#i think of it every time i have a smoke because that’s the very same rype of cigarettes i smoke

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

Grian calls him back to the mountains. Not calling, really, just two little words covering the distance between them, but Scar can hear his voice all the same.

"I gotta come back." He says, distracted, words slipping out from his teeth like they hadn't quite realized their existence yet - the almost tangible bond in between them tugging him up the stairs with a speed his thoughts can't match.

His fingers still shake from the adrenaline, frozen in the phantom sensation of pulling back the string of his bow. There's a giggle stuck in the back of his throat.

A cheap move he'd called it - frustrated around the edges, self-deprecation staining the corner of his lips - but now all he can think about is the arc of Grian's fall, a parabola no mathematical formula will ever understand.

He gets there alone, sun high in the way it means it's burning, and Grian is waiting for him with two bright red blocks of TNT by his side.

"You deserve this." His hair sticks out in all directions, kinetic energy from the fall that had nowhere else to go, and Scar almost thinks himself back to the start of the session when time slowed down to the millisecond of destruction - a spark, a flame, that familiar hiss that always made your heart skip a beat in instinctive fear.

The wooden boards are shattered in an instant.

His "NO!" is loud, but the feelings behind it are half-assed, an emotional reciprocity to Grian's frazzled look he just simply can't bring himself to match. The truth is that he's pissed a little bit, but that damn giggle is still stuck to the wall of his trachea, threatening to escape with every little breath.

Grian shifts on his feet a little, idly nudging a pebble to fall into the newly formed hole with an echoing click. "That's how little that reputation board meant, I was in good favour Scar!"

It takes him a second to blink. "Wait, no you weren't! You were on 0 with a sad face!" It's easy to act outraged, and easier still to step closer to Grian - the darkness of the night closing in on them, clinging to the sharp angle of Grian's nose and twisting his face into a frown. "Okay well-"

Scar cuts him short, pressing, eager for a way to get back under his skin in a way that makes him whole. "Maybe we're even now!"The answer is instantaneous. "No. That's not how this works!" His words are laced with the hint of a laugh there, and Scar knows he's already almost won him over.

Grian takes a step closer - toying the line of reaching for Scar's coat, his narrowed eyes piercing him all the way to his heart. "You know I wouldn't be able to kill you anyways," He parrots, the white of his teeth gleaming in the light. "Where did that go, huh?"

The sheepish smile is impossible to swallow back. "Well you see it was- it was a lapse of judgment! Can you really blame a man for being a bit depressed none of his traps worked?"

Grian rolls his eyes. "You got two kills this session Scar, I don't think you're very deserving of my pity there. Skizz got none!"

"He could have if he'd pressed that lever faster than Jimmy."

An incredulous look is thrown his way. "And kill me and Mumbo? I don't know what kind of teammates you've got, but that's not how we do this." His face is scrunched up in annoyance, lips flattened in that particular way that always made Scar want to kiss them until they opened in the shape of his name.

But red had cradled his cheeks just not that long ago, and it seemed his neurons hadn't had time to settle back into being green, because self-restraint doesn't bind his limbs back under control when he succumbs to the impulsion of kissing Grian.

His first impression is that he tastes like smoke, with a heavy touch of explosion - the detonator to a bomb Scar can feel buried in his heart.

There's a surprised little noise in the microscopic space between their lips, before Grian kisses him back hard enough to bruise.

"You respawned in my bed again." Scar pants in between kisses, like it will explain anything. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't, but he's too busy burying his nails into Grian's waist to care much for it.

And then, because they don't have time, because it's day again and Scar's bow is still hanging up on his back, they pull away with one last touch that almost feels regretful.

Scar steps back, rolling on his heels a little before turning to where Grian's teammates are with a smile. "I'm glad we're even now, thank god!"

The speed at which Grian's face becomes infuriated again is so comical that Scar nearly trips on his descent. "That's not how it works!" It sounds like he's gritting his teeth, red bitten lips pursed yet again, but the angry tone is betrayed by the fondness hiding underneath.

The words fade away as Scar tumbles his way down to Mumbo and Skizz but Grian's laugh stays, a sharp and hypnotic sound dancing in the air.

-

(this session made me a little bit insane about them, so take this <3 Shoutout to my friend Sparrow who convinced me to post this on here <3 skkdjdskjks the potion do be anxious sometime 😔)

[celestailio]

you are the apple of my eye ( gojo x fem!reader )

outline: gojo satoru is the star of your year while you are the exact opposite, and that is why you want absolutely nothing to do with him.

contains: gojo x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, reader and gojo are in the same year, lots of pinning from gojo's side, somewhat oblivious reader. some bullying. mishaps and lots of cuteness at the end :D reader is somewhat neurodivergent and lonely :< canon divergence ( my world, my rules )

wc: 8.9k

a/n: my very first fic of gojo. i hope i did him justice. this is kinda self-indulgent... but that's okay.. :> aahhh i miss him so much... i just want to eat and cuddle with him... ahhhh ahem. i wrote this for my one and only, my bestie!!! i hope you like it, my baby <3333 anyway, feedback is always appreciated on my writings! enjoy my fellow gojo connoisseurs!!!!

it is the beginning of november, which marks the onset of an unforgiving winter. the rain pours hard, washing everything it comes in contact with. the stony pavement leading to the jujutsu high is gradually beginning to flood, the water drenching your shoes.

you find your way through the busy road bustling with chattering students and teachers. stepping on wet dead leaves with a clear umbrella clutched in your hands, which is doing a poor job in shielding you from the heavy downpour.

why did they have to make the dormitories so far away from the main buildings?

you enter the front corridor and make a straight beeline for your locker, hurrying to change your shoes before the wetness makes contact with your socks. it was relatively easy to navigate today. usually, you would have to manoeuvre through lines of stationery people blocking the way. 

climbing up the stairs to the second floor, you make a turn before coming to a stand still.

not again…

it was becoming a daily occurrence as of now. the horde of girls waiting near your classroom door for a certain someone. you could make out most of them to be from your year and a few junior ones probably a year younger than you and certainly not your best friend, yumeko because you know she’s still dozing off in her bed and will probably come to class a bit later like she often does. and it sucks that she lives in a different building than you. you’d have to request yaga to change rooms before next term.

you position yourself behind them concealed from any prying eyes. it’s not like you had to wait for them to leave. you could always go and ask them to move aside and make way for you, but every time you tried to strike a conversation with them, they all looked towards one another before dismissing you. so you’d rather wait patiently for yaga to disperse them like always.

as if on cue, a certain trio pops up behind a corner, their silhouette becoming clearer as they make their way towards the classroom. the short brown haired girl and the tall black haired boy walk in front while the white-haired boy trails behind. hands tucked in his pants’ pockets, his backpack dangling off his right shoulder. his white tufts bounce with each step. as soon as the girls see them, the loud squealing and giggling start.

‘’hey gojo!’’

‘’how was the mission boys?’’

it’s too early for this.

you don’t miss the frown that crawls up on the brown haired girl’s face. shoko. she has helped you on numerous occasions with your homework and projects. you think she is a nice girl. you often run into her smoking her lungs out behind the school’s building or in a desolate hallway late at night. you are surprised she still has her voice after going through countless packs in a short span.

‘’yo.’’ 

shoko calls out to you and proceeds to stand beside you, arms crossed. you give her a stiff nod before both of your attention is diverted. a girl emerges from the crowd.

you think she is someone a year below you. she trudges towards the front of the boy and stands in front of the white-haired boy, satoru. you catch a glimpse of a letter tucked in her hands behind her back. satoru raises an eyebrow as the girl begins to speak. everyone falls silent as they listen carefully.

it’s kinda hard to make out what she’s saying from where you are standing, but you know it’s the typical confession the boy receives every week. yumeko once told you about how, at the start of your second year, one of them received a whopping ten love letters in their locker. you don’t know if you should find it endearing or concerning.

shoko chuckles besides you clearly amused at the scene unfolding in front of her. you might as well enjoy this to the fullest. not every day, you get to see something like this.

the girl finishes her speech, head bowed and hands extending, showcasing the letter to satoru. everyone holds their breath as they wait eagerly for his response. dozens of eyes fixated on the white head. satoru stares at the letter blankly before a chuckle leaves him. the girl whips her head up at the mellow sound before she is stopped as his large hand comes up to rest on her head, giving it a small pat.

‘’sorry mimi! you are like a younger sister to me. i am sure there’s someone else for you.’’

everyone gasps, and continuous whispers start filling the once dead air. mimi visibly deflates, her hands dropping to her sides, causing the letter to fall on the floor. little tremors of embarrassment coursing through her body. 

despite her attempts to suppress the little whimpers, she fails miserably as a loud sob breaks the tension. soon, she turns around and storms off. her friends call out her name before they go chasing after her. you kinda feel bad for the poor girl. 

‘’don’t they know that he’s never going to accept?’’

shoko suddenly turns towards you, a smirk on her smooth face. eyes quirked up.

‘’why?’’ you question, as you look towards where the girl stood. the air is clearing out as everyone retreats to their respective classes. 

‘’why don’t you?’’ she winks at you before silently slipping behind the classroom doors.

‘’wait-’’ you try to stop her, but she’s too damn fast. your hand hovers in the air for a moment before you gain composure. suppose you should go now, too. in the distance, you make out the silhouette of your best friend, yumeko. 

nevermind.

her loud yells of your name, drawing unwanted attention as she dashes through the hallway. she is quick to join you and wraps an arm around your waist. 

‘’finally!’’ she sighs loudly.

you sense satoru looking at the two of you, his blue eyes briefly meeting yours from behind those black sunglasses before he breaks eye contact. he bends down to pick up the trampled letter and shoves it in his jacket. suguru shouts his name, and satoru immediately goes straight into the classroom.

‘’can you please not shout my name in the hallways?’’ you hiss as she clings onto your body, her wet clothes an unpleasant feeling against your own.

‘’oh c’mon, it’s not that bad!’’ she exclaims with loud giggling as the both of you hurry to the classroom.

‘’but seriously yu, you need to get this under control unless you don’t care about jeopardizing your credit.’’ you poke her side and shrug her off.

both of you enter the class and are surprised to see yaga’s already waiting at the front. he nods at you both and signals you to go sit at your desks. satoru still has his eyes on you. you shrug and make your way through the lines of desks.

‘’oh who cares about that.’’ yumeko sighs before breaking into a big grin and sits on her desk in front of you. you only sigh at her mischief as yaga commences the lecture.

‘’today class, we will discuss a bit about your extracurriculars.’’ yaga starts off, his voice barely audible through the loud chatter of the class.

‘’this december break, you are to be assigned to locations all over japan with curse activities and will take on the mission as a duo.’’’

‘’rest assured you will be supervised by a senior jujutsu sorcerer. i will mail the formations and other details by tomorrow morning. make sure to check your post before classes. we will have personal lessons based on your chemistry with your partner.’’

the class is dead silent as yaga finishes his little monologue before everyone erupts in loud noises. some students are thrilled, ready to delve into new adventures while others slouch in their chairs, not happy with missing holidays.

‘’now that’s an interesting way to spice up your holidays, but doesn’t that mean no break for us this winter?’’ yumeko pouts.

“i am sure it’s going to be a quick one.’’

‘’but the sorcerers tend to get outclassed ninety percent of the time, no?’’ she giggles behind her hand.

‘’hey stop trying to frighten me, or i’ll have to chicken out before we actually go!’’ you join in with her giggles before both of you tune into the lecture.

after spending the rest of the day with yumeko cramped up in the library cramming for your theoretical exams, you stayed behind while yumeko had to go early. the hallways, along with the main entrance, are empty at this time, adding to the peaceful ambience.

you begin getting ready to return only to see the rain has yet to stop. yumeko had to borrow your umbrella, and you figured if you stayed behind a bit more, the storm might calm down, but clearly, it is not happening any time soon. 

guess you’ll have to sit it out later into the night, too. might as well go to the cafeteria at this point.

‘’hey got an umbrella?’’

soft footsteps echo behind you before a warm and mellow voice calls out to you. you turn around, and once again, those familiar blue hues surround you.

satoru stands idly in front of you, leaning on a locker, eyes fixated straight on yours. the eye contact is fierce, causing you to break it off right away, shuddering at the intensity of his gaze. 

you shake your head, not saying anything, trying to limit the interaction with him. really you don’t have anything against him, it’s just, you’d rather stay away from him from all the attention, and you definitely don’t want his fangirls ganging up on you for trying to snatch their crush away.

‘’oh don’t you have one?’’ he speaks easily and lifts off the locker, coming towards you.

‘’here you can take mine.’’ he’s so, so close to you now. the sweet smell of his cologne and the warmth radiating off of him is making your senses fuzzy. you again shake your head before coming up with an excuse.

‘’there’s no need. uh, my friend will be here shortly. thanks for offering, though.’’

you cringe internally at the hoarseness of your voice. since when did you sound like that, and was that a stutter? oh, god. you have done embarrassing yourself in front of him. 

satoru chuckles watching you go through a mental debate. the distress is visible on your face, and he reaches up a hand to your shoulders and gives it a squeeze, trying to ease the mood.

‘’hey listen i don’t mind, and it’s not like i need one.’’ his voice now much more soft. he extends the umbrella towards you, waiting patiently. 

you do your best not to pay attention to the weight of his unusually large hand on your shoulder as you stare intently at the clear umbrella. he again gives you a slight squeeze before you break out in a sigh.

you nod at him, and satoru cheers, a big grin danves on his face before passing the umbrella to you. your fingers graze briefly. a shudder courses through your body. 

he’s surprisingly warm.

you are sure he must have felt the cold from your fingers. you thank him and open the umbrella. satoru is still standing beside you.

‘’you are welcome!’’ he chirps.

his jacket brushes against you and steps outside in the heavy rain. you are shocked to see him perfectly dry despite the heavy droplets of water. you focus on how the water seemed to disappear just before it reaches him and falls to the ground, barely making any contact with his body. 

‘’you get it now?’’ satoru quips with a subtle smirk and sends you a quick wink before parting ways. you feel your cheeks heating up at his little act.

what the..

it's the next day, and just like yaga said, you wake up to find the letter in your mailbox containing the details about your very first joint mission. today you are with yumeko in her dorm. she is jumping from side to side, her own letter clutched in her hands while you sit on her bed. you can’t help but smile at the contagious excitement summering in the room.

‘’and? what are we waiting for? let’s open it!’’ yumeko springs on the bed, jolting you in the process. 

‘’who knows they coincidentally partnered you and me?’’ 

‘’that’s impossible but sure.’’ you can only shake your head as she keeps on muttering something under her breath. 

‘’whatever, yours first!’’ both of sit up straight, a strange feeling coursing through your bodies. why were you feeling nervous all of a sudden.

the once free and joyous air was now full of stillness. your heart races with excitement and uncertainty before you finally look at the inscribed name. yumeko breaks out into a loud gasp, trying to process the information, her hands in the air making random figures as she starts blabbering.

you had certainly not expected him to be your partner. you kept rubbing your eyes. maybe your eyes were deceiving you, but no matter how many times you rubbed them, the name did not change.

‘’what?! no way you got him as your partner!’’

‘’why are you mad at me? it’s not like i wanted him as my partner!’’ you huff and fall back into the sheets, arms coming up to rest on your head. the weight of the mission presses down on you as you think about how you were going to work with him. mind racing with possibilities and concerns.

‘’everything will be credited to him, and my plans of landing an early internship? blown to pieces!’’

your frustration is palpable. no way you were securing that internship now.

‘’i mean that’s true, but it’s going to be easy now! i don’t even have any idea who my partner is.’’ yumeko crawls beside you and exhales deeply.

‘’but don’t worry it will work out.’’ sigh you can only hope for now.

it’s a few days later after you received your letter. a dim afternoon, you are waiting outside yaga’s office. you’ve been meaning to talk to him about changing partners for the upcoming missions, and you explain to him trying your best to look sincere.

but no matter how many times you try to appeal to him, he just wouldn’t falter. he keeps on talking. that the jujutsu headquarters are the ones who designed the pairings, and there was nothing he could do about it. but isn't he a teacher? surely there was something he didn't think of.

you return from his office defeated. you never considered yourself to be lucky, but it really seemed like fate had stopped favouring you. there’s no way in hell you would go with the gojo satoru on a mission, but there was nothing you could do now. 

every day becomes a hassle as you try to avoid satoru, but it’s impossible with the two of you being in the same class. he shows up strutting over to where you sit in the back of the class. the same black sunglasses hiding his eyes. he whistles a low melody as he comes to stand near your desk.

yumeko, who was in a conversation with you, looks at him and then you, eyes flickering back and forth between you and satoru.

‘’you know i thought it was appropriate to reach out to your partner to talk about your missions, but i guess not.’’ 

you continue to stare at the book open in front of you without sparing him a glance, a stick of pocky in your hand. he chuckles, amused at the lack of the reaction from you before waving a hand in front of your face, trying to get you to look at him.

‘’hey missy!’’ you keep on staring at the jumbled words on the book. if you keep this act up, maybe he will leave you in peace. 

‘’you know i am hurt when yaga told me that you wanted to switch partners.’’ satoru give you a pout, pink glossy lips jutting out cutely. you bite down onto the last bits of your pocky as you resist the urge to laugh at his ridiculous actions.

‘’and here i thought perhaps you will like me more after i gave you my umbrella.’’ he sighs and dramatically placed a hand against his forehead.

satoru continues his monologue of random ramblings. he leans against your chair, a familiar scent to infiltrates your nostrils. clearly, this boy has no sense of personal bubble. yumeko begins to stand up from her desk, wanting nothing to do with his idiotic acting. 

‘’no wait please, don’t leave me alone with him.’’ you jolt up at the sound of her chair screeching as you beg her to end your misery. yumeko puts both of her hands up in a surrender and dashes through the class and out the door. 

thanks for that, yumeko.

you stand there awkwardly, now fully aware of the piercing gaze.

‘’oh so now you acknowledge me.’’

you feel yourself trembling as his full attention is on you.

‘’can we please not do this here?’’

you hope he hears the pleading in your voice. yikes, everyone in the class is staring at the two of you now.

there is something flimsy about you right now that satoru can’t put a finger around. why were you getting so worked up? he was just making friendly conversation. you hastily began to put your stuff back in your backpack, eager to leave the classroom as soon as possible. all the while, satoru simply looks at you.

‘’excuse me.’’

‘’am i that bad? that you can’t bear having me near you?’’ 

he suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence. both of you stand still as he waits for your response. your heart is now palpitating behind your rib cage, and it’s becoming difficult to breathe properly. your palms are sweaty as tension begins taking over you.

‘’it’s not about you.’’ you try to speak clearly, but your voice is merely above a whisper.

‘’then what is it?’’

‘’it’s about me.’’

you push past him, your arm briefly touching his. satoru watches you leave with his mouth agape before you disappear behind the classroom door away from his gaze.

ever since that encounter, satoru has been awfully calm around you. the training sessions before the actual mission have been taking place after school. he did show up to a few in the beginning, lazing around not even bothering to practice with you.

the whole session, he munched on his stash of sweets he seemed to carry everywhere all the while rambling about a cartoon named digimon, which you have no idea about. you also joined in talking about your favourite sweets and chocolates. this was all you did before he left mid-session.

‘’and this is my absolute favourite card at the moment, i hope it makes it to the top ten rankings. wait, i should take you to the tournament sometime. yeah i should.’’

as always, he was murmuring things to himself, and you’re glad he was not focusing on how bright the redness on your face was starting to get.

apart from the short chit-chats, the last of the sessions are spent alone watching the other students practice jujutsu while you sit in a corner behind a tree or a rock. yaga would look at you with pity and tell you not to worry about it. but how could you not? wasn’t he the one preaching about how rude it was not to talk with your partner, but it’s not when he is not even attending the sessions properly? 

and it seemed like he had no interest in the training anymore as he didn’t even bother with showing up to some near the end. these remaning training sessions were a mess, and you are glad this was over now.

the last week of november, the jujutsu high was busy with the theoretical exams. you have seen satoru in the exam hall a few times. he appeared the same as he usually is, surrounded by his fangirls or trailing behind his friends.

he never approached you or even glanced at you. it’s been radio silence ever since the practice. you can’t help but feel a bit of hurt at his sudden disinterest. 

you get it that he is one of the strongest duo. heck he doesn’t even need all this training, but he could at least come out of courtesy. you are not anywhere near his level, and you could’ve appreciated his help.

if he's like this during the practices, you can only wonder how the mission was going to be with him.

it's after the last of your exams, you are relaxing in your room when yumeko comes and drops off your umbrella. she insisted that you return satoru’s too. you tried to convince yumeko to drop it off at his dorm since she lives in the same building as him, but she was having nothing of that.

so you find yourself standing in front of his door. his nameplate hanging on the wooden door with a bunch of smiley faces stickers here and there. it was kinda cute. just a little.

should you just leave it at the front? no way in hell were you going to knock?

‘’oh it’s you.’’

you whip around startled at a sudden presence behind you. oh, it was suguru with plastic bags full of groceries in his hands.

‘’you wanted to meet with satoru?’’

he comes around you while you step aside to allow him to unlock the room. 

‘’unfortunately he’s not here right now. come.’’ he gestures to the unlocked room and steps inside.

‘’oh no there’s no need for that. i was just, uhh, here to return his umbrella.’’ 

your lips press together as you point to the clear umbrella clutched in your hands. you extend it towards him. suguru nods and takes it from you. he reaches into one of the bags and pulls out a box of pocky. 

‘’here for you.’’ he says, a small smile gracing his face. 

‘’satoru told me you enjoyed stuff like this.’’ your eyes widen at his statement.

what? satoru has been talking about you? and to his friends? heat glows on your face, and you drop your head trying not to scream in front of suguru. your eyes trained on the chocolate box before politely accepting it.

‘’thanks.’’ you try to muster a smile at his kind gesture. not really sure if it looked nice at all.

‘’it’s no problem at all.’’ he waves at you, shooting you a friendly smile one last time before you return to your own dorm.

one moment he’s pretending that you don’t exist, and the other, you find that he is gossiping about you to his friends. you don’t know what to make of it, but you don’t like the fact that someone might be talking behind your back. 

you don’t know when the time passes and the mission day rolls around. everyone is waiting around the main entrance of jujutsu high. meanwhile, you are alone once again watching everyone else get ready with their duo. this is extremely embarrassing. you’ve been informed that satoru will be joining you at the designated place. great, just great. 

the ride to aomori is arid. the majority of your time has been spent sleeping or gazing out the window of your vehicle, admiring the rolling hills. you just don’t get it. why is it so difficult sometimes?

you remember satoru asking you the question. whether you found him annoying or difficult to be with. but at present, you can’t help but think maybe he is the one who didn’t want to associate with a loner. maybe that’s why nowadays he is avoiding you like the plague everywhere he goes. 

you both can’t even be considered friends, so why is his disinterest affecting you so much? or was it that perhaps you were beginning to think you finally made another friend. but guess not. soon you find yourself standing in a random lobby of a hotel. it’s nearing the end of the day. your supervisor is someone with the name of tanaba sora, a first grade jujutsu sorcerer. he helps you with checking in at the reception. now that the formalities have been completed, you’d suppose a tour wouldn’t hurt. 

even though it’s midnight, the hotel is still lively buzzing with tourists and vacationers. dozens of guests are checking in, and the banquet hall is full of people socializing with jazz playing in the background. the bar is still open, and you spot a couple of high schoolers who probably sneak in enjoying themselves from outside. you’d wonder where yumeko was. maybe she was taking a tour of her own hotel just like you, or maybe she had already hit the bed. 

the tour was supposed to feel nice, but all it had done was remind you again and again of your lack of company. where the heck was satoru? they told you he would be here, but it’s been several hours since you’ve arrived, and he hasn’t shown up yet.

was this a joke to him or what?

it seemed like he’s still an egotistical prick, just like you've told. you were too blinded by his bubbly appearance on that rainy day to see that.

it’s the day of the mission. last night, you barely got any sleep. the touring around late into the night was certainly a terrible idea considering you were to get up early today to meet with tanaba-san. the buffet at the hotel was already closed when you arrived in the dining hall. great. not even refreshments were available. guess you’d just pick up a sandwich from the vending machine. the hotel has tons of machines ones near the side entrance, you suppose a carton of chocolate milk along with the sandwich would be good. 

the air outside is crisp and windy. the surroundings are blanketed with a thick layer of snow. it must have snowed last night. the instant you enter through the side entrance, your eyes immediately zero in on the familiar white head. great, just who you wanted to see at this moment. he’s dressed the total opposite to you. you had put on your thickest coat while he’s in a sleek black leather jacket with some washed-out grey jeans.

is he not cold with such little layering?

before you could make an attempt to run away, satoru’s already caught sight of you and was making his way to you. there was no escape for you now. 

‘’yo! i see you have already arrived.’’

satoru has his head tilted down in an attempt to meet your eyes, but you are unwilling to look at him as you divert your attention to his white converses. he complains about the lack of high-quality strawberry milk at this place, but you just don’t care about that or the different brands of strawberry milk he is carrying in his hands.

‘’why didn’t you come with us yesterday?’’

‘’huh?’’

you hold onto your white scarf a bit tighter as you say nothing and continue to shoot glares at his shoes.

‘’oh i really wanted to, but you know how it is last-minute clan meetings, the higher ups just wouldn’t let me go.’’ your eyes meet, and you take in the sight of how full his already angelic eyelashes look with the snow coating them. 

‘’i know you must have been confused after the long journey.’’ he apologizes between long gulps from his carton of sweet milk and satisfied hums.

‘’what you say we hit the city before the mission?’’ he gives you a sweet smile, his lips sheen with the drizzle of sweet pink liquid. however, his sweet presence does nothing to ease the discomfort in your chest. 

‘’at least give me a legitimate excuse.’’

‘’what? no it’s not-’’

‘’just say it. that this whole thing is too troublesome for you, and you’d rather be spending some time with your side chicks than accompany me on a mission!’’ 

‘’no, no it’s not like that-’’

‘’no actually it’s my fault for confiding in a stranger so easily.’’ 

‘’no wait-’’ 

‘’goodbye.’’

what a nice way to start off your day. maybe you had lashed out on the poor boy, but he deserved it. tanaba-san comes knocking at your hotel room you’ve shut yourself in after the whole mess with satoru. he is there too when you step out into the hallway. he gives you a small smile which you don’t bother returning. you don’t see the way his shoulders droop, the way his smile becomes a little strained.

tanaba-san takes you through the main city of aomori. the streets are just waking up with vendors setting up their stalls and shops, and people waiting at the bus stop as many get ready to start their day. your designated location is the isolated ishigami shrine deep in the woods.

tanaba-san explains how some people in the vicinity have been disappearing on a regular basis. upon investigation, little traces of cursed energy had shown up in the reports pointing towards a curse spirit. the shrine at the moment was abandoned, and it was easy to see with the way the moss and tangled vines seemed to envelope every single inch of the site. 

“why would anyone come to pray at an abandoned shrine? aren’t there better options in the city?” satoru asks all of a sudden while you’re in the middle of walking to the shrine.

“that’s what confuses us too. you’d think people would stop coming after the disappearances, but they haven’t.” tanaba-san replies while he looks at the reports he brought with him.

“it’s almost like they have been lured in.” you say and look at him.

“that might be it. and it matches with the amount of cursed energy residuals near the walkway to the shrine.” he shows you the report, and you ponder for a while.

“maybe the people aren’t coming on their own. the curse might be targeting the passersby.” tanaba-san praises you and gives you a gentle pat on your head while satoru huffs in the back.

now that the things are becoming clearer, tanaba-san leaves the two of you to find the curse. he assures you both that he will be on guard if anything goes out of control. 

“i don’t think there will be any need for that.” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his lack of respect before ensuring tanaba-san that you will call him as soon as everything is taken care of.

“that was rude.” you point out after he has left.

from your peripheral, you noticed how satoru quirks up an eyebrow and huffs to himself like a disgruntled kid. whatever, you had no time to deal with his petty antics. you begin to make your way inside the main interior of the shrine only to find yourself interrupted as satoru abruptly stands in front of you.

“and where do you think you’re going?” he asks, eyes down cast and almost pouting. 

“to search?”

“aww no, no.” laughing to himself, satoru coos loudly at you.

“you are staying right behind me. who knows what might be lurking in there.” he goes behind you and puts his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. 

“in case you have forgotten, i am a jujutsu sorcerer too!” you cross your arms.

is he serious?

“but i’m the strongest here, not you.” he leans in again and grins at you. his familiar fragrant smell murking your thoughts.

“just because you are the most powerful doesn’t give you the right to order me around.” you point your finger at his chest, pushing him off from you.

“it’s not that you have any choice unless you want to die.” does he think you are some child? for god’s sake.

“i can handle myself just fine!”

can’t he just stop?

“i don’t think so.” his usual cheery stance has shifted to a serious one. he looks down at you, his stature tall and dominating with his eyes glowing a little.

“what grade are you? you’re barely a second. so how about leaving things to the professional?” he shakes his head and turns around.

“why don’t you just quit with this? time’s wasting, ya know?” he continues voice no longer holding that tangy tone. he grips tight onto your hand, dragging you behind him.

“i’ve had enough.” you snatch your hand away from his hold. 

“hey! didn’t i just tell you-”

“don’t touch me and stay away from me. you scumbag.”

“yeah? i don’t think so.’’

you run away with all your might away from his demeaning gaze and spiteful words. wow, he didn’t have to say it like that. you are sure he is absolutely sick of you. tears are brimming in your eyes as you blink frantically, trying not to burst into tears. but no matter what you do, the conversation keeps on resurfacing in your mind. 

you just wanted to show him that you were capable of dealing with this on your own. why was he so obnoxious? you gaze at the morning scene of the forest. the quiet view calming your senses. guess all you have to do is find that curse as fast as you can and leave this godforsaken place. 

as you wander deep into the wilderness, you find yourself surrounded by tall evergreen trees that seem to close in on you. their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out. the air was beginning to get colder the further you went in. you can’t help but feel like something ominous was waiting in the area.

it was pitch quiet. eerie silence all around you. so still that you could hear the crackle of snow beneath your boots. a branch snaps in a distance before a crow cries out and glides away. quickly, you summoned your katana, the blade weighing heavy as you hold it in front of you, ready to strike anything that comes at you. something or rather someone is definitely in the vicinity. 

moving closer to where the snap came from, you notice the intense stench of curse energy in the air. the spirit must’ve been here, or maybe it’s still skulking around. you take another careful step.

your eyes fall on to a knocked-down tree trunk and behind the scraped wood, you see it or rather her. sitting on top of a rock with shide ropes all around it. dozens of dead bodies, which you assumed were of the victims. all of them placed in a circle pattern around the centre.

she was dressed in a pale white kimono, her face was hidden from you, and only her red plump lips were visible to you. her skin was strangely too human like as a curse. no wait.

no, that wasn’t a cursed spirit…

it was a fallen deity.

everything was beginning to make sense. that shrine must have been dedicated to her. you couldn’t stop the gasp that left you, and the deity snaps up her head as she appears to be looking at you.

‘’...?’’

she speaks something in a language you are not able to understand. however calm she appears right now, you know better than to let your guard down. you slowly point your katana at her.

‘’what have you done to them?’’

once more, you are finding it difficult to comprehend any of what she is saying. from the looks of it, the bodies seemed to have been disintegrating, leaving behind the rotten flesh and a wretched smell. god, what has she done to them? their faces are almost unrecognizable through the bits and pieces of skin falling off, the muscle underneath as apparent as daylight. 

the deity’s dreary tone changes, her voice now a chilling command. she utters some chants, and the surrounding bodies begin to stir, their decayed forms rising with jerky and unnatural movements. the horror begins to form as you realize she has cursed them with a disease, turning them into flesh-eating monsters under her control.

one by one, the undead lurch towards you, their eyes vacant, and their mouths twisted in silent screams. you know that even a single touch could doom you to the same fate. with a deep breath, you ready your katana, the blade gleaming in the dim sunlight.

the first creature lunges at you, but you sidestep and slice through its neck with precision. it tumbles to the ground, lifeless once more. another follows, and then another. each one is weak compared to you, but their sheer numbers are overwhelming.

you dodge and weave, your katana cutting through the air in swift and brutal strokes. the stench of decay fills your nostrils, but you push through, determined to stay alive. the numbers are lessening, she must have run out of corpses. just as you think you have the upper hand, the deity herself moves. 

with grace, she descends upon you, her pale hands glowing with curse energy. you try to dodge her attack, but she is too fast. her move sends you sprawling to the ground, your katana slipping from your grasp. your blood is making a pool on the dirt, flowing in large globs from the open wounds. pain sears through your body, and you scream out, feeling the cold grip of death closing in.

as your vision begins to blur, you hear a familiar voice. satoru appears, his presence a beacon of light. with a swift motion, he pulls the remaining monsters into a void with the amplification of his curse technique, the blue light shining through the dense forest. his power surpassing the deity’s influence. he turns to you, kneeling beside you, his azure eyes glowing with fervour.

“hang on,” he says, his voice steady. “i’ve got this.”

he turns around to stare at the deity and stands up. he releases his energy output, and his cursed energy reaches to a maximum. with a final, powerful blast, satoru annihilates the deity, purple splotches splattering the ground as her form dissipates into nothingness. he rushes to your side once more before holding you in his arms. 

“you’re going to be okay.” he assures you.

you manage a weak smile, grateful that he came looking for you even though you shouted pretty bad stuff at him.

“thanks.” you whisper, voice low.

“don’t mention it,” he replies, his usual cheerfulness returning. “just don’t run off like that again. yeah?’’

you nod as you get comfortable in his secure hold, feeling drowsy from all the fighting.

"and i am sorry too. i shouldn't have said those things."

you feel your eyes widen before you let out a giggle.

"mhm, it's okay."

satoru smiles at you and pinches your cheeks before lifting you properly.

what follows after is a hazy blur. you don’t know when you made it to the hotel room.

you are still recovering from your injuries by the time you made it back to jujutsu high. satoru decided to join you on the journey back. even though you spent the majority of the trip sleeping, you are glad you at least had some company this time.

everyone has arrived already, waiting in the courtyard for yaga to welcome the tired folks from the mission. yumeko waves at you from the crowd and immediately runs over to you, fussing over the way you are wrapped in white bandages from head to toe.

it was nice getting together with yumeko after so much time. you didn’t notice you were beginning to miss hearing the pompous gossip of the school. her trip was smooth without any hiccups. she told you it was barely a second grade curse. easy-peasy. nevertheless, you are glad she’s unscathed. 

too engaged in chatting with yumeko you don’t notice when a group of girls approaches you, their eyes narrowing as they take in your bandaged state. 

‘’hey girls!’’ yumeko calls out and welcomes them.

one of the girls, a tall one with long and black flowing hair, steps forward, her voice dripping with disdain.

“look at you, always needing to be saved. it’s kinda pathetic, no?” she tilts her head towards her friends, trying to get their approval.

a short girl chimes in, her lips glossed with shimmering crème, “do you think you can just hog gojo’s attention because you’re a weakling? it’s embarrassing.”

‘’we can all see what you’re trying to achieve.’’ the same black haired spits at you before all of them start howling and laughing at you. 

you try to ignore them and pay attention to what yaga’s speaking about, but their words sting. yumeko steps in, her eyes bright with anger.

“leave her alone. it’s not her fault that the curse turned out to be a special grade.”

the tall girl sneers in distaste. “oh, defending your dear friend, are you? how about you tell your little one to stop making a move on gojo.” 

‘’who are you to speak on his behalf, huh?!’’ yumeko responds back, snarling at the girl.

the students nearby glance over, whispering behind their hands.

you hold yumeko back as the girls continue to laugh and jeer. a lump forms in your throat, the pain from your injuries mixing with the hurt from their words.

“enough!” you yell, silencing them.

“you all think you’re special just because you fawn over him? well, you’re not!”

“so shut your mouth before i make you regret it!”

sweat drips down your face as you finish your outburst. everyone is staring at you. the realization of what you’ve done crashes over you causing you to shriek as you draw in heavy breaths.

yumeko calls out to you, but you shake your head. turning away, you sprint to your dorm, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

this was never going to change. 

upon your sudden disappearance, not only your friend yumeko has become worried, but a certain someone is concerned too. satoru was delighted once he saw your name in his letter. he never really talked to you or approached you when you both joined the jujutsu high a year ago, but he’s been yearning to talk to you ever since. you were always so hasty to leave when the lectures were over, leaving him standing alone in the hallway. 

to everyone else, you seemed like a chill and timid girl who preferred to stay cooped up in her dorm, but he knew there was more beneath your hard shell.

those sweet giggles of you from the class are still reverberating in his mind. satoru assumed the rest of you to be the same. he wouldn’t mind having another friend, and besides, he just seems to have a soft spot for sweet things, too.

on that fateful day, his prayers appeared to have been answered when he saw you standing near the lockers all by yourself, waiting for the storm to subside.

he was giddy when suguru told him you came to visit him. the entire day, he spent curled up in his bed looking at his umbrella. after the whole fiasco in aomori, he admits there were some ups and downs, some misunderstandings, but he thought you two were over them. 

so why were you not responding to his messages and calls. your desk has always been vacant ever since you both came back. satoru even went to yaga at the end of a lecture one day. he didn’t really go into too many details. he just told him that you were sick.

but were you really? or were you faking it?

so he sets out on a mission, desperate to see you. he seeks out the one person he’s seen you with. luckily, his dorm is on the same floor as your best friend’s. yumeko is more than happy to help him since you wouldn’t meet her. maybe you’ll listen to him. she speaks in a hushed tone about the encounter with the girls, her voice trembling. 

as yumeko recounts the cruel words and actions of the fangirls, satoru’s fists clench at his sides. his usually cheery appearance is replaced by a storm of emotions.

“they said what?” he growls, his eyes flashing with disgust. 

“how dare they treat her like that?”

yumeko nods, her expression equally upset. “they think they can bully her just because she’s close to you. it’s not fair.”

satoru nearly whips his hair out in anger, his mind racing with thoughts of how to confront those girls.

“this is unacceptable. they have no right to make her feel this way.”

he nearly trips on his feet several times with the way he’s hurrying towards your dorm. his heart pounds in his chest, a mix of frustration and fear driving him forward. he can’t believe those girls, the ones who claim to admire him, could be so cruel. the thought of you suffering because of their jealousy makes his blood boil.

by the time he reaches your dorm, he is panting and drenched in sweat. he knocks urgently, his knuckles white from the force, and waits for you to open the door only to hear no response from the other side. his eyes glare at your nameplate before he knocks again.

‘’i can see feel your cursed energy.’’ silence.

‘’i know you’re in there,’’ he repeats, his voice softer this time. ‘’please just listen to me.’’

inside your room, you sit on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest. eyes dried up with leftover tears clinging to your eyelashes and your lips slightly chapped. you can hear the concern in his voice, but the sting of the girls’ words still lingers. you don’t want to face him, not like this.

“go away,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“i’m not leaving until you open this door,” he replies firmly. “we need to talk.”

you hesitate for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on you. was he finally going to cut you off? is that why he was here? you stay seated in your bed, trembling before you hear him call out your name softly.

slowly, you get up and walk to the door. you stand in front of the wood. satoru encourages you behind the door to open it, and you do so. unlocking it but not opening it fully, that doesn’t stop him as he pushes it open gently, stepping inside and closing it behind him.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with worry and anger. “why have you been avoiding me?”

you turn away, not wanting to meet his gaze. “it’s better this way.”

“better for whom?” he asks, stepping closer. 

“not for me. and definitely not for you.” you could feel him standing behind you, his warmth radiating towards you.

you feel tears welling up again at his words. “they said i’m weak. that i don’t deserve to be around you.”

satoru’s expression hardens, his anger flaring up again. “they don’t know what they’re talking about. you’re one of the strongest people i know.”

‘’you did so well on the mission.’’

you shake your head, the tears spilling over descending your cheeks. “you don’t understand. everyone is beginning to hate me because of you.”

satoru feels his chest tighten as he looks at your trembling form. he reaches out, gently turning you to face him.

“then let them hate. their opinions don’t matter. what is important is how you feel about yourself.”

you look up at him, his words slowly sinking in. “but, it’s hard when people are constantly trying to make you feel like you’re worthless.”

“i know, but remember, no one can make you feel inferior without your permission.” he says softly, his anger giving way to something protective.

“but you don’t have to go through it alone. i’m here for you. always.” 

he pulls you into his strong arms, immediately calming you with his warm embrace. he rubs up and down your back and lets you cry out your emotions, not minding that you’re wetting his tee.

he holds you in his arms for a couple of minutes, smearing kisses against your head, and soon your sobs die down, and you take a deep breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly.

“thank you, satoru.” you look up from where you were tucked in his chest.

he smiles down at you and pinches your cheek. his usual cheerfulness returning. “anytime.’’

you nod, feeling a bit lighter. he slowly guides your head back against his chest and continues to hug you tightly.

“there’s something i want to tell you —”

satoru gently guides you to sit on the edge of your bed, his hands never leaving yours. the room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater and the distance howling of the snowfall against the window. he sits beside you, close enough that you can feel his knee touching yours.

he takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “— something i’ve been meaning to tell you,” he begins, his voice soft but steady.

“i’ve been holding back for too long, and i can’t keep it inside anymore.” you feel a flutter in your chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

“what is it, satoru?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he reaches up, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. his touch is tender, sending shivers down your spine.

“i care about you, more than just a friend,” he confesses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection.

“i’ve felt this way for a while now, but i was too afraid to say anything. i didn’t want to risk losing what we already had.”

your breath catches in your throat as his words sink in. the emotions you’ve been trying to suppress come rushing to the surface. 

“satoru, i-” you start, but he places a finger tenderly on your lips, effectively silencing you.

“let me finish,” he whispers softly.

“you mean the world to me. seeing you hurt because of those girls, it broke my heart. at that time, i realized i wanted to be there for you, to protect you, and to make you happy. if you’ll let me.”

tears well up in your eyes, but this time, they are ones of relief.

“i feel the same way.” you admit, your voice trembling with elation.

“i’ve been so scared, but i can’t deny it anymore. i care about you too, satoru.”

a smile spreads across his face, and he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“thank you,” he whispers, his breath silky against your skin.

“for giving me a chance.”

you never thought you’d see those blue eyes so close. at this moment, you wanted nothing but to submerge and drown yourself in them.

slowly, satoru tilts his head, his lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses. the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. his kiss is gentle at first as he slowly mouths at your lower lips, as if he was testing the waters.

but as you respond with a soft kiss against his own lips, he deepens it, the kiss now filled with all the emotions you’ve both been holding back.

you feel his hands move to cup your face, his thumbs gently cradling your cheeks. your own find their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. the kiss is everything, sending a rush of warmth and tingles through your entire body.

his lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell, each nip at your lips igniting a spark that spreads through your veins. the snow outside seems to intensify, mirroring the storm of emotions within you.

his hands slide down to your waist underneath your sweater, rubbing circles before pulling you even closer as your chest rubs against his. you answer by wrapping your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at his nape. the kiss becomes more passionate yet still tender, a perfect blend of love and desire.

when you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads still touching.

“i love you.” he murmurs against your mouth, his eyes sparkling with sincerity and adoration for you.

“i love you too,” you reply, your heart swelling with gentle love. 

you and satoru share a smile. he slips under the covers and tucks you in before pulling you into his comforting embrace once again. holding you as if he never wants to let go. satoru looks at you one last time and chuckles to himself with how content you seem snuggled in his arms. finally, he’s got what he’s been desiring for ages.

“you know you have always been the apple of my eye,” he mumbles, his voice filled with fondness.

you laugh softly, a fuzzy feeling spread through you. “oh, shut up!” you reply, playfully nudging him.

he grins, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “i mean it. you’re everything to me.”

you look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “and you’re everything to me, too.”

as the snow continues to fall outside, you both settle into a comfortable silence, holding each other close. the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little haven.

[matrixbearer2024]

Suffering

Are you really even living? Or simply surviving doctor? When had immortality turned from a blessing into a curse? More importantly, did you really even care? Or did you only care because you're now all alone?

AKA; Ford internalizing now that he's alone and invulnerable to the sands of time. The same can't be totally said for his mental state though. After all, he's only human.

Songfic based on "Suffering" by Amelie Farren written for my Time Lord Twins AU!

I'm very delulu for my AU- so have a sneak peek into Doc's future with this song fic I wrote. I have three distinct moments for Stanford as the Doctor in my timelord twins AU:

the Doctor that neglects — when he was young and was only a Doctor thanks to his PhDs

the Doctor that regrets — present, where I normally create content for him and where his blog and RP are currently situated

the Doctor that forgets — the far flung future where he outlives everybody and completely embraces being a time lord

I'll be tagging these posts accordingly, but I'd love to talk about his lore much more if you guys are interested!

The sun had long dipped below the edge of the cosmos, surrendering to the sea of stars that now spilled across the boundless sky. Within the TARDIS, Stanford stood against the vast backdrop of that eternal night, the hum of the ship's machinery a constant, soothing drone beneath the cacophony of his thoughts. The silver pill case in his hand reflected the light of a nearby console, gleaming with a sterile brightness that made his skin crawl. He turned it over between his fingers, contemplating the small white tablets that represented his fragile tether to equilibrium.

  I've thrown aside my worries, but the cares they bite me back. I'm taking twenty vitamins a day, for the iron I lack.

  Stanford grimaced, the corners of his lips pulling downward as the familiar bitterness welled up in his throat. He tilted his head back and swallowed the pills dry, feeling them scrape down his throat as if rebelling against their purpose. Sustenance without substance, that was his life now. He no longer needed food to keep going, no longer needed the simple pleasures of living— he only indulged when he could remember to, when the aching loneliness hadn’t numbed his senses entirely.

  I don't need food I don't need sleep, don't tell me that I'm wrong! I don't know what I'm doing— But can you please just play along?

  The first decade had clawed at him with relentless, gnawing grief. Each year afterward seemed to find a new way to hollow him out, chiseling deeper into the marrow of his being until there was nothing left but the echo of old anguish. He would lie awake in the captain’s chair or pace the TARDIS halls, every footfall a metronome counting out regrets. Days would bleed into each other, a palette of shadows smearing over any sense of time. He’d stopped counting birthdays after the 200th, the last one he’d shared with Stanley.

  Why count when the numbers stretched toward an infinity he wanted nothing to do with?

  My head is made of flowers, and my body made of steel. Cause I can't think— Can't hear— can't feel!

  Stanford’s fingers flexed, muscles tightening and releasing as if testing the reality of their presence. The memories surged forward like a wave, unstoppable and suffocating— hands covered in grime and ash, eyes stinging from the smoke that rose like specters around him, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue. He had touched the stars, commanded them, until they burned him to cinders. His mind was an overgrown thicket now, vines of regret and bitterness weaving through every synapse, thorned reminders of a past he could neither escape nor amend.

  When he closed his eyes, he could see them— faces etched into the void, voices calling out in anguish as they fell. Each step, each choice, stained his path with crimson guilt. He felt like a monument to grief, immovable and ever-decaying.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything Cause I can't see!

  The doctor let out a breath that shuddered its way past his chest, eyes straying to the holographic stars projected across the TARDIS library. What he once chased with fervor and ambition had turned into an unyielding prison. The titles of “healer” and “teacher”, which once filled him with pride, now felt like weights dragging him deeper into the abyss. What good was saving worlds when he couldn’t save his own heart from splintering?

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He could scream, tear at the walls and curse the very fabric of the universe, but he didn’t. The tears had dried up centuries ago, leaving him a stoic effigy among the whirring consoles and glowing monitors. The charade was familiar— a smile that never reached his eyes, words measured and wrapped in carefully crafted ease. He was an actor in the greatest tragedy ever told, where the curtains never fell.

  Than suffering with you.

  The doctor’s gaze dropped to the leather-bound journal resting on the armrest of his chair, untouched for days. The pages within held maps of stars, sketches of constellations, and annotations written with a frantic hand, desperate to capture even a fragment of meaning. The room around him felt cavernous, echoing with memories of Dipper’s quick wit and Mabel’s bright laughter. He could almost hear them, almost see their shadows darting between bookshelves.

  But it was only him, just him, marooned in this endless stretch of time.

  So I jumped out with a parachute, but the ground caught me off guard. Karma for the rules I break, the ones I disregard.

  The temptation to go back, to step through rifts that bent reality and visit those moments, was irresistible. He’d done it before, left the TARDIS hidden among the trees and traced the familiar paths of Gravity Falls with trembling steps. His heart would clench as he watched past versions of himself and his twin squabble over nonsense, the cheery voices of his grand niece and nephew not long to join. Their voices carrying over the wind with the kind of ease that only came before everything shattered.

  I can feel the tension rising. What fate is worse than this? Stuck between the ones I love—

  He’d watch them, hidden in the shadows of his own memories, a ghost to a life he once lived. Cosmic rules be damned. He’d listen to the echoes of their laughter until it felt like it would break him, that painful, beautiful sound that underscored just how far he’d fallen. But even then, he would not dare approach, would not dare alter a single second.

  And the ones I miss.

  Stanford’s eyes shifted to the flickering flames of the library’s fireplace, its light casting restless, dancing shadows across the room. The orange glow did little to warm the chill embedded in his bones. How many Fords, across how many dimensions, would have craved this? A sanctuary lined with knowledge and power, the respect of entire galaxies balanced on a single whispered name— ‘Doctor.’ And yet, it was all as hollow as the space between the stars.

  My head is made of shrubbery, and my body made of stone. Cause I can't for the life of me— reap what I have sown!

  He tightened his hold on the armrest, the leather creaking under his grip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It never should have come to this— sailing across time, trapped in a machine that hummed with its own form of loneliness, while he wore a mask that no one ever questioned. It felt like being both the sculptor and the statue, shaping and trapped by the life he’d carved out.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything, 'cause I can't see!

  The weight of immortality, once so alluring, now coiled around him like iron shackles. What did it matter if entire legions paused at the utterance of his name? What did it matter if beings far beyond human comprehension flinched at the sight of him? It meant nothing without the echoes of laughter, without the warmth of shared stories and the unspoken understanding of his family’s presence beside him.

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? 'Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He filled the silence with companions, short-lived stars that burned bright and fizzled out too quickly. They were there, and then they weren’t. Time was relentless, wearing them down to memories while he stood unchanged. Each one chipped away at him, left him a little more hollow. His only true constant was Stanley, and even he didn’t know the full story. Ford wouldn’t let him, couldn’t let him see that far into the dark.

  Than suffering with you.

  The TARDIS thrummed, a soft, sympathetic sound that vibrated through his bones as if it, too, mourned the lives they’d shared and lost. Ford exhaled, the heaviness in his chest pressing down like a stone. He could carry this, he would carry this— because if there was one thing he’d learned in all these centuries, it was that some battles are never meant to be shared. Some wars are fought in silence, against an enemy that wore your face in the mirror.

  And if the burden grew too heavy, well— he was the Doctor. He would bear it alone.

  He had to.

  I try to sink and never float.

  Some days, the weight was manageable, a familiar companion that settled over him like a well-worn cloak. But tonight, the burden felt insurmountable, pressing against his chest until each breath tasted sharp, like the metallic tang of blood from battles fought too long ago to matter and yet too vivid to forget.

  Stanford’s eyes turned to the viewport, where the stars blinked back at him with their indifferent light. Once, those points of light had been symbols of promise, of adventure and uncharted paths. Now they were cold eyes watching as he drifted— an eternal voyager, bound by his own choices and the mistakes that clung to him like barnacles on a shipwreck.

  Cause my head is underwater.

  The doctor’s fingers found the edge of his sleeve, gripping it tight as though it could anchor him. The silence roared in his ears, the kind that made old wounds ache with the sharpness of fresh cuts. Memories of splintered wood and that familiar bite of ozone filled his senses. The frantic fight, the blinding light, the hole that had torn through his chest— a wound that should have marked the end. He let out a shuddering breath, feeling phantom pain coil around him like a serpent.

  I’m here by choice by my own hand.

  The most damning part was knowing that every fracture, every scar, was carved by his own hand. He’d walked into the chaos willingly, driven by an insatiable need to prove something— to whom, he couldn’t even remember anymore. A need that had led him to make choices that, at best, haunted him and, at worst, had cost him everything.

  I’m a lamb sent into slaughter.

  He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the silver strands that had once been a youthful umber. The weight in his chest grew heavier, spreading through his limbs. He remembered the moment he’d sealed his fate with a handshake and a grin, signing away pieces of himself to a demon who promised everything and gave nothing but ruin. Even now, the jeers of that one-eyed triangle haunted the corners of his vision, mocking him with every beat of his undying heart.

  I’m aware of my own body.

  Every nerve ending screamed in protest as memories flared to life. The repair box’s nanobots— an endless legion that buzzed beneath his skin— worked tirelessly, a ceaseless reminder that he wasn’t wholly his own anymore. Some days, he could almost feel them moving, an itch he could never scratch. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white as he resisted the impulse to claw at the sensation, to rip it out and make it stop.

  I can feel beneath my skin.

  But he didn’t. He never did. The discipline of centuries held him captive, a slave to his own stoic facade. He swallowed hard, letting the tension dissipate as much as it ever could, settling like sediment at the bottom of his soul. The fire’s light flickered over his features, casting deep shadows that made his face look carved from stone.

  I can wash away my insecurities.

  He stood abruptly, the sudden motion sending a wave of dizziness through him. The doctor steadied himself against the back of the chair, eyes closing as he drew in a breath. The act was as much a ritual as any he performed— a way to wash the fractures of his spirit, to convince himself that he was still whole. But deep down, he knew.

  But can’t wash away my sin!

  No amount of time, no act of heroism, could ever cleanse the burgundy that stained his hands. It was a truth that gnawed at him, a constant shadow that whispered during his moments of quiet. He turned toward the shelves, running a finger over the spine of a book he’d read a hundred times but never truly absorbed. Knowledge without purpose— just like him.

  They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but I disagree! I can’t imagine anything—

  The holographic stars in the library blinked and swirled, shifting constellations that once spoke of wonder and exploration. Now, they were a cruel reminder of all the places he’d been, all the faces he’d left behind. He raised a fist, hesitated, then let it fall to his side. He couldn’t even find the anger to break the illusion.

  Cause I can’t see!

  His vision blurred, not with tears— those had dried up long ago— but with the weight of exhaustion that pressed down on him like a vice. Every accolade, every whispered praise, fell flat, their meaning washed away by the tides of time and repetition. The applause of civilizations felt no different than the hollow sound of silence.

  I won’t break the ice though what else Is there to do?

  The cold chill crept into his veins, a familiar companion that had shared his endless nights. Yet, he dared not crack the veneer he’d cultivated— that smile, that reassuring nod. It was a mask, as impenetrable as the TARDIS walls. To break it would mean shattering the delicate balance that kept him standing.

  Cause suffering in silence is better—

  Stanford’s fingers brushed against the journal again, the touch almost reverent, as if it held the answers he’d long given up searching for. The one story he couldn’t write was his own— each word caught in the tangle of what-ifs and could-have-beens that ensnared his mind.

  Than suffering with you!

  He swallowed back the ache, pushing it down to the depths where it simmered and seethed. To bear it alone was better; it was safer. The doctor would stand, resolute and silent, a guardian of time burdened by its cruelest truths.

  And as the night deepened, the stars outside continued their silent vigil, unmoved by the man who carried the weight of universes in his lonely fractured heart.

Tell me what you think about these two! I've got more drabbles in store for them aside from the content already on both their blogs @gftimelord & @gftimelordstwin! Also posted here on Ao3!

[zoomzooml]

Redesign concepts of Webmaster and Feathers

After a year

WEBMASTER

My biggest problem with the Webmaster design is how cluttered it seems; there's just a lot going on here. So I tried to calm it down a bit; I took away one pair of legs to make him less cluttered but keep (more or less) original body lenght. And I know that in his episode Jun says “if something has eight legs, she doesn't like it,” refering to spiders, but I think eight limbs works too.

I also played around a bit with his colors and markings. As well as body structure and proportions, noting this dragon's show-off skill - spinning webs.

When he puffs up his “cheeks” just before he spits, you can hear a sticky, mushy sound - you know that something is going on inside. The muscles are moving and pushing something with a sticky, gluey consistency. I would like it to be somewhat repulsive.

When he spits silk in attack it does not come out as big ball of burning web. It's more like net in "V" shape, in form of many separate threads of silk shooted at the same time. Similar to actual spiders, but on the bigger scale. His webs also don't burn; I feel like it's an overkill.

I changed the arrangement of his forelegs slightly. I know it's not quite in line with the style of HTTYD (see Speed Spingers' front limbs) but in his case I think arranging his hands in a similar way to therizinosaurus gives him a more menacing look.

Deadly Spinners are dragons that give a very unpleasant first impression. They are not the most beautiful dragons around (at least not by the standard) and their behavior can be repulsive to some. The type of dragon that people are willing to pin an unfriendly, sometimes unfair patch on more easily than on other dragons - as many people do with spiders or snakes and other similiar animals.

Deadly Spinners don't live in large groups - either small groups or solo. But when they are in a group they have very close bonds and spend a lot of time socializing among themselves.

FEATHERS

She is a challenge to me, not gonna lie. She definitely is the most changed among my redesigns so far. She just seems very basic to me.

The most bothering thing to me about her are those "feathers". Because, Alex in s1ep3 calls these "feathers", as well as Olivia in s5ep2, wiki calls these "feathers-like scales", but they can move and are thick what implies they are more like Furies'/Night Light's head numbs? I absolutely can pass the crowns as feathers, but Queen's horns and holes in her meaty tail were here the last straw to not to

And yes, I made a shitty video because I'm really confused and wanted that confusion express lmao. I hope Tumblr won't take it down.

So idk, I wanted to clarify what the frick those things are and go from there. I had two main ideas - either give her actual feathers or quills similiar to those of Bewilderbeast. When drawning I wasn't sure about either idea but finally decided for the latter one. Feels more HTTYD-like I think? And very flammable feathers don't seem like the best survival choice when almost every other animal around can spit fire.

I reimagine Featherhides as way more nervous and skittish dragons. Changewings were mysterious but usually seemed calm and strategical. Featherhides' nature is more in type of "flee" than "fight" (tho they can get so smoke when needed, they are not defensless or smth). They are very easy to spook and sometimes will flee in panic from something very trival just to return seconds later when they realise there was no danger at all, or are curious of whatever scared them. They often make rapid little movements, much like birds - especially if something catches their eye and they are not sure what it is.

Featherhides also live in large flocks without a complex hierarchy. If they can - they run, if any of them can't - at least some of them also stay behind.

Once Feathers bonds with Alex she would be very protective of her little human.

When Featherhides mimic sounds they do not do weird things with their faces like in the show. It looks much more like like some birds do that. But that's just a sidenote.

[featherlight-whispers]

how i feel when im having a smoke break and someone asks me for a cigarette

[here-there-were-dragons]

as a general rule, on average, if americans consistently complain about a food being conceptually weird, gross, and scary, then it probably tastes amazing. or at least inoffensive.

this is because in my experience americans for the most part (give or take a few exceptions by region) think eating literally anything other than beef, chicken, bread, eggs, peanut butter jelly sandwitches, ketchup, and disgusting cloyingly artificial brown sludge soda is insurmountably weird, gross, and scary.

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still no reply.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From bugs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jackpot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[hairmetal666]

After the Russians, Steve learns three important things about himself:

Robin is the best friend he's ever had; the uncontested other half of his heart. His soulmate, the platonic love of his life, his missing puzzle piece.

He's not in love with Nancy anymore. It's really saying something that hearing those words come out of his mouth is the shock of his life. Once the drugs wear off, though, he realizes they were absolutely true. A surprising win for the Russian truth serum

Her bathroom confession...he sits with it for days. Not--not because she's a lesbian, of course not, but because. Well, Robin knows herself in a way he's never allowed himself to. And he thinks that maybe maybe he likes boys in the same way. That he always has, but never let himself acknowledge it, the way his eyes wanted to catch in the locker room, the drunken, fumbling touches between him and Tommy.

The last one...he's not sure, is the thing. How can he be sure? Like, in his mind, his imagination, he's very into it, but what if it's different in real life? And how can he even find out? He tells, Robin, of course he does, and they go to Indy, right, to a bookstore and she throws a few zines at him and he sneaks some porn (he's definitely into the porn), but that's not--it's not practical experience. And he's not ready to go to one of the bars, for sure, so he doesn't--like what's he supposed to do?

It's around this time in his bisexual spiral that the kids start hanging out with Eddie Munson, that he starts thinking about Eddie Munson. He always noticed the long, dark curls and the bright, brown eyes; the slender cut of his waist; the wry slant of his mouth as he shouted insults at the jocks; the glinting silver of the rings on his fingers--fingers that were long and callused, fingers that could grip around Steve's--

Nope, he's not going there. Even though, a little voice in his head says, he cares for Steve's kids and maybe he's not good at school but he's smart and he's also so pretty, with his pale skin and his big eyes--

No. He doesn't have a crush on Eddie Munson. Absolutely not.

And when he picks up the kids from their little dnd club and sees Munson standing against his van, he doesn't feel an electric zing in his chest, the first stirring of butterflies in his stomach; that would be crazy. They hardly know each other. It goes like this every time, and he's almost able to believe he doesn't care.

Until Eddie trips over the threshold of Family Video, stumbling on an untied bootlace and gangling his way through the front doors. The clatter catches both Robin and Steve's attention.

"Welcome to Family Video," Robin says. Steve stares.

"Uhh." Eddie's eyes flit between them, his face getting redder by the second.

Fuck, he's so cute and Steve's saying--without thinking about it, he's saying--"let me help you find a movie, man."

"Yea--sure, yeah." Eddie's hands are stuffed in the tight pocket of his jeans.

Steve takes a few steps down the closest aisle. "So, what--uh, what are you looking for?"

"Horror? Nothing in particular."

They make their way to the horror section, and it's like some insane, deeply horny demon takes over. He starts grabbing movies off the shelf, no rhyme or reason, doesn't even know what most of them are.

Eddie's staring at him with wide eyes and a raised eyebrow, and Steve just keeps grabbing tapes, is sort of doing a running commentary on titles and tag lines, and he can't stop, why can't he stop? it's like smoke is coming out of his ears. Robin is watching him from the counter with her mouth hanging open, gummy worm dangling down her chin.

"You know," Eddie grabs something from the shelf, "I think I'll just do Friday the 13th again. Can't go wrong."

And he leaves Steve standing there with half the horror section collected in his arms. He stays there while Eddie pays, face burning. It's been--well, a really long time since he's struck out so hard, and he wasn't even really trying.

As Eddie's walking out the door, his sad pile of movies shifts, then tumbles to the floor.

"You have a crush on Eddie Munson." Robin accuses.

"No!" He ducks down to collect the tapes, hoping to hide the crimson of his face.

"You do." She points an accusatory finger in his direction. "I haven't seen you this pathetic since Scoops."

"It's nothing."

"You know," she crouches down with him, "you could just, like. Try to hang out with him."

"After that? Are you kidding? I'm surprised you don't already have a new You Rule/You Suck board going."

"Oh, I do, it's up front." She jumps to her feet. "But still. You should try. And you have an easy in with the kids."

He glares at her in response, starts re-shelving all the dumb movies, and then they get busy, so the topic is dropped. He thinks about it thought. He thinks about it and he--

Instead of waiting in the car for the kids to get done at Hellfire the next time, he goes in.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

fri(end)s

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 3.8k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo

bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist

Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.

When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.

You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.

So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.

The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.

It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?

***

After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.

Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.

With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.

You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.

He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.

“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”

You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.

The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.

Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.

And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.

While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.

Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.

***

“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.

The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.

You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”

Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.

“That’s my shirt,” he states.

You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.

“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.

Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.

“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”

You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”

“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”

“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.

To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.

***

Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.

On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.

But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.

Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.

Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.

It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.

His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.

Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.

You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.

It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.

“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.

You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.

The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.

He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.

It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.

He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.

Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.

“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.

He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.

“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”

“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.

It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.

“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.

You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.

Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.

“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.

You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.

“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.

You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.

With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.

“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.

Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.

Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.

It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.

This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, fluff, innocence corruption, religious/purity kink, masturbation, dry humping, mommy kink, use of sex toys, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: the whole basis of this series is that matt is a pure little christian boy whose innocence gets corrupted by his dommy mommy neighbor, and it may offend you if you're religious, so please don't read if it's going to upset you! 💖 here are parts one and two. enjoy!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: while beginning to open up to you and trust you more, matt decides to loosen his morals and test the waters with you, exploring the sacrilegious world of mind-altering substances and pre-marital sex.

me & u part three

Later that evening, after the two of you cleaned yourselves up along with the remnants of paint-covered plastic that was scattered about Matt's bedroom, you and Matt decided to go up to your treehouse to watch the sunset descend below the horizon. He followed you through your gate and up the rope ladder to your treehouse. You rolled and lit up another joint.

While Matt was still reserved, you could feel him opening up to you and becoming more comfortable in your presence, and you liked that. Matt sprawled out on his back on the wooden floor and watched a cloud of smoke escape your lips and dance around the atmosphere before being sucked out of the treehouse window. "Why do you like to smoke?" Matt wondered aloud. "Same reason you like to masturbate," you smirked at him.

"What's it feel like to be high?" He wondered, watching you take another puff. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain. It makes you feel all weightless and airy, and it feels good. Sometimes it makes you giggle a lot or get the munchies," you relayed to him. "I-I think I want to try it," Matt admitted, looking up at you from his reclined position. You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Are you sure? Why?" You pondered, narrowing your gaze at him, curious as to what changed his mind between today and the day before. "Well, I've been thinking about what you said the other day about caffeine being a mind-altering drug, and I have caffeine almost every day," Matt told you. "So, I feel like I'm not being very consistent if I refuse to try a drug just because it's a drug when I drink coffee," he told you.

"Okay, I'm just letting you know now, it's going to affect you way more than coffee," you responded. "Hit me with it," Matt confidently said. "If you say so," you smirked at him. He went to reach for the joint, but instead of passing it to him, you took this opportunity to climb on top of him and straddle him. Matt stared in awe at your confidence, and he immediately grew hard beneath you.

"Just inhale when I blow it out," you directed him, taking a drag. You took both Matt's wrists and pinned them above his head, making sure not to burn him with the cherry of your joint. You leaned down and slowly blew the smoke into Matt's slightly parted lips, brushing yours against his. He moaned against you while you gently kissed him after you exhaled into his mouth.

You pulled away, realeasing his wrists but still straddling him. You watched as he breathed out the smoke and started violently coughing, covering his face with his elbow. "You okay?" You asked him, and he nodded, but he was still choking on the smoke, and tears started welling in his eyes.

"Here, sit up. I'm going to go get you a glass of water and some snacks for when you start feeling it," you responded, climbing off of him and helping him to a sitting position. "I'll be right back," you whispered, rubbing his back before climbing down your rope ladder.

Matt wiped away the tears that had formed after he'd stopped couging, and he peered up at the sunset straight ahead and admired the way the orange and pink shades bled into each other. He could see why you liked to spend so much time here, and he felt honored that you were willing to share such a sacred space with him.

It wasn't sacred to him in the way that church was, but he could tell it held that quality to you. This was your church. It was a place you went to find peace and quiet, a space where you'd sort out your feelings, and a safe haven where you could go enjoy the simple pleasures life had to offer.

He felt the lightness in his body from the marijuana, and he calmly waited until you were climbing back up the rope ladder. "Here," you said, extending the glass of water to him. He gazed down in awe at it, enthralled by the life-giving elixir you were handing him. "Wow," he whispered, looking at it wide-eyed.

"Are you going to take it?" You giggled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, yeah. Sorry," he said, taking the glass from you and beginning to drink it. "This is the most amazing cup of water I've ever had," Matt replied, gulping more of it down while you pulled all the snacks you'd brought him out of a bag. "Here, I brought you some funyuns, some chocolate-covered pretzels, some sour candy, some beef jerky, a sandwich, and a root beer. Eat as much as you want," you told him, smiling at him and laying them out in front of him.

"You know, you're the nicest girl I've ever met," Matt smiled at you with his glazed over expression while he went to grab the bag of funyuns and the root beer. "Nicest? I don't know if I've ever gotten that compliment before," you snorted, well-aware that you were an abrasive and overbearing kind of person, and people didn't usually use the word nice to describe you.

"You're also the prettiest girl I've ever met," Matt told you with a mouthful of funyuns. You blushed and smiled. "You're the most handsome boy I've ever met," you returned the compliment, tapping him on the nose with the tip of your finger. "How do you feel, handsome boy?" You asked Matt, who was taking a sip of his soda. "I think I feel pretty high," he peered over at you with heavy eyelids, and you giggled. "You look pretty high."

"You know, you're like a fairy. You live in your little treehouse, and you have your elixirs and your potions," Matt stared lovingly at you. "A fairy? That's generous. I'm more like a gnome or a troll," you chuckled. "No. To me, you're a fairy," Matt grinned at you.

"Oh man. My dad is going to be expecting me home for dinner soon, but I can't let him see me like this," Matt said in a concerned voice, snapping back to reality. "Don't worry. Let's send him a text and tell him you're having dinner with my mom and me tonight," you suggested, holding out your palm for him to offer up his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and placed it in your hand.

"Hey, dad. I'm staying for dinner at the neighbor girl's house. I'll be home in a couple of hours," you read out loud while you typed. "Don't forget to say I love you. My dad and I always tell each other that at the end of conversations," Matt muttered to you with his mouth full, dipping his hand into the bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.

"Of course you guys do," you replied with a twinge of jealousy in your voice as you finished typing out the text. "Don't your mom and dad tell you they love you?" He asked. "I mean, yeah. Just not all that often," you replied, lighting up the joint again. "But it's fine. I don't need that," you responded, avoiding eye contact and shrugging.

Matt could tell that under your tough persona that there was a softness to you. "Well, I'd tell you that every day," Matt smiled at you while he crunched pretzels between his teeth. "Are you saying you love me?" You widened your eyes at him, taking one of the chocolate-covered pretzels out of the bag Matt was holding.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I haven't known you for long, but if our next interaction is never promised, which it never is, I'd want you to know I love you," Matt replied, smiling at you. "I love you, too, Matt Sturniolo," you replied, taking another drag.

You weren't a very soft person. In fact, you'd worked to become as stoic and unreadable as possible, but there was something about Matt that softened you, melted your heart, and made it easy for you to let your guard down around him.

"You know, being high makes me kind of horny," your eyes flicked up at Matt's, and you deviously grinned at him. "What are you going to do about it?" Matt gave you a serious look, almost as if challenging you. You raised a brow in his direction. You loved it when Matt egged you on.

You silently crawled over towards him, still holding your lit joint, and you put your legs on either side of his, straddling him again. You leaned down and whispered into his ear. "What I'm gonna do about it is fuck you so good. Give you the kind of pussy you won't mind going to hell for," your warm breath tickled his earlobe.

Matt whimpered at your words, and you felt his cock twitch against your clothed cunt. "But not tonight," you teased him, pulling back and gazing at him. You could tell in his facial expression that he was intimidated by you, but you could also see a craving in his blue eyes. "W-why not tonight?" Matt innocently asked, somewhat disappointed.

"The first lesson in sex is don't ever underestimate the power of the anticipation leading up to the act," you responded in a low, seductive voice, beginning to roll your hips against Matt's while you held eye contact.

A million thoughts were racing through Matt's mind. He knew he shouldn't be letting you rub up against his lap like that, and he knew he shouldn't be smoking weed, but there he was, high as a kite as you were grinding on him and he loved every second of it. He let out a soft whine as you shifted your weight around on him. "You can touch me, you know," you whispered to him, taking a drag off your joint. He was taken aback. Of course, he wanted to, but he wasn't sure if he knew how.

His hands hesitantly wandered until they were on your waist, and he initiated a kiss, brushing his nose against yours and tilting your head towards his. His lips clumsily crashed into yours while you continued riding him. He whimpered against your mouth, your tongue begging for entrance into his. His wandering hands soon curiously traveled to your ass. "Is this okay?" He timidly asked, pulling away from the kiss, and you slowly nodded at him, smiling.

You could feel him hardening beneath you as you teased him. You couldn't deny how good it felt, and with every rock of your hips, you both let out a satisfied moan. He squeezed your bottom as he started nearing his orgasm. You loved how simple it was and how responsive he was to your every touch. "Please don't stop," he managed to get out in the midst of his pleasure. "I wouldn't dream of it," you responded in a dreamy voice, rutting up against his member.

His head fell back and made a quiet thump as it hit the wall of your treehouse, and he let out a loud, needy groan. You peered down in awe at the wet spot on the front of his jeans, realizing you'd made him cum again without even directly touching him. "Wow. That was easy," you told him, nibbling on your lip while you hungrily stared into his bedroom eyes. "That was amazing," Matt told you, catching his breath.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The next morning, you groggily stumbled out of bed, reminiscing on the night before and the way you and Matt had shared such an intimate moment together. You still couldn't believe he had chosen to get high with you. Matt had waited until his dad had fallen asleep before sneaking back into his house, still stoned from having smoked several hours before. Luckily, he'd made it inside without having to face him.

You reluctantly dragged yourself from your cozy bed and started getting ready for work. You hadn't been awake for long when your phone start buzzing against your dresser. When you peered down at the screen, you saw it was Matt calling. "Hey you," you smiled into the phone, rifling through the mess of clothes in your closet.

"Hey. Sorry to bother you. I just saw your light come on in your room, and I was wondering what you were doing up so early," Matt said, sitting at his desk and taking a sip of his morning coffee. "Are you spying on me?" You jokingly accused him, peering out of your window into his room. "Yeah, whatever. You spied on me first," Matt waved to you from his desk chair.

"The green fits you so well," you told Matt, admiring the new paint on his walls. "Thanks," he smiled. "My shift starts in like 45 minutes, so I'm begrudgingly getting dressed. Look away," you replied, pulling down your pajama bottoms while you glanced back at Matt across the way. "What happens if I don't?" Matt asked, unable to take his eyes off you and the way you looked standing in your underwear, gazing back at him. "Then Jesus will know!" You teased him. He rolled his eyes and chuckled into the phone.

"What are you doing?" You asked him, slipping out of your panties. "Just having some coffee and journaling. Oh, and getting like, the world's hottest striptease," he replied, watching you still. "Sounds hot. Coffee sounds so good right now. Well, I should really finish getting ready, but I'd love to hang out after my shift. I'm off at 3 p.m.," you responded, pulling on a pair of jean shorts.

"Sure. Maybe I'll come see you at work," he told you. "Yeah? What are you looking to buy a pocket pussy or something from me?" You teased him. "Only if you sell me on one," he joked. "I'll catch you later, Matt," you giggled into the phone before you hung up. You took off your top and peered back over at Matt who was still visible in your window. You winked and walked out of view, stepping deeper into your closet.

A few hours into your shift, you were reorganizing some of the lingerie when your coworker Carly nudged you. "Isn't that the guy you came in here with the other day?" You glanced up to see Matt walking into the shop, holding a frozen caramel coffee in his hand. He gave you that same shy smile and gentle wave as the first day you'd met him. You made your way over to him, smiling from ear to ear.

"Awh, Matt. Did you bring me a coffee?" You asked, motioning at the drink in his hand. "Yeah," he said, handing it off to you. "Also, this is embarrassing.." he started to say, lowering his voice. "What's up?" You tilted your head, looking at him sympathetically. "I'm here for more than just to see you and bring you a coffee," Matt blushed. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, picking up on what he was trying to say.

"Are you here as a customer?" You wondered out loud. "Look, I've never done this before. But can you give me a recommendation?" Matt quietly asked, his eyes darting around the shop as if he were worried about seeing someone he knew. "This is so hot. I can't believe I get to help you pick out your first sex toy!" You practically shouted, turning heads and drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the vicinity. Matt shushed you while blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Not if you're gonna embarrass me," Matt mumbled, hiding his face. "Matt, everyone who's in here is here for their sexual needs. Why would they be judging you?" You rolled your eyes, smiling at him and grabbing him by the hand. You pulled him over to the men's sex toy section.

"Unfortunately, there aren't quite as many options for men, but are you looking for like a cock ring or a fleshlight? Maybe a butt plug?" You asked, picking one up and dangling it in his face. "Uh, no. I think that's a little advanced for me," Matt giggled, taking it out of your hand and putting it back down. "Just pick me out something that's not too weird."

"Well, Matt, weird is subjective," you responded, grinning at how flustered he was. He rolled his eyes, still blushing. "I think I know what you should get. Follow me," you responded, leading him down the aisle. "Now, I'm not a man, so I can't tell you from personal experience how good this one is, but it has great reviews on our website," you told him, picking up a packaged fleshlight and putting it in his hand. "The inside of it is really textured and made of a really soft material. A lot of men say that if you use lube, it feels almost as good as actual sex."

"Well, I wouldn't know," Matt rubbed the back of his neck, nervously laughing. "Well, when we inevitably fuck, you can tell me how true that is," you whispered into his ear. "Anyway, it's really discreet, and according to a lot of male customers we have, it feels really good," you told him. He stared at you needily and nodded as you told him about it, still hung up on the comment about the two of you inevitably having sex.

"Let's get you some lube and some toy cleaner, too," you smiled at him, leading the way towards the front. You gave him the rundown on how to clean it and store it, and you bagged everything up for him. "Here you go," you said, smiling at Matt and handing it over to him. "Don't I need to pay for it?" Matt inquired. "No, I'll pay for it later. That way I can use my employee discount," you told him. "That's sweet of you. You don't have to do that," Matt replied.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. The only rule is, you can't use it on yourself until I get off shift," you bit your lip at him. "That's like four hours from now," he pouted at you. "Be a good boy and wait until mommy gets home, okay?" You whispered, looking into his eyes. "Okay, fine," Matt huffed at you.

"Oh, hey, pretty boy. You decide to come back and get something for yourself?" Carly appeared out of nowhere. Matt timidly looked at her and slowly nodded. "That's hot. You have to come back and tell us how good it made you feel," your coworker seductively looked him up and down while she chewed on her lip. He nodded again.

"I'll see you later, Matt," you told him before he left the shop. "I don't know what you did to that boy, but he's under your spell," Carly smirked at you before wandering off to another part of the store.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Matt had already been playing heavily on your mind since you'd met him, but by the time you clocked out, all you could think about was how he would look and sound while using his new fleshlight.

When you got home, you took a shower, washed the day from your skin, and slipped into a comfortable over-sized shirt. You called up Matt while you were standing in your bedroom, gazing through your window at the cute boy laying in his bed. "Hey," he answered the phone, trying not to sound too excited, looking back at you.

"I have a weird request," you nibbled on your lip. "What is it?" Matt wondered. "I want to watch you use your new toy from here," you nervously replied, smirking as the words left your mouth. "At least you asked this time," Matt teased you, smiling at you. "And if you could stay on the phone with me while you use it, I'd really like that," you admitted.

"That would be really hot," Matt responded. "You haven't used it yet, have you, baby?" You cooed. "No, I've been a really good boy," he needily replied. He started slowly unzipping his jeans, and you could see it through the window and hear it through the phone.

He pulled out his aching cock and reached for the lube you'd recommended to him earlier. You heard him pop the lid open, and you could hear his soft groans as he applied it. He already had his fleshlight within reach like he was waiting to be able to use it.

"Good boy. Why don't you put it in?" You suggested in a seductive whisper. "Yes, mommy," he obeyed you. You watched as his length disappeared into the fleshlight, and you listened as his needy groans filled your ear. "I bet it feels so good," you smirked. "Oh. Mommy, it does," Matt whimpered, stroking himself with his toy. "So much better than my hand," he whined, picking up speed. You felt a wet warmth pooling between your thighs as you watched Matt pleasuring himself.

You couldn't get enough of the way he looked through the window, his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open as more delighted groans poured from his pretty lips. "Keep going. You're such a good boy," you praised him through the phone. "Mommy, please. You're making me dangerously close," Matt whined, fervently jerking himself off with his toy while he basked in your words. "Not yet, baby. Don't cum just yet," you responded quietly. He let out a pained sigh and slowed down his movements to keep himself from finishing too quickly, but he found himself bucking his hips up to continue the wonderful sensation.

"Mommy, can't stop. Mmm. Feels too good," Matt whimpered. You took in the sight of him across the way, tending to his needy cock. "You got this, baby. Hold out just a little bit longer," you cooed into the phone. Matt used every ounce of discipline to keep himself from teetering over the edge as he buried his cock deep into his toy. "Mommy, I keep imagining it's you," he said in a breathy voice. "Don't you dare cum until I say so," you replied in a soft, sensual tone. "Please," he begged. He started picking up speed again, flirting with the idea of finishing despite not having been given permission.

"No, no. Not yet," you teased. He couldn't get enough of the slippery material inside the fleshlight, and the way it fit around his cock so snugly, wondering if that's how you'd feel wrapped around him. With every stroke, he felt himself nearing the tipping point. "Mommy, need to cum. I am begging," he desperately pleaded with you. "Good boy. You waited so patiently. You can cum now. Cum for mommy," you directed him. "Thank you, mommy. Thank you," he whimpered.

His dick started twitching as the knot in his stomach gave way. All his muscles tightened as he finished pumping his cock, blowing his load into his toy until it started dripping out, coating his length with his milky white substance. "Fuck. That was so hot," you told him, rubbing yourself through your panties while he caught his breath. He playfully giggled into the phone.

"This toy is amazing. I've gotta go clean this up."

taglist: @gabri3la-sturns @lowkeyobsessedwthesturniolos @starzinasblog @mattsturns09 @sluttt4matt @heartsforsturniolo567 @nomusic-nodreams @freakbob15 @valkatriee @lyla-rose05 @savannah00 @shadowthesim @clara-sangster @slimshiesty @mattybearskitten @chrissturns-wife @sturnl0ve @poolover123 @geniusbean @secretfangirly @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl

[rottiens]

BAD DECISIONS┊RYOMEN SUKUNA

wc. ౨ৎ⋆˚ 1.9K

tags. ౨ৎ⋆˚ 18+, modern au, all characters are adults (21+), marking and hickeys, enemies to ?, bully sukuna, none of your friends like him but he is around because he is yuuji's older brother, fem reader, dirty talk, praising (atta girl), fingering.

In late September, a few weeks away from embracing autumn, anyone would think that the weather is starting to cool down, that the unbearable sun is lowering its intensity for the poor mortals who walk under it like ants fleeing from a child with a magnifying glass, but in Yuuji's apartment it's much worse. The air conditioner died months ago and none of the brothers have bothered to fix it, making it a challenge every time the group of friends gathers at the Itadori's apartment not to die from a heat wave.

At least for you, who have been accused of being more sensitive to heat than any other average person.

Too hot to be outside on the balcony (exposed to the hot air, to Maki's cigarette smoke), too hot to be all inside the apartment (piled up like sardines on the couch).

So all your friends are very unevenly distributed. About five are inside the apartment watching the soccer game while the rest are outside trying to cool off every time the warm air blows.

You are uneasy, this is the third time Nobara has commented on it. An hour ago she stopped your foot tapping against the ground with a gentle kick from the sole of her shoe and now she comes back and does it a second time.

"Stop it," she says with a frown, a few shades more annoyed due to the heat. Then she laughs softly downplaying her apparent anger. "What's wrong?" she asks softly, examining you.

Nothing, you lie the first time she asks. And you lie to her again now. "Seriously, what's wrong?"

You hide half your face in the glass to take a long drink of the now warm soda that is beginning to taste salty. Raising your head, you can't escape in time this time, Sukuna's eyes look you up and down from across the floor. He wears the same look as a wild animal, his hair disheveled from the heat, gray pants and compressed black t-shirt tell you he's barely home from the gym. You take another quick drink that hurts your dry throat.

Sukuna shakes his head to the side indicating for you to follow him, then hides down the hallway to continue his route.

Your fingers squeeze the glass full of water droplets that slip through your hands from time to time. You feel Nobara's gaze piercing your temples, so you decide to look at her.

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out of it. So you try again.

"I'm going to use the bathroom. It's too hot," you lie (again) with wrinkles in your forehead, then take an unsure step forward to move away from the balcony but her fingers squeeze your forearm gently stopping you from your escape.

"Is it Sukuna again? Is he bothering you?"

Fuck. Guilt shot through your chest, your teeth were sinking into your lip.

"I- no. I told him not to bother me, I'm not interested in the same annoying games from when we were six."

You sound convincing, enough for Nobara to let you go shaking her head in approval, along with a look that assures she's willing to fight anyone for you.

You slip out of her hand and behind the couch where the group of men are talking and yelling and chewing nachos too loud for any normal chewer.

Your heart beats fast, guilt, adrenaline and excitement is a dangerous cocktail that pushes you to search for Sukuna through the narrow corridor, lurking in the corners of the half-open doors. You were going through the bathroom when an unexpected force pulls your body inside, the force, now materialized as Sukuna, smashes you against the door without gentleness.

"Fuck you," you complain at the impact, wrinkling your nose.

"I might," Sukuna retorts, dark eyes set on your lips.

You clear your throat and fix your back, dry your hands on the denim of your shorts and force yourself to look him in the eye.

"This has to stop."

"What?" Sukuna asks, dangerously close to your mouth. His hands are around your head over the door preventing any escape and his cologne mixed with sweat numbs your senses.

"This," you point a finger at each other's bodies, between the little space between you two. "This! You, flirting with me..."

"Brat."

"Stop."

"We've done more than flirt."

He is smiling again, that smile that signals danger. That smile that shows his sharp fangs that could cut through the darkness. You clear your thoughts with a breath of air from his scent.

"It was just a kiss," you defend yourself with a hint of indignation, flashes of the scene of you on the stairs of Megumi's house detonating in your head.

"You gave me a handjob."

"Jesus."

Unfortunately, you did. You squeeze your eyes shut pushing out the memories of that bad decision along with a throbbing headache that threatens in your temples.

"Sukuna..."

He pulls your chin with two fingers, the action makes you snap your eyes open focused on his gaze and long lashes, your skin burning under his touch. He keeps looking at your mouth.

"I like it when you say my name," he confesses.

"Sukuna..." you can't help but call him back.

"Yeah, just like that."

Sukuna traces the line of your jaw with his soft lips, the shadow of a beard tickles your skin, his nose stumbles against your flesh as he creeps up to your ear painfully slow.

"I thought I'd return the favor," he murmurs, patting your pussy covered by the thick fabric of your shorts and you wonder if even through all the fabric he can feel the heat emanating from your core.

"You don't have to..." you stutter.

"You just keep calling my name."

Expert fingers remove the button and undo the zipper without wasting time, then push your panties aside and what he stumbles over makes him laugh unfunnily at the line of your throat.

"All this for me?" You try to stop him, have an excuse with which to defend yourself when you tell your version of events to your friend and push his hand away while at the same time moving your hips towards him. "This pussy is so wet just for me, for your bully? That's what you call me, isn't it?" he laughs again, the vibrations tangling in the back of your ear and in the wet strands of your hair. You swallow and think about Nobara, what she will say, how guilty you feel and the pain in your temples that is starting to become more noticeable.

Sukuna carefully slides a long finger between your folds making a mess of your pussy juices. He flicks your clit a little in tight circles, you spread your legs wider to give him permission.

Your head hits the door with a soft sound exposing your throat to him, the heat of Sukuna's body drowns you, increases the heat of the room in the form of steam and you feel you can't breathe as he keeps kissing, biting your neck, the piercing ball on his tongue is cold and slippery. One finger pushes inside your slippery pussy easily and a second follows.

"No marking," you remind him, gasping as he adjusts his wrist to go deeper and increase the pace.

Sukuna's kisses on your neck distract you, his tousled hair tickles you. His open mouth leaves kisses on the salty skin of your throat and he sucks and licks and bites at it in a way that makes you wish he made his mouth be somewhere else on your body.

You gasp weakly, his fingers moving in a different way inside you, the squelch of him fucking you hard against the bathroom door bouncing between the tiles and into your skull, all you can hear is his chuckle and how wet you are. Your body slips through the door but a hand on your waist forces you to stand closer to his body and it is only then that you realize how hard he is against your thigh.

Your gazes connect and he gives you that lopsided smirk. "There you go, attagirl."

You squeeze around his fingers, your arousal spilling out around them. You're panting like a dog, your mouth open and Sukuna has to force himself not to bend over and suck your tongue.

Suddenly someone tries to open the door, jiggling the doorknob and knocking desperately. "Hey!" Nobara. Your eyes widen, you try to stop Sukuna but his fingers keep abusing your poor pussy, maltiling a spot inside you.

"You're going to cum," Sukuna murmurs into your temples. "Bite me if you have to."

No! you move your lips without getting the word out, alarmed.

"You will. You are going to cum so hard on my fingers while you fantasize that it's my cock making you feel good," he whispers in your ear, biting it, the ball on his tongue rolling all over the lobe of your ear.

"Hey, baby? Are you there?" Nobara insists.

You can't. You want to run away from there, you want to resist it.

"What do you want, brat?" Sukuna raises his tone of voice.

Sukuna's body embraces you, he is everywhere, the girth of his cock presses against you and you can't help but remember that day. How wet he was from his precum, from your spit, you don't want to think about how big it was, how thick and how good it would feel stretching you.

"Open the door, Sukuna. If you have her there with you..."

You think you might cum with just the tip throbbing inside you, you've seen it before: it's thick and turns red just before he cum. Your fangs sink into his skin marking him, cumming silently as you think about how it would feel to finally have him sinking into you.

"I'm taking a fucking shower, if you want to see my dick just say so."

"You're disgusting." And you are more so. This can't happen again.

As soon as Nobara moves away from the door you push him off your body to go wash your face, the water cools your cheeks and neck but does nothing for your clouded thoughts.

"You..." You look at him, but he's licking his fingers, his pierced tongue licks them up and down and your eyes without permission go to his hard cock where there are now little wet spots. "I hate you."

You are ready to leave but Sukuna wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls you close to his body.

"You can hate me all you want but that pussy of yours….” he smiles.

"Shut up."

You don't know how much more you could take of his dirty mouth without your face exploding with heat, you pull your arm and manage to escape his grip. Looking at him one last time before you open the door.

"Not even a kiss goodbye?"

"Ugh!"

You slam the door shut, trotting into the kitchen where you open the fridge and take out a bottle of water, which you immediately bring to your dry mouth. As you close the door, as if it were a ghost Nobara is waiting for you on the other side with arms crossed, making you choke on the water and immediately cough.

"Where were you?" She asks with a judging look examining you up and down.

"I was... looking for a charger."

"You've got to be fucking with me."

"What?"

"The hickey on your neck, smartass." Fuck! "You could at least pretend. Your fucking zipper is open, really, Sukuna?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

[il-miele-che-scrive]

the one where Y/n and Charles had different priorities

this is maybe a bit chaotic because I had one idea and unclear vision, but I like how it turned out eventually

view all comments

username1 How do you know? HOW DO YOU KNOW?!

username2 They have WHAT

username3 nah I don't believe in love anymore

username4 But they were together since even before Charles was in formula 1🥺

↳username2 Right? I thought they'll be together forever

username5 And there goes my hope for them to announce an engagement soon

↳username6 Sameeee except I thought someday they'll just have a secret wedding and not tell the media until weeks/months after

username5 Ngl that sounds like a them thing to do

username6 Well, not anymore

username7 My only question is why? 😭

↳username1 Literally because they seemed like a perfect couple. What could go wrong?

username8 Shit, that hurts more than my parents' divorce

username9 THEY BROKE UP AFTER 8 YEARS??

↳username10 what 😳

username9 They were together since 2016, I remember Charles saying this in some interview

username6 Yup that's right, he mentioned it many times, he was so in love with Y/n. I swear even recently he said after so many years he still falls in love more and more each day

username9 She was there for him when his dad passed, when Charles joined F1, when he signed up with Ferrari, when he won his first F1 race, I wonder what happened that made them break up so suddenly

username10 Oh so she was there for basically a huge part of his life

username5 I remember when Charles said "she's not a part of my life. She IS my life" about Y/n😭my standards for men have been high up in space ever since

username11 Wow just like Sainz broke up with his long term girlfriend last season. Let's just hope Leclerc won't pop up with a new girl weeks after that

↳username12 Charles and Y/n could be broken up for a long time now, we can only speculate when they broke up

username5 Imagine if Charles posted the Vegas vlog after their breakup 🥹 I'm not okay

username12 That was so unnecessary to say, I'm crying now

yourusername One for the money, two for the show, I never was ready so I watch you go

view all comments

username1 The caption guys...

↳username2 Does that mean what I think it means?

username3 What do you think it means?

username2 "I never was ready" he wanted to take things to the next level, but she didn't. "So I watch you go" means she had to let him go because they didn't want the same thing

username3 How could she not be ready after whole 8 years?

username2 Every person matures in their own time and that's okay, they'll both find someone else

username4 That's a Swiftie going through a breakup

username5 Noooo it's confirmed now 😭 as long as neither of them confirmed it I could stay delulu and think the rumours are just rumours

oldersister Thank you for babysitting Snow White 🐈‍⬛ (I wish there was a white cat emoji)

↳yourusername It was my pleasure! She's an angel (and a professional model)

oldersister Feel free to come over anytime you want, Snow White loves her aunt 🤍

youngersister HEY how dare you steal Y/n like that!! I wanted to take her out for milkshakes sometime

oldersister Chill, you can do that whenever you want I'm not stealing anyone

yourusername I'd love to go out for milkshakes!!

lilymhe No more Y/nLily in the paddock?

↳yourusername The paddock isn't the only place where we can hang out 😂

landonorris what are you up to on the 2nd pic? 🤨📸

↳username2 LANDO, DON'T

↳username4 LANDO IT'S TOO EARLY

↳username1 DONT RUIN OUR CHANCES TO HAVE Y/NCHARLES BACK

↳username1 Fuckboy Lando been doing too much fuckboying lately

username6 Didn't know she's a smoker

↳username7 Yeah, she was very secretive about it

username2 It's not like she was hiding it from y'all

username7 She was, probably because she would be canceled for being a wag who smokes cigarettes

username2 A grown woman can do what she wants

username6 It's better that they broke up, way healthier for Charles to not be around a smoker

username2 Wtf she was with him through bad and good times, supporting him no matter what, loving him, making beautiful memories together and you say it's good that they broke up because she smokes?

username4 May I add we never saw her smoking throughout the 8 years, she probably started after the breakup

username5 after the breakup or BECAUSE of the breakup?

charles_leclerc Leaving Bahrain with a good result despite some difficulties. Pretty good weekend if you ignore the braking problem, now onto Jeddah next 🏎

view all comments

username1 brAking problem or brEAking problem?

username2 How is that the start of the season and there's already something wrong with his car?

yourusername Congratulations on finishing P4🏁given the issues your car had, you did a spectacular job

↳charles_leclerc Thank you 😇 I tried my best, but felt like something is missing

yourusername I'm sorry :(

↳username3 WHAT IS Y/N DOING HERE? ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER?

username4 I wish I could believe they are, but I guess some people break up on good terms

username3 How could anyone end a 8yrs old relationship and be friends? 😭

↳username5 Jail for miss Y/n for leading fans on

username6 He looked so sad the whole time, during interviews and all that 😔

↳username7 Yeah he's either done with the car already or he misses Y/n that much

username8 DID Y'ALL SEE THAT ONE INTERVIEW WHERE HE GOT ASKED ABOUT Y/N NOT BEING IN BAHRAIN??

↳username6 WHAT INTERVIEW??

username8 A lady asked him why Y/n isn't here because she never missed the first race of the season before so it's surprising. He officially said that over the winter break they've decided to part ways due to focusing on different aspects of life🥲

username9 How do you figure something like this out after 8 fucking years? They wasted each other's time

username7 Calm down lol they grew and matured with each other, experienced how their love evolved throughout the years, no time you put into this is a wasted time

username10 I need to know what are the aspects of life they focus on and if they really are that different

↳username11 From what I figured from Y/n's post and Charles' interview - he wanted to get married, maybe even start a family and she wasn't ready

username10 Ahhh I remember how a few years ago Charles said he wants to have three kids. Such a shame Y/n doesn't want the same thing, but it's understandable they figured it now. They were kids themselves when they started dating lol

username11 Not really, they were both over 18 years old

username10 I know, but still that's a pretty young age and you might not know yet what do you really want in life

username12 Plus your brain develops until you're 25, they both turn 27 this year so it explains a lot

username13 I'm telling you, there would be no problems if Y/n was there, @/yourusername get your lazy ass on a plane to Jeddah

oldersister Amazing performance this weekend👏

youngersister Goodluck for Jeddah 🍀

username14 The way Y/n AND her sisters still interact with Charles on social media...

↳username15 Yeah like are they actually broken up??

3 weeks later

yourusername You'd be surprised if I told you why kangaroos are called kangaroos

view all comments

username1 What is miss doing in Australia during the race week?

oldersister I told you this story is fake ����

↳yourusername But it's funny so I'm gonna believe it

oldersister Kangaroo DOESN'T mean "I don't know" jesus christ

username2 I thought it does 😭

username3 Too much Tiktok I guess lmao

youngersister Glad I could have milkshakes with you in Australia 😌

↳yourusername Back at you although that was a strange excuse to go to Australia in the first place

youngersister It's just not the same in Europe

arthur_leclerc Y/n in her natural habitat🦘

↳yourusername I swear I was a kangaroo in a past life

↳username4 What is going on? Y/n and Charles broke up but they keep interacting with each other and each other's families

username5 I NEED to know which city it is

username6 Is that true all announcements on public transport are made with Oscar Piastri's voice??

↳yourusername Yup, I wonder how much convincing it took to get Oscar to do the voiceover

landonorris not a lot to be honest

username5 AHA so she is in Melbourne! Also, what are you doing here Lando?

landonorris do you wanna hear another aussie fun fact?

↳yourusername I'm scared but yes (as long as it's not about thongs)

landonorris do you know what an australian kiss is?

yourusername @/oscarpiastri please put Lando back in his cage

username7 HELP I'M GASPING FOR AIR, LANDO ALWAYS TAKES THE CHANCE TO SHOOT HIS SHOT

username8 Not gonna lie it pisses me off how Lando tries to "flirt" with Y/n in her comments

↳username2 Me too, it's not ethical

username9 I'm afraid Lando doesn't care lol and I don't think Y/n would ever consider going out with another driver considering Charles and her broke up on good terms

username10 I'm just wondering if norris ever tried funny business back when Y/n would come to races

↳username11 prolly not but hey now he's free to do it

username5 Just because he's free to do it doesn't mean he should do it

view all comments

username2 OH 😃

username3 So that's what she's doing in Australia

username4 Wait why is Jacob Elordi in Australia?

↳username2 Well, Jacob is Australian, why wouldn't he be there?

username4 HE'S AUSTRALIAN?!

username5 One thing Charles can't beat is the height 😩

↳username6 Is it worth it tho? Jacob treated his exes pretty badly, he's a cheater

username5 And? People change

username6 Bro, he cheated on Zendaya

username5 Chill out, maybe Y/n isn't even on a date with him, maybe they're just hanging out

username7 If I were Y/n I would enter my hoe phase now and Jacob is a good choice to start with

username8 THIS CAN'T BE TRUE

username9 Charles where are you? 😭 Y/n is a sweetheart, she shouldn't be with Jacob

username10 Sometimes I regret opening this app

username11 Didn't Jacob attend a few races? Is that were he met Y/n?

↳username12 Keep saying things like this and watch gossip unfold about how Y/n was waiting to leave Charles for Jacob

username13 Miss girl did a downgrade

↳username14 Is it a downgrade though if he's that tall?

username13 He can be as tall as he wants, but Charles was Y/n's soulmate and I'll always stand by that

username9 Plus the height doesn't make up for the personality

username14 What personality? 💀 Girl you don't even know him

username9 Someone who cheats on their partner clearly isn't a very pleasant person to date

username5 CALM DOWN GUYS we can't be sure they were on a date, it could be just two friends catching up

username9 what friends? I've never even seen them talk before and there were opportunities

yourusername Don't panic guys, I've been spending most of the time with @/youngersister and her aussie friends

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youngersister Yeah, I clearly didn't set you up for a date with a certain actor...

↳username1 SHE SET Y/N UP WITH HIM?!

username2 Evil mastermind

username3 How did that even happen lmao

↳yourusername Thankfully it didn't go as good as you'd wish it would 😌

youngersister No worries, I have other options up my sleeve

yourusername Keep them up there 🤺

↳username4 I'm confused is [younger sisters name] team Charles or not?

username5 She's just a menace it seems

username6 What's up with Y/n? She didn't wanna be with Charles, but she doesn't wanna move on. That's not normal

youngersister Don't make me set you up with Lando

↳yourusername You'd never, I know you think he's annoying

youngersister Yeah, but he gives me that vibe of a guy who can make you forget about your ex

yourusername That's called a fuckboy

youngersister You deserve a bit of fun don't you 🥳 I'm not saying you have to go straight back to being in a relationship

yourusername NO THANK YOU

username5 Lmao I love how they're having this convo here instead of on dms

username6 OR FACE TO FACE??

username7 Why does Y/n's lil sis support the idea of Y/n having a hoe phase? 😭

landonorris I was hoping you'd come see the race;)

↳yourusername Better luck next time I guess :)

a few months later

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username1 YEAH I WAS LIKE WHAT THE HELL???

username3 I can't defend Charles anymore

username4 Apparently her name is Angeliqué and she's a daughter of some French entrepreneur (a/n: I made her up)

username5 I didn't want Charles to move on, I wanted him to be back with Y/n 😭

↳username6 Worse thing is, Charles moved on but Y/n didn't. She went on this weird staged date with Jacob Elordi a few months ago and that's it

username7 NOOO 😭😭

username8 Charles better say sike now 🔫

username9 Please tell me it's a joke

username10 It truly feels like some part of me being torn apart knowing that Y/n and Charles broke up for good and he moved on

username11 Do we really know nothing about what's going on with Y/n? She must feel terrible now, I'm sure she saw that Angeliqué girl on TV

↳username9 What makes you think she would still watch races?

username11 It seemed like her and Charles are on friendly terms, so why wouldn't she still watch his races?

↳username12 She hasn't posted anything since Australia, went hella private, she ISN'T okay, I think she even stopped hanging out with Lily M

username13 I did some more research and that Angeliqué girl is 20 years old

↳username12 So we're supposed to believe that Y/n who is Charles' age wasn't ready to start a family, but a 20 year old Charles met weeks ago is? Charles, explain yourself

username9 Honestly the new girl seems just like a distraction from Y/n or a PR relationship

username12 You might be right, maybe Charles can't forget about Y/n so he went with "wanna get over, get under someone new"

username14 Nahhhh cuz she was all over Charles whenever she could and he looked so done 💀 that's definitely a stunt

↳username1 Literally, she was always hugging him, touching, holding hands, she barely let him interact with fans, Y/n was so much better AND she always respected Charles' fans

username15 imagine not being able to move on for MONTHS so your pr team finds you a fake gf

yourusername Excuse the inactivity, I've been watching Gilmore Girls

view all comments

username1 Very understandable in this case

username2 Our Rory Gilmore finally watching the og Rory Gilmore 🙏

oldersister I'm afraid Snow White might like you more than she likes me 😂

↳yourusername I'm the cool aunt 🤭

youngersister Excuse me???

yourusername I said what I said

youngersister And I don't agree with what you said

yourusername Would you watch Gilmore Girls with Snow White? Nope. I do. So I win the cool aunt competition

username3 Guys... When did Charles unfollow Y/n?

↳username2 He unfollowed?

username3 Yeah... He didn't comment nor even like, so I went to check and he doesn't follow Y/n anymore but she still follows him

username2 Ouch that hurts

username4 I don't care that Charles doesn't follow Y/n anymore, what counts is that she is happy 😊 look at the last pic, she's so adorable with Snow White

↳username5 True, she looks happy and healthy while Charles is out there having to put up with a fake girlfriend

username6 What's funny is that Charles doesn't follow Y/n anymore, but both his brothers and majority of F1 drivers do

↳username7 including the ones who followed her after the breakup 😏

username8 Don't try to make up new rumours, Y/n is single and happy

username9 Not to be mean but... It says something about Charles that he had to unfollow

↳username6 He either thought it'll help him forget or the new girlfriend made him unfollow

username9 Either way it tells us he's still thinking about Y/n

landonorris been a while since I last saw you

↳yourusername Let's see how long we can keep the streak up

username6 SLAAAAAY QUEEN

username10 I'll never be over the Y/nCharles breakup, I'm still going through it months after

↳username11 That's okay because so is Charles

username12 Tbh in Y/n's place I would just take the chance and go for Lando, just to prove that Charles' PR relationship is in vain

↳username2 That's not something Y/n would do, but if she ever did that I would support her

Username13 dating men is so much stress, why bother while you can sit at home with a cat watching Gilmore Girls instead?

[rosepinks-world]

CHERRY WAVES | logan howlett

‘I liked it a first but the more you laughed the crazier I came.’

summary: you and logan are fuck buddies but one day something changes.

fem reader, brief smut, bit of angst at the end, probs ooc but oh well

part two

You’d known Logan about a year now thanks to Wade but you’d been hooking up with him for six months - not that you were counting. It was casual. Friends with benefits. A booty call. Whatever. It wasn’t serious.

To you that was perfect. You had good sex and didn’t have to worry about getting your heart stomped on, that seemed to happen a-lot.

Tonight was no different. You had a routine.

Step 1

He knocked on your door and the minute you answered his lips were on yours roughly attacking them as he pushed you against the wall.

Step 2

He pulled away and looked at you like you were some sort of goddess.

Step 3

“How was your day?” You asked pulling off your top.

“Shit.” He replied as he did the same. Reconnecting your lips

Step 4

With your lips connected you made your way into the bedroom and when you did you backed into the bed falling onto it. You moved up to the headboard so you could lean against it and he followed.

Step 5

Sex.

Except this time it was different. You couldn’t quite tell why but you knew it wasn’t the same.

He kissed you passionately as you secured his body to yours by wrapping your legs around his waist subconsciously grinding against him pulling a low groan from his mouth as he pulled away. You whined pathetically at the loss of him and he cupped your face for comfort. Your lips parted as he reattached his to your stomach going lower and lower…

He ate you out every-time you had sex but something this time felt different. You lifted your hips to let him pull your underwear down and he placed himself happily between your thighs. This time it felt more intimate. The way the scruff of his beard didn’t scratch your inner thighs but rather softly tickled them and the way he gently rubbed the flesh of your hips as he pressed his lips to your clit, gently sucking.

“Fuck.” You say writhing against his mouth.

You could hear the wetness of his saliva and your arousal and the dirtiness of the whole situation turned you on more.

He pulled away for a second, catching his breath and letting his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“You’re so fuckin wet baby.” He shook his head in disbelief and uttered a final compliment before diving back in, “So fuckin hot.”

That did it for you (the addition of his fingers also helped) you could feel your orgasm coming as you grabbed a handful of his hair to steady yourself.

Your moans got louder and louder and as you came you were sure the neighbours could hear you. Your legs were shaking and tears of pleasure coated your eyes. Without thinking (too fucked out to think) you threw your head back and it connected harshly with the headboard. You groaned and Logan immediately raised his head in concern sitting up on his knees.

Instead of being met with a pained expression or even tears he was met with a smile. Your hand was placed on the spot behind your head where you’d hit it and a smile mixed with a wince adorned your beautiful face. The minute you saw him you couldn’t help but laugh.

God your laugh, it always had me whipped.

Unbeknownst to you, the entire time he’d been eating you out he’d been grinding into the mattress, your pleasure turning him on that much, then hearing your laugh tipped him over the edge.

He came in his pants like a fucking teenage boy.

You were so perfect. Everything he could ever want. But you weren’t even his.

“Did you…um?”

He stood up quickly. Gathering his white tank top and jeans slipping them both on.

“I’m gonna have a smoke.” In his rush he almost tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to the door of your very tiny balcony.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Logan was a confident borderline cocky man there was no way he was flipping his shit because he came from just eating you out. There was something more. You pulled on your underwear and grabbed the flannel he’d left on the bed doing the first few buttons up so your boobs were covered. You’d given him at least a couple drags of his cigar on his own so now you decided to join him for the final ones.

He looked at you as you walked out, taking in your appearance.

Fuck.

He loved post sex you.

The flushed face, the messy but still sexy hair, the way you’d always throw on his clothes after. He also loved the way your nipples pierced through his shirt as they were hit with the cold air. That was enough to get him going again.

“What’s going on?” You’d asked pulling his attention from you.

He sighed blowing smoke out of his lips something he knew you loved always going on about how hot it was, “We shouldn’t keep doing this bub.”

Bub. He called everyone that but he only said it to you when he was trying to be caring.

You were hurt. Was the sex not good anymore? Was he seriously that bothered about blowing his load? You played off your hurt with a slight joke.

“What can’t you take it old man?”

He’d normally laugh at that but you were met with his serious yet sympathetic eyes.

“Seriously. We shouldn’t.”

The slight shake of your head the quiver of your lip and the furrow of your eyebrows. You were confused, upset and slightly angry. Logan always knew how to read you.

“Logan? What! Why?”

He sighed handing you his cigar and you awkwardly gave it a puff. He knew you preferred cigarettes. He wanted to smile at the memory of you ranting about how expensive cigars were and that the first time you tried one you almost passed out because no one had told you that you weren’t suppose to inhale them. You spat out the smoke, angrily handing it back to him murmuring about how you ‘hated those fucking things’ he frowned slightly feeling guilty for what he was about to do.

Without any warning, he stood up and walked to the door you quick on his trail.

“Logan! What the fuck? What’s going on?”

He opened the door his back to you but he couldn’t help but whip his head in the direction of your voice. He stared at you more and didn’t think about the words that came out next.

“We can’t keep doing this because I’m falling in love with you.”

Your eyes widened.

“…And that is the last thing any of us need.”

He turned back and walked out. The door slammed shut.

[mimasroom2]

Sex w stoned Ellie 𓇗

Tried to write something short for once AHHHHH. May or may not have been high while writing this ugh I need this so bad. I’m soooo used to writing things VERY detailed so this was kind of a nice challenge. I love the way she smiles ugh my silly girl ♡

C/w: weed. SMUTTTTT!! :3. Els eatin you out😋.

W/c ≈ 400

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

Thinking of Ellie coming over unannounced. She smells like weed. She told you she walked to your apartment.

You scold her for walking by herself when it’s dark. She argues it’s not even that late, plus she has her pocket knife on her. You roll your eyes and start to make her hot chocolate. She gently takes it out of your hand, sets the cup down, and harshly smashes her lips against yours.

She can’t keep her hands off you. “Ellie.. how much did you smoke?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, princess.” Her words are slightly slurred. Maybe from the weed. Maybe from feeling you.

She pushes you and you grab her towards your couch. She’s kissing you so hard her tongue goes down your throat without any hesitation. You moan, and she sheepishly laughs into you.

She’s taking all your clothes off. At least she’s trying to. She’s still giggling to herself, about god knows what. Perks of her being high. And she’s fumbling greatly with her sloppy movements.

You take all your clothes off, gently pushing her back so she can watch. She grins at you with her eyes still red, looking at you like you’re the best thing she’s ever seen. Because you are.

She’s making a mess with her mouth on your neck. Every move she does feels hazy and not enough. You tell her you need more. Her arms snake their way down your body. Her toned fingers touch you, gathering up your wetness and bringing it up to your clit. You both sigh into the feeling. She circles you faster.

She’s muttering to herself again. “Mouth too dry…” and she locks her lips back onto yours. Little bitch using you for her dry mouth. She gets distracted and starts giggling to herself again.

You politely whine for more, “Ellie… cmon, please…..”

She snaps out of it and briefly apologizes, trying her best to focus.

Once she starts kissing and slurping at your pussy, she is completely locked in. You can feel her smiling against you. She raises her face to look at you with that same sheepish grin every time you’re close. She’s sooooo fucking pussy drunk.

Something about the way she’s being so sloppy yet delicate turns you on even more, until you can feel you’re about to cum.

You beg her not to stop, her cute little face is buried in you, and you wish you didn’t have to cum so it never has to end. “Ellie- fuck, Els don’t stop don’t stop..”

You groan as your orgasm takes over your mind and body. You can hear Ellie’s almost creepy little giggles as she’s still against you, “Heheheheh….” She’s probably so proud of herself.

Ellie smiles and sloppily wipes the wetness from you off her face. She’s looking up at you and you laugh tiredly. You decide you want to capture this moment of her forever in your mind.

[hoshieeyewrinkles]

• Nct dream as bad boys falling in love with you. •

♡ Notes. Alt. When you are the good girl who fell in love with them.

♡ Cheesy as hell.

♡ stereotypical bad boy and good girl.

♡ Fluff. Fluff. Fluff.

♡ Reader is innocent and sometimes a dumbass

♡ Not requested [ requests are open tho. Pls go through my pinned post before requesting]

Mark

~ randomass bad boy

~ spots you during recess in the hallways.

~ could not stop thinking about you after that, your cute keychain hanging off your bag, the little giggles you let out with your looser friends as he calls them. All had him going crazy

~ waits in the same hallway everyday even though he doesn't have any classes there, only to glance at you.

~ grins like an idiot after you shyly smiled at him once.

~ "you are such a creep, mark." "shut up haechan"

~ he finally asked you out one day after some great encouragement from his friends ( haechan threatening him to ask you out or else he will) . Was nervous that you might get scared because of his eyebrow piercings and bad reputation.

~ was surprised that you accepted, looking at him with doe eyes and a cute grin. He fell harder before he could even process your reply.

~ his life improves because of you. Your pouts and little scoldings you give him for not wearing a helmet or coming late. It all made him change as he avoided everything bad to make you happy.

~ "I'm sorry angel, I didn't mean to come late. Don't be mad please" Screaming.

Renjun

~ certified tsundere

~ found you so annoying at first. Why did you have to finish all the work at time and be such a good girl?

~ and why the fuck did you have you have to walk around with your gaze down? Can't you look forward for fuck's sake?

~ everything you did kinda annoyed him at first and yet he couldn't understand why he made sure no one bullied you or laughed at you.

~ glares at anyone who looks at you for long time.

~ "she is so fucking annoying, walking around cutely with that stupid banana milk like tf" "renjun you are in love with her"

~ realises he has a crush on you. Panics. Gets more annoyed.

~ walks you home one day making you confused. Carries your books. Sits beside you in every class you guys share. Lends you his leather jacket when you are cold. Brings you banana milk everyday.

~ you're confused but you can't help but feel all giddy in your stomach when he acts like that. You give him a cupcake one day.

~ he stared at it the entire class. He is not gonna eat it. He'll preserve it forever.

~ you pecked his cheek one day to calm him down as he ruthlessly punched a boy after he made fun of you

~ pulls you into a kiss in front of everyone.

~ chuckles so sweetly when you blush. You take his bruised hands in yours worriedly all while he stares at you as if you are his entire world. (Which you are)

~ "No one's ever gonna hurt you, princess. I love you so fucking much."

Jeno

~ Bad boy next door

~ you are his neighbour. All he does is blast loud music with his friends creating ruckus in his backyard. His parents are always out of town.

~ you are the new girl who moved next door with your strict parents.

~ he watches you watering your plants everyday. Notices the little glances you threw at his way and how you stammer to reply when he waves hi at you with a lazy smirk on his face. "Whatcha looking at sweetheart?"

~ he finds so you so fucking adorable.

~ throws away his cigarettes whenever you catch him smoking, you don't mind but he doesn't want to scare you. So he tries to change his appearance, hides his tattoos and piercings.

~ frankly, he doesn't understand why tf he cares so much about what you think but he can't stop thinking about you. Especially after you gazed at him with the softest eyes when he came home bruised. Asking him to come inside your home so you can bandage him.

~ he knew you had very present and strict parents (something which he can't relate to) yet you still took the risk to call him in.

~ he straight up confesses to you one fine day when you were aiding his bruises (a little routine between you guys when your parents aren't home)

~ he climbs through your bedroom window even if your parents are present. He doesn't give two fucks. All he wants to do is see his angel. "I haven't seen you since yesterday princess, let me have a look please"

~ you accept his confession without hesitance and reassures him that you don't care about his appearance and he doesn't need to change himself.

~ he falls in love with you harder than ever, god forbid if jeno even sees a scratch on you. You're his little treasure, his everything. He will fight against the world for you, will jump in the fire for you.

~ "come on baby, don't scold your nono pls" a true Samoyed.

Haechan

~ resident's bad boy.

~ has the most gaze ever, looks like he is the scariest person alive but is actually a little tease.

~ don't think he doesn't throw punches tho, beats the shit out of people just for leaning on his bike.

~ spots you in the midnight carrying a tub of ice cream in your hand, walking out of the supermarket. Yeah he thought you were a dumbass to walk alone at midnight.

~ tries to ignore you but fails when he spots creepy looking guys following you. They start to corner you and haechan sighs before stepping in.

~ takes out his pocket knife and the guys starts sprinting away. Haechan turns back expecting you to look at him with fear but was surprised to find you staring at him with jaw open and flushed cheeks. "what the fuck are you? A damsel in distress?"

~ he kinda roasted you but you didn't care, shyly thanking him. He scoffs before asking you to hop on his motorcycle.

~ drops you home and asks your name. He chants your name in his mind after that.

~ you were pleasantly surprised to find him near the same supermarket the next day, turns out he has his little garage there. "What's up princess? wanted to see me again, yeah?"

~ after that he looks forward to your little meet ups. He lifts you up and puts you on his motorcycle seat while he fixes the engine. Mentally gushing at how cute you look with your little brain trying to understand what he is doing. "Yes this definitely looks like a donut princess"

~ lets you ramble about the books you read and even tries reading them so he can talk about more stuff with you.

~ confesses to you on a random thursday under scorching heat near his garage. Kisses you so passionately when you smile at him, not needing to hear any other words.

~ "Princess, you got some grease on your nose." Literally will do anything for you.

Jaemin

~ weirdass bad boy

~ sells weed and anyone can tell that he is a high mf all the time.

~ you were dared by your friends to buy weed. (They tricked you to buy it for them)

~ you nervously went near Jaemin who sells weed in the basement of some sus building.

~ he looked so scary at first glance but gave you the sweetest smile once he looked at you.

~ he knew you were too innocent and nice to buy this shit so he tried to talk you out. Finds you so adorable as you stammer to reply. Eventually you didn't buy because he convinced you. "Good girls don't do such things, sweetheart."

~ Jaemin later wondered why he didn't let you buy it when he could have gotten some good cash but something inside him just melted when he saw your big orbs.

~ after a few days you were pressurized again by your fakeass friends to go inside his basement while they waited outside. Jaemin was surprised to see you again but the disappointment on his face was real when you asked him for weed again.

~ he goes out of the basement and gives the deadliest glare at your friends who then proceeds to run away.

~ "what did I tell you last time princess?"

~ you became friends with him after that and he protects you all the time. Picks you up and drops you home. Makes sure no mf comes near you.

~ eventually he stopped doing all the shady shit, though he didn't change his shady appearance because duh he is a bad boy. He did it all for you cause you deserve a good person and even though he is not one, he will try his best to be one for you.

~ takes you to ice cream dates every weekend and one day you confess to him. He went quiet for a few moments before looking at you deep in the eyes and gave you the same sweet smile again.

~ is the most clingy and softest boyfriend ever. So protective and treats you as if you were made of glass.

~ "No doll, don't lift such heavy things. You will get hurt, go sit there and let me do it."

Chenle

~ didn't even know people considered him bad news. He thought everyone loved him.

~ he is a brat, does what he wants and gets what he wants. Frankly just enjoying his life in the most rebellious way as possible.

~ he does illegal car races and that's how he finds you there among all the rich brats, though you weren't one. You were just here to accompany your friends.

~ realises he never saw you here before. Comes over and tries to flirt with you but was surprised to see you acting all shy and nervous.

~ knows you weren't meant to be here "You shouldn't be here in places like this unless your family is influential enough. Let me drop you home cutie"

~ drops you home in his sports car and asks for your number.

~ at first he just wanted to flirt around with you but days went by and he couldn't stop thinking about your little nerd talks.

~ you were such a breath of fresh air in his life. He didn't even want to take you to his car races because it's full of shady people and you are his sweet angel who shouldn't be in the eyes of such people.

~ but after you gave him your puppy eyes, he just couldn't refuse "Alright princess, don't talk to anyone and just stay here with jisung."

~ comes to you after every race he wins and you confess to him.

~ "what do you mean? I thought you were already mine?" Asksksk he genuinely thought you guys were

~ kisses you passionately after every race he wins.

~ he never thought he would want to settle down in life but he can't stop thinking about you as his bride, you are his future and his final dream.

~ "Do you even realise how precious you are to me?"

Jisung

~ the most quietest and minds his own business type of guy.

~ you were the one who developed a crush on him first after seeing him in the hallways with his leather jacket on and a small smirk on his face while talking to his friends.

~ all he does is hang out with his little friend group and beats people who annoy him. he was very mysterious tho.

~ you pass by the same hallway everyday to see him. You were sure he didn't even know you existed but you were so wrong.

~ he noticed your shy glances and cute nature everyday. He just ignores you because he feels he is bad news for you.

~ yet he feels himself smiling at random times thinking about your pretty smile. "Fuck she is so cute"

~ realises he should stop and one day gives you the iciest glare making you think he finds you annoying.

~ so you stop passing by the same hallway and don't look at him anymore.

~ he feels shit because he didn't mean to scare you. Asks for advice from his hyungs. They hollered and cheered because he finally developed a crush on someone. "Our jisung finally grew up awwww" "hyung please shut the fuck up"

~ he doesn't have a crush tho. He is straightass in love with you.

~ one day comes to you with a bouquet of roses and confesses in the most nervous tone ever.

~ your both faces were in the same colour as the roses. So cute omg

~ after that day you were known to be jisung's girl and everyone knew better than to mess with you.

~ you guys are the most cheesy and disgustingly cute couple. Often the target of his hyungs teasings. "I love you angel." "I could have lived my entire life without hearing those nicknames." "Haechan hyung please."

~ you tutor him sitting on his lap everyday while he nuzzles his face in your neck. "Stop kissing me ji"

~ "I'm sorry love, you are just so fucking adorable"

[That's it I have fed your guys delusions enough for today]