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unfinishedslurs · 2 years ago

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gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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envy-of-the-apple · 1 month ago

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Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV.

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep.

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates.

And you were just extra baggage.

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted.

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you.

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did.

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space.

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you.

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day."

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider.

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all.

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak.

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever.

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?"

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys.

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back."

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders.

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob.

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out.

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise."

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being.

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them.

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other."

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could."

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left.

Satoru appears first.

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting.

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream.

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry.

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes.

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?"

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-"

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat.

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms.

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you."

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair.

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to.

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay."

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused.

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?"

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter."

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it.

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word."

He freezes. You smile at Utahime.

"Could you give us some time?" You ask.

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you.

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room.

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him.

"For what?"

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories.

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry."

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-"

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up.

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker.

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves.

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did."

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you."

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again.

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick.

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru."

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter.

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying.

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay.

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him.

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone.

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer."

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed.

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't."

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship.

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand.

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better."

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip.

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now."

"You haven't even given us a chance to-"

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods.

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house."

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare.

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort.

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you.

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not."

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you.

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes.

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic."

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her.

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown.

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around.

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?"

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes.

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends."

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs.

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue.

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side.

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better."

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better.

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared.

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure.

And so did Suguru.

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first.

"How have you been?" He asks nicely.

"Good." You respond. "You?"

"Good."

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long.

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school."

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter.

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not.

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh.

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable.

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same."

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine."

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were."

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to.

But now, you don't have that desire anymore.

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest.

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly."

Suguru frowns, troubled.

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-"

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable."

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place."

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift.

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that."

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru."

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately.

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?"

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole.

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you.

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours.

"I love you."

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse.

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't.

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding.

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet.

He's miserable.

You did this. This was all you.

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him."

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru.

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better.

"It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal."

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this.

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset.

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought.

"But what?" You press.

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face.

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out."

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation.

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?"

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach.

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long.

"You'll see!" You chirp back.

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later.

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise."

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'.

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy.

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought.

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass.

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you."

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!"

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore."

Shoko freezes mid-sip.

"What?" She asks.

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-"

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?"

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again."

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces.

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand."

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-"

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time.

"Oh." You breathe.

"Oh." Utahime whispers.

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass.

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?"

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!"

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle."

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties."

"I thought we were just doing friend things!"

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified.

"I-I-" You give up.

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot.

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes.

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko.

"Do you want us?"

You take a deep breath.

You nod.

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely.

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more.

You break away, panting.

"You good?" She asks.

You nod.

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now."

"What?"

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses.

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks."

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit.

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh.

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?"

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy.

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy."

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next.

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation.

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you."

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy.

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes.

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?"

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush.

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet."

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself.

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm.

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair.

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight.

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime.

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue.

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go."

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams.

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always."

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep.

Shoko slaps your thigh.

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face."

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much.

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them.

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper.

"Awake?" She asks.

"Yeah." You softly say back.

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch.

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist.

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes.

"I'm gonna get food."

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you.

"What do you want?" She prompts.

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door.

The interaction makes your heart warm.

Still, it can't last.

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist.

"And where are you going?" She prods.

You fumble. "Back to my room?"

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now."

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?"

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?"

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine."

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly.

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder."

You laugh.

"That's not a joke." She warns.

"I know." And you kiss her again.

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place.

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up.

Everything was just perfect.

And then, it just wasn't.

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled.

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone.

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold.

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay?

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it.

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about?

The living room is horrific.

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels.

Suguru doesn't even blink.

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal.

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?"

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth.

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition."

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos.

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands.

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that."

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting.

But you know you aren't expecting...that.

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore.

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them."

You step back. They step forward.

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far.

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-"

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already."

He smiles again.

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores."

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete.

The worst part is that everything was your fault.

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak.

"I'm sorry."

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions.

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two."

Satoru halts. You caught him.

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder.

"You missed us?" He wonders.

The lie feels like sand.

"More than anything."

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry.

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault."

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much.

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh.

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms.

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands.

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance.

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry.

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat.

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed."

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here.

"I'm sorry," you say anyway.

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer.

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells.

And then, he grins.

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely.

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore.

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much.

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness.

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you.

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you.

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share.

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments.

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs.

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

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