quiet as he sits there kneeling between your spread legs, chest heaving just as hard as yours as you try to wrap your head around what the fuck just happened. Subtly, you reach down to pinch your thigh, not quite convinced your late night waltz to the kitchen wasn’t just the product of a fucked up dream. 
Hoshina shrugs off his shirt, hardly giving you time to ogle what the hell he’s been hiding beneath there before he begins wiping his cum off of your chest. When he’s finished, he stands, and you slip back into your clothes as you watch him ball up his soiled shirt and grab his jacket. 
He pulls you to your feet, and the way his hands slide down your sides to smooth down your wrinkled t-shirt is oddly intimate, his fingers straying lower to briefly toy with the hem of your shorts. Instead of putting on his jacket to make up for his lack of a shirt, he reaches around you to settle it over your shoulders, the familiar, dizzying scent that you’ve come to associate with him enveloping your senses. 
–
And when you accidentally wear his jacket to training the next morning, you find what must be a spare key card to his room left nestled in one of the pockets. 
There’s a coy smile on his lips when he spots you staring down at the white piece of plastic, shrugging before he returns his attention to the rest of the gathered officers. 
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bwabys-scenarios ¡ 10 months ago
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CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO PERV ILLUMI i do not think there is enough perv illumi content on this app
He’s a perv
Perv!Illumi x Fem!Reader
A/N: sorry this is short and may resemble my other perv writings… but I hope y’all like it! Join my server
warnings: pervy Illumi, yandere behavior, masturbation, panty stealing, he’s kind of yucky, breeding, pregnancy
NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter
‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️
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Illumi had never experienced sexual attraction before. Had he gotten some morning wood once or twice? Yes, but he rarely felt the urge to jack off.
That was… until he met you.
He wasn’t quite sure what made you so appealing. You looked ordinary, at least… you should have. Illumi had been surrounded by the worlds most beautiful women since he was but a boy… yet here he was, getting hard over a girl he had barely met.
Maybe it was your soft curves, or the ways your hips swayed when you walked… it could have even been your sweet voice, and those pretty, glossy lips that made him want to pull you in and taste the shiny lipgloss you were wearing…
Whatever it was, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Illumi’s body had been acting strangely. Even a whiff of your perfume could have his cock twitching, standing at attention and ready for you… it was quite embarrassing, or it would have been if Illumi had any shame.
No, the only reason Illumi his his overwhelming desire for you was because he wanted these feelings to go away as quickly as possible. He couldn’t fall for some nobody Hunter with nen weaker than all the other applicants that had passed with you. No, Illumi was supposed to marry the best of the best, a woman whose womb could bear a strong heir.
But… that didn’t stop him from acting on some of his urges…
Unfortunately, Illumi couldn’t seem to let you out of his sight. It was annoying, following you around as you did your little daily chores in town. He could hardly get any work done when you looked so cute. You didn’t even realize your panties were showing when you bent over to pick up a coin…
When he couldn’t be constantly watching over you, Illumi would steal little trinkets from your home to… keep him satiated. Used panties, your lipgloss, and clothing items that smelled like your perfume.
He’d wrap your panties around his cock as he jerked off, your cardigan pressed against his face. If he really focused, he could imagine your pussy tightening around him, your plump thighs pressing against him as he bounced you on his cock…
He’d cum buckets into your panties, then break into your apartment and drop them off on your floor, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift.
After a while, his urges grew and grew, until your panties just weren’t enough for him anymore.
Wooing you wasn’t too hard, and getting into your pants was easier than he would have though. The fact you were a virgin was very surprising… but welcomed. After all, he was a virgin as well.
The second his cock sunk into you, he immediately knew that he could never let you go. To hell with a strong heir, he wanted you, and only you. You were the only one that could make him feel this way… soft, vulnerable, and so goddamn horny.
Poor, poor you, having Illumi fuck into you for hours on end, unable to pull out of your pretty, warm cunt. He fucked so much cum into you that you felt so swollen and full…
Even after he was done, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he held you close, kissing the top of your head. “You’re all mine, darling. I’ll have wedding preparations ready within a week.”
You were much too exhausted to argue… and you weren’t sure you could say no to Illumi Zoldyck… so you just slept, accepting your fate. You’d be taken care of, and would never have to worry about anything ever again.
Shortly, Illumi would have his now pregnant wife in his home, where she would be safe, and where he could ravish her whenever he felt like it.
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amiaclone ¡ 1 month ago
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You asked I’ll write! Gender neutral reader if you don’t mind
Tw: cursing I guess? Squid game in general should be considered a trigger over all the murdering lmaoo
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*In ho sighed for the what? Fifteenth time? He’s been counting it’s what he’s trying to focus on the other thing is well……*
*When he decided to participate in these games again it was to prove Gi hun a point and mess with him a bit so he joined his “team” which well….. they happened to be in*
You were apart of it a strong person filled with determination in debt to a lot of money…..honestly in ho was shocked with how much debt you were in I mean you seemed like someone who’d make it far in live would rule against the poor like he used to be…
But you weren’t you were *trash*
You were lower lower class you were nothing…..
Yet why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?
He had a wife who he fell out of love with before he even met you…..swore he’d never fall in love again after distancing himself with his family and starting the games…..
But you just had to be lucky star didn’t you?
You were “kind” and not in a pushover kind of way just….kind like kind that would not take shit from people but would help others in need….and didn’t hide your opinions from others that deserved it….
It was disgusting but…..In a good way? He wanted you not in a possessive way but in a way type of wanting to care for you and you care for him-
*He shook those thoughts off ugh. Why now? He’s usually so calm and collected…..at first he wouldn’t lie he was hoping you’d die in one of the earlier games but now….he isn’t so sure. Gi hun already has plans to take the guns and fight back he had a plan problem was…..you were apart of the main plan
He probably had to kill you it’s probably a good thing but…now he isn’t so sure he’s gotten along with you great and he has a tiny bit of hope that you even like him back so for you to find out he runs these games….he can’t risk it
You’ll find out anyway but he doesn’t wanna face you to your face he atleast wants to hide behind a mask atleast imagining what you’d say…..
Currently he’s trying to convince himself that these feelings aren’t real……maybe it’s just attraction? Of course you’re really good looking maybe it’s that!
“Uh In ho?”
*He turns around that voice dreaded him more then anything the voice he was ready to hear-*
“Are you okay In ho?”
It was Gi hun
*He unfortunately realised that after breaking out of his rare trance he blinked for a few seconds then nodded*
“What is it?”
*Gi hun shrugged* “Nothing you seemed out of it….” *In ho stared at the ground trying to seem calm but spoke in a bitter tone* “I’m fine…” *He let his eyes wander to you who was talking to he thinks Junhee the pregnant lady? Gi hun noticed and raised an eyebrow* “Maybe Y/n will cheer you up…..Hey y/n!”
*You raised an eyebrow nodding at Junhee before walking away up to the two men.*
“You guys need something?” *In ho sighed he’s been trying to avoid hearing your voice….and you in general.* “In ho seems nervous I thought you’d be better at calming him down…*
*As Gi hun left you leaned your back on the bars of the bed he was sitting on….he couldn’t even look at you.*
“So. What is it?” *You asked he didn’t look at you but he could tell you seemed concerned*
“……” “In ho?” “…….If somebody did something almost unforgivable in any way…..what would you do?” “……What?” *You were confused rightfully you knew he was like this but for the way he got was so….* “Just answer the question…..please.” “Well if we were close I’d….wanna know why. Depending on what they did it’s…..hard to say hey are you saying this cause you’re worried or something i understand i am too but…..don’t focus on the negative so much you know?” *As usual kind…..how could such a good human like you be in these games yet he knew…..He is the front man after all he decided to atleast “ask you” and bond maybe a bit before he has to let you go….*
“Yeah you’re right as logical as ever so why are……you in debt if you don’t mind answering?”
*He felt you rise up you stared squinting your eyes then smiling* “Damn didn’t expect anyone to ask me that….don’t think it’s important.”
*Oh he knows what it is why wouldn’t he a petty part of him felt betrayed some what you weren’t gonna tell him after how close you’ve gotten but he decided to keep his cool.*
“You don’t have to tell you i just asked since we might be leaving this place or if neither of us..make it.” *You groaned* “The pessimism again In ho? Jeez you could…..I’ll tell you though cause you do have a point.”
“Well i used to be pretty rich and well-“ *As you went into your story he already knew it but continued to listen you were rich worked in a high payed business workplace but like most work places favouritism is common. Which unfortunately lead to your downfall.* “Anyways one day I found out i was being underpayed a lot of money so I complained this and that and i got a warning complained again then got fired…..It was hard to find a job i didn’t pay the bills for a lot of things debt grew bigger and bigger then a man asked me to play a game one day and well…..here i am.” *Ah yes In ho nodded at your story he knew it all he was the person who called for you to be in the game….you were a wonderful person honestly what was he thinking you were too good for a game like this is something he of all people would never think he would say.* “Im sorry you don’t deserve to be here after all it’s not your fault you’re in debt…” *You shook your head* “Eh I didn’t have a good of a college degree anyway maybe if I studied more in college I wouldn’t be here but eh atleast i got to meet you?” *In ho sighed and he didn’t want to or realise it but he couldn’t help but let a small smile rise genuinely.* “I suppose it’s…..mutual.”
*You sighed smiling* “I can’t wait for tomorrow we’ll finally *maybe* get out of here right?” *He felt his heart stop for a second oh yeah…..that*
*He awkwardly cleared his throat* “Oh yeah I suppose this game will….end and we’ll probably never see each other again” *You snorted* “We can still talk, we can meet up together and talk and stuff it’s not like we need to forget each other…”
*”That’s right” In ho thought he needed to forget you maybe these feelings would go away….but the the thoughts came he didn’t want to but…..”I killed my brother damn it! I can do this I’ve talked to them for only a few days this is…”*
“In ho??” *He stared up at you instinctively like an animal almost he stopped himself and regained his composure.* “Jeez you seem tense maybe get some rest…” “No im…..just thinking….about all the bad decisions…..humans can make.” *You hmmd* “I suppose so humans can be evil if given the chance with such power.” *In ho nodded* “Have you ever thought of doing something regrettable?” *In ho wasn’t sure why he was asking these…..questions but maybe it was to see the inhuman side of them to make him disgusted in you? Maybe that’ll work.* “Well I’ll admit yeah…..I got bullied and when I found out there father had cancer i wanted to well bring it up tear them down….i think i was about 14.” *You didn’t seem shameful you seemed to regret it but not shamed it only made In ho admire you more as he hated it.* “So why didn’t you do anything?” *You laughed a bit* “I would of if it wasn’t for me asking my mom and telling her like i was about to do the best thing she got mad scolded me and told me a different way a better way to handle bullying……and I’ve used that advice since.”
*He quirked an eyebrow what would it be that he hasn’t heard ignore them stand up for yourself be the the bigger person?*
“Be better than them…..because bullies are the weakest of the weakest in society strategy they don’t want you knowing is you finding out you’re better then them.” *He knows that advice he’s never thought much of it but hearing it from you automatically makes him wanna know more…* “Well then your mom raised such a lovely person….you should be proud.” *You scoffed laughing a bit* “I made a lot of mistakes that i can’t even say thought of some weird stuff im glad i didn’t say or do anyways……yeah. We’re human everyone has made one bad mistake you’ll dwell on for the rest of your life my advice is well…..did you regret it?”
*In ho sighed smiling* “Thanks for the advice I’ll rest for a bit” *You got up smiling and leaving that’s it.* “Y/n you’ll always be in my memory….” *In ho didn’t know what to do with them maybe ask them to join him? No! That would be so idiotic they’d never agree….try to make them understand? Maybe let them go? Why doesn’t he want that…..he then smiled.* “I can’t wait for tomorrow y/n you’re so unpredictable maybe you could stay with me…..”
Anddddd a cliffhanger sorry if this is ooc i was halfasleep writing this 😭
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rainydayathogwarts ¡ 3 months ago
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Low waisted jeans - Remus Lupin
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summary: you don't realise you have bruises on your hips when putting on low waisted jeans, and your brother becomes protective over you. cw: allusions to sex, secret relationship, jily part of my remus x potter!reader secret relationship au! This is set before james finds out. read more on my marauders masterlist! 0.6k+ wc
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"You're going to make us late y/n!" Marlene yells, Lily chuckling by her side as they wait for you to get ready. It wasn't your fault that you were still in class, and definitely not your fault that everyone had made Hogsmeade plans whilst you were in said class. You heard the door to the dorm open and slam shut, three extra voices added to the commotion in the room. You run around the bathroom, throwing off your tie and running your hands over your slightly crinkled shirt, hoping the outfit you picked out matched the image you'd created for it in your head. Kicking off your skirt, you shimmy on a pair of low waisted jeans. You pull the material of your shirt up, wondering if you should tuck it in or not before deciding against it.
Shrugging, you open the door to the bathroom, closing the closet door after stuffing your school shoes in its bottom compartment. You sit on the floor, putting on your sneakers and tying your laces. You glance at the boys who have joined your dorm mates in the room. James, your brother, sits with an arm wrapped around Lily's shoulder, whispering something into her ear. You pull a disgusted face, turning your attention to the others. Remus catches your eye and smiles widely, which you immediately return. Oh, the things you would do to stroll up and kiss him, but unfortunately, all that would do is expose your relationship to your brother. You push yourself off the ground, your shirt riding up your torso a little, and you walk into the open space of the room, putting your sun glasses on your head. "Okay I'm ready." You announce, attracting five pairs of eyes.
Sirius is the first to make a comment, asking "What counter did you have a fight with?" The comment confuses you, and you pull a face at the boy. "He means, how come you have bruises on your hips?" Marlene corrects, clearing her throat awkwardly. You glance down, view of your hips obstructed by your breasts. Huffing, you turn towards the mirror, jaw dropping just as James says "I think what they both mean is which boy fucked you so hard you have bruises on your hips?" You grimace at your brother's rephrasing, looking at the expression on his face through the mirror while Sirius barks out a laugh. James's jaw is tightly clenched, eyebrows furrowed angrily and you laugh nervously, watching as he slowly stands up. You definitely didn't think about the after effects of Remus having you bent over your desk yesterday, a hand slapped over your mouth despite the dorm's emptiness. At least the sex was good. Regaining your composure with a cough, you say "My sex life is none of your business, James."
James crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at you. "What, you don't think an older brother should care about their sister's romantic involvement with boys?" You grin, putting your arm through the handle of your purse. "No." You walk towards him, poking him in the chest. "And three minutes doesn't count as older." You open the door to your dorm, saying "After you, princess." Marlene and Sirius burst into a fit of giggles, and you can see Lily and Remus's unhidden grins from the corner of your eye. Three people stand up, following your brother out of the dorm, but one person stays behind, letting you close the door before approaching you.
Remus's hands land on your hips, massaging the bruises sorry with a small smile on his face. "I'm sorry about those sweetheart." He says, pecking your lips sorry. You hum, opening the door again, and shooing him out. "I think that smile says otherwise, Lupin. Causing me trouble with my brother..." He laughs at your comment, chasing after the others before you attempt a weak attack at him.
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amiableness ¡ 6 months ago
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Dad!James Potter x Fem!Reader ☟ 946 words
series masterlist ; main masterlist
“He’s precious! He looks just like his daddy.” Miriam gushes, leaning in closer to Henry. James cringes as his baby boy flinches away, burying his head into his father’s chest and eyeing the woman with uncertainty. Henry’s tiny hands clutch James’s shirt, seeking comfort and protection from the unfamiliar face.
James knows Miriam from school, but they have never been close. She has always been the life of the party, a role he once embraced during their school days. Now, her enthusiasm feels overwhelming, especially to his shy and sensitive son. Perhaps he has mellowed more than he realizes since then—having a child at 20 would surely do that to you.
Miriam straightens up, placing a manicured hand on his bicep. With a slight pout to her lips, she says softly, “I heard about what happened to you and his mum. It must have been devastating.”
James tenses, his gaze shifting nervously to the store entrance, where he hopes Sirius, Remus, and you will hurry with their shopping and rescue him from this unwelcome conversation. The thought of discussing his ex, who left him and their son behind because she wasn’t ready for motherhood, fills him with a mix of frustration and anger. The memory of her sudden departure still stings, and he isn’t eager to relive those painful moments, especially with someone he barely knows.
“Yeah, it’s been tough, but we’re doing just fine without her,” James replies, his tone steady but strained. He takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to gently suggest that Miriam give them some space. “Anyway, Miriam—”
“That’s so unfortunate that he doesn’t have a mum in his life,” Miriam continues, her lashes fluttering flirtatiously at him. James immediately grasps where she is going with this. It’s not the first time his role as a father has attracted unwanted advances, but her bold approach leaves him momentarily stunned. If she had asked him out directly, it might have been different—though he doubts it would have made much of a difference.
“Miriam! Still hitting on unavailable men?” Sirius’s voice rings out with a teasing edge. James turns to see Sirius and Remus emerging from the store. Remus is scanning the receipt but looks up, startled at Sirius’s voice. You must still be browsing in the store.
“Unavailable?” Miriam repeats, her eyebrows raising in surprise. James can’t help but question the same thing, the word echoing in his mind.
“Very much so,” Sirius says with a firm nod as he and Remus come to stand beside James. Remus shoots Miriam a polite hello, but his expression reflects his lingering dislike for her from their school days.
“I didn’t know you were with someone,” Miriam mumbles, and James thinks about clarifying that he didn’t know it either.
The bell above the shop door chimes, announcing someone’s departure. James’s reaction to your voice is immediate and revealing; his eyes brighten, and his posture straightens as he turns to you. It’s clear from his response that he is deeply enamored with you.
And it isn’t just James. His son mirrors his father’s excitement. The little boy’s eyes light up with the same warmth, and he reaches out eagerly toward you. Henry babbles what sounds remarkably like “mama,” his tiny arms outstretched in an unmistakable plea for you to hold him. James hopes you don’t catch what his son is trying to say.
Your sweet voice rings out, “Jamie, I know you said not to spoil him, but they had the most adorable knit sweater—” You trail off, blinking in surprise as you notice Miriam’s disapproving gaze, her brow furrowed in irritation. You come to astop next to James, missing the way his son is staring you down.
“You bought him another sweater?” Remus asks, his tone a mix of surprise and amusement. You shoot him a halfhearted glare, silently reminding him that he shouldn’t be commenting on it.
“Hi, Miriam. How have you been?” You greet her with a warm smile, though a hint of unease tugs at you. Miriam’s gaze feels unusually intense, leaving you slightly unsettled. You recall that you both got on well in school, so you’re unsure what might have shifted between you.
“Good. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you all, Jamie and I were just talking about—” Miriam trails off, her gaze fixed on James as he smoothly takes the shopping bag from you, allowing you to take Henry. Had you been fully listening, you would’ve frowned at the use of your nickname for James.
The transition is so effortless that it’s clear it’s well-practiced. You settle Henry comfortably on your hip, deftly rummaging through your purse until you find a pacifier. You gently pop it into his mouth, and Henry’s head droops onto your shoulder as he begins to suck contentedly, letting out a sigh that suggests he’s found his perfect spot.
James’s gaze is lovesick as he watches you. His heart catches in his throat as he sees you effortlessly produce a pacifier for his son. He’s well aware that your purse likely holds other baby essentials, even if you’d deny it. As he observes you, his thoughts drift, overwhelmed by the profound realization that Henry has a mum in his life— you.
You’re so focused on settling Henry that you don’t even notice Miriam’s silence, and James, so absorbed in you, is barely aware of her presence. You smile up at him while gently rocking his son, and James thinks, This is it. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.
Miriam turns to Sirius with a lowered voice, “I thought they were just friends. They were in school.”
“They were never just friends. Y/n has always been James’s weakness. Now she’s his son’s too.”
please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍
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kiwi-bitchez ¡ 11 months ago
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The Girlfriend Experience
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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.
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capsi-cuminme ¡ 5 months ago
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Blowing Off Steam
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summary: in which you're very stressed, and sparring is the only way you can destress. you're having trouble finding a partner though, so logan volunteers to help.
pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader
word count: 1.7k
warnings: mild swearing, fingering, some dirty talk, lots of horny thoughts, 18+ MDNI
author's note: ahhhh sweaty logan on a fighting mat is all i need. anyways, thank you guys sm for the response on my other fic, as a gift i bring you smut ;)
•──✦──•
You’re stressed. You’ve been overworking yourself, you know it, and you need to relax, destress. Your body feels wound up with tension and energy, and you’re unable to release it. It’s not like you have super complicated abilities that mess with your mind and make you lose your shit, no - that’s Jean’s set of troubles, not yours. Your ability is simple enough - super strength. 
So what is it that isn’t simple then? Right. Someone you can actually truly train with and exert yourself out with. There aren’t a load of people who can physically keep up with your strength, not except Colossus, and even he’s just a kid. So when, at times, you want to blow some steam by training, you have next to no one to do it with. 
Or, you didn’t, not until Logan came along. You’ve sparred with him a couple of times, but only for excessively short periods of time, due to you not being able to keep your shit together because of his overwhelming attractiveness. Honestly, you don’t think it’s your fault that you’re unable to focus; his arms look like he could rip apart logs of wood with them, his shoulders are so wide that they’re practically made for people to rest their ankles on, and his demeanor - his understated, wolfish demeanor makes you go insane. 
And as if all these things weren’t bad enough on their own, they tend to get exponentially exemplified whenever you guys spar. Obviously, fighting makes him breathe hard and stuff. So your life becomes even tougher. 
Really, you aren’t trying to be horny around him all the time. But that’s the thing. You’re pent up, stressed, overworked. Being a member of the X-Men means that it gets really hard to get laid due to several factors, and then when your coworkers are so hot? God help you. 
As you sit on the gym’s bench, staring at the sparring mats, you strain your mind to think of someone to spar with. You could ask Colossus, the kid’s always more than ready and could give you some competition on one of your bad days. But there’s too much of a risk. You’re already restless with energy, itching to let yourself go; in case the kid isn’t prepared or you get too excited, you’d end up hurting him, which is something you can’t risk. 
You could maybe go to Ororo and Scott, ask them to come at you together? The two of them together would successfully tire you out. Maybe they’d become a bit more than you’re mentally willing to handle. You don’t want to have to strategise at every step. 
God, you just need someone who can handle whatever you throw at them without having to think too much. Unfortunately for you, there’s only one person in the mansion who can do that. 
“Oh hey Bub, what you doing here? Got no classes to teach?” The somehow smooth but gravelly voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you turn to look at Logan, entering the gymnasium. 
Internally rejoicing at his choice of clothes - the white wifebeater under the oversized jacket - while simultaneously praying that he isn’t here to stay, you get up from your seat to speak to him. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to blow off some steam.”
“And you’re blowing off steam by… sitting on the bench?” He raises an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly. 
You sigh through your nose, smiling exhaustedly. “No, genius. I was confused about what I should do to destress.”
Your prayers go down the drain as you notice his eyes light up at the prospect of a sparring partner. Nodding to the mats, he asks, “You wanna go?”
Tongue in cheek, you review your options for a moment. Go to bed frustrated and stressed, or fight an extremely attractive man who’s also able to keep up with you. 
“Sure, let’s go.” 
And that’s how you find yourself attempting to elbow Logan in the face. He dodges and takes a step back, but not too far. Turning, you see the grin etched on his face. Taking it as a challenge, you feign a movement to the right, but attack from the left. Your arm aims for his face, but he deflects it by pushing your momentum to one side, stepping away and behind you and putting you into a headlock.
“What’s up?” he murmurs into your ear. “Can’t figure out what to do? Are you really that tired, huh?” 
You felt his chest heave from behind you, his warm breath tickling your ear. Body humming with excitement and mind buzzing with the thrill of finally being in an equal match, you grit your jaw, throwing your head back against his. As much as you enjoy the tone of his voice, you hope it hits him in the mouth just so he can shut up, because being aroused is not something you’re looking forward to. 
Yes you’re horny, maybe even a little perverted, but you truly don’t have any ulterior motives. 
Logan hisses as his grip on you loosens. Shimmying your way out of his grip, you lunge at him, arms ready to swing, but instead of throwing a punch when you get near, you use your leg to swipe at his legs, resulting in him landing on his back.
Silently rejoicing, you straddle him, pulling your arm back to land a punch on his jaw, but unfortunately he grabs hold of your arms before you can do that. As a result, you’re left heaving on top of him, arms immobile, face right above his. You don’t miss the way he breathes, sweat trickling down his forehead, eyes glinting with something you can’t fully identify. You also don’t miss the dampness of your underwear, the electricity you feel where you’re sitting on him. You realize you’re playing a dangerous game. Just as you’re about to make a move to get up, Logan suddenly moves you by the grip he has on your arms, slamming you onto the mats with considerable force. He looms on top of you, looking down. You squeak in indignant surprise, but he pins your arms on both sides of your face, lodging his thigh between yours. You gasp, not expecting the sudden escalation of events. “Darling, you know I’ve got a heightened sense of smell, right?” he asks, drawling. “I can smell your arousal, practically feel how you’re soaking down there.” Eyes wide and mouth agape, you stare up at him, not sure what to say, how to apologize. “Logan, I- I’m sor-” “Don’t have to say a word, Darling, I’m the same as you,” he emphasizes his point by rolling his hips against yours. You whimper quietly, feeling his erection pressing against your clit. “If I’m not interpreting this correctly, you can stop me,” he hums, getting closer to your face. Waiting for your approval, he looks at you. You close the distance between the both of you, borderline moaning as you feel his tongue grazing against your lips, asking to enter your mouth. More than willing, you grant him entry freely, whimpering as his tongue explores your mouth. You break the kiss, short of breath, but your distance doesn’t last long. Logan is sloppily making out with you as he grinds against you. Your bodies move hurriedly, in urgent need of release. 
“Lo,” you gasp between the kisses, “need you so bad, please.” He complies, hands leaving your arms as he gets on his haunches and quickly unbuttons your pants, pulling them down. His hand moves to your pussy, thumb pressing against your clit, gauging your reaction. Your eyes widen due to the unexpected movement, and you gasp. Satisfied with your response, he rubs short, quick circles against your clit, stimulating you as he slowly pushes in one finger. You moan, hands reaching down to stop the sudden intrusion. It’s been a while since you’ve done this, so your body’s sensitivity is at an all-time high. Logan doesn’t care, swatting away your hands, slipping in another finger. He moves them in shallow thrusts, stretching you out while looking for the spot that’ll finally get you wound up enough for his liking. You bite your lip to keep yourself silent, staring at the way Lo’s fingers pump in and out of you, making a mess out of your cunt. Suddenly, his fingers press into that spot that you’re never quite able to reach yourself, making you let out a loud moan. “Lo, Lo please, right there please, don’t stop-” you break your own voice off with an even louder whimper, eyes closing due to the pleasure. Logan watches you with keen eyes trained on your face. He speeds up his fingers and thumb, enjoying your reaction thoroughly, as it ignites something deep within him. He palms himself lightly, hissing as he realizes how hard he is. “Shit, darling, you make me insane,” he mumbles, guiding one of your hands to the bulge in his jeans, making you feel him. Your mouth falls open with a little “oh,” as you feel him. You try to palm him to relieve some of his tension, but fail as his fingers pump in and out of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. “O- oh God, Lo, I’m cumming, please please please-” you moan loudly as your orgasm crashes over you, thrashing on the mat. Logan holds down your hips, continuing his languid movements, easing you out of the feeling in waves. As you finally relax, catching your breath, you look up at him, unsure of what comes next. Usually by this point, guys tended to take their own pants off. Logan’s were still very much on. Before you could verbalize your confusion, he speaks. “I think we’ve blown enough steam off in the gym,” he chuckles. “I don’t want Charles to gim’me looks the entire month. I say we take this upstairs bub, what d’ya say?”
You stare up at him, wondering why he’s even asking, when there’s only one possible answer you could make out through the haziness of your mind. “Yes, let’s go.”
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kikidoul ¡ 15 days ago
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── FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY.
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໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა박성훈 x fem! reader content roommates to lovers non-idol au college/university au ᥫ᭡ warning not proofread explicit sexual content unprotected sex (stay safe!) petnames used kissing mean!dom sunghoon (i tried my best) choking fingering pussy eating degrading kink brief possessive sunghoon (if you squint) corruption kink(?) . . .!? 4030— mlist. | req
note. this has NO business taking me this long to write. i had to rewrite the start like multiple times before i was satisfied with it. and i might have gotten out of hand when writing this, whoops...sorry if the ending is shit... taglist. @tfwbluu
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You gritted your teeth, clutching onto your pen with a vice-like grip that you nearly snapped it into half. You were working on your project when your roommate thought it was a great idea to bring someone over. Unfortunately for your poor ears, the walls separating your rooms weren’t thick at all. This means you were able to hear every single noise and sound coming from the other room, much to your utter horror and annoyance. 
Sighing, you grabbed your headphones and wore them, increasing your music until you couldn’t hear them anymore. Once you were satisfied with the volume, you resumed working on your project. This was the norm for you and as much as you hate it, there wasn’t anything you can do about it. You couldn’t afford to pay the rent of an apartment if you chose to live by yourself, which was why you ended up choosing this small hostel that wasn’t far from your college. 
You knew you would be staying with someone but you didn’t really care, as you assumed that both of you will live your respective lives. But how wrong you were when you first met your roommate—Park Sunghoon. Being one of the popular guys on campus, it’s common to see girls going heart eyes, whipping out their phones as they giggled and squealed amongst themselves whenever he walked past them. You have heard about him and whether you liked it or not, he was everywhere you go. 
You would scrunch your nose in disgust whenever you hear girls talking about the “best sex experience” they had with him. Of course you knew about it, considering how you lived under the same roof as him. Sure, you admit Sunghoon is attractive, easy on the eyes and perhaps you have a tiny crush on him but that’s it. Nothing more and nothing less. As much as you tried to convince yourself, you were facing a losing battle. 
I need a break… 
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stretched your arms above your head, groaning. One glance spared in the clock’s direction tells you it was close to six in the evening. As if sensing this, your stomach growled out loud and you knew it was time for dinner. You grabbed your phone, still wearing your headphones and stepped out of the room. 
“What the—Seriously!?” You exclaimed, slapping a hand over your eyes when you stumbled upon a horrifying sight. You immediately whirled around to face the wall and your hand was still covering your eyes. 
“What the fuck? You didn’t tell me you have a girlfriend!” Your ears registered an angered female voice, followed by the sound of her frantically grabbing and (you hope) wearing her clothes. You wanted to reply but you held back, not wanting to create a huge mess than it already is. 
“What? She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my roommate,” Sunghoon scoffed, sounding both bemused and disgusted at the thought of having you as his girlfriend. You hated how your heart sank at his words.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m leaving,” the same voice from before spoke up. You heard what sounded like retreating footsteps followed by the door closing and then, it was silent. 
“You can turn around now, unless you wish to keep staring at the wall forever,” your roommate deadpanned. 
“...Are you wearing clothes?” You asked, turning around but you refused to drop your hand. 
Sunghoon sighed, heading to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for himself. “Yes, don’t worry. But if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve said so.” 
“No, you idiot! I don’t want to see your dick!” You exclaimed, finally dropping your hand. You heaved a sigh of relief when he was fully clothed, removing your headphones to leave it hanging by your neck as you followed him to the kitchen. 
“You’re acting like you’re a virgin. What? Have you not seen a dick before?” He teased, sipping his water while his eyes remained on you. 
You ignored his piercing gaze, choosing to busy yourself in grabbing a pot and a packet of instant noodles. “Of course I have. But unlike you, I don’t go around fucking everyone or anyone.” 
Sunghoon hummed, observing your movement with an unreadable expression. None of you said another word, the kitchen filled with the sound of you filling the pot with water. You placed it on the stove, ready to turn it on when he stopped you. 
“Then, do you want to fuck?” 
Silence. 
“What?” You turned, openly gaping at him. 
“What?” He owlishly blinked.
It was as if he had asked something casual when it wasn’t. To you, it was a dream come true. Sure, you had fantasies of having sex with your roommate but it was under different circumstances. A part of you was afraid—afraid he might realize that you were actually a virgin. You didn’t want to disappoint him, not when he had plenty of experience as compared to you. You squirmed on the spot, no longer having the courage to look at the other. 
“I…I don’t do… whatever this is,” you replied, wincing at how awkward you sound. 
“Don’t do what? It’s not like I’m asking you to date me. It’s just sex,” he answered, furrowing his eyebrows. 
What he doesn’t know is how his blunt words felt like an arrow, aimed and fired at your heart, effectively breaking it into pieces. You slowly nodded, eyes now staring at the pot—as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. 
“Right, it’s just sex,” you muttered under your breath. 
Sunghoon sighed, placing his now empty glass on the table and approached you. You nervously gulped, pressing yourself against the stove counter behind you. With your roommate standing before you, arms resting on both sides of you, barricading you in. You were able to get a faint whiff of his cologne—woody and minty. 
“Sunghoon…” You whispered his name, leaning your head back to create as much distance as you could. But it was hard, especially with the way he looked at you—like you were the only person he sees. 
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, voice soft. The way his eyes trailed down your face, taking in your features, only for it to linger on your parted lips made you feel breathless. 
“Kiss me, please.” 
Sunghoon instantly closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours the moment you finished speaking. You whimpered, throwing your arms around his neck as you tried to match his pace but it wasn’t easy. Shivers ran down your spine as he slid his hand underneath your shirt, slowly trailing up along your spine, leaving his warmth behind in its trail. You gasped when he bit your bottom lip, only for him to part your lips with his tongue and oh. 
Sure, you had a few experiences of kissing someone but you have never reached the point where your tongue was involved. Your knees threatened to give way when Sunghoon explored your wet, warm cavern with one, thorough lick. You moaned into the kiss, gripping onto the back of his shirt when he harshly sucked on your tongue. Your ears flushed red at the sounds of you kissing but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. 
You squeaked; startled when Sunghoon easily lifted you up, carrying you in his arms like you weighed nothing. Your roommate placed you down on his bed with such gentleness that you would’ve thought you were lovers and wasted no time in pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it was more desperate. 
“Can I?” He asks, hands hovering along the hem of your oversized shirt, waiting for you to give him the green light. You nodded, breaking the kiss and allowed him to remove your shirt, tossing it to the floor. 
You tried to cover yourself, realising how you were left in your simple black bra and shorts, unsure of how to react as Sunghoon stares at you. But he was quicker. He moved your hands away, using one hand to pinned your wrists above your head. You nervously gulped, feeling extremely small in your current position. 
“Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful,” he said, faint awe and admiration in his voice. As much as you wished to not believe him, you couldn’t. After all, there’s no harm in indulging in this, even if it’s just for one night, right? 
“Stop staring and do something already,” you retorted, flinching when he cheekily pinched your hips with his free hand. You tried to kick him but he held your legs down, chuckling at your reaction. 
“Patience, sweetheart. How about you tell me what you’ve fantasized about?”
You froze. “What are you talking about?”
Humming, Sunghoon leans in until his lips graze against the sensitive area near your ear. “Don’t think I’ve seen the way you looked at me, princess. I can feel your eyes on me whenever we’re in the same room. I can also see the way you clenched your thighs, thinking about the many and different ways I can ruin you.” 
You sharply inhaled when he trailed kisses down your neck, stopping at a certain area to leave a hickey behind. You tilted your head back, granting him more access and you swore you felt his lips curling up against your skin at your obedience. Sunghoon slipped his hand behind, only unbuckling your bra when you nodded your head, freeing your breasts from the constricting article of clothing. 
“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. If only you know how crazy you make me feel,” he whispered, not giving you time to articulate your response, leaning down to wrap his lips on your left hardened nipple. 
“Sunghoon!” You gasped, arching your back off the bed. 
You whined at the feeling of his tongue teasingly swirling the edge of your nipple. The contrast of his warm mouth against your cool skin made goosebumps formed on your skin. He finally released your wrists, moving to give your other nipple equal attention by using his fingers. Now that your hands were free, you blindly grabbed onto a fistful of his hair—a poor attempt to ground yourself. 
“Ngh—Sunghoon—please,” you cried out, eyes squeezed tight in pleasure. He hums, pulling away from your chest to swiftly remove your shorts and panties in one go, leaving you naked under him. 
You frowned at the sight of him fully clothed. “This isn’t fair.” 
“What’s not fair?” He asked, amused with the way you pouted, his hands lazily drawing circles on your thighs. 
“You’re still wearing your clothes. Take them off,” you whined.
Laughing, he obliged and only removed his shirt. You have seen him shirtless before and you should have gotten used to it. But maybe it was due to your current dilemma—that you’re about to have sex with your roommate that made your cheeks flushed red. He grins at your prolonged silence and how you were staring at him. 
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teased. 
“You’re so annoying,” you retorted, digging your nails into the sheets when he spread your legs as he moved down, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs. You watched with bated breath as he moved up and up, until he was near where you needed him the most. 
“Tell me what you fantasized about,” he said, eyes flickering up to your face. 
You gulped, knowing he has no intention of doing anything until you speak up. “I…I thought about you kissing me.” 
“Uh huh, go on,” he prodded, eyes never leaving your face. You dug your nails deeper into the sheets, feeling embarrassed with what you’re about to say. 
“I wanted you to touch me, eat me out and…”
“And?” 
“And be mean to me.” 
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his signature cheeky smirk stretching across his face. “Oh? I didn’t expect you to have such indecent thoughts about me. I guess I should be honored.” 
You groaned, having foreseen his reaction. “Sunghoon, I—Ngh!” 
You were harshly cut off when he smacked your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clit. You twitched, your hole clenching down on nothing but thin air as the area turned red. He grinned, eyes darkening a shade as he hovered his fingers along your clit, tracing your folds. 
“You know, you’ve an attitude for someone who’s been thinking about this. Is this what you want, hm? You want to be treated like a whore?” He cocked his head to the side, slowly pushing his index and ring fingers in, watching as your folds parted to let him in. 
Breathless whimpers fell from your lips at the sudden intrusion. You could feel your walls hugging onto his fingers and as far as you were aware, this was only two fingers. And yet, it was enough to make you feel light-headed. 
Sunghoon coos, taking note of your current state. “Look at you, already out of breath when it’s just my fingers. All you need is something to fill this pretty thing to shut you up.” He twisted his fingers just right, hitting the spot that made you cry out. 
“Fuck!” 
“Shit, you’re insane. I should’ve done this sooner,” he cursed, pulling his fingers out that were covered in your juices.
He brings them to your mouth with an expectant look on his face and you obliged—parting your lips to let him push his fingers in. However, what you didn’t expect was for him to shove his fingers down, until they were hitting the back of your throat. You made muffled choking noise, tears forming in your eyes as your tongue licked at whatever areas you could reach. Sunghoon didn’t move, watching as you cleaned his fingers, only removing them once he was sure you had thoroughly cleaned them. 
Sniff, sniff. 
Your sniffles piqued his interest and he saw how you were rubbing your thighs together, smearing your leaked juices all over your inner thighs. 
“Hoonie…” You begged, too drunk to even realize you had addressed him by a nickname. The sound of his name coming from your lips made his cock twitched, still restricted by the constraints of his sweatpants. 
“Yes? What do you want?” He asks, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 
You whined, making grabby hands at him and the way you were looking at him—with your doe-like, innocent eyes was testing his limits. “Want your mouth on me.” 
“Yeah? You want that, pretty girl? Where do you want me, hm? Do you want me here?” He asks, brushing his lips against your thigh, choosing to tease you. You shook your head, frustration written across your face. But he couldn't help it. You were simply too cute to not tease. 
“Or is it here?” He moved slightly higher, fingers digging into your unblemished skin to leave crescent-moon shaped indents behind on your upper thighs. 
“N-No, want you here,” you replied. Sunghoon didn’t expect you to take it into your own hands, grabbing his left hand to where your clit is. 
“Since you asked so nicely, who am I to deny you?” He hums, pleased with your initiative and wasted no time in diving in. 
He lapped at your juices, swirling the bud with the tip of his tongue. The delirious sensation drives you wild, filled with nothing but pleasure. Sunghoon groaned at your heavenly taste on his tongue and determined to have more, he parted your puffy lips, sliding his tongue in until he was practically fucking you open with the wet muscle. 
“Fuck—Sunghoon, hah, s-so good,” you slurred, eyes rolling up as you rolled your hips—like you’re riding his face—chasing after the stimulation. 
The room was filled with the lewd sounds of Sunghoon eating you out and your mixture of sounds endlessly spilling from your lips. You gripped onto the pillow beneath your head when you felt your stomach tightening. 
“I’m gonna c-cum,” you panted, warning the other but your roommate merely hummed, the vibration was enough to make you tipped over the edge. Your body shook with the intensity, tears rolling down your face at the first orgasm. 
You whimpered, body going pliant at the overstimulation because Sunghoon refused to grant you any second of relief. “Sunghoon, st-stop, ngh.” 
Eventually, he relent and your face turned as red as a tomato at the sight of the lower half of his face covered in your slick. He wiped them away with the back of his left hand, bringing it to his lips to clean them. The obscene sight was something straight out of your wildest fantasy and you gulped, craving more of him. 
“You taste divine, princess,” he groaned, moving up to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself as your tongues meet. 
Your arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, hips absentmindedly rolling against his. Both of you moaned as your clit rubbed against his cock through the fabric of his sweatpants. “H-Hoonie, please.” 
“Fuck, okay,” he cursed, hands fumbling to unbuckle his pants, tossing it along with his boxers to the ground. 
You watched, heart beating in anticipation as he moved your right leg over his shoulder—forcing you to spread yourself open for him. You mewled as Sunghoon grinded his cock against your wetness, using your slick to act as lubricant. 
“You’re so wet. Is it for me?” He murmured, faint amazement heard in his voice. 
“Mhm, f-for you,” you replied, and something about the way you easily admit it triggered Sunghoon. He pushed in in one quick thrust, forcing your gummy walls to make space for his cock. You moaned, feeling like you were floating on a cloud as you were stretched wide open. 
“You’re still so tight even after I’ve ate and fingered you open, sweetheart. Do you think you’ll still be this tight if I were to fuck you every day, make you warm my cock?” He groaned, unable to tear his eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of your walls fluctuating around his cock. 
The thought of that made you whine out loud—filled with nothing but pure desire. Sunghoon chuckles, starting off with a steady rhythm. He watched as your breasts jiggled due to the movement, how your lips parted to form a silent ‘O’ shape as he snapped his hips forward. 
“Do you spread your legs for anyone, hm? Do you bat your eyelashes at anyone, hoping for them to fuck you like this?” He taunts, reaching out to grab a fistful of your hair and tugging you up, forcing you to meet his eyes. 
He sneers at your teary eyes. “Look at you, already so fucked out on my cock. I doubt anyone can fuck you better than I can. Isn’t that right?” 
You sobbed, nodding your head with whatever strength you have left in you. But Sunghoon wasn’t pleased with your non-verbal response. 
“I’m asking you a question and I expect an answer,” he warns.
“Y-Yes,” you cried out, unable to focus on anything but the way his cock kept abusing the same spot, over and over again. It was driving you mad and Sunghoon could tell. 
“Good, if you ever try to sleep with other people, I want you to know they’ll never fuck you better than I can,” he chuckles, releasing your hair and increased his pace, now ruthlessly pounding into you without hesitation. The bed started creaking as it moved along, the bedframe occasionally hitting the wall. 
Heat spread under your skin like wildfire as you felt the familiar building pleasure. Seeing how you were about to reach your climax for the second time, Sunghoon moved his hand down to where you’re connected to rub your poor swollen, sensitive clit. His action elicited an instant wail of protest from you. You didn’t know if you should chase after his hand or move away, too drunk on pleasure to think straight. 
“Hah—H-Hoonie, please, please,” you sobbed, not sure what you’re pleading at this rate. 
“Please what, sweetheart? You want to cum?” He asks, his breathing ragged as he rested his thumb on your bud, teasingly rubbing it in slow circles. You vigorously nodded your head, unable to form a sentence anymore. He was about to pull out when he was nearly reaching his climax but you stopped him. 
“Don’t, wanna feel you inside,” you whimpered and Sunghoon’s breath hitched in his throat. 
“You can’t say things like that,” he muttered but obliged. 
All it took was one final, powerful thrust to make you orgasmed. It felt like a rubber band had snapped after being stretched out. You mewled when he emptied himself inside you, feeling full of his cum. Your body went limp, being pushed over your limits as you laid on the bed, in the dirtied sheets. Sunghoon, on the other hand, slowly pulled out. You made a noise, not used to the sudden empty feeling. 
You clenched down, able to feel hot, thick and white liquid trickling down your legs. Your roommate climbed off the bed, grabbing a few damp towels from the bathroom. He returned shortly after, wiping you off with such gentleness that you would have dozed off right there and then. But then, reality hits you—the reality of you having sex with your roommate. You were afraid, not sure how this will impact the both of you in the future. 
“I can hear you thinking, you know?” Sunghoon’s voice snapped you out of your train of thoughts. He handed you a cup of water, to which you gratefully accepted it and took slow sips, not sure when he had gone to the kitchen. 
“...What does this make us?” You asked in a small voice, having no choice but to get it out of your heart. 
He went silent, busying himself in dragging the dirtied sheets off the bed as he dumped them to the floor. Sunghoon grabbed a random shirt from his wardrobe, tossing it to your lap. You shot him a questioning look and he rolled his eyes.
“I’m letting you wear it, unless you don’t want to.” 
“Oh, thanks,” you replied, putting the cup on the bedside table as you wore the shirt he tossed you. The shirt felt like a dress, reaching your upper thighs and your senses were filled with his scent, making your cheeks flushed red. Sunghoon was now fully clothed, sitting on the bed beside you with his arms crossed. 
“If I were to tell you I want to be more than roommates, how would you react?” He asks, turning to face you. 
Your eyes widened. “What?” 
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, not looking at you. “I’ve liked you for a while now and I didn’t know how to tell you.” 
“So you decided to sleep with other girls? Is that how you wanted to get my attention?” You scoffed, finding it hard to believe. 
He looked guilty at your response. “I didn’t fucked them, though. I only made out with them and nothing else that involves removal of clothes. I couldn’t do it, not when you kept popping up in my mind.” 
Your breath caught in your throat. “Does that mean…you were thinking about me every time you kissed someone?” 
Sunghoon sheepishly chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well yeah, when you put it that way.” 
You barked out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, but fortunately or unfortunately, I’d like for us to be something more than roommates.” 
“Yah! What do you mean by "unfortunately”!?” He shot you an incredulous look and you giggled, finding his reaction adorable. He jumped on you, wasting no time in tickling your sides. 
You squealed, thrashing about like a fish out of water as you tried to shove him off of you but it was futile. He easily overwhelmed you with his strength. 
“H-Hoonie! Haha, stop! Please!” You exclaimed through your barrage of laughter, your vision turning blurry. 
“Fine, you’re lucky you’re cute,” he sighed, surrendering and plopped down on you, suffocating you with his body weight. 
“Get off me!” You smacked his back, only to flinch when he pinched your sides. 
“You’re so annoying, I swear,” you retorted, but there wasn’t any bite to your words. 
“Too bad you’re stuck with me now.” 
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sadhours ¡ 3 months ago
Text
kinktober day two • accidental stimulation
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
aka: melting
steve harrington x fem!reader
kinktober masterlist
cw: 18+, minors dni, dry humping, public sex (kind of), slight humiliation, p in v
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
Scoops Ahoy! is the bane of your existence. Shilling ice cream for bratty kids and old classmates is a real pain in the ass. Especially on days like today, when you have to work with Steve instead of Robin. Steve’s annoying, always has been. You were once paired up with him for a biology project in high school and he didn’t do a goddamn thing but took credit and you’ve been holding onto that grudge for years. At the time, Steve treated you like the dog shit under his shoe but times have changed.
You’d sprouted tits and actually learned how to take care of yourself— how to wear makeup and style your hair. It’s landed you in a weird spot with Harrington. He hits on repeatedly, almost on the hour during hour six hour shifts. Maybe if he’d hadn’t been such a dick to you in high school, you’d consider it because let’s face it; Steve Harrington is a babe. A stupid, arrogant babe. It’s kind of fun, turning him down. Feels like you’ve won something. Even though, you ponder what would happen if you gave into his incessant flirting.
However, today, you wanna sock him right in his beautiful face. He’s been incredibly annoying, complaining how he hasn’t felt the touch of a woman since Nancy and how the uniform really isn’t helping his case. You’d beg to differ. He unfortunately looks… attractive in it. But he’s fallen off the social ladder and that’s why the girls reject him.
It’s closing time, you’re bent over into the drop ins. Covering the big gallons of ice cream when Harrington tries to sneak behind you to close up the topping bar. His crotch grazes your ass and he freezes. Pathetically, makes a shocked noise and presses his hand against the small of your back.
“What are you doing?” you ask, voice echoing inside the drop-in freezer.
Steve doesn’t move, keeps his crotch firmly pressed against your ass and even rolls his hips. You can feel his cock hardening behind his polyester shorts and your eyes widen. Why the fuck isn’t he moving? And worse, how did he get hard just from barely grazing against you? He’s really down bad.
You try to look back at him but then he’s grabbing your hips, rolls his again and you stare stunned down at the tub of U.S.S Butterscotch.
He jolts back, you can hear his body making contact with the counter behind him as he exclaims, “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to…”
You pull your head out of the freezer and turn to him, a sly smile spreading across your lips, “Did that make you hard?”
“No,” he lies but the proof is staring you in the face, those little blue shorts doing nothing to help him hide it.
You laugh, soft and shocked and fine, okay— flattered.
“Wow,” you exhale, “I didn’t realize it was that dire.”
“Shut up,” he shakes his head and tries to look nonchalant, but his cheeks are red, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Another laugh, your eyes trained on his erection straining through his uniform and then he moves his hands to cover it. His eyes everywhere but on you. You hum, pout and tilt your head, “You’re not as suave as you think.”
He swallows hard, “I need to, close the topping station… I uh—“
“Yeah… and I need to finish covering the ice cream. I’m gonna bend back over and do that…” you tell him, feeling bold because well, it’s been a long time for you to and you can’t deny you enjoyed the feeling of him against you. “If I feel something… I’m just gonna keep doing what I’m doing.”
You spin back around and get back to covering the tubs. Steve’s not as stupid as you thought, because when you duck back into the freezer, his crotch is pressed against your ass again. His large hands wrap around your hips, holding you steady.
Thank god you guys were behind tonight. The mall has to be empty, gates all closed and the whole food court is quiet. You wiggle back against him and Steve lets out a sound you hate to admit is pretty.
Keeping true to your word, you act as if nothing is happening as you cover all the tub while Steve grinds against you from behind. And you let him. Welcome it, actually. Feel pretty because of it. You even grind back against him, feeling your thighs heat up. This is dangerous yet it feels like maybe it was bound to happen. A part of you thinks that maybe if you give Steve this, he’ll stop being so insufferable. Like he needs to have this kind of interaction with a woman in order to stop seeking it out so desperately. You want to give Steve what he wants— what he’s been begging for for months.
The pair of you keep grinding into each other for a while. Until you start to feel uncomfortable from the coldness of the freezer. So you pull yourself out of it. Move over to the register and bend over the counter. Steve follows you, presses himself up against your ass again and drags his hands down your back.
So you reach behind you, pull the skirt of your uniform up and then push your underwear down your thighs.
“Fuck,” Steve exhales as he watches and you can hear him undoing his shorts and shoving them down. “I’ve had dreams like this.”
Yeah, that’s a big inflation to your ego. And you can’t help but admit, “Me too.”
Steve groans lowly, brings his fingers to your cunt and rubs them up through your folds. He scissors your clit and then brings them back down, circling around your entrance. “I’m kind of big, I should probably get you ready,” he says and sinks two fingers into your pussy.
You gasp and moan, rolling your hips back on his fingers. Part of you wants to look back, see if he’s exaggerating but from what you could see in his shorts, you don’t think he is. Steve thrusts his fingers in and out of you slowly, spreads them while they’re deep inside and you have to bite your lip to keep quiet. You’re sure you’re alone in this mall, aside from the security guards but they don’t hang around the food court this time of night. Better be safe, though.
“You dream about me?” you ask, voice shaky.
“All the time,” Steve breathes out, pulling his fingers out but circles the tips of them along your hole. “Didn’t know it’d be so easy like this.”
You giggle, pushing your ass back against him as you tell him, “Me either. You’re a pain in my ass, but you are cute.”
“Am I?” he asks, leaning over you and kissing against your neck just as he slides his fingers back inside you.
A groan pours from you as you close your eyes, “Shut up, Harrington, you know you’re hot.”
He licks your jaw, then nips at it gently before pressing his lips against your ear, “I know I am. I didn’t know you thought so, too.”
God, you wish you could see his face— to remind you how much you really think so. You know he’s still wearing that dumb sailor hat he hates so much and you haven’t had the guts to tell him he looks cute in it. He adds a third finger and the stretch of it has you crying out. Steve fucking tsks, tells you, “Just wait until I get my cock inside you.”
“Do it,” you plead, pushing your ass back against him desperately.
He nips at your jaw again, fingers leaving you abruptly as he grips his cock and guides his tip towards your hole. Once you feel it prodding, you inhale sharply. He slips the tip in, stretching you beautifully— almost has you in tears but he goes slow. Allows you to adjust to every inch as he mouths at your jaw and neck.
You feel like you're melting, hands gripping the counter as he sheathes himself inside you to the hilt. He’s completely inside you, hands clinging onto your hips as your walls grip and pulse around his cock.
“Oh, fuck,” you whine out, “You’re so fucking big.”
He groans, right against your ear and mumbles, “I told you…”
Everything is fuzzy. Scoops Ahoy! doesn’t exist. You’re in space with Steve’s impressive cock buried inside you, not in the mall where there’s a potential to be seen. He thrusts forward hard and deep, making you yelp. He grabs your jaw, turns your face towards him and kisses you sloppily, silencing your involuntary noises. He tastes sweet, like the maraschino cherries he snacks on. You wonder if you taste like the ice cream sundae he made you for your break. You try to think about when he slid it to you and said he made it with love. Which is easy to forget as he rolls his hips, cock dragging against your sensitive walls.
“You’re so tight,” he babbles out.
You reply with, “you’re so big…”
“Feel good, yeah? Me stretching you out?”
“So… fucking… good,” you give in, gasping into the sideways kiss as he delivers a hard and deep thrust.
Steve’s hands reach around, cupping your breasts over your uniform and you wish you weren’t at work— but somewhere where he could feel you up, completely exposed. This will have to do, though. He kisses your neck sloppily, repetitively across the expanse of it that his lips can reach. Small, quiet moans falling past your lips, hopefully muffled by the tinny speakers playing easy listening throughout the mall.
“Oh, god, Steve…” you whine, hips jutting into the counter from the force of his thrusts.
His hands knead against your chest as he presses his face against the crook of your neck and breathes, rugged and heavy. He picks up his pace a bit more and you know he’s close, so you shove your hand down between you and the counter. Get your fingers pressed to your clit and rub circles, mirroring the rhythm of Steve’s thrusts. The feeling of his breath against your neck is surprisingly pleasant. You focus hard on reaching your climax, luckily getting there before Steve. Unfortunately, you can’t keep your volume under control as you moan. Feel too good to really care, even. Steve whines from the sound, pulling out of you quick and then you feel thick, hot ropes of cum landing on your exposed ass.
Then the pair of you stay still, awkwardly— just panting. You turn your head to look back at him as he uses his apron to clean the mess on your skin. It makes you laugh, which causes Steve to smile and laugh. He’s got his shorts back up and he moves to pull your underwear up. Then you turn and look at him. He chews his bottom lip, staring back at you.
“I uh, forgot to ask you earlier but, could you give me a ride home tonight?” you ask, cheeks red in embarrassment.
“Oh, yeah, for sure,” he nods, looking as awkward as you feel.
You grab onto the collar of his uniform and suggest, “Maybe we could hang out at your place for a bit, first?”
Steve grins, gorgeous white teeth on display and he puts his hands on your hips, leans down and says, “Yeah, that could be fun.” before he plants a kiss on your lips.
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