#i will elaborate on what I think will happen to him and his importance in another post

[posletsvet]

Was anyone going to point out to me that the reason why curses were swarming the streets and filling every empty nook and cranny in the summer of Geto's spiral was actually Gojo Satoru?

The narrative already bears witness to how Satoru's mere birth tips the balance of the world. As the first Gojo to be born with both the Limitless and the Six Eyes in what is almost a half-millenium, he holds unparalled power. Him simply existing is enough for curses to spring into action and start growing in strength as well.

When he suffers a crushing defeat by the hands of Toji and subsequently thrusts himself vigorously into perfecting his technique, this rapid increase in his strength puts into motion a similar process. He becomes stronger, and so cursed spirits follow suit. He breaks the fragile equilibrium, and cursed energy seeks means to restore it.

First time Satoru Gojo changes the world, he is named the strongest. Second time Satoru Gojo changes the world, he becomes the strongest.

Now, this might be a bit of a stretch on my part, but what if Geto's defection and everything in its aftermath is how the world responds to Gojo being the strongest? After all, you cannot balance the scales by putting too much weight on just one side.

Suguru's abilities as a sorcerer are inherently deeply tied to Satoru's, and intentionally so. The stronger he is, the more potent the curses are -- and therefore the more potential there is for Geto's technique. I have said it before and I'll say it again: they are a perfect counterbalance to each other. The equilibrium is broken by Gojo twice. Each time, Geto is there to restore it: first by being born with the ability to manipulate curses, then by creating the opposition to jujutsu society, which Gojo has become the centrepiece of.

Ever since Suguru Geto entered the narrative, he has been the one to keep Gojo's powers in check -- hence preserving the balance. That's why the narrative brings him back: in order to be well-balanced, it needs both of them to be present.

[cerastes]

Habe you ever had a "did we even play the same game?" moment with someone?

My favorite game ever used to be Metal Gear Solid 4, it’s still up there in my top favorites, and this time at a party I met a guy that said he didn’t like MGS4 because he felt like it ruined Snake as a character and that it misrepresented him. I asked if he could elaborate and his response was that they took this Rambo dude, this super manly war hero and emasculated him into a weak old man.

I need you to understand that Solid Snake was without exaggeration fundamental in my growth as a person: I am from a latino country, grew up in what’s widely considered the wrong side of the tracks in the middle of nowhere, being macho, manly, tough was incredibly important to me, because that’s how it was in there, and Snake (plus “The Knight In Rusty Armor” by Robert Fisher) basically made me question all of what I’d grown up thinking up until then, because Snake isn’t a badass because grrr manly beef jerky I kill and swear, he is this incredibly solemn guy who hates what he can do, but is the only one that can do it, and if he doesn’t do it, then nuclear war happens, or worse. There’s a whole angle of expectation as a narrative arc in regards to Snake: Meryl expected a glorious, boisterous war hero, Otacon expected a grizzled, badass action hero, Liquid expected Himself But Better In Every Way, Ocelot expected a tool and nothing else, Naomi expected a callous and cold killer… And they were all wrong, he is, ultimately, an exhausted man that cannot stop no matter how much he wants to stop, because if he does, the world might likely go up in literal flames.

So to hear this self-proclaimed superfan of Snake say this just made me skip anger and go all the way to pity. In-universe, those in the know of Snake worship him as an actual God of War, and it’s a common thing that gets addressed in-universe: The whole point of MGS2 is that Raiden could never have won if he tried to be Snake, because you don’t want to be Snake. Snake hates being Snake. Snake isn’t manly because he beat a tank on foot one on one, Snake is admirable because he does the right thing, even if he’s breaking down molecule by molecule as he goes and he wants nothing more than to fuck off and raise dogs in the arctic, but keeps on going anyways because he can do something about it. The most important message he imparts on Raiden and Meryl is Don’t Be Me; Create A World Where Snake Doesn’t Need To Exist.

I felt pity because if you feel like MGS4 misrepresented Snake, then you really and explicitly are exactly the kind of fodder PMC nobody that feeds the proxy wars in MGS4. I think only by skipping every cutscene you can come out thinking that way. The only thing super about him was ficial.

[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.

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

What I love about Dungeon Meshi is that it writes platonic relationships with the same weight romantic stories would normally be written.

The Character that Got Their Heart Broken Too Many Times

Humanity broke Laois' heart. This is taken advantage later on by the Wingled Lion, but I digress.

Laois got bullied in all-boys school to the point that he ran away to become a soldier. Heartbreak #1.

He got harrassed in the training camp to the point that he became a deserter. Heartbreak #2.

The combination of these events were so bad, his lack of basic self-care can be a sign of a depressive state. If Falin hadn't joined him, who knows what would've happened to him.

Laois was so happy when he became friends with Shuro and felt so betrayed when Toshiro said he couldn't stand him. Not exactly a heartbreak #3 but it hurt all the same. They got past it but Laois remembers.

And when Kabru, for once in his life, stopped playing poker and laid down his cards, Laois wasn't going to let his heart be hurt for the fourth time.

The biggest thing that stands out to me in this manner is how Kabru's blurted confession of wanting to be friends with Laois was treated as much as a big revelation as a romantic one. Because the weight of that confession is Kabru's character development.

The Character Whose Sincerity Doesn't Come Easy for Him

This guy grew up being infantilized and not taken seriously by the elves for being a short-lived race. So, he honed diplomacy as sharp as his assassin's blade.

He knows the right things to say and when to say them, making him well-liked by everyone (much to his team's chagrin over their loved ones). And yet his personal cause puts a distance between him and his trusted teammates (including his childhood friend).

To say his true feelings and thoughts would end up with long-lived races dismissing him for being unwise and irrational.

So he keeps his cards to himself and works with subtlety throughout the manga, until things got worse, and he couldn't make Laois stay.

And he was left with nothing but to be sincere.

Right from the start, he said he wanted the Touden siblings to be unmasked. But in the end, he unmasked himself, much to his horror.

Addition edit: Kabru has been keeping his cards close to himself for so long, I don't think he realized what he really feels until he blurted it out. He chased after Laois throughout the dungeon because Laois might defeat the mad sorcerer. But for a guy who wants to understand everyone, he never understands what he feels about Laois and what that feeling means until his brain catches up with his mouth.

After decking Laois for not believing him, Kabru elaborated in his confession. He has developed a platonic crush (plush for short) or desire to be friends with Laois because:

1. Kabru wants to understand how Laois could love the very thing Kabru hates. Hate is just another face of fear. We fear what we don't understand. To understand Laois is to understand monsters. I think Kabru finds it admirable that Laois could admire monsters when everyone just view them as a threat.

2. He wants Laois to care about the same thing he does, which is saving humanity. Laois and co. are willing to side with the demon to protect Marcille from the Canaries. By asking to be Laois friend, Kabru becomes Laois' link to humanity that whatever they would do from there with the demon, please don't forget how it might affect other people outside his friends. And by gods, this is important to Kabru's development because he has never asked for help for his cause nor asked anyone to care because he's too used to the self-serving nature of all races. And yet, he chose to believe in Laois. Because if Laois could go that for his sister and elven friend, what more if he could do the same for what Kabru cares the most?

However, it was only in the end that they were able to talk after things had settled down. And they are so different and so alike at the same time.

Source

In this scene, there are two differing thoughts:

Laois, who experienced social rejection growing up: Do you still mean it?

Kabru, who had to deal with those of higher power: Are you testing me?

But they're still thinking the same thing: Is this real?

Like, all of their motivations have the weight often molded into romantic plots in any other story. A character who got their heart broken too many times and another character whose honesty does not come easy for them. But it's not a romantic story, but a start of a beautiful friendship.

There are more examples out there, but this is what came to my mind. Feel free to add more.

[prezaki]

One core trait of Phoenix Wright as a character that I rarely see discussed is how utterly evasive he is about his private affairs. It sticks out the most in AA4 when we see Phoenix from the outside, but "Phoenix won't tell anyone anything important unless he absolutely has to (and even then, he probably won't)" is by no means a new development for him.

From AA1 onwards, we see Phoenix dodge people's questions about his personal life time and time again. In part, this is by narrative necessity - Phoenix knows more than the player is meant to know in order to achieve the optimal tension curve. But AA takes his narrative shortcut and turns it into a real character beat.

Phoenix Wright is the most cagey fucker on the planet.

At the end of 1-1 Mia asks him how he came to befriend Larry and Phoenix dodges the question with a vague promise to tell her later - this also means that in all of his time working with Mia, he's never actually disclosed his full motivation for becoming a lawyer to her.

In 1-2, Maya asks him how he knows Edgeworth and he dodges, because of course he does. The same song and dance repeats at the end of 1-3. And despite Maya's repeated prodding by 1-4, Phoenix still has not told her a thing about his past. That's from October until December that Maya is left going ??? and her questions go nowhere.

Then, between AA1 and AA2, Edgeworth is presumed dead by suicide. Does Phoenix tell Maya about this? Absolutely not. He does not tell her in letters nor is he clear about it when they see each other again in person, months later.

What Maya gets once it's inevitable to talk is a vague 'he's gone' and no elaboration other than the request to not speak about him again.

This is Phoenix's default coping mechanism.

In AA3, there are numerous instances where he mentions forgetting Dahlia, not speaking her name again, etc. Edgeworth is 100% getting the 'person who hurt me too deeply to think about' treatment here.

But to not even tell Maya a vague overview on the matter, when Maya knew him too? Rough. And it just keeps going.

It's six months between telling Maya that Edgeworth is 'gone' in 2-2 and her finding out that 'gone' seemingly means' dead' in 2-3.

Maya complains about it, too. This isn't a matter of 'she never asked again', it's a matter of 'Phoenix is dodging all questions'. Gumshoe has to intervene in order for Maya to finally find out.

And finally in 3-5, does he tell anybody why he's going to Hazakura temple and why he seems interested in Iris? Absolutely not!

At this point we get Edgeworth openly acknowledging that Phoenix keeps his emotional cards extremely closely to the chest. When he states that he wants confirmation on whether or not he has met Iris before, this exchange happens:

Even as Edgeworth directly calls him out on being evasive and never actually speaking to people, all Phoenix can do is acknowledge that this is how he is by apologizing - but he won't change his ways.

AA4 Phoenix is really just a natural evolution of Trilogy Phoenix - Trilogy Phoenix is already evasive, already hates telling people about his struggles or accepting help... It's really no wonder that he'd isolate himself instead of reaching out once he gets disbarred.

[solelifauna]

GUYS THIS COMMENT FROM @silken-moons ON THE WEREWOLF AU HAS ME LOCKED IN.

silken-moons:

Wait....so what happened to Kon or Conner in this au ? Was he the one eaten since he was basically half human and kryptonian too assuming lex is human in this au too.

I am more than happy to elaborate.

Lex is a half-human half-werewolf hybrid like the reader. So Conner would be half-kryptonian and only a fourth werewolf. When Clark finds out about his existence he’s pissed (at first). Superman doesn’t hesitate before finding Luthor and melting his skull in with his laser vision. It’s quite the graphic scene, Conner unfortunately being there to witness it all.

Conner is pressed back into some crevice in Luthor's office, doing his best to calm his heart beat, stave off his on-coming panic attack, and pray that Superman won’t kill him. Clark of course finds him curled in on himself, hyperventilating, tears streaming down his teenage face.

Conner is blubbering, he thinks, trying to communicate some type of garbled “please” and “I’m sorry” and “don’t hurt me please”. Superman just critically eyes him before knocking the clone out. Now, in the beginning he was just planning on taking the clone to the Watch Tower to interrogate him and then kill him. Perhaps Jon would like the extra meat?

But after watching the clone wake up alone in one of the containment units, crying quietly to himself as he rocked back and forth, he started to feel a little bad. He thought back onto the way the clone had practically begged him for mercy through his own panic attack. He's read Lex Luthor's files on "Superboy", how this clone had no flight, was not invulnerable, and couldn't even throw out half of Clark's strength.

This clone was no threat, no, in fact he was a gift. Another Kryptonian (even if the clone was only half with human DNA in his mix). And even better, the clone boy had no ill intentions towards the JL, hell, the boy looked afraid that anyone even considered the idea. No, no, no, this boy, his boy, was so sweet.

From the way he leaned into Clarks palm when he caressed the sleeping boys face, to the way he clung to Clark and his approval like a touch starved puppy, Clark couldn't help himself. The only problem now was getting his Wife and Son on the same page. He knew werewolf customs, he knew what it meant for Conner (a name his new son had previously picked out).

It would probably be easier to convince Jon considering the poor kid's been wanting a sibling for a long time now (Jon is 8 right now, but still all the same crazy). Lois might take a bit more time, considering pack bonds and the human part of Conner. So with a heavy heart, he kisses his new baby goodnight, as he flies home for he night. Yes, its been a couple of weeks since Connors arrival and he still hasn't told his family. he plans to amend that today.

He expects growling and demands for flesh. he expects outrage from his wife, or even a calm cool collected "bring him to me". What he gets instead are demands from Lois to see Conner, her new son. Clark blinks in surprise before he's fumbling with his phone, opening up his camera role where has has a million new pictures of Conner. Lois only grabs his phone, cooing over the pictures with adoration in her eyes. Well, Clark is pleasantly surprised.

"You're not mad are you Lois?" Clark asks gently.

"Oh I'm not mad Smallville, I'm livid." She all but growls, a smile still etched on her face as she continues scrolling. "You knew about him for weeks, and didn't even bother letting me know. I had a son for weeks, and he's been by himself."

Clark winces. "I know Lois, I know. I just-I was just afraid that you wouldn't want him the way I do. That you'd rip him open, hell, even I considered it in the beginning!"

Lois looks up from his phone, a knowing smile, a soft one, on her face. "I know farm boy, I know. But its important that you remember we don't always kill and eat the weak. Sometimes, its nice to have something that you can love and take care of, something that relies on you and only you."

"is that what you have planned for Connor?"

"Of course. He's our son now, and after everything he's been through, its out job to keep him and Jon safe. Until he can prove himself capable, he's not leaving the den."

A content grin makes its way onto Clarks face. Oh how he loved his wife. "I wouldn't have it any other way Lois. I'll bring him here tomorrow. Now, lets go let our other little rascal know."

Lois smirks. "I agree. Lord knows he's been waiting to have a-"

"-I have a new brother!" Comes the familiar voice of Jon Kent, cutting his mother off in his excitement.

Clark raises his eyebrow fondly, feigning exasperation. "Did you listen in on our conversation Jonathan Samuel Lane-Kent?"

"Of course I did! Well-I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it! You said I have a brother and I wanna see him!" Jon all but whines.

"Well honey, dad said he'd bring him home tomorrow okay."

"Really!?"

"You betcha. But Jon, you have to be gentle with him okay? He doesn't know werewolf or Kryptonian customs okay?" His dad says.

"Okay, I promise i'll be gentle." Jon swears, nodding up and down.

Lois sighs fondly. "And its important to know that he is part human, do you know what that means?"

"Mhm! It means that he's not allowed out the den or the house, and that its our job to protect him 'cause he's weak." Jon repeats from his memory.

"Good job Jon! You're going to be the best brother, I just know you are." His mom says.

Jon preens under the praise.

He can't wait to meet his new brother!

~~~~~

The next day arrives slower than anyone would have liked.

The morning sunlight filters through the sky as Clark flies Conner to him penthouse in Metropolis, cradling the boy carefully as he slumbers. Conner stirs in his arms, eyes fluttering open, a brief panic flashing in them until he meets Clark’s calm gaze.

“Where-where are we?” Conner mumbles, clutching at Clark’s shirt with a grip that feels hesitant, almost reluctant.

“We’re going home,” Clark replies, a small smile on his face. “Your new home. Your family’s waiting for you, Conner.”

Conner’s eyes widen, his mouth opening as if to protest, but the words die on his lips. His gaze shifts away, and he nods mutely, not quite daring to believe that this “family” will truly accept him. He’s felt so disposable for so long; he almost can’t imagine what it’s like to be wanted.

The penthouse doors open, and Lois stands there, her sharp gaze softening the instant she sees Conner. She steps forward, reaching out a hand in a silent invitation. Conner hesitates, clinging to Clark a little tighter, and Clark gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, Conner,” he murmurs. “I'm here for you.”

With a slow, tentative step, Conner reaches out, letting Lois pull him into a gentle hug. Her arms are firm around him, warm but unyielding, a silent promise of protection, though he senses the fierce strength just below the surface. She smooths his hair with surprising gentleness, her voice soft as she whispers, “Welcome home, Conner.”

Conner relaxes, allowing himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. This feels strange. He's never really had a home before. Luthor's compound was last place he felt safe, let alone a place he'd call home. And that word, that feeling-safe. He isn’t sure he's ever felt it outside Superman, sorry, his Dad's arms.

And isn't that a crazy thing, he has a Dad now. Superman, Clark Kent was his Dad.

Jon, standing just a few steps away, is practically vibrating with excitement. When Lois finally releases Conner, Jon bounds over, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi! I’m Jon, your brother!” He pauses, then adds, almost reverently, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Conner blinks in surprise, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he mumbles, “I-thank you, Jon.”

Lois places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Remember what we talked about, Jon. Conner’s still adjusting. Be patient with him.”

Jon nods enthusiastically, but there’s a possessive glint in his eyes as he looks at Conner, a silent vow to protect his new brother from anything—or anyone—that might threaten him. Conner notices this look, a strange chill running down his spine, but he says nothing.

As the day unfolds, Conner tries to settle into this new life, though it feels almost too good to be true. Lois and Clark are attentive, constantly ensuring he’s comfortable, while Jon barely leaves his side, eager to show him every corner of the penthouse, as if staking his claim. Meals are filled with warmth and laughter, and yet Conner can’t shake the feeling of being watched, almost obsessively.

That night, as Conner lies in the bed they’ve prepared for him, he hears the soft creak of footsteps outside his door. It opens quietly, and Clark steps inside, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He walks over to the bed, looking down at Conner with an intense, unreadable expression.

“You’re part of this family now, Conner,” Clark says quietly, brushing a hand over Conner’s forehead in a strangely tender gesture. “Nothing will take you from us. Not anyone. You’re ours, do you understand?”

Conner nods, his throat tightening, unable to find words. Clark’s gaze softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to Conner’s forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving Conner alone with a flurry of conflicted feelings. For the first time in his life, he feels wanted, cherished, trapped, as though he’s become a prized possession in a family he can never escape.

But, maybe, a small voice inside him whispers, he doesn’t want to escape at all.

Well folks, here's more lore on relationships outside of the Batfam. Let me know chat, am I cooking? New chap, out soon!

[petrawood]

I saw someone post a tweet about how a lot of people in the Inquisition must have suspected that something was off about Solas, and out of all of them Bull knew that there was something fishy going on for SURE but the scope of the whole thing was just too big for him to have guessed exactly what was going on.

So, that made me think how the whole reveal must have been like if it actually happened in our world and oh my god it's SO ridiculous.

Btw, this is obviously OOC, but it's just. Solas makes SUCH a character oh my god.

---

Imagine you are an Interpol agent that joins the CIA for this one very important and very specific mission. Everyone knows that you work for another organization and you are a trained and highly competent agent, but the situation is so dire that the CIA is basically hiring everyone who could help.

So, there is this one very weird guy.

He wears an old hoodie and yoga pants. When asked where he came from, he tells you that he is into outdoor living, so just "outside, you know, somewhere". He has no qualifications apart from being a skilled hacker and really really really good at navigating the Deep Web. In fact, he's an expert at it, to the point of being the Deep Web specialist of the team. He walks around BAREFOOT.

He is a WEIRDO.

You assume he is just some guy probably over his head, pretty helpful but that's kinda it. You are going to keep an eye on him anyway, as you keep an eye on most people.

And suddenly, things start no adding up.

You ask him how he learned to hack into the deep web and he answers that he just likes sleeping under bridges and there is very good internet connection there, so he ended up learning. He doesn't elaborate.

For a guy that spends all his time sleeping on the floor and hunched over a computer, you notice that he is actually BUILT. You cannot tell over the oversized hoodie, but that guy has muscle. Once it comes up, he looks you in the eyes and tells you that that's just normal when you live in the outside like him.

You need somebody to pilot an helicopter. He knows how to pilot an helicopter. "Oh, I just watched a video tutorial. You know, in the Deep Web".

You need to steal some nuclear codes. "Oh I know how to cancel those nuclear codes. I found a lot of documents explaining how to do it. You know, in the Deep Web".

You need to plan a coup. "Oh yeah I know all about backstabbing politics. I found a list of all the relevant politicians and the country's corrupt history. You know, in the deep web"

You are in the middle of said backstabbing and he's slightly tipsy looking fondly at the whole thing like "oh how I missed the vibe of a nepotist state. No one throws a party like corrupted politicians- Not that I've been in one before, of course. I've only seen videos. You know, in the deep web"

He drives the other two expert hackers out of their minds. "I don't know how you managed to get this position, you don't even have a Doctorate" "Doctorates are overrated, I think you all would do better if you came to vibe under a bridge like me"

He actually is OBSESSED with overthrowing institutions.

The hackers tear him a new one because they find his Hacker Drip lacking (fair). And he smells like Cheetos.

"I made a lot of friends on the Deep Web forums"

At this point you are convinced that this guy HAS to have something else going on. There is simply NO way someone would know so many things from his deep web premium access under a bridge.

Your best bet has to be that he's another secret agent, a very highly trained one at that, right? Or maybe a highcore antifa member? He either has inside information of the CIA or he's looking for it. But he has been ridiculous helpful so far, so you just can't tell what he's hiding and why.

And then one day guy, this FUCKING guy.

He shows up and tells your Boss that he's actually the ancient god Loki from the Nordic pantheon. That he created death, but is sorry so he's actually going to join the Earth with Heaven and Hell. A lot of people would die because of the Demons and you know, Earth as it is not existing anymore, but that's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

Now tell me, how the FUCK were you supposed to guess THAT.

[solarmorrigan]

Written for Day 3 of @steddie-week

Prompt: Mutual Pining | Rated: E | Additional Tags: Modern AU, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Hypothetical Top!Eddie/Bottom!Steve

-

Need more trope reversal with gay!Steve and still-thinks-he's-straight!Eddie obliviously pining after each other

Like, Eddie isn't into guys, but it's fine that Steve is. It's cool! Eddie is super supportive! He even helps vet Steve's dates. And whatever anyone (coughRobincough) says, he is not overly invested in Steve's love life. Sure, he might judge potential partners a little harshly, but it's for one of his best friends! Steve is great, and he deserves the best; it's not Eddie's fault so many guys fail to live up to standards.

Meanwhile, Steve is quietly dying, because he's been into Eddie since forever, but Eddie is straight, and he has to sit there and listen to Eddie extol his virtues and talk about how he deserves someone great while not being romantically interested in him whatsoever. But Steve also never claimed he isn't pathetic, so he'll take what he can get; maybe dating a guy who Eddie deems worthy will be almost as good as getting to be with Eddie himself?

Anyway, that train wreck is happening, and it all sort of comes to a head one night when Steve comes home to their shared apartment from yet another date, visibly frustrated and a bit disappointed, and Eddie isn't one to say I Told You So (much), but he had told Steve so. He'd said he hadn't liked the look of the guy's profile picture; Eddie has a sense about these things.

But still, he asks, "Bad date?"

Steve shrugs. "It wasn't- terrible."

"Oh, high praise."

"Well, it wasn't!" Steve gives a little laugh. "I mean, he was... nice."

"He bored you, didn't he?" Eddie can't help himself. "I told you he would be boring, who uses a picture of themselves in a suit for their profile on a dating app?"

"He wasn't boring, he was just- nice," Steve hedges. "A little too nice."

Eddie raises his brows. "Like... suspiciously nice?"

"No, not- we just weren't compatible," Steve says, still frustratingly vague.

Eddie is silent, staring at Steve, willing him to go on.

"In bed," Steve finally elaborates with a sigh. "The sex sucked, man."

"Ah." Eddie nods sagely. And then, because - okay, not because he's overly invested in Steve's love life, thank you very much, but because he's a good friend, right? And a good ally. And - yes, fine, he's also a little curious, sue him, but because of all of that, he asks, "You don't like 'em nice?"

Steve snorts. "I'm not saying I like people to be mean, it's just - I mean, it's kinda hot, you know? Having a guy who can push me around a little - take over so I don't have to think. Like, people just kind of assume I want to be in charge, that I'm gonna take over and-" Steve shakes his head, "I dunno, that's just not really what I'm into."

Eddie nods; this is definitely important information that he needs to have, obviously, if he's going to help Steve find The Perfect Guy. And he can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want to give Steve exactly what he wants - he would be so pretty, pressed into the mattress, clutching at the sheets, scrambling for purchase, for a way to channel the pleasure as he gets fucked. Who wouldn't want that?

Like, objectively. Objectively, Steve is an attractive guy, anyone can see that, so objectively he'd probably look hot while getting railed within an inch of his life. That's just science. Surely any guy who also likes guys would be into that.

Eddie realizes he's maybe been silent for too long. "So you're a pillow princess, huh?" he teases, trying to will away the image he's got in his head of Steve begging for some guy's cock, faster, harder-

"Fuck off." Steve gives Eddie a shove, but he's laughing a little. "I am not. I'm definitely not opposed to doing some work to get what I want."

The Steve in Eddie's head that for some reason won't go away shifts from arching his back while on his hands and knees to sitting in some probably undeserving guy's lap, riding him like a fucking pro, head thrown back in ecstasy, and Eddie very much needs to go now, needs to go address the completely unavoidable boner that's come up because they're talking about sex. That's just what happens sometimes. Unavoidably. Totally normal.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind. While we're hunting for your dream guy, I mean," Eddie says quickly, levering himself up off the couch and making for his bedroom as quickly as he can without being suspicious. "Sorry the date was a dud. We'll find your man, though, Stevie, despair not!"

He barely catches a glimpse of the odd look Steve is shooting him before he shuts his bedroom door. He can't think too much on it, because his brain is busy with other things - things like initiating the most confusing jerk-off session of Eddie's life.

But they were just talking about Steve and his preferences in bed, alright? It doesn't have to mean anything that Eddie's suddenly imagining it's his lap that Steve could be bouncing in, whining and crying out as Eddie thrusts up into him, hitting him just right. It doesn't have to mean anything that he imagines putting Steve on his back, imagines Steve's legs wrapped around his waist, imagines holding Steve's hips so hard he leaves finger-shaped bruises, imagines fucking Steve until he's sobbing and still begging for more, because Eddie understands what Steve needs, Eddie can give him what he wants--

It doesn't have to mean anything that Eddie comes harder into the slick clutch of his fist, imagining it's Steve's tight ass, than he has in ages.

It doesn't have to mean anything, but Eddie gets the feeling that maybe it does.

And shit, he may have to do some self reflection.

(Meanwhile, if Steve retires to his own room to have some private time with his favorite toy, fucking himself like he wishes Eddie would, shoving his own fingers in his mouth to keep from calling out his name, that's his business. And if he didn't admit to Eddie that the biggest reason the date had sucked had simply been because the date wasn't him, well - that's Steve's business, too.)

[gallusrostromegalus]

In honor of the season, what are holidays like in the spirit world? Have they been infected by Christmas yet? I imagine they inherit some popular ones from the world of the living, but also the unique holidays of the afterlife must be wild.

You come to me, on the eve of the High Holiday of Halloween, and ask me about Christmas??

I'm kidding, you're asking about holidays in general but my unsuspecting Agnostic Ass just got jumpscared by Mariah Carey, and I'm sensitive. It's not the season. Not for another 48 hours at least. Do Not Violate The Sacred Treaty.

.

..

...

Anyway, this ended up in my drafts for a few days, so: Christianity has not really gotten a foothold in soul society, but via cultural osmosis "Xmas" has. Nobody in a Shinto afterlife believes in monotheism, but they love a holiday and a Saint is practically a Kami anyway, but.... It's "Xmas" because the holiday in no way remotely resembles Christmas as practiced in the living world.

---

Scene: 4th Division hospital, a few days after Rukia is rescued and Aizen departed for Las Noches:

"-CHAD!!" Ichigo bellows, almost falling in through the doorway of the hospital room, wheezing.

"I am very sure you are not supposed to be out of bed." Chad frowned, looking up from the copy of the history of soul society Captain Komamura had lent him to read while he recovered.

It was strange, to be in the care of the very people he had thought to be senseless killers not two weeks ago, but he was finding the Shinigami a generally agreeable lot. Even if the captain that controlled the hospital reminded him unpleasantly of a nun with her chaste dress, soft voice and understated but constant threat of violence.

"YOU NEED YO HEAR THIS-! He- hee-" Ichigo stumbled over to his bed and curled up on his side overcome with giggles.

"... I'm beginning to think I am incorrect." Sighed the pale-haired man at the door, frowning down at Ichigo.

"Jushiro Ukitake, I don't think I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance yet, Mr.-?" The man introduced himself and offered Chad a hand.

"Uh. Yasutora. Sado Yasutora. But everyone calls me Chad." He mumbled, cautiously shaking hands with the stranger. "You're um. You're Miss Rukia 's boss, right?"

"Yes! I believe you are her friend with the pet parakeet and good throwing arm, yes?" Ukitake beamed at him and Chad was suddenly struck by the idea that he'd seen Ukitake at a family reunion before - Impossible, obviously, but the man had the intense aura of a distant uncle. "Good show that, she loves being hurled at an opponent!"

"Oh. Thank you." Chad mumbled, Ichigo finally catching his breath. "...What are you incorrect about?"

"Christmas, apparently." Ukitake frowned, and Ichigo dissolved into snickering again. "He says you're something of an expert on the actual mythology, I only have third-hand accounts, you see-"

"No!" Gasped Ichigo, reaching over to tug at Mr. Ukitake's sleeve. "You gotta tell him!"

"I am Catholic, yes." Chad nodded. "-go on. It can't be less accurate than the version Dr. Kurosaki- Uh, Ichigo's dad- gave me last year."

"Yeah it can-" Ichigo wheezed.

"Well, ah- Christmas is a birthday celebration for an important religious figure, right?" Ukitake tried.

"Yep!" Chad nodded, giving Ukitake a thumbs up.

"The birth of Rudolph, the Star-nosed reindeer?" Ukitake tried.

Chad stared at him blankly for a moment, before his thumbs-up slowly wilted into a thumbs down and Ichigo vibrated silently with hysterics. Chad opened and closed his mouth a few times, hand waving, then covered his mouth, searching for words. Eventually he reached out and gently put his hand on the captain's shoulder to explain as delicately as possible-

"...No." Said Chad.

Ichigo rolled off the bed with a dull thud.

"-I am, however, fascinated." Chad elaborated. "Please continue."

"...I'm really sorry that I am this ignorant of your religious dogma." Ukitake winced.

"It's- don't worry about it. Tell me what you think happens on Rudolph's birthday." Chad said, sitting back and pressing his hands together.

"Well- oh, how does it start? Right- there's the Monks- Saints? that give out presents to well-behaved children during the winter holidays- Saint Claus, Saint Nicolas and Saint Kringle. And they're all very old men, and with good judgement about who does and does not deserve presents, so they're called the three wise men!"

Ichigo made a noise like a teakettle from the floor.

"Oh. Oh no." Chad giggled.

"And they travel the entire world giving out presents, but that's A Lot of houses and it was taking them longer and longer so they prayed to... I forget the name Catholics have for Amaterasu. Guadalupe?"

Chad made a noise not unlike a violently squeezing a rubber duck, and started to shake.

"-So they pray for some help getting all the presents to the children, and Whoever She Is says they're doing good deeds, but she wants to see if they're REALLY worthy of that kind of miracle, so she sends them on a journey to recover some lost holy treasures, and on the way each of the holy men wrestles with and tames a demon representing some vice or another-"

"-I. I think you've gotten the Star of Bethlehem mixed up with The Journey West." Chad realized, hands pressed together in front of his face.

"Yes that's right! She marks the direction they're supposed to be going with a bright star! So they go West, following the star! "-Ok the three wise men traveling from the east following a star part is, in fact, accurate. What's this about demons?"

"It's some sort of allegory about how all the Saints are virtues so the demons represent the vices people fall into around the holiday- Being punitive or penurious and ruining good things for others. They all had weird names-" Ukitake frowned.

"What's going on?" Captain Kyorauku asked, sticking his head in the door.

"You'll know!" Ukitake chirped with excitement. "-What are the three demons the saints conquer in the Christmas myth?"

"Krampus the Child-beater, Scrooge the Miser, and... Ah fuck I always mispronounce the last one. He's green and he sucks? The Goonch?" Shunsui frowned.

"THE GOONCH?" Ichigo shrieked from the floor.

"I. I think you mean The Grinch." Chad said, experiencing a brand new combination of horror, delight and fascination that felt like the emotional equivalent of a shrimp color.

"That's him! Oscar The Grinch!" Shunsui nodded. "Why, its only August? Also, what's Kurosaki doing on the floor?

"We are apparently very misninformed about the mythlogical origins of Christmas. This amuses Kurosaki to the point of hysterics." Ukitake explained, lightly nudging Ichigo aside with his foot and sitting on the foot of Chad's bed.

"Your version is so much better." Chad said, vibrating with excitement. "What are these treasures they're supposed to get?"

"Oh you had to ask- Shunsui love, you were the one that heard it all from Captain Kuchiki when he did his tour in the living world."

"Oh for fuckssake of course it's Byakuya-" Ichigo groaned from the floor, and Ukitake gently kicked him in the ribs to shush him.

"Uhhhh... Let's see-" Shunsui scratched at his beard."There's Eight Lost Treasures, they're all magical bells that give anyone who rings them supernatural abilities- there's the Bell of Speed, Bell of Grace, Bell of Balance, Bell of Cunning, Bell of... ah fuck. I always forget the two in the middle... -Oh! Bell of destination- not like fate, like, always being able to find your way to where you're going. Bell of Affection, Bell that gives power over wind and Bell that gives power over lighting!"

Chad blinked at him, then slowly crumpled into a ball.

"...Mr. Yasutora?" Ukitake asked, gently touching his shoulder.

"This is amazing. I love it. I'm going to die." he whimpered, voice high and tight as he struggled to breathe from laughing.

"We may have already lost Mr. Kurosaki." Shunsui muttered, poking Ichigo's shoulder with his toe. "Anyway, they conquer the demons, get all the magical bells and make it to the distant city, aand Amaterasu says 'Great job!" Ukitake continued, enthusiastic as they approached his favorite part. "-But she says 'Here's your final test: I'm going to give a special gift to one of these creatures, you tell me which is the most deserving of my favor.' and then she turns them loose in some kind of farm with talking animals. They're all good and noble animals that have done many brave deeds- dogs saved children from drowning, horse that ran across a battlefield to deliver a message that stopped a war and so on- eventually the saints find a brand new baby fawn with a bright red nose. Since it was born just that morning, it's never done anything of note, and the other animals don't really like it because it's red nose means its kind of sickly and it cant see well so they don't want to play with it."

"YES!" Chad cheered, making the connection.

"Oh, that part is right?" Ukitake perked up.

"Not even remotely, but it's amazing. They pick the fawn right?

"That's right! The saints tell Amaterasu that the Baby deer Rudolph is the one that deserves her blessing, because while all the animals here are noble and good, no good deed is better than another, and of all the animals, the sickly little deer is the one that really needs her help."

"Oh no." Ichigo whimpered from the floor. "That's actually like. genuinely heartwarming."

"Amaterasu applauds them, because they've made the right choice, and she gives the power of the star to the baby deer so it very literally glows like a headlight, and She turns the eight magical bells into a herd of deer that all have the powers the bells they were made from had, so Rudolph has a family and the three wise men have a team of nine magical deer to pull the flying sleigh she gives them, and then they are able to deliver all the presents to all the children of the world in one night, and they do it every year on Rudolph's birthday, because he was the first one to receive a proper Christmas present!" Ukitake finished, giving Chad an excitable two thumbs up.

Chad, slowly tipped forward, faintly hissing with silent laughter, then rolled off the bed to join Ichigo on the floor. Ukitake peered after him with concern, until chad slowly raised a weak, shaking hand up to give Ukitake a thumbs up back.

"-What I can't figure is how the bucket of fried chicken fits into all that?" Shunsui pondered, and the boys shrieked with laughter.

[kurokawaia]

❛ DADZAI?? ❜

DAD!Dazai Osamu X MUM!Reader

WC: 1k+ | WARNINGS: x fem reader, reader is a mother, dazai is a father, you both have a daughter, ooc dazai? + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: hihihi!!! this idea has been stuck in my head for the longest time, And I absolutely love ur writing style!!!!!!!! So I’m wondering if it’s possible for you to write a dadzai x fem!reader and he has a little daughter!! Thank u!!! - ANON

m.list | bsd m.list

Dazai would be the ultimate playful dad. He'd constantly come up with games to entertain his daughter, he'd let her win every time! he doesn't love to see his little princess sad, he wants her happy all the time. No tears around here!

Dazai’s teasing extends to both you and your daughter. He’d affectionately poke fun at the little things, like when his daughter mispronounces words or when you’re caught being overly serious.

Dazai is very protective of the both of you, your his only family, your his wife, and she's his daughter. He makes sure everything is secure, he doesn't want either of you in danger, he's always looking out for the threats, especially considering what his last job was.

Dazai would constantly shower his daughter with affection, but in the most chaotic way possible. Imagine him picking her up and spinning her around until she’s dizzy with laughter, or carrying her on his shoulders >.<

After your daughter goes to bed, Dazai loves having lovey-dovey moments with you, kissing you, hugging you, teasing you, having sex with you, he loves you all.

Dazai always be thinking of spontaneous adventures to take you and your daughter on (yes he will avoid work by doing this, he's hitting two birds with one stone) loves to watch his little girl play on the playground, making sandcastles but he glares at any boys who goes up to her.

Protective Dazai! GLARES AT THE LITTLE BOYS WHO WALK UP TO HIS LITTLE PRINCESS 😭🙏🏼

Dazai’s attempts at teaching his daughter important life lessons would often be... unorthodox. He’d tell her bizarre metaphors or use strange examples... when she's older, in her teen years, she starts talking about a double suicide as well...

When his daughter comes home with school projects or arts and crafts, Dazai gets surprisingly into it. He’d help her build the most elaborate school project.

As much as he wants to shelter his daughter, Dazai also believes in giving her independence to explore the world. He trusts that with both of your guidance, she’ll grow into someone independent.

BEDTIME STORIES!! DAZAI LOVES PULLING GUNNY VOICES WHILE READING HIS PRINCESS A STORY! He’d act out characters, make exaggerated voices, and then cuddle up with her until she falls asleep, her tiny hand clutching his 🥺

Dazai and your daughter would often conspire against you in the cutest of ways, like pretending to plan a prank or plotting a surprise just to make you laugh.

Now.... Beast!Dazai as a father...

Dazai would soften in front of his daughter, would absolutely never get mad, never yell, none of that. He is incredibly protective of the both of you, almost to the point where he is paranoid because he's scared something might happen to you and his little princess.

Though he’s a feared man in the underworld, when he’s home, he’s a completely different person with his daughter. He’ll play peek-a-boo, help her chase butterflies, and allow her to style his hair (which is why he often has bows or clips in his hair when you come home)

He’s big on teaching his daughter how to read people and situations. Even from a young age, he’ll subtly point out things like body language, tone of voice, and how to trust her instincts. He wants her to be sharp and never get hurt, he doesn't want her to suffer in a world like his

Dazai spoils you both, bringing back gifts with him after missions, flowers, toys, all of that. He loves to see his girls happy.

On nights where he can’t sleep (which is often), you’ll find him in his daughter’s room, quietly watching her sleep (NOT IN A CREEPY WAY LAMFOBSOJBVLS) Sometimes, he’ll hum lullabies from his childhood to soothe himself as much as his daughter.

You are the one person who keeps Dazai grounded. While his daughter melts his heart, you provide him with emotional stability. He’ll confide in you about his fears of failing as a father, or anything, because he knows you're there to help him, to help him do teh right things, reassure him, telling him that he's doing the best.

Dazai trains his daughter in self defense. He doesn't want her involved in the mafia, he just wants her to be able to protect herself. He only does it when his pretty wifey isn't home though... he doesn't want to get scolded for you catching him teaching her how to wield and shoot a gun

Family nights every night! Dazai never knows when his last night will be so he makes you eat together, watch a movie, reading a story to his daughter every night without a fail because he chesrishes these moments so much.

Dazai isn’t big on over-the-top displays of affection in public, but when it’s just you and him, he’ll wrap his arms around you, especially when he’s feeling vulnerable. He’ll kiss your forehead or play with your hair.

Dazai would raise his daughter to be independent. He’ll often praise her when she tries to solve problems on her own, even if it’s just something as small as putting her toys away. He wants her to grow up capable, strong enough so a man doesn't need to provide for her (even if shes an adult, dazai will never approve of a man with her)

Though Dazai is laid-back around you, once his daughter starts showing affection to other male figures, whether it's an innocent crush or just bonding with a friend, he’ll get hilariously overprotective. You’d have to reassure him that his little girl isn’t going anywhere 😭🙏🏼

He has a habit of giving his daughter cute nicknames, princess, my little girl, my little princess!

Dazai occasionally fears that he won’t be a good father because of his past and the world he’s still involved in. But you remind him that he’s doing his best, and the love he has for both you and his daughter is more than enough to prove he’s a great dad.

Dazai has a hidden soft spot for his family (obviously). You often catch him staring at both of you with a soft, almost melancholic smile, as if he can’t believe he’s found something so pure and worth protecting.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[ultimate-marysue]

I made some sort of alignment classification based on whether they're impulsive or if they plan ahead for the Batfam. Feel free to correct me (politely please, I'll cry) or to add your opinion. I'm not trying to be super canon, just based on their characters' vibes.

Bruce Wayne: 100% planner. This man could be a Bene Gesserit, plans within plans, and they always work even if they shouldn't (because DC can't have him be wrong). It's like a choose your own adventure, you follow the plan and each time something new happens that is sure to chase things up he pulls a subsection specifically for it. Senior Justice League Members just don't question him anymore no matter what. "You had a contingency for getting invaded by mind controlling ballerina spiders? Yeah, sure, tell us all about it".

Barbara Gordon: she plans around her impulses. She is self aware enough at this point to know she's a bit of a hot head. It is what it is, she's called Batman an Emo Boy's idea of Therapy enough times to his face to know she just can't help herself with some stuff. So instead of working against it she plans around it. In the end, it was her plan all along. Canary thinks she could just hold her tongue, but considering the vigilantes Oracle manages, her experience in planning for these situations is invaluable.

Dick Grayson: Impulsive, not because he can't make plans or because he isn't smart. Quite the opposite. He just has that ADHD dog in him. He would be guiding the Titans through a mission and they'd be thinking "Woah, everything is going according to his plan", meanwhile inside his head is Bear Grylls saying "Improvise, Adapt, Overcome". It's not so much that he comes up with plans on the spot but he ends up changing it along the way because he thought of something better for that specific situation. He may use B's protocols for a general structure but then trusts his instinct to come up with something better on the spot.

Cassandra Cain: Neither. She's not one to be coming up with elaborate schemes but, as much as she relies on her instinct, she's able to stop before jumping. She doesn't need to plan, she knows what works. She observes and then takes the best course of action. When Bruce goes on and on about the importance of planning she just answers "Skill issue" and leaves.

Jason Todd: impulsive planner. This is a man that makes plans, okay? He's theatre kid coded, he needs to know his little monologues by heart. The thing is, he's also very emotional and has the impulse control of a toddler in front of the cookie jar. He can't help himself, he has to punch the asshole and make the witty comeback or he will explode. The outlaws have been grilled to death on the importance of following the plan but then watch him like ten minutes later throw it out the window. They find it both endearing and annoying.

Stephanie Brown: Queen of Chaos. She can plan. She's good at it too btw, she just doesn't want to if she can avoid it. She works best when she's improvising and it drives Bruce and Tim up the walls. They just hate to see women winning. She's the best one out of all of them at turning a mistake to her advantage in a matter of seconds. It's quite impressive.

Tim Drake: Chaotic planner. Everyone is so sure Tim is a mini Bruce and to a certain extent, if you squint your eyes, then yes. But Young Just Us know the truth: his plans are extremely effective but only in the most chaotic way possible. There's the Batman plan, and there's the Red Robin plan, which is like the first one but faster and with more fire. He also has to be periodically reminded to take into account his own wellbeing when making his little schemes.

Duke Thomas: plans on the go. I don't know how else to explain it but it's like those sequences in the Sherlock movies (the ones with RDJ) where he's watching his surroundings and opponents almost in slow-mo till he puts together a plan. It's similar to Dick from the outside, but if you pay attention you can see the wheels turning in his head as he goes along. He actually stops and thinks (metaphorically, most of the time his thinking is done while he distracts enemies).

Damian Al Gul Wayne: he's a strategist, not a planner. This is an important distinction because whenever Batman or Red Robin are explaining one of their convoluted plans he feels like he's actively losing braincells. He's closer to Cassandra in the way he prefers a more direct solution. He also gets palpitations anytime Jason or Stephanie just start doing things without thinking. If he knew what Dick's thought process was he would have probably developed an anxiety disorder in his time as Dick's robin. He doesn't understand the need for such high detail planning and hates the idea of making it along the way. No, he just needs to come up with the most efficient strategy and that's all.

[lucrezianoin]

Interesting things that you can get from trying all the options but that reveal a general characterization and idea of astarion and tav's romance.

I wanted to talk about Astarion's feelings regarding intimacy and sex, and indipendence, and how this can give a small timeline of his relationship with Tav.

CONFESSION VS NO CONFESSION

If you don't get the confession or drow potion scene, astarion will still stop having sex with Tav, and at the start of act 3, if you ask about it he'll tell you that he's tired of paying with sex, and that you were a bad deal now. It was all transactional but he's done. If you say you're hurt, he'll reply that it hurts more to use his body to get nothing in exchange, basically. I think this confirms that up till some events leading to the confession, the relationship was transactional. He only says "This is the one talent I have".

Given that the only difference IS the confession, but that the game assumes there's party interactions that are not shown, we can assume that he started to genuinely fall for Tav somewhere around end of act 1 and act 2. This is confirmed by the fact that if you choose him over someone in act two, he'll be confused but immediately resorts to saying it's because of your good sexy times... But, he is surprised (positively surprised) if you say it want something real with him.

The thing is... Astarion is a people pleaser. He manages to find autonomy because of finally being actually free and slowly regaining it on his own (if you end up in this wrong/broken romance situation). He stops having sex with Tav, he decides he does not need to pay anymore for whatever Tav is giving him or not.

BAD CHOICES / SAYING NO / FEELING NOTHING

If you choose the very bad choices during the confession, he will tell you that having sex with Tav has felt different "I supposes", but then he'll reveal that he didn't know how to say no after you push him. He also says that he never felt anything while having sex (does not exclude tav from this sentence, so it's assumed that this is true for their sexual meetings too), but after Tav pushed him he felt something for the first time (being that he felt horrible). I want to elaborate more on this but I need the next two points first.

INTIMACY VS SEX

In a Karlach/Astarion party romance scene, Astarion gets very mean when he realizes he cannot have sex with Karlach. The dev notes reveal that its because he feels vulnerable and confused by the fact that his one method of connecting with people is not available to him in that situation. The notes also stresses that he really wants what Karlach is offering (just spending time together) but maybe even he doesn't realise it yet. Full scene and dev notes are here.

Furthremore, most of the scenes that people associate with astarion romance are actually scenes that happen even if you do not romance him. The bite scene, offering him to feed him your blood, the bear one, discussing character's blood, the mirror scene, and probably even the scars scene... these are all general scenes, not romance ones. The only romance scenes (as far as I know) in act1+2 are: him propositioning you if you have more than 40 approval, or him propositioning you at the party, the sex scene, the second sex scene ("cheeks all flushed"). It shows how he has a desire to connect. Some of these scenes are not connected with manipulating you, but really do feel like a true desire to connect.

Regarding these last three points, I think Astarion's "It felt different from you" does come from this desire to connect. It had felt different not because the sex itself was different, but because he honestly felt like he was connecting with Tav. That is why the options that you can offer him are so important:

In particular, asking him "what do you want" will reveal that he doesn't know. From the devnotes of Karlach/Astarion we already know that he is confused about his own need to connect. But also it is important that one of the option is "we can be together without sex". Sex is what he knows, "the talents he has", and it is also the only way he knows how to connect with people because he has been made to do it for 200 years. Telling him that you can be together and show him intimacy and companionship without sex, means he will have the safety to explore other ways. And be seen as a person.

What he needs/wants is the safety to pursue what he likes ("this", your relationship) and he thinks he might want. Safety being the important word.

That is why it is clear in the game that between the confession and post-Cazador Tav and Astarion do not have sex, even Astarion remarks twice about it to ask to Tav if he is really okay with it.

That is why it makes the cemetery scene so impactful. He is not fully healed, but he wants to reclaim sex as part of his way to connect with someone as an act of intimacy.

(Instead if you choose Ascended Astarion you confirm that you only see him as sex and not a real person. The sexy kinky vampire - I will talk about this in the last point, where I talk about the bite).

RELATIONSHIP

I wanted to write a little bit about the way he defines the relationship in act 2, post confession. The confession doesn't mark a clear "we are in love from now on", it is more like offering him this step, slowing down, making sure that you can be there for each other, allowing him to be free and supporting him.

If you ask him "what we are" he will say:

This could even imply that before the confession he did see you as a victim or a target, but that is just how he saw EVERYONE. Everyone was a target or a vicim, or a night of disgust/abuse. His knowledge and ability to identify intimacy and relationships has been so beaten down that he actually expresses confusion now that he finds himself with a real relationship. That "whatever in the world could you be?" is asked with genuine surprise and bafflement.

INDIPENDENCE

Another important and fundamental side of his romance is his indipendence. There are some choices that I would normally go for and then I realized gave no approval, or low approval. I will make a full posts of these approvals, but for now I wanted to focus on three.

Someone here on tumblr already noticed and wrote an amazing meta about how offering your blood to Astarion (the next day) gives NO approval.

You can see that telling him to feed on you gives no approval. Be it because the game explicitly associate bite = sex (seen from the drow woman) and he sees this as you seeing him as some sexy vampire or be it because you are making dependent on you, I am not sure.

But if you agree instead with his suggestion:

Another occurrence, is the two times you can tell him you will protect him. DorianDarkstar on twitter also noticed and made me realize that he does this twice. There are two occasions where you can tell him "I will keep you safe" and he doesn't fully like that.

There is a scene where you can tell him that you will watch his back if he watches yours and he approves (5 points!). If you tell him he is safe, instead he finds that pretty annoying.

There is also a dialogue in late act 3, where you can tell him that you will protect him. To which he answers with almost resigned annoyance.

It is important for him to be an equal. He says so in his romance talk after Cazador. (and that is why I love Durge Astarion so much as I explained here).

So yeah, there is I think something interesting to be found not only in non used scenes (not used by the player, as some of these choices are very bad), but also in finding out what he approves or disapproves of.

[thehighladywrites]

THE VANSERRA BROTHERS, NSFW ALPHABET

pairing: lucien vanserra x reader, eris vanserra x reader, azriel and rhys mentioned

summary: doing the nsfw alphabet with the vanserras!

warnings: obviously nsfw, 18+, tw: beron🤢

amara’s note: doing it for my criminally underrated babes, trust there will be more vanserra content

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Eris: If this man is not in love with you or you’re a one night stand and a random person, i don’t think there’ll be much aftercare tbh. He would not be cruel, he would just not care. If he’s in love with you he takes care of you, is very caring and has a routine he follows. Cuddles is very important when ur mated bc he is criminally touched starved

Lucien: He is nice whether he’s in love or not. I believe Lucien makes ppl fall in love with him unintentionally bc of his caring nature. But he would def clean you up and let you cuddle next to him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Eris: For him: his fingers, he’s super skilled with them and he knows how to really use them. They look very nice too. For his partner: Their ass bc he’s an ass slaper and i will not elaborate

Lucien: For him: his tounge/mouth. Makes people go insane. For his partner: anything he can put his hands on. He does not discriminate, he loves every part of your body and he will show it

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Eris: loves painting your face. I’ll be so real, i see him smirking down at you when he cums on your face bc now you’re marked as his, the ultimate claim

Lucien: he loooooooves coming inside. Having your warmth wrapped around his sensitive cock as he spills his cum inside is his fav thing on earth

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Eris: You’re the dirty secret. No one knows about you, and i mean NO ONE bc he knows what happened to Jesminda and he will not let it happen to you

Lucien: before you got together, he used to make up scenarios in his head with you. Dirty scenarios but also sweet ones and he will never ever admit it ever

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Eris: tbh not a lot. with beron🤢 around, he has more important things to focus on like his survival and taking over the throne. He has had sex a handful of times but he doesn’t actively seek it out bc you know, he’s trying not to die

Lucien: okay so js like eris, i think he didn’t have a lot of time to have sex while he was in autumn. when he moved to spring, it was like a college student experiencing freedom for the first time. sorry but he becomes the sluttiest sexual being in prythian after helion. i fully believe lucien has been fucking around in every court, every city, every town. I know this male has a bunch of fans around prythian who pray they run into him again

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Eris: missionary, spooning, mating press

Lucien: 69, doggy, cowgirl with his hands behind his head as he watched with a smirk (slut move)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Eris: He isn’t very goofy, more serious when he is with a one night stand but with his mate he lets loose, he has fun and is very playful. 100% mocks your moans and very gently dumbs you down.

Lucien: is a jokester through and through, he makes dirty jokes, makes you giggle and is just a fun male to bed

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Eris: he trimms, regulary and is very particular about it. he has a happy trail😫

Lucien: either clean shaved or trimmed too. might fuck around and trim a lightning bolt just for funsies

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Eris: very romantic, in the bedroom it’s just you and him alone and he will pour his entire soul out, he will lay himself bare. It was something he didn’t wanna do at first be he has grown more comfortable with intimacy. He is very touch starved so any sort of intimacy soothes him

Lucien: a loverboy. he loves the closeness of being intimate, he loves how it is a private moment between two people and he will def make it a goal to be intimate atleast once a day

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Eris: would jerk off sometimes pre mated, but with a mate, he just fucks if he’s horny and you allow it

Lucien: jacks off infront of you, mutual masturbation is his thing. he does it while he is away at missions and imagine you in his head

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Eris: mommy kink, breeding, daddy kink, orgasm control, exhibitionism

Lucien: daddy kink, overstimulation, temperature play, spanking

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Eris: He prefers to be at home, whether it's in the bedroom, shower, or living room - anywhere familiar enough to make him feel secure. It's not just for his sake, but for yours as well. Being in a familiar environment allows him to be at ease, knowing the layout of the house so he can better protect you. In this comfort zone, he can relax and take his time, making sure youre safe.

Lucien: risky places, anywhere and everywhere. throne room, rhysands library, the spring gardens, behind ritas, on top of his kitchen table, just everywhere

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Eris: you having an attitude is a one way ticket to getting some dick. eris loves when you banter and he loves how feisty you get when you’re arguing with him. It’s a massive turn on seeing you all worked up. he’s a little shit so he provokes you to get you more worked up

Lucien: he loves seeing you all bruised up and tired after sex, it makes him go crazy knowing it’s him doing it to you. Just you covered in his marks is enough to get him going. Fucking loves it when other ppl see it, Rhys mentioned it once and Lucien’s head damn near couldn’t fit through the door bc it so fucking big

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Eris: humiliation. he knows first hand how it feels to be humiliated by someone who is supposed to be a loved one, so he will never ever do anything that will make you sad. also anything that hurts you physically such as knife play, extreme spanking and hardcore bdsm is a massive no. he wants to bring you pleasure not pain.

Lucien: he will absolutely not share you with anyone, it’s a massive no bc he wants any intimacy ti remain between you. He couldn’t live knowing someone looked at you as you came or experienced pleasure. it’s for him and him only

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Eris: lovessss receiving. there’s just something about your mouth wrapped around his cock that drives him to the edge of insanity. He loves making eye contact with you when you blow him, and if you keep it, he’ll nut within seconds. The visual of you on your knees makes him lose it, and he’ll cum right on your face, usually without warning. He apologizes right after though. he’s also very good at giving too, trust me this man is good

Lucien: EATER EATER EATER EATERRR, holy fuck this male eats good. he eats like he’s starving, i’m talking messy, spitting, licking, sucking. ugh he’s a munch

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Eris: depends on your mood, if you guys are hot and bothered then he will be a bit more rough. Otherwise he takes his time, worshipping every inch of you.

Lucien: he’s a slow sensual one and it drives you crazy bc no matter how needy you are, he will drag it out bc he loves seeing the desperation on your face. He also wants to savor the moment

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Eris: views them as a challenge, he likes to see just how quickly he can make both you and him cum in a short span of time. It’s not his preference but he still thinks it’s fun

Lucien: loves quickies bc he will do it everywhere, and i mean everywhere as long as no one gets to see your pretty face. will happily take you to a closet, someones bedroom, a basement, behind a rock js anywhere really

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Eris: down to experiment with anything as long as it isn’t hurtful to you

Lucien: his limits are your limits. he’s down to try anything at least once and if it doesn’t work out then it doesn’t work out

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Eris: he’s a high fae, bro has unlimited stamina but he’ll go as long as you want

Lucien: until you’re tired, just like eris, he’s high fae so he doesn’t get tired

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Eris: didn’t own any toys before you. he uses them primarily on you. would be open to the idea if you wanted to experiment. he likes using those couple toys where ur both get stimulation

Lucien: Has used and will use almost every toy known. Loves using them on you and watching you use them. mutual masturbation goes crazy tbh.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Eris: he’s a slutty one ngl he likes to tease just as much as he likes to be teased. he’ll do it accordingly tho bc he doesn’t like wanna deprive you of pleasure. he’s very unfair when ur being mouthy tho

Lucien: : It’s ridiculous with the amount that he likes to tease. He builds you up with his mouth, bringing you just dangling at the edge before pulling away. can be very VERY unfair but just like eris, he always satisfies you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Eris: okay so i fully believe he isn’t loud in the beginning bc he’s reserved. so like the first few times you have sex, he holds back and when you tell him to relax and to enjoy himself he let’s go. He’s a moaner and a groaner. Eris will let out the prettiest sounds when he’s close, murmuring curse words under his breath and talking about how good you feel around him.

Lucien: mostly soft grunts, raspy moans, quiet whimpers and literally does not shut up with praise, ever. so imagine those slutty raspy moans, yeah that’s him

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Eris: Fantasy is to fuck you and have Azriel walk in because he knows he's into you and it'll show him exactly who it is that you belong to. He would actually die of happiness if it ever happened

Lucien: he loves it when you wear slutty clothes bc he gives ‘wear whatever u want i can fight’ energy and that’s so fucking hot of him. he also teaches you how to rizz. 1000% will do that scheme where you flirt with a stranger and then he comes up and acts like the jealous boyfriend

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Eris: big dick, but not uncomfy big. he didn’t think about the fact he has an impressive size until you start praising him and just keep talking about his size. he has a lean and lithe body, not super buff but he has muscles for SURE, i just know his arms are ridiculously big. his abs are very visible too

Lucien: come on guys. we all know he’s got a third leg, let’s not even start. he knows it, you know it, i know it, prythian knows it. Okay he had massive biceps, i’m talking ‘crush-someones-head-like-a-watermelon’ biceps. he has a sturdy chest and nice abs. he is a warrior, he is BUILTTTTTT

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eris: listen he loves sex, he has a high drive and all but for him it’s touch. he yearns for anyone to touch him. he doesn’t voice it until ur mates bc he views it as a weakness to be touch starved until you tell him it’s okay, undoing centuries of berons🤢 disgusting words

Lucien: he has a high sex drive, he loves you, he loves sex and combining them is top tier

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eris: after aftercare, when ur all cleaned up and toasty under the covers, he’ll let himself sleep. he will stay up as long as ur awake

Lucien: he also cleans you up but he falls asleep first. his fav place is on top of you, under the covers with his head nuzzled into your neck

🏷️: @minaethrym @artists-ally @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @berryzxx @thelov3lybookworm @cupidojenphrodite

[theminecraftbee]

"What do you think happens after we die?"

Cleo glances up from where she'd been sorting through all their weaponry for the day to come. She looks at Etho, who looks just as confused as her, and then she looks to Grian.

"Uh, you're sort of asking the wrong people," Etho says slowly.

"I didn't know you were a philosopher, Grian," agrees Cleo.

"No, I mean--listen, this is important," Grian says. "What do you think happens after we die?"

Cleo stares at Grian. He has an extremely intent expression on his face. Twisted. Almost concerned. They... don't like it, actually. The question about being a philosopher had been sarcastic, sure, but true. Grian doesn't normally dwell on questions like this.

"Alright, then," they say. "If you have to know, I don't think there's anything."

"Wait, really?" says Etho.

"I mean, yeah. There's probably--or, well, whatever there is, it's not worth worrying about. Why do you think I'm undead and not just dead? Or, well, normally undead, I guess? I'm not undead right now, whatever happened that made me all alive and stuff happened, but like... The point is that I still have things to do. Then, when I'm done doing my things, I think there's nothing, at least not until the next one of these stupid games they raise me from the dead for."

Etho blinks. "Huh. You know, I always thought that if anyone could give us an answer, it'd be you, so--nothing?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

Grian coughs. Cleo looks at him again. He's pale. Very, very pale. Like he's seen a ghost, or is very sick. She frowns, but before she can ask, he's saying: "You really think there's nothing?"

"I didn't think you'd both be so upset by it," Cleo says.

"I'm not really upset," Etho says slowly. "I don't know. I sort of hoped there was something, but it's not worth relying on, right? There's not a second chance out there for us. Not except for the next game. I think I just hoped that maybe, some people got something... nicer?"

"Don't you think we'd remember if there was?" Cleo says.

"I mean--you're the undead one. I thought that if anyone would know--"

"You really think there's nothing," Grian says, and he sounds so horrified that Cleo and Etho stop arguing immediately.

"Grian?" Cleo says.

"You think there's nothing. Gods, you think there's nothing," Grian says. "And Timmy said--Timmy said the thing they get is to Watch."

Cleo frowns. "Jimmy? When'd he say that to you?"

"An hour ago," Grian says.

"What?" Cleo says.

"I was--no wonder you wouldn't have guessed. No wonder he was also so--you think there's nothing. Why do you think there's nothing?" Grian says, horrified and pale-faced and trembling.

"Uh, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but Jimmy's been dead for days. He couldn't have been talking to you."

"He's spectating!" Grian says, throwing his hands up.

"He's a ghost?" Etho asks.

"I mean, yeah, but that's not even what I mean. I mean--what do you think comes between the games?"

"I told you, right?" Cleo says, and Etho shrugs.

Grian sits down on the ground, hard. "Oh," he says.

"If it helps I also didn't know there were ghosts until you just told me," Cleo says hesitantly. "That's--kind of strange, isn't it? That there are ghosts? Guess it checks out, given all of our unfinished business, but you'd think I'd have known that. Would remember something proper of it, right?"

"Yeah, I really thought you would have," Grian whispers.

"Was, uh--being contacted from beyond the grave fun?" Etho asks.

"Etho," Cleo says.

"What!" Etho says.

"I have made a grave mistake," Grian says.

"...Grian?" Cleo asks, but he doesn't elaborate, and refuses to. He sits there, pale on the ground, until Etho and Cleo sit next to him and start arguing over his head about who they'd haunt as ghosts. To tell the truth, Cleo's heart isn't really in it. They probably wouldn't do much haunting, is the thing. If they were a ghost, they'd probably just try to reunite with these two again. Yeah, reuniting with family--that seems like the kind of thing Cleo would do as a ghost.

They wonder if Jimmy was trying to do that too, and that's why Grian's so upset.

They also wonder if it's something else, but for the life of them, they cannot begin to guess what.

[hakuheartsoul]

rainy daze ✧ yoon keeho

✧ pairing: keeho x afab!reader

✧ summary: you don't fear much, but there are a few things - storms, for one, and also unnecessary feelings. enter yoon keeho, someone you've known for a long time and makes you question where you stand, but there's one small problem: he's your little brother's best friend.

✧ genre: childhood friends, fluff, smut, some angst sorry in advance)

✧ rating: 18+ (mdni!)

✧ word count: ~14.8k (oops)

✧ content warnings: attempts at humor bc keeho is funny irl, mentions of thunderstorms/lightning, 'oh no there's only one bed' trope, mentions of ✨feelings✨, dirty talk, hair pulling, leaving marks/biting, oral (m and f receiving), face-sitting, face-fucking, hand-holding (important), cum eating, irrational decision making

hi!! i’m still pretty new to writing for piwon and i'm so excited to be participating in the piwontober 24' event hosted by @kisseobie and @sxfterhearts.

i'm writing for Day 29 in which the prompt was age difference/teasing/forbidden with keeho. special thanks to @sunflowerseob, @strawberry-seob, and @leepace for being some of the most amazing friends and fellow writers out there ❤️

also am planning to turn this into a series sooo… pls look forward to that if it happens 💜

“Keeho, I’m serious.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, as if it would somehow shield you from becoming more drenched. The rain that poured down wasn’t at a storm level yet, but it was still enough to leave you soaked since you had no umbrella or jacket to help.

“Yeah, I know you are, but so am I,” Keeho responded, still cruising along at the slowest speed you figured a car could go. He drove his car on the road alongside you as you walked on the sidewalk.

“Is that how the saying is supposed to go?”

You couldn’t see it without bending down to look through the open window, but you just knew Keeho smirked.

“It is now if that’s what you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “What I’d really like is for you to leave me alone.”

You heard a small chuckle. “All these years and you’re still a terrible liar.”

You groaned. “What do you want from me?”

“To get in the car,” He phrased it almost like a question, like he was confused that you didn’t agree it was the most logical answer.

“Why?”

“For starters, it’s raining and you have no coverage to keep you from getting soaked. Two, you’re trying to go home which is several blocks away and you’re trying on foot, which isn’t safe just so you know.”

If he wasn’t driving you figured he’d probably be listing off reasons on his fingers to better prove his point.

“Three, you’re upset. Need I go on?”

“How do you know I’m ‘upset’,” you asked him in air quotes before quickly putting your arms back around yourself. “And how does getting into a car fix that, exactly?

“Well, the car can’t help with you being upset probably, but getting into the car is a good first step.” His tone was teasing before it shifted into something more serious. “And I saw you at the party, arguing-“

You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your mouth. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

Despite saying it quiet enough for the rain to drown it out, Keeho still heard you somehow.

“Should’ve known what?”

“My brother put you up to this, right? He forced you to come look for me because I left.”

It was Keeho’s turn to scoff. “You know, contrary to what you may think, I’m not always at your brother’s beck and call.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You tried to speed up your walking, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

Keeho accelerated slightly, first going past you and slowing back to a speed that matched yours.

“What did you mean by that,” he asked.

“Oh, come on, Keeho. You know that you guys have been inseparable since we were all kids and I don’t really think college has changed that.”

To your surprise, Keeho laughed. “God, as smart as you are, I’d have thought you’d know better by now.”

It was your turn to be the confused one. “Elaborate?”

“If we were as inseparable as you say, don’t you think your brother would be my roommate? We’d be sharing the same space, right? If we really have to be together all the time.”

Keeho had a good point (but you’d never tell him that). Your brother still lived at home with your parents, claiming that it was less expensive that way since apartments were ‘overrated and not worth it’ in his words.

So yeah, come to think of it, you actually hadn’t seen him and Keeho hanging out in person a lot lately.

“We aren’t kids anymore,” he continued when you hadn’t responded. “And you shouldn’t treat me like one just because you're older.”

You weren’t backing down. “3 years is still a pretty big gap-”

“Oh sure it is - if I was 17 and you were 20. I’m 23 and you're 26, there’s really no need to consider age in the equation at all.”

You sighed loudly, finally turning to face the car. Keeho hit the brake and leaned forward with his body angled over the passenger seat so he could see you better.

“Where are you going with this? Or is it all just mindless chatter?” You were still stalling for time before you’d probably cave and just get in the car; questions were your best bet for that right now.

That signature smirk was slapped across his face. “Always assuming I’m up to no good.”

“Keeho.”

“Look, I came after you because I saw you both arguing and you stormed out, clearly not doing well. I’m your friend too - or at least, I’d like to believe I am,” he cut himself off for a moment, almost like he wasn’t sure how to continue. “And I care about you. Honestly right now, I couldn’t give any less of a fuck about what your brother thinks.”

Well that certainly threw you for a loop.

“Why?”

“Why what,” he asked, leaning more across the seat where you could finally see his face, clearly illuminated by the streetlight you had stopped under.

“Why me over him? Isn’t he the one you’re loyal to?”

Keeho groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “For the love of- would you please just get in the car? I can tell you anything you want to know, just please stop standing in the rain getting fucking soaked.”

Again, he made a good point. And now that he’d stated he wasn’t doing this for your brother (jury was still out on if you believed that or not) you figured it wouldn’t do you any harm to get in the car.

A loud crack of thunder overhead made your decision for you, causing you to nearly fall all over yourself to get into the car. You landed in the seat with a wet thud, cringing instantly at how your clothes were clinging to your skin.

Keeho let out what sounded like a content sigh. “Finally.” He turned up the heat in the car and put it in park.

“Don’t want you getting sick, if we’re still able to avoid that at this rate.” He picked up your hands that were in your lap and held them up to the vents on the dashboard.

“You were rubbing your hands together outside and they feel like fucking ice so hold them here for a bit.”

“Is it really a good idea to stay parked on the street?”

Keeho shrugged. “Not a big deal. This street doesn’t usually get too busy at night, and they can just go around me.”

You nodded at the reasoning as you slowly started to regain feeling in your hands again. Another boom of thunder made you jump, which unfortunately for you did not go unnoticed by Keeho.

“You still scared of thunderstorms?”

His tone was light so logically you knew he was genuinely just curious. However, you were very defensive about this subject in particular, so you weren’t taking it that way.

“Yes. And don’t you dare try and tease me about it.” You crossed your arms and looked out the passenger side window.

Keeho chuckled softly. “No judgment here. Of all the things I want to tease you about, your fears aren’t on that list.”

That got your attention.

You turned to face him again, noticing how he had unbuckled his seatbelt so he could angle himself more toward you. 

“What was that?”

“What was what,” he asked, smile stretching across his face again.

“That you just said, about teasing - what was it?”

“Hmm, not sure I know what you’re talking about. Maybe you misheard?” His eyes crinkled with the force of his smile and it almost made you crack.

“Wow, skipping straight over teasing and into gaslighting territory. I expected better from you, Keeho,” you tossed the ball back into his court, anticipating he would go even further.

“Ok whoa, first of all, I would never gaslight anyone, ever. That’s shit’s awful. Secondly: why do you wanna know the ways I want to tease you?”

Wait. Pause. Hold it.

“First, it was things you wanted to tease me about. Now it’s the ways you want to tease me?” 

Keeho’s ‘oh shit’ expression almost made you laugh.

“Which one do you want to explain first because I’m gonna need clarification.”

“Oh, well, um I guess, uh…” Keeho stuttered. “Fuck, I don’t know how to talk myself back from that, actually.”

You didn’t hold back your laughter then. “Ok fine, pick one and explain that one to me.”

He tapped his chin. “Yeah, I can work with that. Ok: the things I want to tease you about. You ready?”

You nodded, trying to shrug off the thought that you were hoping he’d tell you about the ways instead.

Keeho leaned closer and it suddenly felt like he was very much in your space. It also felt like you very much did not mind that.

He smirked, looking way too good for the proximity he was in.

“Everything.”

That one word alone changed the trajectory of your entire night then, and you knew it.

Keeho knew it, too.

“Well? Is that a satisfactory enough answer for you?” Keeho was still smirking as he leaned back into his seat and away from you, letting you breathe properly once more.

“Um, y-yeah. That’ll do for now, even though it’s vague.” You started off weak but ended it strong, still trying to keep up the banter you two had going so you could hopefully avoid… whatever direction this was heading in.

You could practically feel him rolling his eyes. “I really never can win with you, can I?”

“Nope, I’m a hard one to please.”

Keeho just stared at you for a second before he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Good to know.”

“Wait, what-”

Keeho interrupted you before you could finish. “So, where am I dropping you off? I’m not sure where you're staying these days, but I could take you to your parents’ place if you want.”

“Please no, anywhere but there.” The chance of running into your brother again tonight - despite it being highly unlikely since he usually crashed at the parties he went to - was not something you wanted to risk in the slightest. Your parents were the reason you were in this mess in the first place, making you find your brother and attempt to bring him back since he wasn’t supposed to be out while ‘grounded.’

And yes, if anyone asked your parents, they’d say it was completely fine to ground a 23 year old for misbehaving. You couldn’t argue with that sometimes, because your brother could really get up to some heinous shit.

Maybe that’s why Keeho hasn’t been around him as much…?

“Say no more, parents’ house is a no-go.” Keeho paused, almost looking shy for a moment. “I can take you to your place then, if you don’t mind me having the address.”

You wouldn’t mind giving Keeho your address, but the thought of going home right now also didn’t seem too appealing.

Apparently you took too long to answer because Keeho started backtracking. “Or we could just stay here in the car, whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

Not missing the opportunity to tease him again, you jerked your thumb toward the window and settled for saying “So if I’m most comfortable with walking in the rain-”

Keeho pressed something on his door.

“Keeho… what did you just do?”

“Activated the child locks.”

“Child… child locks? What happened to ‘we aren’t kids anymore,’ hm?” You were trying so hard not to burst out laughing at his attempt to keep the situation in his control.

“Whatever keeps you in this car and not getting ill from the rain is something I’m willing to use.”

You chanced opening the door to see if he truly had pressed the child locks, and you were mildly surprised to see the door opened with ease.

Keeho was quick to grab onto your arm closest to him; not forcefully at all, but enough to stop your movement and have you close the door again.

“Ok so maybe it was the window lock instead, but I’d really rather you just let me drive you somewhere so you don’t have to walk and I know you’re safe.”

Before you could even formulate a thought about how to respond, a roar of thunder followed by a long streak of lightning made you curl into yourself.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok,” Keeho tried to comfort you with a pat on your shoulder. He kept his hand there and the touch was somewhat calming.

”Thank you,” you answered in a small voice before you cleared your throat. “Um, I actually kinda don’t really want to be alone tonight with it storming like this so if it’s ok…”

As you trailed off, Keeho buckled his seatbelt and pressed the brake again to shift the car in drive.

”Buckle up and we’ll head to my place.”

The air in the apartment was chilly, making you shiver even more once you stepped through the door. Cold air mixed with being soaked to the bone was not what you’d call ideal conditions, that was for sure.

“Shit, my roommate probably turned the AC way down before they left. Stay here, I’ll go fix it real quick.”

Keeho placed a hand on your shoulder briefly as he walked past you. It was just the barest of touches, but you found yourself shivering once again.

Must be the AC. That had to be the only explanation.

Keeho was back in front of you just as you heard the AC clicking off. He smiled like he was proud of what he’d done, and you smiled back in thanks.

“I appreciate it,” you rubbed your hands along your arms to try and facilitate warmth - unfortunately to no avail.

“I appreciate you actually listening to reason and coming back with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “So where am I gonna be staying tonight?”

Keeho’s hint of a smile dropped slightly. “Oh, uh… I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The poor boy looked like he needed help coming up with an answer so you decided to give him grace this one time.

“A spare room? A couch? An air mattress, maybe?”

Keeho rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated the options.

“Our air mattress is busted so that’s out. The only other room in here is my roommate’s and he’s gone for the weekend, but I don’t think you’d like sleeping there very much. He also probably wouldn’t be too fond of the idea…”

You scanned the area until your eyes landed on the couch against the wall in what looked like the living room. “What about there?”

Keeho nodded but was frowning. “That’s a place, yeah. It’s just very uncomfortable and I want guests to enjoy themselves when they’re here.”

You clutched your chest in feigned hurt. “But I thought we were friends? Now I’m just a guest?”

Keeho smiled, catching on. “Nope, you’re definitely at the friend level. So your comfort matters even more to me because of that.”

Well, shit. You talked yourself into that one.

“So I’ll take the couch tonight and you can have my bed, if that’s cool. It’s clean - I promise.”

You didn’t doubt it for a second - you’d never known Keeho to just leave messes lying around - but you didn’t want to kick him out of his own bed.

“Keeho, I can have the couch, I swear it’s fine-”

He shook his head with finality. “I’m not having you sleeping out here all night when you’ve already been through enough as it is. Speaking of,” Keeho trailed off as he scanned your figure. “You're still drenched.”

“Oh,” was your brilliant response.

“If you, uh, want to take a shower or something, you can. I can grab a towel and whatever else you need?”

“Sounds great except I don’t have a change of clothes,” you shuffled your feet a little, noticing how water seeped out and onto the floor. You felt bad for that now as well.

“Oh, right. Well, you can… borrow some of mine? If you’re ok with that?”

The offer made you smile. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

Keeho gave you two thumbs up, something you knew he did when he was feeling a little awkward about what had just happened. “Got it, yeah, so I’ll just um… go get everything set up for you. The shower is in my bedroom, but there’s a door so it’s not just open or anything-”

You could see him spiraling in real time, so you reached out to touch his arm to get him to stop. “Hey, look at me for a second?”

Keeho looked at you and you could see how he was breathing a little faster from the rambling he’d just done.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Keeho’s eyebrows unfurrowed and he seemed visibly calmer. “Right. I’ll uh, I’ll be back.”

You waited for Keeho to finish up in the bathroom, choosing to take in your surroundings now that you were by yourself. The apartment looked about like what you’d expect from Keeho, and it got you wondering if his bedroom would be the same-

“Everything’s all set up now,” Keeho returned with a grin. “You can go whenever you want and I’ll just stay out here or something.”

”Sounds great,” you made one move with your foot and immediately winced at all the water that started dripping onto the hardwood floor underneath you.

No way in hell were you tracking this through the carpet. You’d rather go home than do that.

”Um, Keeho?”

”Yeah, what’s up?” His back had been turned to you while he was looking for something in the kitchen area.

”I, uh, I don’t really know how to get to the bathroom.”

”Oh right, duh. It would help if I told you. My bedroom is the first door on the right down that hallway.”

”Um, well what I mean is,” you watched him walk back over to where you were standing. “I don’t want to get water everywhere.”

Keeho looked like a lightbulb just went off in his brain. “Oh shit, yeah, that would be kinda bad. Uh…I could carry you?”

”I mean,” you kept your composure despite the offer making your face heat up, “I’m not opposed necessarily but wouldn’t that still drip water onto the floor?”

“Good point. I mean, the carpet shouldn’t get that messed up…maybe.”

”How about instead,” you braced yourself for the words that were about to come out of your mouth, “I can take my shoes and clothes off out here? Just the outer layer that’s soaked.”

You were looking at the floor, cheeks burning hot and the suggestion that you came up with. Keeho didn’t say anything for a moment, and when you finally glanced at him it looked like he was trying to restart his thinking process.

”Oh um, yeah, sure, if that’s how you want to do this. I’ll just, uh…go get the towel I laid out for you.”

He practically jogged to the bathroom to retrieve the towel, making you giggle at the action.

Within a few seconds he was back, towel held in a firm grasp. “Here, I’ll go uh- I’ll go back in my room and stare at the wall. Like, the other wall. Not the wall connected to the bathroom. Um, anyway, just… come through whenever you’re ready.

Keeho didn’t even give you a chance to respond before he was walking back to his room. He shut the door almost all the way behind him, leaving it cracked the smallest amount.

With Keeho out of the room, you got to work stripping down. Thankfully, your bra and underwear weren’t too terribly wet, so you could put them back on underneath his clothes when you were done with your shower. You left your shoes, socks, and drenched layer of clothing by the door to the apartment, piling as much of it onto the doormat as you could.

Once you had the towel wrapped tightly around you, still over your undergarments, you walked over to Keeho’s door and knocked on the wood twice. Keeho mumbled some sort of affirmation and you went inside.

True to his word, Keeho was facing the complete opposite way of the bedroom door and the bathroom. You didn’t see light from his phone or anything, so he was likely just sitting there staring at the wall, like he said he would. He fidgeted a small bit once he could tell you were in the room, shifting his weight from one side to the other where he was sat on his bed.

You couldn’t help but smile. The way he was going out of his way to make sure you were as comfortable as possible tugged at your heart a little bit, but you tried to ignore it.

This was your baby brother’s best friend. A friend who is even younger than your brother (although not by much). The last thing you needed was to get caught up in something with Keeho that could wreck both your and his relationship with your brother.

More for Keeho’s sake, really, since you were more distant with your brother these days.

Did you think Keeho was cute? Absolutely. Did you guys get along pretty well? You do, and have for a long time.

Was it worth it to see if there could be something more?

That was something you’d wondered a few times before and may never get the answer to.

Before you could self-reflect more on a currently non-existent problem you proceeded to the bathroom to take your shower.

You didn’t look to see what clothes he laid out for you until you were done, noticing as you exited the shower that he left you a large red t-shirt and a pair of dark basketball shorts.

The shirt fit fine since you preferred oversized shirts anyway for sleeping. The shorts, though… they didn’t have a tie or anything so the waistband was a little loose, meaning there wasn’t really a way for you to keep them on comfortably.

Were you really about to step back into Keeho’s bedroom looking like you have nothing but his shirt on? Well, yes.

No time like the present and all that.

You knocked on the bathroom door to signal to Keeho that you were about to come out and once he let you know it was alright, you took a deep breath before you turned the door handle.

As soon as your eyes landed on him, your mouth went dry.

Keeho was sprawled out on the bed, changed into a pair of gray sweatpants with a black tank top. His dark hair, tinted with blue highlights, was still a little damp from the rain, by the looks of it. He had one hand behind his head while the other was in front of him, scrolling away on his phone.

You remembered the day you saw his new blue hair look for the first time - you only went mildly insane.

And now, with all of this combined, he looked…a lot better than you’d anticipated, that was for sure. Of course, the last time you’d seen him in any form even close to this was…well, never, actually. At least not since you two grew up.

When you shut the door back behind you Keeho finally looked up. His eyes met yours and he suddenly dropped his phone. It landed on his chest before sliding down onto the bed, forgotten.

“Oh, uh, hey.” He cleared his throat and tried to avert his eyes. “How was the shower? Find everything ok?”

You giggled as you walked over to the bed. “Yes, thank you. I found all the essentials easily since they were all in one convenient place.”

“Right, I forgot I put them there, ha. Anyways, I’ll just um,” Keeho jerked his thumb towards the door, “go so you can have your privacy.” He phrased it like a question. 

“Do you want to go,” was your response.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Keeho, it’s your place. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” The words tumbled out before you could realize what you’d just implied. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Keeho mumble ‘fuck’ under his breath before he gave you an answer.

“What I want is for you to be comfortable. And since it’s still storming, you’ll probably feel better in here because it’s louder out there with the couch being by a window.”

Shit, you’d forgotten about the storm momentarily. “Makes sense,” you responded, looking out of the doorway of Keeho’s bedroom.

Keeho sat up straighter to push himself off of the bed. You definitely weren’t watching the way his arm muscles flexed with the movement. “I made some tea while you were showering; if you want some, it’s in the kitchen. I left out a cup for you but please don’t feel obligated.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at how nice he was being. This is what you’d been missing out on for a few years because you counted him as ‘off-limits’ before?

“Thanks, Kee. I might grab some before I finally fall asleep.”

Keeho smiled brightly. “Been a long time since you’ve called me that. I’ve missed it.”

You tried to remember the last time you’d referred to him like that and figured it had to be since before he left for college. So, yeah, it had been a while.

“Well, I’ll be out there if you need anything,” Keeho continued, walking over to where you stood. At the same moment, a roaring crack of thunder sounded overhead, making you jump and start to fall over.

Keeho being Keeho, of course, was there to catch you instantly. He wrapped his arms around you and embraced you in a hug. You were shivering and he could tell, so he held you tighter.

You decided to say fuck it and just go for it.

“Kee?”

“Hm,” he hummed in response. You could feel the vibration of the hum throughout his chest since that’s currently where your face was.

“Would it be alright if you…stayed with me? At least until the storm subsides?”

You felt Keeho stiffen somewhat before he relaxed again.

“Yeah, whatever you need. I can like, grab a chair or something and set it in here-”

“Don’t be silly,” you pulled back so you could smile at him. “Your bed is big enough for the two of us, don’t you think?”

Keeho looked taken aback. “You sure that’s ok?”

“Wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”

“Cool, yeah, cool. Ok so let’s just- yeah.” Keeho led the both of you back to the bed. “Take whatever side you want.”

You laid down in the middle of the bed and stretched out just to be difficult. “What about here?”

Keeho finally cracked a smile, and you were thankful to see it. There was a sort of tension that had settled in the air since you first asked him to stay, and you were trying to dissolve it as soon as possible.

“Don’t think you’ll want half of me on top of you later so that might not be the best place.” Keeho gently nudged your leg so he could get onto the bed. You rolled over to give him more room, laying on your stomach now with your eyes closed while you sighed deeply. 

When you finally opened them again, Keeho was looking at you - well, rather, he was looking at a part of you. Up until that point, you’d been completely unaware that moving made his shirt ride up your thighs.

“Oh shit,” you quickly moved to pull his shirt down in the back. “Sorry, the shorts didn’t fit so I just figured I’d go without.”

“Huh?” Keeho looked up at your face, almost like he was dazed.

You laughed. “Eyes up here, Kee. And what I was saying is your shorts were too big so I left them off. Hope you don’t mind?”

“You have no idea how much I don’t mind,” he smirked at you and suddenly, the tables didn’t seem to be turned in your favor anymore.

You quickly turned your head the other way so he couldn’t see the way your cheeks started to flush. “Right, well, glad we cleared that up! Goodnight then.”

Keeho laughed, the sound quiet but still comforting. He grabbed a blanket that was at the edge of the bed and draped it over you. “Night.”

You felt Keeho shift on his side, thinking he probably turned the opposite way as well. There was a lamp on his nightstand that he hadn’t turned off yet, and it was the only thing still really providing illumination in the room.

It wasn’t even 5 minutes later before you felt Keeho shift again and softly call your name.

“Yeah,” you responded as you turned to face him. He looked…nervous.

“This is a safe space, right?”

You chuckled. “I don’t know, it’s your room so you tell me.”

Keeho groaned. “I didn’t mean it as in the physical space - although it is safe in here, don’t get me wrong-”

 “Kee, focus.” You interrupted his spiral again, not wanting him to overthink and back down from whatever he was trying to say.

He took a deep breath. “Right, ok. Can I say something blunt?”

Your heartbeat quickened, not sure where this was headed. “Yes?”

Keeho moved closer with a smile, tugging slightly on the end of one of your sleeves - one of his sleeves.

“I gotta say,” he trailed his eyes up your figure, starting from where you caught him looking earlier. “You look really fucking good in my clothes.”

You stopped breathing for a second. This is the closest Keeho had ever really come to flirting with you. The most he’d done in recent years since you both became adults is tease you relentlessly, but you always shrugged it off as he just liked to get on your nerves (endearingly).

You regained your composure, trying to look unaffected when you answered him.

“Do you say that to all the girls you manage to get into your bed?”

Keeho wasn’t phased. “If I’m being honest-”

“Because it won’t work on me. I’m different.” You almost cringed at hearing yourself say those words even though you meant them in a completely other context than you hear most people use it in.

Keeho stared at you more intently this time. “What I was going to say,” he felt the fabric of the sleeve again between his fingertips, “is no, I don’t just say that to ‘girls I get in my bed.’”

“But you’re right about one thing, “ he continued, face lit up beautifully by the warm glow of the lamp beside him, “you are different. And that’s why I’ll say it to you.”

You’d started leaning closer to him as well without realizing it, his touch through the shirt driving you crazy. “Keeho, where are you going with this?”

He smiled, full of reassurance. “Wherever you want.”

You ached to cross that line, to break that boundary. But something was still keeping you back.

“What if what I want isn’t right,” your voice came out small.

Keeho’s smile faded. “What do you mean by not right?”

You sighed. “I’m older than you, for starters. And I know you don’t typically go for people older than you.” 

Keeho tilted his head at your admission. You figured he never knew you still kept up with him outside of the times you actually saw each other in person, and he didn’t know that your brother let that particular bit of information slip once in conversation.

“Keeho would never want to date you - he probably sees you as a hag. He wants someone younger, so don’t even try.” The words from your brother still stung today, and what’s worse is they were completely unwarranted. All you’d done is ask how Keeho was liking college, and your brother just blurted out that in response.

“Also, and more importantly, you’re my brother’s best friend. That’s like…some kind of betrayal or something.”

“What is, what betrayal are you talking about?” Keeho looked like he was really trying to understand, which made this conversation much more difficult.

You steadied yourself before you finally gave him your answer. “The way I want you.”

Keeho closed his eyes like he was trying to gather his thoughts. His hand dropped from your shirt. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I was hoping that one day, you’d stop seeing me as a kid or just an extension of your brother. I wanted you to see me for me, because I’ve only ever seen you that way.” His eyes were open again, and they looked full of purpose.

“Keeho, what-”

“My point is, whatever you think about me because of my age and me being friends with your brother: don’t.” This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. The usual teasing, easy-going Keeho was nowhere to be found right now.

He reached out to rest his hand against your cheek. You leaned into the touch, welcoming the warmth that he radiated.

“I want you. And I’m not afraid to say that. There’s something there, I know there is,” Keeho kept going. “And I’ve known that for a while, at least on my end.”

“How long have you known,” you asked him with curiosity, but the way his hand moved from your cheek to the side of your neck really wasn’t helping you’re trying to stay calm during all of this.

Keeho hummed in thought. “Probably since right before I went to college.”

You gasped. “So when you were…”

“17. And you were 20. I knew that back then obviously there was no way - but I’d always hoped that one day maybe there’d be a chance.”

This information hit you like a tidal wave and threatened to pull you under. Keeho had been crushing on you for at least 5 years, and you had no idea to what extent until now.

All those times you thought he was just being ‘flirty’ he may have been actually flirting. You always shrugged it off before because why wouldn’t you?

He called your name again to pull you out of your thoughts.

“Need you to talk to me. I can’t read your mind,” his eyes had softened while he was talking to you. “Which is probably a good thing because I don’t know if your brain ever shuts the fuck off.”

You scoffed and shoved him playfully, his hand never leaving the side of your neck while he tried to dodge you.

“I…don’t really know what to say right now. I had no idea you felt that way- or at least that you felt that strongly.”

“I know,” Keeho answered dramatically. “I can’t tell you how frustrating that’s been over this last year especially. None of my pick-up lines worked on you and it had me like ‘damn, is my game really that bad?’”

You started laughing. “Oh my god, no, it’s not that. I just always thought you were teasing me.”

“I was! In a flirtatious manner!”

“I see that now,” you countered. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Keeho rolled his eyes. “Look, the past is the past, what matters is right now. And right now,” he continued, rubbing his thumb along your neck while the rest of his hand stayed in place, “I need to know what you want.”

A spark of desire settled in your core. You wanted Keeho. But you were still worried.

“If you decide you don’t feel the same,” Keeho went on before you could respond, “I can turn over and we can forget this ever happened. Well- you can forget this ever happened. I don’t think I’ll be that lucky.” His sweet smile then almost broke your heart.

Your words were failing you, so you did the only thing you could think of: you moved closer. You were directly in each other’s space now, and the movement made Keeho’s breath hitch.

“Do you want this,” Keeho said, just above a whisper. “Do you want me?”

You nodded before you could give it too much thought. The grin that lit up Keeho’s face made everything worth it.

“Then, can I kiss you?” He was still talking quietly, his lips close enough that the barest of movements would have closed the distance.

You moved to nod again but Keeho shook his head. “Words, baby. Need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you answered, ready to cross that point of no return.

He smiled and leaned in. There was no turning back.

Keeho kissed gentler than you were expecting. The way he always threw himself into everything he did is also how you thought he would start off with this, but he was set on taking his time. His lips moved against yours slowly, almost like he was trying to commit how you felt to memory. As if he may not get another chance like this and wanted to make the most of it.

Kissing Keeho felt good. It felt great, even. But most of all, kissing Keeho felt right.

You tried to wrap your arms around his neck but had some trouble due to the angle. He took the hint to resituate the two of you, all while his lips never left yours. The new position had Keeho hovering on top of you, resting one forearm on the bed while the other hand still made itself at home on your neck. When you threaded your hand through his hair, you could sense the shift.

He kissed you with more urgency now, his hand starting to wander down lower. When you felt his fingers softly brush against your thigh, you couldn’t control the noise you let out.

Keeho groaned in response. “Fuck, you sound so pretty. Always figured you would.”

He started trailing more kisses down your neck as you let out a laugh. “So you’ve pictured this before?”

Keeho looked at you with a face that could only be saying ‘Are you kidding me?’ You responded with an eyebrow raise, wanting him to answer you with words.

“Of course I have.”

Oh. Well that was a bit more honesty than you were expecting right out the gate.

“I’ve pictured this, dreamt about this…,” he trailed off to drag his lips up closer to your ear, voice lower as he continued, “gotten off thinking about this."

You gasped, feeling Keeho smile against your neck at his ability to pull another reaction out of you.

“I’d ask you the same question, but I think I already know the answer.” His tone sounded teasing, but you could tell he really was curious. You felt it was only fair to give him what he wanted.

“I…may have thought about this a time or two.”

The speed with which Keeho lifted his head almost had you reeling. His eyes were wide as he simply asked, “Really? You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Cross my heart.” You did the motion with your hand, drawing an imaginary ‘X’ over your chest. This was something that meant a lot to both of you growing up, and it definitely wasn’t something either of you said lightly.

At your admission Keeho dove in to kiss you again, lips moving almost hungrily, his hand now gripping your thigh.

His fingers moved subtly but still didn’t inch higher yet, despite how much you wanted them to. It dawned on you then that Keeho may be hesitating.

“Kee?” You pulled back from him and placed a hand on his cheek, watching as he evened out his breathing from the attack he’d just launched on your mouth.

“Is something wrong,” you continued, since you wanted him to feel comfortable if either of you were going to do anything even remotely past this point.

Keeho shook his head but his eyes said otherwise. Before you could ask him to elaborate, he beat you to it.

“It’s not that something’s wrong. Things couldn’t be more right than they are now, in my opinion.“ His last sentence was almost mumbled out, like you weren’t supposed to hear it.

“I just… need to know. Before this goes on.” His tone was serious, eyes set again with determination. “What does this mean to you?”

The question took you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You know how I feel, what this,” he gestured between the two of you in the little space that was still left, “means to me. I need to know if it’s the same for you.”

You weren’t sure how much of you ‘knowing how he felt’ was true, because you’d just learned recently that he had a crush on you. Initially, you thought that maybe this was just about sex and not much more than that, crush be damned. Keeho just seemed like that might be what he preferred - no attachment, no feelings.

For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know if he was dating anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even asked you if you were dating someone.

You both had just kinda jumped into this because the moment felt right, but you were having second thoughts now.

“Wait,” you tried to lean back and put more distance between the two of you. Keeho looked hurt for a moment but masked it quickly - something you knew him to (unfortunately) be good at. His hand left your thigh and he waited for you to go on.

“Are you involved with anyone?”

“Involved?” Now Keeho was confused instead. “Involved like- oh. No, I’m not. The fuck?”

You almost raised your hands up in defense but thought it better that you didn’t. “Just making sure! I wasn’t sure what your relationship status was these days.” You crossed your arms and looked to the side.

Keeho called your name to pull your attention back to him.

“Do you actually think I would have driven beside you on the sidewalk during a thunderstorm, let you stay in my apartment, and initiate any of this if I was dating someone?”

He had a good point. Even still, it’s always good to check.

“Before you answer, it’s a trick question because yes, I would do those first things without hesitation because I care about you. What I wouldn’t do,” Keeho moved closer, once again limiting the distance that kept you apart, “is this.”

He tilted your chin upwards and his lips brushed against yours softly. It was just once, but once was enough to convey what he was trying to say.

“And I didn’t think to ask you the same because I knew as soon as I was blunt with you I‘d find out. There’s no way you’d be down to mess around with me while you’re not single.”

Another good point from Keeho. He really was throwing you for a loop tonight.

You swallowed audibly, his stare making you feel squirmy. “Right, ok, um- glad that’s settled then.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

You knew he was right, you couldn’t keep avoiding it. But what did this mean to you? The only thing you could think of at the moment was what finally ended up leaving your mouth.

“I don’t think it means the same to me as it does to you.” It was like you could physically feel Keeho deflating in front of you. “But… that doesn’t mean it can’t with time.”

Why were you telling him that - what purpose did it serve other than to give him hope?

Before you could think about it too much, you watched as Keeho smiled so wide that it looked like it almost hurt. One day you might feel bad for the emotional whiplash you were putting this boy through, but today was not that day.

“I can work with that.” The words barely left Keeho’s mouth before he was again on top of you, now holding himself up with his forearms on either side of you. He was caging you in now, the only sound between you two being both your slightly accelerated breathing.

Keeho didn’t waste anymore time, moving in to kiss you with what seemed like all the feeling he could muster. His tongue slipped past the seam of your lips and you granted him access easily, just as eager to taste him as he was you.

Your hands flew up, one landing on the side of his neck while the other cradled his face. Keeho let out a small mmph against your lips at the movement, the sound sweet to your ears. It had you wishing to hear more, to hear every kind of sound Keeho could make with his pretty mouth.

Your lips still moved in sync with each other as you felt one of Keeho’s hands traveling down. It flitted across your ribcage on its way to its destination, making you move ever so slightly underneath him.

Finally, Keeho reached what he was looking for, still kissing you the entire time he’d been searching with his hand. He had a fistful of the shirt now in his grasp, pulling it up some at the bottom.

“You wearing anything under here?” Keeho sounded out of breath as he playfully skimmed his fingers along the hem of your - his - shirt. “Or was your intention to drive me crazy guessing the whole time?”

“Seems like a good idea to find out, hm?” Giving back what Keeho was dishing out; this you could do. As long as that was where you drew the line and you didn’t get too involved or too attached, you could do this and not overthink it.

His hand started to travel underneath the shirt, the touch light but purposeful, and within moments he had one of your thighs shaking at the sensation. You wanted to cover your face once you saw Keeho’s smirk but in your current position that proved impossible. So instead, you turned your head as far to the side as you could, making him laugh at your stubbornness.

“C’mon, baby, don’t be that way. I love seeing the effect I have on you.” He placed kisses on your neck before continuing, going all the way up to your ear. “And besides,” he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth, “there’s no way you can’t already feel what you’re doing to me.”

You shuddered as Keeho ground himself against you so you could feel how hard he was. The movement also caused him to groan right beside your ear, clearly taking him by surprise.

“Fuck, ok I didn’t think that through at all but you get my point. Guess I just can’t think straight when you’re under me like this.”

If this man didn’t stop talking to you like this-

You needed to shift this more in your favor.

“What about if I’m on top of you instead?” You asked him so sweetly and the way his eyes briefly closed didn’t go unnoticed by you.

The way Keeho scrambled to lie flat next to you on the bed had you laughing. He didn’t give you long to collect yourself though before he was tugging on your arm to pull you up on him. You situated yourself to where you were straddling Keeho, his hands immediately falling to your waist as if he was afraid to let you go.

The large tent in his sweatpants was hard to miss. You wanted to tease him more since you were the one with the upper hand now, so you very lightly brushed against him. Keeho’s hands gripped you harder, and you weren’t sure if it was involuntary or more of a warning.

“Is this ok?” You had to check before going further; despite all the moves he’d been making on you that you’d been reciprocating, neither of you had actually mentioned moving past this point yet.

“Is this ok,” he echoed your question. “You’re asking me if this,” he squeezed your waist for emphasis, “is ok?”

You simply nodded, skin starting to feel hot from his touch even if it was still just through the shirt.

Keeho chuckled. “What kind of fucking question- of course it’s ok! If you’re good, I’m good. So,” he moved your hips for you, making you brush against him again, “shit, what’s it gonna be?”

You took his hands that were still wrapped around you and placed them under the shirt you were wearing, right above your hips. Before he could even register what happened you leaned forward, feeling him harden even more underneath you.

“Whatever you want,” was your response as you captured his mouth in a heated kiss. Keeho’s hands traveled up and splayed across your back, pulling you in as close as you could get. You rubbed against him from your current position - still straddling but bent over on top of him - and you felt as his fingers started curling against your back. It was almost like he wanted to scratch down your back but was thinking better of it.

The little noises he let out against your mouth were driving you insane. At some point all of your movement had shifted you downward somewhat, and soon enough you felt him right against your core. The sensation was a lot stronger than you were expecting since you both were still clothed, and you couldn’t help the blatant moan that escaped your lips.

“Fuck,” Keeho pulled away from kissing you so you both could catch your breath. “Need that, more of that please.”

“What - this?” You were still moving your hips so you made sure that the next sound you let out was right by his ear, completely uninhibited. Keeho jerked underneath you, making him rub right against your clit through the thin layers of clothing that separated you.

Keeho tugged on the bottom hem of the shirt. “Can I?”

You sat up so he had better access to remove your shirt, leaving you in only your bra and panties once he tossed it aside. The way his eyes widened dramatically caused a funny feeling to flutter through your chest. He looked you up and down, hands on your legs moving mindlessly as he did.

“Wow,” Keeho sounded stunned. You tried not to let it go to your head, even though your face was heating up. “So much better than in my dreams.”

That made you laugh. “Glad to know I exceed expectations.”

“I knew you would. You’ve always been the type to blow everyone away.” Keeho’s smile and praise were making your chest feel odd again, like your heart was trying to do flips.

“Can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he pulled you closer and placed a kiss right above your collarbone. “Feel you like this,” his hands were on your back again, this time sliding up to where your bra could be unlatched.

A quick raise of his eyebrow was enough for you to know what he was asking. You nodded and he went to work, having a little trouble with the hooks at first, making you giggle at his focused face.

“Let me,” you offered as you reached behind yourself and undid the hooks in one seamless motion.

“What the fuck, how did you do that,” Keeho just kept staring at you baffled as you slid the bra straps down your arms. “No, seriously, how is that possible?”

You shrugged as you were holding the bra up by its cups now, not ready to reveal to him just yet. “Years of practice. It’s really not that impressive.” Before Keeho could protest, you asked another question since your curiosity was now piqued. “Wait, have you- have you never seen someone do that before?”

Keeho looked like he was actually thinking back on it. “Well…not that I can remember. But I also haven’t ever paid that much attention before.”

“Your usual hook-ups aren’t like this?” Kind of a weird question for you to ask the man you were currently trying to hook up with, but what’s the harm in asking, right?

“My usual hook-ups aren’t you.”

Oh.

That’s-

“Oh,” was your brilliant response. Keeho just smiled.

“Are you done asking me about my previous sex life now, or is there more you want to know? Curious about my stroke game, maybe?”

“Why are you like this,” you groaned, making him laugh. One of his hands rested soothingly against your thigh as he waited for your next move.

“Dunno - but you love that I’m like this anyway, so clearly it’s working.”

Since you couldn’t really argue with that, it was time to continue your mission you’d started before embarking on this small side quest.

“I’m not about to be the only one topless here.” You had removed one of your hands to grab at his tank top but the other one was still holding your bra in place. “Gonna help me change that?”

With no hesitation, Keeho did the stupidly attractive thing that guys do when they pull their shirts off by reaching behind them. You were met with the sight of Keeho and his bare chest within a moment, and honestly you weren’t sure what amount of time you would’ve needed to prepare for it.

Keeho was fucking hot. Full stop. You’d be crazy to deny it, no matter how much you didn’t want to inflate his ego.

You must’ve been ogling at him because soon enough he hit you with a “Like what you see?”

That smirk of his was lethal if you looked too long, so you rolled your eyes instead and placed your hand on one of his pecs. As you started to drag your hand down, you noticed how the speed of his breathing increased.

“Sensitive much?” You lightly brushed against one of his nipples, his movement then answering your question.

“Y-yeah, maybe a little bit,” Keeho was trying not to crack. “Also how is this fair now?”

You knew he was referring to your bra, so you let it drop. Once your chest was free, Keeho wasted no time in cupping one of your breasts.

“Pretty,” he mumbled as he squeezed one, cocky smirk plastered on his face as he continued. “What was it you said earlier - that you’re a ‘hard one to please’? Why don’t we test that theory?”

He gently closed his mouth around one of your nipples, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. He flicked his tongue against it, making you almost cry out at the feeling. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging ever so slightly like you were trying to keep yourself grounded.

Keeho lapped his tongue around you a few more times and you started squirming in his lap. The way you were rubbing right up against him fueled you to try harder, each move pulling you closer to the point of no return. Your panties were soaked and clinging to you, meaning you could really feel him almost as much as you would if your last bit of clothing were gone.

“Kee- Keeho,” you moaned his name when you felt one of his hands brush against your inner thigh. The resulting grunt he let out had you moving faster in his lap, eager to coax more sounds out of him.

He pulled off of you then with a small pop, lips still wet with spit as he stared at you.

“Fuck, I was not ready for that, holy shit.” Keeho ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face before it fell back into place. The black and blue strands were even more captivating up this close, with the warm light from the lamp washing over the both of you. “Never knew my name could sound so good coming from someone else.”

“You wanna see if you can make it happen again,” you taunted him as you placed both hands on his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss. You felt his smile against your lips, enjoying the peaceful moment before a spark of pleasure shot through you.

Keeho was grabbing a bit rougher at your breast now than he had before, brushing your nipple with his thumb while you kissed. “Don’t worry,” he added as his unoccupied hand started moving closer to where you wanted him most. “I have no doubt I can make you say my name again.”

He stopped at the edge of your underwear, silently asking you again with his eyes if he could continue. You gave him another nod, probably a bit too eager if his chuckle was anything to go by.

Instead of going up under the clothing like you expected he might, he stroked against the outside first, placing pressure amongst one of the wetter spots.

“Shit, can already tell that you’re soaked. Maybe I do have some game after all,” Keeho was egging you on as he placed more pressure and moved his fingers in a circular motion. Unfortunately for you, it was right on your clit, so the stimulation was overwhelming.

“I swear to god if you don’t stop talking about your game-” you cut yourself off with a moan.

“What was that,” Keeho’s tone was so hot, you couldn’t even be bothered about him teasing you this way. “I couldn’t hear you over how much game I have.”

“Keeho,” you whined out his name, starting to grow impatient. You almost thought you could feel him twitch underneath you, but that would’ve been hard to tell since he was still wearing sweatpants.

“There she is,” he said it like he was praising you for doing a good job on something. “My name sounds so pretty when it’s coming from you.” He trailed kisses down your neck, stopping once he got to your breast again. A devious smile before he gave your nipple another small flick with his tongue.

“Can’t wait to hear you scream it later,” was the only warning you got before Keeho started making you see stars.

He pushed your panties to the side and shoved two fingers into you from the jump, the slide easy because of how absolutely fucking drenched you were. His other arm closed around you, pulling you closer which in turn pushed his fingers further inside. That combined with the way he was ravishing your breast - sometimes even biting your nipple gently - had you approaching your high much faster than you’d like to admit.

How was this man making you fall apart with just two fingers and his tongue? You hadn’t even seen his dick yet and here you were, shaking and moaning in his lap like you had absolutely no control over it.

The power of Keeho, you guessed.

The way he curled his fingers inside of you had you trembling, sounds kept tumbling out of you and mingled with the ones you could barely hear coming from him.

“Kee- Kee, wait.” You hated to stop him but you refused to cum like this. You needed something more - even if you weren’t sure what it was that you needed.

Keeho stopped moving his fingers but kept them inside of you, making you clench around them. He pulled his mouth off of you and answered with a “Hm?”

“Don’t wanna cum so soon,” you were slightly breathless. The way his face lit up at your words made that feeling in your chest constrict again.

“Wha- already? Wow, I’m doing way better than I thought I would at this point.”

That got your attention. “How did you think you were going to do?”

Keeho opened his mouth, shut it, then paused before he opened it again. “I don’t know, I never thought I’d get this far.”

He didn’t give you long to ponder over the familiar quote before he slowly started pumping his fingers in and out again, this time adding a third one to the mix. You’d thankfully calmed down some but he’d have you at the brink again in no time if you didn’t stop him.

“Keeho-”

“I’m right here, baby. Need to know what you want me to do,” a rough kiss before he continued, “how you want me to make you cum.”

You were about to put a muzzle on this man if he didn’t stop saying things that made your heart beat at an irrationally fast pace.

“I don’t know, just- not like this. You pick,” you handed the control back over to Keeho before realizing what you’d just done.

“You sure you want that?”

You nodded, eyes shut as you clenched around his fingers again. He slowly pulled them all the way out, leaving you immediately missing the feeling of having him - well, a part of him - inside of you.

“I just want you,” your eyes opened again as you answered him with conviction. “You choose, Kee.”

Keeho gulped. For the first time that night, it looked like he was at a loss for words. Instead of offering you an answer, he chose to put his fingers in his mouth. Keeho closed his eyes as he tasted you, the sight mesmerizing as he appeared to get lost in it.

“Fuck, you taste so good. God,” he lowered his voice as his eyes travelled down to where you were now uncovered, “it would fucking drive me crazy if I had it all the time, I’m calling it now.”

The idea flashed through your mind for barely a second before you were shoving it down into the deepest crevices of your brain.

Did Keeho want to do this again? Furthermore, did he want to keep doing it? Was this really the good idea you thought it was before all of this started kicking off?

Keeho’s voice pulled you out of your nearly-started spiral.

“Hey, you good there?” He was waving one hand in front of your face. “Was it what I said?”

“No, I’m good. Just wasn’t expecting that.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you weren’t sure if he believed it or not.

“Sorry, I get kinda stupid with the shit I say when I’m pussy drunk. But also - I meant every word.”

This man was going to be the death of you somehow.

You tried to change the subject. “Aren’t these pants uncomfortable?” You palmed at the bulge that was straining against the fabric, resulting in an immediate reaction from Keeho.

“Fuck, ha, I mean they’re not the most comfortable, if you wanna take ‘em off we can-”

You shimmied back some so you were more-so straddling his thighs instead of his lap. With one more nod from Keeho you started to pull his sweatpants down by tugging on the waistband. You thought you had at least another layer of clothing between you and his dick after that but surprise, surprise.

Keeho was going commando. The small gasp you let out made Keeho cover his face with his hands for a second as he groaned into them.

“Care to explain?”

“Ok look, I thought I was sleeping on my own so I decided fuck it, why not. And then when you asked me to stay with you, I never thought this of all things would happen so it’s not like- I definitely didn’t plan this if that’s what you’re asking-”

You wrapped a hand around him to get him to stop and he shut up instantly. The power of that move might’ve gone to your head a little bit.

It dawned on you then just how big Keeho was. Like - he was packing. Talk about exceeding expectations. You could fit your whole hand around him, but you felt the fullness when you started stroking him.

“Fuck, uh, ok uh, do you want to do this or-” Keeho’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I was trying to make you cum so like, don’t worry about me, ha.”

“Well I’m not going to be the only one cumming, I can assure you of that.” You picked up your pace a little bit, relishing in the moan Keeho let out.

“Fuck, fuck, ok. Ah-”

With every sound that escaped Keeho’s lips, you could feel yourself aching to be full again. For now, though: this was way more entertaining.

“You’re so sensitive,” you said it more to yourself than anything else, but Keeho still heard and scoffed as if to say ‘No shit.’

“Yeah, the girl I’ve had a crush on for who knows how long now has her hand wrapped around my dick, nothing to be sensitive about at all.”

Ouch. Your chest was doing the flippy thing again. You didn’t get a chance to respond before Keeho’s hand was wrapping around yours, making you stop your movement.

“Kee?”

“Can we, um- listen, you can totally say no, but I wanted to… try something.” Keeho was throbbing in your hand as he spoke, and you thought then that there probably wasn’t anything he’d suggest that you wouldn’t be down to at least consider.

“Depends on what it is, but probably yes.”

Keeho blinked in surprise. “Oh, shit. Well, wasn’t expecting that before I’ve even told you, but- ok, here goes. Can you move up a little for me?”

You did as he asked, now back in your original spot on his lap, his dick basically trapped under where you sat. He placed both hands on your hips and tried to move you forward some more. Confused, you went along with it until you were almost sitting on his chest.

“Keeho, what-”

He laughed, squeezing now at your thighs instead of your hips with how far he’d managed to push you up. “Was wondering how long it’d take before you figured it out.”

You had indeed not yet figured it out. “Okay…?”

Keeho smiled. “God, you’re adorable.”

His next response was not quite what you were expecting (although it definitely made sense in hindsight).

“Wanna sit on my face?”

“O-Oh,” was all you could think to say at the moment. “I mean… yes?”

“Sounds a little too much like a question rather than a confirmation for me. Need to know what you want, baby.”

There he was with the pet name again. His voice was comforting, though, and it gave you the courage to finally answer for real. “I want to try.”

Keeho grinned and you were so fond of this man. “Come on up here, then,” he patted the top of his chest, letting you know exactly where he wanted you to sit.

Face-sitting wasn’t something you’d ever really been super excited about. One, because you’d never really had an enthusiastic partner for that kind of activity before and two, the idea made you nervous. Do you sit down completely? Are you supposed to hover? What the fuck do you actually do-

“I can hear you overthinking from down here,” Keeho so helpfully supplied. “Once you’re up here, I’ll handle the rest.”

You trusted him. This was Keeho; he had no reason to lead you astray on this. Especially since it looked like he was vibrating enough with excitement from you even entertaining the idea in the first place.

You managed to get your soaked panties off without much trouble before you scooted closer to where he had indicated, hovering over him at first. Keeho gently lowered you down, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs once you were seated. His fingers were just barely able to touch your inner thighs from this angle, and you knew he would probably use that to his advantage if he could manage it.

“Hey, relax. Can feel how tense you are.” Keeho placed a kiss on the inside of your thigh that he could reach, the action making you shiver in his hold. “I do need you to come up a little more, though.”

“Are you sure?” The nervous tinge to your voice couldn’t be helped.

“Yes, baby. How else am I gonna get to taste you properly if I can’t get my mouth on you?”

You took a deep breath before moving again. Your thighs were caging in Keeho’s head now, and the gaze he held was absolutely predatory. This man looked like he wanted to devour you and you just might fucking let him.

If this was the only night that you could have with Keeho this way, you’d better make it count.

“Let me know if you wanna stop at any time.” Keeho gave you one last sweet smile before his tongue slipped past your folds.

Now, you weren’t expecting to be disappointed by any means - Keeho was clearly skilled if he’d suggest something like this. You anticipated it would feel good and maybe change your opinion on the whole act itself.

What you didn’t expect was for Keeho to have you shaking on top of him in less than a minute. Every single reaction your body was having, he knew just how to counter it.

Didn’t know what to do with your hands? Keeho placed them in his hair, even tugging a little for you so you knew he didn’t mind. Didn’t want your hips to move too much and cause you to shift too far up? Keeho had you, making sure you stayed in place where you could still grind against him without moving too far. The way he ravaged you had you falling apart in the best way possible, and his commentary didn’t do much to help that either.

“Taste so fucking good,” Keeho spoke in between licks, making sure to not to deprive you of him for too long. “My dreams were never as good as this, shit.”

“You’ve - fuck - dreamt about this?” Your hands were twisted in his hair, each tug pulling a soft moan from him underneath you, and you could feel the sound against your core.

“I’ve had dreams of you doing so many things that it’s actually a little embarrassing,” his words were slightly muffled but you got the gist. “So: I’m pleading the fifth on that one.”

Your laughter that started quickly formed into a sharp gasp. Keeho’s tongue was now inside of you. You could feel him tracing it along your walls where he could reach, not even daring to look down and see how close to you this had made him. It felt like he was leaving handprints on your thighs now from how hard he was gripping you.

You chanced looking down to see if your suspicion was correct and nearly came on the spot. Keeho’s fingers were holding onto you so fiercely that marks had already started forming.

Looking at his face proved to be even more lethal: Keeho looked like he wanted to consume you, to eat you whole. His siren eyes burned into yours, holding your stare while he left you craving more. You saw as he made a show of showing you his tongue before he started focusing on your clit.

“Keeho, fuck, Kee-” you were full on grinding against him now, his tongue flicking your clit at a faster pace after your reaction. One of your hands left his hair to be placed on the wall in front of you; you didn’t trust your legs not to give out any second now, so you needed all the stability you could get.

“That’s it, baby,” Keeho’s breath sounded labored as he spoke. “Keep going. Use me, make yourself feel good.”

Holy shit, the mouth on this man - both verbally and physically. You couldn’t tell which one was able to fuck you up more when he was using both tactics at the same time.

Everything continued the same way for a bit with Keeho alternating between his tongue tricks. At one point, though, he took you by surprise by biting down on the inside of your thigh.

“Fuck!” Your eyes had been closed at that point so you quickly looked down to see what the hell had gotten into him. The bite didn’t hurt really, but it definitely caught you off guard.

He was smiling, lips and chin absolutely covered. “Wanted to see you,” was his simple response. “You haven’t looked at me in a while, need to know I’m still doing good.”

“Fuck, so good, feels so fucking good, Kee,” you wanted to reassure him, but the absolutely heavenly moan he let out in response gave you a power trip like no other. You were still looking down at him, biting your bottom lip now to try and stifle your own sounds so you could hear more from him.

Apparently you didn’t have to wait long, because soon enough Keeho started getting louder. You could feel each one of noises against you as he tried to continue licking your clit. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyelids kept fluttering shut before he attempted to train his eyes on you again. It looked like he was losing a little bit of his rhythm - it still felt fucking otherworldly (no, you were not down bad, not at all) but there was definitely a slight hitch in his motions.

Then you were able to pinpoint the reason why. One of Keeho’s hands was missing from its rightful place on your thigh, and you could feel movement from behind you that you hadn’t noticed before. You turned your head as much as possible to see that Keeho was jerking himself off at the same time as he was eating you out. Your hand that was still twisted in his hair gripped harder, making him groan and start to stroke himself faster.

“Oh fuck.” Something about that entire scene was enough to almost throw you over the edge. You were shaking so much now that you were a little shocked Keeho hadn’t asked you to hop off his face yet. If anything, you spurred him on to press himself closer to you, adding more force with his tongue and a pressure to your clit that hadn’t been there before.

The new pressure, his noises rising in pitch, and his continued staring at you like he wanted to wreck you was what finally got you there, too fast for you to even try and give him a warning. All you could do was moan out his name, relishing in the way his eyes rolled back at the sound.

He kept up his ministrations throughout your orgasm, only stopping when you whined from the sensitivity. You tried to move away from his face but his hand that was still holding onto you grabbed your leg harder.

“Please, fuck, don’t-” Keeho gasped, still stroking himself. “Don’t move yet. Just- stay here.”

“But you haven’t-”

“I know, ah, it won’t take long now though. Especially seeing you,” he broke off to moan and kick his head back, “like this.”

You thought about it and almost gave in to what he wanted, but you wanted to do more than just sit there and let him continue to do the majority of the work.

“Kee?”

“Shit- yeah?” His fingers were digging in the flesh of your thigh, the feeling still somewhat managing to arouse you after you were still coming down from before.

“Let me help. Please?”

“God, not the begging- you are helping, way more than you think. You don’t need to do anything else, baby.” Keeho smiled from underneath you.

“But what if I want to do something else,” you tried using your most seductive tone, hoping it wasn’t too much. Keeho didn’t seem put off by it in the slightest, so you kept going.

“Ha, well, I’d probably let you do whatever you wanted to be honest.”

You filed that info away for later - if there ever was a later.

“What if I wanted to suck you off instead?”

Keeho stared at you like you’d grown another head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right- you wanna do what?”

You giggled. “Gonna let me make you feel good, Kee?” You accentuated your words by sticking your tongue out at the end. His eyes widened when he finally seemed to get it.

“Oh what the fuck- yeah, no, that’s uh, sounds great actually.” Keeho was panting in between every few words, clearly close but still holding on. Which was great for you, because if you didn’t get this man’s dick in your mouth soon, you were probably going to scream.

Keeho helped you lift yourself off of him, being careful to not fall as you moved down the bed since your legs were still wobbly. You pulled his sweatpants the rest of the way off, letting Keeho watch you as he continued getting himself off.

As you settled yourself in between his legs, you wanted to tease him a little bit. You gently stroked along the inside of one of his thighs, mostly because you wanted to see if it’d make him squirm, but also as a little payback for what your own thighs had been through. “How’s this, Kee?”

The reaction was immediate, his thighs tensing under your touch. “It’s, uh, yeah.”

“Let me know if you wanna stop at any time,” you repeated his words from earlier as you took him into your own hand again, moving his away. It landed limply beside him on the bed, but you wagered that soon it would be occupied with something else.

You wasted no time in running your tongue along his cock, taking notice of which places seemed to be most sensitive (luckily for you: the answer was all of it). Once you finally wrapped your lips around him, Keeho let out a punched sound that turned into a groan.

“I’m not gonna last long at all, shit.” Keeho tried to look at you but his head was immediately falling back onto the pillow. “Can’t look at you, really fucking want to, but I wanna last longer than 5 seconds.”

“That’s ok, baby,” you tried out the pet name on him this time, loving the way he twitched in your hand. “Do what feels best.”

“Fuck, uh- are you sure?” Since you didn’t have your mouth back on him yet, he chanced looking down at you again. He fared a little better this time but not by much. “I can sometimes get kinda, uh, carried away.”

“As in…?” You wanted him to be the one to say it. You wanted him to tell you what he wanted, or better yet, show you what he wanted.

Keeho got the hint, finally placing one of his hands in your hair. He gave it a small tug, almost experimentally, and smirked at the small gasp you let out.

His other hand wove its way into your hair, and you felt him twitch again.

“You ready?” He looked like he was about to explode from holding himself back. You responded to him in the best way you could think of: you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as much as you could.

Keeho’s eyes rolling back were the last thing you saw before he guided himself back into your mouth. His pace was fine at first, but it picked up in speed rather quickly, his hands tightening in your hair as he controlled everything that was happening.

“God, I can’t-” you heard him gulp for air, “can’t believe I’m actually doing this with you. To you.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations flowing through his cock and making him cry out in return. He started pushing you down further, making you gag now but never pushing too far for it to be a problem. Your throat constricting around him must have been what he needed to finally let go, because after that it was just unfiltered thoughts from then on.

“Look so fucking pretty like this, letting me- ah, letting me f-fuck your face.” One of his hands detangled from your hair so his thumb could brush across your cheek, catching a tear you hadn’t realized was falling down. “And you’re crying too, holy shit-”

If you had the energy you honestly probably would’ve tried getting yourself off again because seeing Keeho fall apart like this was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. But you wanted to focus all your attention on Keeho. Nothing on the brain, just Keeho.

He moaned loudly when you hollowed your cheeks more around him. “Just wanna- ruin you, wanna wreck you for anybody else.”

Oh. Where was that coming from all of a sudden? And why did you like it so much?

“But I also, fuck, wanna take care of you.” A harsher thrust this time, making you gag hard enough to almost choke. The panic that seized you for the briefest of moments - you didn’t know if that’s what caused it, or if it was his words.

He wanted to take care of you? What the fuck did that even mean?

Before you had much time to contemplate it, Keeho started moaning more frequently, barely able to get full words out now as his high was approaching.

“Fuck, I’m- close. Close, so if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth, ha now’s the time to m-move.”

You squeezed his legs as if to encourage him to just let go. Your only goal right now was to swallow down everything this man was about to give you - moving was not on your list. Keeho’s hand that had left your hair was now gripping the bedsheet, making a flexing motion every few seconds like it wanted something different to hold onto.

In a daring moment of bravery, you reached up one of your hands to intertwine with his own. What you heard in the next few seconds would likely stick with you the rest of your life (and probably haunt your dreams very often).

The moment your fingers were laced with his, Keeho’s head snapped up and he looked at you with wild eyes before drifting his sight to where your hands connected. You gave his hand a light squeeze and that was it. The sound he let out was almost loud enough that you mildly worried about him getting a noise complaint, but you also decided you didn’t give a shit, not when he sounded like this.

“Ah, I’m cumming, oh my god, fuck,” was the only warning you got before warmth flooded your mouth. You tried your best to swallow everything, but there was so much that some unfortunately spilled out of your mouth. Keeho continued making noise throughout, a mixture of something that sounded like your name with the moans that you were now - slightly - used to.

You decided to spare the poor man and not push him to the brink of sensitivity like he’d done to you. Plus, you needed to get the rest of his cum down your throat so you had other matters to attend to.

When you were done cleaning your face of any remaining cum, you licked around your fingers to get every last drop. A soft ‘shit’ got your attention and you looked up to see Keeho staring at you.

He had managed to push himself up to where he was sitting now, back against the headboard. “That’s so hot, what the fuck.”

You giggled before shrugging. “Be a shame to let all that go to waste, don’t you think?”

“Uh, I can’t really think much of anything right now other than just ‘what the fuck,’” Keeho’s smile was a bit lopsided and he clearly looked like he was still recovering.

Against your better judgment, you crawled back up the bed to where you were beside Keeho. He gave you a confused look but his gaze softened when he saw you lifting one of his arms. You rested your cheek against his chest and his arm was around you. He started tracing soothing patterns on your arm as you shifted yourself to get comfortable.

You’d already crossed a major line - what was a little cuddling gonna do to make it worse?

Pushing that thought away with all the others you’d smacked into some other regions of your brain, you noticed when Keeho wrapped both arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth. You could’ve fallen asleep right then and there - had he not placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

“This ok?” His voice was low, soft. You wondered if you maybe even detected some nervousness.

“It’s nice,” you answered truthfully. You’d probably hate yourself in the morning, sure, but why try to cut this feeling short now? You finally allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like if you actually gave all this a chance.

The more you thought about it, though, the more you felt something akin to ice flowing through your veins. You felt frozen, stuck - like what you were doing now was wrong and should definitely not be happening. You made up your mind that once Keeho was asleep and you could move freely without waking him, you were getting the fuck out of there. You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there before Keeho spoke up again.

“Hey,” he muttered, “I’m glad you stayed tonight.”

Another icy shard in your chest.

“And not just because - well, you know - but because I know you’re safe and not outside scared or freezing in the storm.”

“Me too,” you again answered him truthfully, because you meant every word. You were glad you stayed and you wanted to continue to stay. But all the alarm bells going off in your head were starting to win out over rational thinking.

You needed to get out of here. But you couldn’t leave now. Not when Keeho would know.

Not when he would know that you weren’t able to let yourself feel for him the same way he felt for you.

“Hey, Kee?” You somehow managed to talk around the lump in your throat.

“Hm?” He sounded like he was dozing, and you could tell from the slow way his chest was rising and falling that he was content.

“I’m not sure if I can sleep like this,” you lied. “Would it be ok for us to sleep how we were planning to in the beginning?”

“Yeah, whatever you want. As long as you’re comfortable.” That same lazy smile was waiting for you when Keeho lifted his arms. He helped you get back on your side of the bed (you weren’t going to think about the implications of that right now) and even got the blanket from earlier to drape over you again.

“Tea is still in there if you decide you want any,” Keeho yawned as he laid down and shimmied under some of the blanket so you both were sharing. “It’s not going anywhere, so just get some if you want. But also,” another yawn, “it’s not required during your stay.”

“When did this suddenly become a hotel,” you tried to joke, but it didn’t quite land. Thankfully, Keeho was too close to sleep to really notice. All you got from him was a soft chuckle before he breathed deeply.

“Goodnight. I’m right here if you need me.” Keeho told you this as he was turning to face the other way, probably trying to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed after everything that had just transpired.

“Goodnight,” you responded barely above a whisper. You almost didn’t breathe for the next few minutes, straining to listen for the moment that Keeho was sound asleep. After you heard him snoring softly, you waited a few minutes and started moving slowly toward the side of the bed. When you finally deemed it safe enough, you got up carefully and placed the blanket back down without causing too much movement. Keeho didn’t even budge, and the last look you threw his way was enough to plunge that icy dagger further into your heart.

You gathered up all your clothes as quietly as you could. As much as you hated putting your soaked clothing back on, the idea of staying in this apartment any longer made you feel worse. You ordered an Uber while you were trying to get back into all your clothing, thankful that there were still some running this late.

The doorknob leading out of the apartment felt cold underneath your hand when you went to turn it, the sound suddenly so loud in the otherwise peaceful, quiet room. You opened it without thinking too much more on it and closed it as softly as possible beside you. Once you were far enough away from the apartment, you just started running.

You needed to put as much distance between you and Keeho as possible, and luckily for you, your Uber pulled up right as you were making your way down the corridor that led outside. You got inside the car and inhaled shakily. The last thing you could think to do to try and put this behind you for now was take out your phone and send a single text to Keeho.

[you] 2:34 AM: i’m sorry.

i am also sorry, dear reader - there will be more to come for these two though! thank you so so much for reading, i hope you really enjoyed it~ 💜

(stormy divider used in this post is from HERE)

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”