#might even go for cutting my hair myself too

[littleoddwriter]

I'd really appreciate some input on this, please.

because I've been on T for one year and three months now, and my voice hasn't really changed at all. it started a little (a year ago) and then... stopped. and it hasn't deepened or changed since - or not much, at least. (more context under the cut if anyone is interested. it's a bit of a vent, though, as a heads-up!)

it is the thing people get confused by the most when I meet them and introduce myself as a guy, which then always leads to uncomfortable questions and overall hurtful and awkward situations (I get misgendered a lot because of it; even after explaining myself and having introduced myself as masculine and correcting the pronouns and title multiple times, my voice always throws them off, apparently).

this has been frustrating for me (I know vocal therapy and/or training myself to speak in a lower voice are a thing, but this isn't about that. it's generally, even when I do that, my voice doesn't even remotely compare to other trans-masc voices on 1 year of T that I've heard).

and it might also happen that I have to lower my T dose in January because I've been having some side effects my endocrinologist is concerned about, so I've been feeling rather bad about all of this for a while now, and it's only getting worse. so, I thought to make a post/poll to maybe get some people's input on their changes within that first year. I just feel like in all transition timelines and experiences, that I've seen and heard from others, their voice has changed very significantly within that first year on T; but maybe there are a lot more people like myself out there, too. that's what I hope to see with this post, at least.

anyway, I'm sorry for dumping all of this here! but like I said, it has been frustrating, and uncomfortable situations keep happening that make me feel worse about myself and the "lack" of changes. (otherwise, body hair has been going really well, the hair loss is annoying, but okay, my shoulders/back have gotten broader, and my period has stopped; so I'm happy with those changes. also, psychologically, it has had a positive impact on how I feel about my gender situation in general. I don't want to downplay that at all!)

if anyone's read this far: thank you for your time, take care of yourself! <3

*trans, here, meaning anyone AFAB or intersex, who is on HRT with testosterone to masculinize themselves.

[catboyranulf]

dying my hair pink in less than twelve hours! its going to be a massacre i cant wait <3

[that-was-anticlimactic]

guess who tried cutting her bangs by herself again and did even worse than last time😀

[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.

[loriache]

Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto

TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.

1. Marcille Gender Discomfort

Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.

If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"

But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.

After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!

2. Haircut

This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.

It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.

The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.

This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.

3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince

Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.

There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)

A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.

This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)

Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.

Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?

4. Conclusion

Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.

Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.

In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!

[hotpinkstars]

LOST POSSESSIONS - aventurine, boothill, x reader

- in which you lost your wedding band during a conflict with something/someone.

- novas comeback post guys I'm gonna be more fluent with writing I promise. hope you enjoy this though I was gonna add Sunday but my computer is literally at 1 percent sooooooo....

- a lot of crying, minor swearing, besides that all comfort... wc 912

When Aventurine walked into your shared home to the sight of you sobbing on the couch, he thought of the worst. Are you hurt? Did something happen while he was at work? He went up to you to seek for answers.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He internally panicked, not wanting to allow you to see his current emotions. He kept calm as you sat up, tear stained face poking a hole through his battered heart.

“You’re gonna be so pissed!” You sob, somehow starting to cry even harder. You dove back into the warm cushions of the couch when you felt the part near your shins dip, and a hand running through your hair and massaging the back of your scalp.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be upset, I promise,” he gave you a sympathetic look before proceeding. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t push you.”

You hesitantly show him your bare hands, and he takes them in his. You roll over to face him and look at him with a pained expression, and that's when he seemed to realize. 

“Where's your wedding ring?” He said, his words quick. He looked at you slightly wide-eyed before you began bawling again. He began to swipe the tears out of your eyes, his thumb coming into contact with your lower lashes as he quietly attempts to hush you and calm you down.

“Was it stolen? Did you lose it?” 

You bring a hand up to your face before sniffling. “It got stolen. The diamond was too appealing to some bastard on the streets on Golden Hour, and it was swiped right off of my hand!” 

You curl back into yourself before Aventurine comes down to kiss your face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m beyond pissed off with the person who did that. Nobody seems to have even a drop of human decency these days, do they?” 

You slightly shrugged before hugging him close. He returned the hug, and held you there until you quietly whispered a question into his ear. “What are we going to do about the ring?”

He slightly chuckled before bringing his head on top of yours. “I might as well get you a new one. The old one was rather… out of date, if I must say so myself. I could get you a bigger, brighter diamond.”You attempted to protest, attempting to say everything he knew you wanted to say- even something made out of paper would be good enough for me. But he thought you were worth the shiniest, biggest, rarest stone in the world. Worth much much more than that. And this incident wasn’t much of a setback for him, and really didn’t make his wallet cry very hard at all.

Boothill doesn’t play when his significant other is not doing very well. He’s immediately at your side, stroking your hair and trying to do or say anything he can to make you feel better. 

But in this instance, it didn’t really work. He realized after a few moments that he just had to be patient, and wait for you to come to him,

“You’re going to be so mad at me if I told you,” you hiccuped, before continuing to talk. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“Why would I ever yell at ya’?” He said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Whatever's got your pretty face all stained with tears can’t be that bad. I hate gettin’ mad at ya’, and ya’ know that.”

You nodded, but dug your face deeper into the pillows. Boothill simply put his metal hand on your back, and rubbed up and down. While the sensation felt cold, it seemed to work to help calm you down because you felt more at ease, and he could tell that too. 

“I lost my wedding ring. I don’t know where it went, but one moment it was there and then the next it wasn’t on my hand anymore,” you cut out, trying to hold back more tears. You could see his face change from scared to relaxed.

“Hey, don’t stress it. That’s just a lil’ setback, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll either find it or I’ll buy ya’ a new one,” he says as he picks up your now bare hand, a flash of sadness showing through his eyes. “What’ll make ya’ feel better? Cuddles? If we went out to try n’ find it?”

You shrugged, and he nodded. You buried yourself even deeper into the blankets, giving him the hint that you just wanted to stay inside for now. You felt too bad and your face was rose red from crying, your eyes puffy and your voice raspy. He climbed into the bed with you, wrapping his strong, metallic arm around your covered torso. 

“I’ll do a thorough investigation tomorrow. People don’t usually lie to Galaxy Rangers, but I doubt those adorable cutie pies would know somethin’ like that,” he immediately cringed, realizing how the sentence came out. His stupid synesthesia beacon. 

But he heard you laugh, and the cringe feeling dissipated into a warmth in his metal chest. His whole goal is to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. If he were to fail at one of those things, he’d fail at his own purpose. For now, his only thing is to cheer you up, and make sure you know that he would never be mad at you for a mistake that's not even your fault.

[celesteleoves]

Request for Izuku coming to the readers dorm because he needed them to patch him up because training was tough and he decided to not go to recovery girl for some reason(basically just a patching up fic w izuku😭)

“NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN, I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HER.”

ೃ࿐ izuku midoriya x reader.

summary: what the ask says :)

disclaimers: established realtionship, izuku is silly…. mentions of bones being broken/other injuries, that’s all i believe! reader is kinda suggested to be female…

a/n: AWWW this might be my favourite ask yet! thank u 🤍 i hope i wrote this exactly to your liking.

—-

izuku hated relying on others. he never liked being a bother, even to those who insist he can always go to them if he ever needs anything). it’s one of his flaws, he thinks.

carrying the weight of one for all on his shoulders constantly was a reminder just how much he needed to learn how to be more independent. the broken bones, harsh sparring with his classmates, recovery girl visits. he really needs to learn how to patch himself up…

currently, he sat in his own dorm. groaning to himself as he moved slightly, muscles incredibly sore. the boy slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing the bruises and small cuts he received after training for hours. as he lifted his hands up to brush his hair back, he got an idea. a very smart one!

“she wouldn’t be too mad, right?” izuku mumbled to himself as he sluggishly stood up, making his way to your dorm.

the walk was long and treacherous (it’s a minute walk). as izuku finally stood in front of your dorm, he thought about your reaction. you are a very caring person. you’ll definitely be easygoing about this!

-

“are you kidding me izuku?!” your jaw dropped at the sight of your disheveled boyfriend who only smiled sheepishly. you immediately turned into scolding y/n mode, rambling on and on about how he should take it easy.

“i knew you’d be a bit mad… i’m sorry.”

your boyfriends words made you falter in your speech as you took in the weight of the situation. he had simply gone too far in training.

instead of going to someone else, he came to you? the thought made you frown in a caring matter. you looked at him closely. his eyes glistened, looking like he’s more hurt about your reaction instead from his own wounds. his white shirt had splotches of grass and dirt on it. you couldn’t help but feel responsible for your lover in this moment. you knew he only worked hard to be stronger for you and himself.

“come in, no- don’t lay on that. your shirt is covered with dirt. take it off!” you spoke to him in a exaggerated tone.

izuku froze in his movements, thinking about what you just said to him. he’s not in middle school anymore, why is he getting flustered right now?! izuku curses teenage hormones for existing.

rather too quickly for his liking: izuku’s face flushed and he nervously toyed with his shirt, “take it off?!”

“yes. babe.” you looked at him with a puzzled expression, holding a small first aid kit in your hand (you made it for izuku at the very start of the school year after learning that he often injures himself). “i need to see where your hurt.”

“oh… right!”

it took him a minute to compose himself, his shyness taking over as he carefully took off his shirt. the act made you almost want to laugh as you’ve seen him without a shirt on multiple occasions.

your giggly mood was completely knocked away when you took in the sight of a rather red slash on his lower abdomen.

you moved towards your boyfriend who sat against your bed frame, legs spread as if anticipating you to settle yourself in between them. that’s exactly what you did.

“whoa, what the hell happened here?”

“landed on a piece of rock while jumping… scratched myself. i already did hydrotherapy like you said, i didn’t have the materials to do anything else though.”

you hummed at his words, picking up a antibiotic and placing it on izukus wound with your right hand. he hissed at the sting and you rubbed his side with your left hand in an attempt to comfort him. it worked. izuku relaxed at the feeling of your touch on his skin.

the room was quiet, lights slightly dim, as you worked. placing gauze and then bandage around his abdomen, wrapping it twice for good measure.

you looked up, softly grabbing your boyfriends face and turning it left to right.

izuku stared at you with his bright green eyes and you blushed under his stare. you felt him toy with the bottom of your top, fiddling with the material.

“stop distracting me, i’m trying to check for cuts.”

“sorry! you’re just so pretty… and a really good doctor.”

you let a grin and cackle slip at his words. he laughed at your reaction, watching you carefully as you stood up. you moved towards your wardrobe and opened a drawer. izuku tilted his head in wonder, what were you doing?

you pulled out a shirt and a pair of pj pants. izuku intrigued at the items. those were both his, when had he put them in your drawer?

“oh, you left them after you slept here. i just figured i should give your stuff its own drawer.”

izuku hadn’t realized he spoke out loud and he only stared at you in silent shock. you were too good for him.

you tossed the clothes towards him as he rested against your pillows, staring at you in adoration.

“what?” you plopped down beside him, nudging his bicep as he looked down at you.

“you’re too good for me. thank you.”

you lit up at his loving words. if there was one thing izuku was perfect at, it was making you feel loved unconditionally no matter what.

“oh stop, you’re too good for me.”

“we could argue about this for hours, just accept it.”

“um no! everyone knows you’re too good for me.”

“i’ll start rambling about you if you don’t stop.”

“… and who says i wouldn’t like that?”

izuku paused, a grin slowly creeping up on his face at your serious expression.

you cracked, turning into a laughing fit and he laughed with you, holding you in his arms. the pain that he felt in his muscles not too long ago had seemingly faded away as soon as he held you in his embrace. your warmth and love felt as though it healed him.

izuku hated relying on others. but, he knows no matter what — you’ll always make sure he knows he can rely on you for anything.

[pearlymel]

Random troupes — genshin men

꒰ including ꒱: Diluc, Neuvillette, Kaveh, and Wriothesley.

꒰ warnings ꒱: fem! Reader, suggestiveness, fluff, a bit of angst, slight spoiler with Neuvillette and his origin.

꒰ notes ꒱: this one is pretty long, hope you still enjoy it <3

✰ Diluc—fake dating.

“… Say that again?” It takes Diluc a minute before he could register what you were saying. God, he was sweating so much, despite his hands being gloved, he still tried wiping them along the fabric of his pants.

“I want you to play as my fake boyfriend, just for today!” You repeat the words that were ringing in his head earlier. He swallows thickly, fingers adjusting his collar. It suddenly feels harder to breathe for him, he’s had feelings for you for so long that he already gave up about the idea of confessing to you, he thinks you deserve way better than him.

But now he gets to taste the feeling of being your partner, even just for today, being your fake boyfriend just to put a show in front of your friend who’s inviting you on a double date. Bringing your own date, of course.

“Please?” Oh the way you ask so eagerly, hand clutching his arm firmly without even realizing has him melting. He would never say no to you.

You see the way Diluc looks down at your hand,slowly following the line from your arm to your face. You also see how hesitant he looks, like he’s about to reject your offer when he gently removed your arm and takes your hand in his instead.

You’re prepared for him to say no, so you sigh in defeat, “no pressure, though. I can always ask Kaeya inst—“

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll agree to be your fake boyfriend.” He cuts you off with a firm tone, and his expression falls at the mention of Kaeya’s name slipping from your mouth. But he composes himself anyway.

“In one condition,” he says gruffly, and you nod with keen eyes, “If I’m doing this, then you cannot see anyone until this charade is finished. You won’t be allowed to… flirt with anyone else, or look at another person’s way...” He trails off, his grip on your hands tightening around yours. He just now thinks that his condition might seem a little too much that he feels a tiny bead of sweat fall from the back of his neck.

But when he tries to change his words again, you laugh in response, “deal.”

His eyes widen slightly when you easily agree, “you’re not even going to question it?”

He’s suddenly in front of you, backing you into the wall, his hands on either sides of your head, boxing you in. You’re confused, backing up accordingly until your back hits the cold concrete of the wall. He leans closer, his gaze intense, “you’re just going to accept what i said without protesting?”

“Yeah?” You answer with a confused shrug, his eyes narrow at your answer. “You’re too trusting.” He sighs, face almost as red as his hair that’s falling on the sides of his cheeks that you badly want to tuck in behind his ear.

“If i was a more self-reserving person, I could keep you like this forever, you know? I could keep you to myself, only to myself.” 

“But you’re not that type of guy.” 

Diluc looks at you steadily for a moment before sighing deeply, his head dropping forward, and his forehead gently bumps against yours.

“No, I’m not that type of guy.” Slowly, he lifts his head back up, one of his hands trailing a path from your shoulder to the crook of your elbow. The pads of his fingers just barely brush against your skin, making you shiver.

You try to smile despite the slightest touch that were doing an effect on you, “you’re the sweetest, you know?” His face turns even redder at your words, this is just getting embarrassing.

His hand then starts moving towards your neck, using the pad of his thumb to massage slow, deliberate circles there, and to his surprise, you lean more into his touch. His other hand find it’s way to your waist, pausing for a moment before wrapping his arm fully around your waist.

“You trust me that much?” He mutters lowly as his cheek rests on top of your head, his breath stirring your hair. 

“I’ve known you long enough.” You hum back, “even now, when I could do anything to you?” He asks firmly, now moving his face to your neck, his nose just barely grazing along your skin, “I know you wouldn’t, Diluc.” Your breath is caught in your throat.

“oh, sweetheart…” without warning, he placed both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up easily and pinning you against the wall with his body. His chest is flush against yours, his knee suddenly wedging between your legs which made you gasp, “Diluc—!” You tried balancing yourself on him, shifting uncomfortably around his knee while gripping his his shoulders and strands of his hair.

Diluc groans at the feeling of your hands on his hair, his own hands now slowly sliding up your body, starting at your hips then slowly up under your shirt, his touch leaving tingles in it’s wake.

“Is… this some sort of practice for being my fake boyfriend.” You ask quietly, this time your cheeks were the one brightening as you look down at him, his face resting in your neck while you gently stroke his crimson hair through your fingers.

He hates the word ‘fake’ boyfriend. Because everything he does feels real, this is real. He would never be this affectionate around anyone else.

“You can call it whatever you want…” all he can is just accept this until you seriously notice all his efforts towards you.

✰ Neuvillette—Arranged marriage.

You almost miss the way the clouds were significantly getting darker as your fingertips brush against the hard cover of your book. The book in your hands no longer entertaining you, so you make the move to close it and put it back where it belonged inside your bag.

When you step out of the café you were spending your afternoon at, a droplet of rain falls down to your cheek, followed by another then another, until it started pouring endlessly.

You frown at the change of weather, but not because the rain ruined your mood, but because you knew exactly the reason it started, and really, it breaks your heart.

You take note of the people who started taking shelter, some cursing at the inconvenience of the weather.

But a kid’s voice is what catches your attention, “hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry!” He repeats as he runs over a puddle of water. It was your turn to leave, making your way to the Palais Mermonia.

You don’t bother to knock when your main concern was Neuvillette, your head peeking in his office to see him standing by the window, his face somber, as if he had a lot on his mind.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon,” your soft voice snaps him out of his trance, turning around to see you making your way towards him, and he’s so stiff in his place. “Don’t cry…” you continue, repeating the little kid’s words.

When you stand in front of him, you offer him the solace of an embrace, immediately rushing to take him in your arms. Albeit it being awkward at first, Neuvillette starts getting used to the feeling, and eventually sinks in your arms.

“Forgive me,” he whispered ever so softly against your shoulder, “You are too kind. I am not deserving of your care and affection.” He sighs, trying to control the emotions raging in him. “Yet, here you are, tending to me once again.”

“You don’t have to always apologize to me, your feelings are valid.”

“I simply wish to express how grateful i am for you. I am aware as to how taxing my emotional outbursts are to you. You bear with them, and that is more than I could ever ask for.” Every word that leaves him feels like poetry in your ears. If you could just tell him how everything is going to be okay, how you are always there for him.

Then he sighs, “sometimes I question why you even stay.”

"I..." You pause, thinking of the answer as well. You've spent enough time with Neuvillette to observe how he acts, and he rarely shows vulnerability to anyone. Rarely displays any affection.

But soon he started opening to you, that's all it took for you to open your arms for him. "I'd rather stay than leave you alone and upset."

Neuvillette lifts his head to look at you, “But what about yourself?”

He brushes away a strand of hair from your face—something that is usually more common the other way around. “You put so much energy into comforting me. In the process, you lose a little of yourself. Please, do not neglect yourself in order to accommodate me.”

"Ah, not to worry." You brush his concern off and instead offer him a gentle smile.

"You opening up to me... Warms my heart even more.” When he observes your smile, Neuvillette’s expression softens, his shoulders relaxing from the weight he’s been carrying.

“You make me feel more at ease with your kind words. Even my emotions dare not oppose you.”

He sighs again, “Perhaps I should be thanking you once again, no?”

Your smile brightens, "You're my husband. I'm only doing my role as your wife."

At the mention of that, Neuvillette seems almost shocked. He blushes slightly, his cheeks tinted pink. “I—of course. That is, you are correct.”

He clears his throat, recollecting himself. “I simply… sometimes forget that fact. Forgive me.”

Looking at your face, he pauses for a moment, as if in deep thought. “… i might melt if you keep looking at me like that, Neuvi.” 

“What are you talking about—”

Neuvillette pauses, before his eyes widen. “—Oh.”

His cheeks grow red now in embarrassment. “I did not mean to stare. My thoughts got the better of me, I suppose I was just—”

He looks away from you, avoiding eye contact. “Forgive me once again. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable by… ogling you like that.”

You just laugh it off, your soft laughter ringing in his ears and he chuckles deeply in return. 

It’s only at that moment that you notice, the sun is starting to make it appearance again.

✰ Kaveh—exes to lovers.

It's almost pitiful, really. The sight of him like a lost puppy on your front door, all drunk, not even able to stand straight, was making your heart clench. He seemed even more miserable than you were.

"Where's Alhaitham? Wasn't he supposed to pick you up?" You ask in concern, looking around if he was accompanied with someone else.

Kaveh rolled his eyes at the mention of Alhaitham.

“Ugh, don’t talk about him,” he scoffed. “He refused to pick me up. How ridiculous. He said that my personal business is none of his!” he huffed, Placing his hands on the wall and attempted to get up. However, to no one’s surprise, he was not successful. "Kaveh," you grumble under your breath, now offering your arms for him steady himself on.

Kaveh seemed pleasantly surprised that you even offered your help. He grabbed your arms and immediately pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around you.

“Why are you even helping the man who dumped you?” He muttered, his head resting against your shoulder.

As far as you knew, it was Alhaitham’s “brilliant” idea to make you and Kaveh separate. He thought it would be better for you two for some reason you will never understand.

"Because you're drunk and I don't want you hurting yourself."

Kaveh hummed.

“How kind..” he murmured.

He then closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and resting his face onto your neck. He breathed in, and let out a tired sigh.

It was clear that he was completely exhausted.

"..." You're silent for a while, torn between wanting to push him away and leave him out in the cold streets of sumeru, or simply take him in your house for the night.

"Are you overworking again? Or your debt is piling up...?"

Kaveh froze at the mention of either of those things. He didn’t even need to answer you, his demeanor was more than enough. 

He inhaled sharply and held his breath for a moment. He slowly pulled away from you, glancing off to the side.

“Why do you even want to know?” He scowled bitterly. It was clear that even when he’s drunk, Kaveh still has his attitude.

"Because i care, unless you want me to throw you out." You reply back dryly.

“…That’s just so very cruel of you,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Kaveh has never been one to express his feelings very well. However, it was quite obvious that he did still have strong feelings for you.

“..I suppose I did overwork myself. With these stupid deadlines, I had to pull an all-nighter yesterday,” he answered bitterly. 

He leaned against one of your walls, trying his best to stare anywhere that wasn’t you.

"And you decided to drink your sorrows away again? How many times do i have to remind you not to do that..." you trail off, it now just seems like you're scolding him for his behaviour, not even realising the sharp tone coming from you. "Who would drink until they get drunk then show up to their ex's house at midnight?” You ask with your arms crossed.

Now he really didn’t have any answers for that.

There was clearly no reasonable way to argue such statement. Instead, he simply turned his head to the side and pouted like a child that was angry about something.

“Ugh, whatever,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“Don’t read into this,” he said. However, his actions were anything but convincing.

"you were my boyfriend, for god's sake. And i still love you."

He had heard you say those words to him several times in the past. However, hearing you say them to him now just hit different. It was almost hurtful to hear to him.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair yet again, refusing to look directly at you. “Now you choose to say that?” He muttered.

"Kaveh, you know what i mean. Stop being stubborn." You smile, stepping closer to take him in your arms again. Embracing him tightly and giving him that comfort once again. He immediately tensed when he felt you take him in your arms again.

he sighed and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to, or simply didn’t know how to.

"Do you want me back?"

“Why on earth would you ask a question so absurd?” He sighed and pulled away from you.

“Even if I did want that, it wouldn’t be good for you. You’re better off without me.” and that pout just makes your want to roll your eyes so bad.

"Shut it, i only want you." You playfully hit his shoulder, dragging him inside your house now.

"We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober, alright?"

✰ Wriothesley—Bodyguard x employer.

"Pretty please?" You bat your eyelashes at him to try and persuade him for you to attend this party you were so eager to go to.

"no can do." when he refused again, your shoulders slump.

The thing is, Wriothesley never annoyed you, but when he did, such as restrict you from even taking a walk outside, it made you want to pull your hair out.

"But—"

"No buts, princess." He cut you off with a huff, slowly starting to get irritated by your stubbornness. But you were even more frustrated.

"fine. Just take a walk with me around the garden then."

"that... I can let you." He said lazily, letting out a loud sigh before taking off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before opening the door. "Don't stray from my sight, and be careful. I won't be held responsible if you fall and hit your head on the cobblestones."

You try hiding your grin at his words, looking around the dark sky while wearing his soft and warm jacket. He watched as your eyes moved around the dark surroundings. His expression softened slightly when he saw you, but he didn't want to show it.

"You're quite stubborn, you know that? I wonder how many bodyguards your parents went through before they hired me?" he commented, trying to hide his light smile as he carefully observed you.

"Just a few, why? you jealous?" You ask teasingly, knowing the question was too silly. But you hope he plays along.

Despite him being serious all the time about his job, he knew when to be playful.

"Jealous? Why would a simple security guard be jealous of your extravagant lifestyle?" he smirked, walking alongside you. His footsteps synchronized with yours, "It's not like your previous bodyguards were of any relevance to me. They were clearly incompetent, and it's a wonder they even allowed you to wander around freely."

"Atleast they all went easy on me."

His smirk widened as he heard your remark, and he leaned towards you slightly.

"Now you're talking like a spoiled brat." he said, "You should thank me for looking after you. I am much more attentive and meticulous than any of your previous bodyguards."

You weren't a spoiled brat, were you? "I like to be treated like a princess, thank you very much." You snap back, hands resting on your hips.

And his let soft laugh surprised you, turning your attention to him as he rolled his eyes.

"Treated like a princess?" he repeated, amused by your request. "I'm here for your safety, not to pamper you. Don't push your luck, your highness. We're just here to go for a walk. You're lucky I'm allowing it."

"Oh wow, thank you for the crumbs of freedom." You say dramatically, the back of your hand over your forehead.

Wriothesley couldn't help but chuckle as he observed your theatrical gesture. He leaned closer to you, his smirk returning.

"Don't get too carried away, Princess. There are boundaries, and they're there for your own protection." he said, shaking his head in mock annoyance.

You roll your eyes at his words, but you hope he misses the way your cheeks tint a shade lighter with the familiar pet name.

"The weather is getting colder." You clear your throat.

"Yes, it should start snowing soon. The season is changing." he observes, noticing the light breeze in the air. "you're shivering. We should head back inside. You might catch a cold."

He walks closer to you, gently placing a hand on your back to guide you back to the estate. "But i still wanted to walk more with you."

His lips formed a small smile as he heard your response.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" he muttered, the corners of his mouth curved slightly upward. "But we should head back. You need to warm up. Your health is more important than a simple walk."

"Will you atleast kiss me goodnight?" You huff as you walk upstairs to your rooms, your pout evident on your face, his eyes widen at your request, and he brushes it off with a breathy laugh.

"Nice try, Princess, but no."

You ignore his words, laying flat on your soft mattress and covering yourself like a burrito with your blanket before waving him off so he can leave your room.

"Stop being so dramatic. You'll see me again." he said, sighing when you turn your back on him.

His heavy boots echo against the marbled floor as he steps closer to see your eyes closed, his corner of his lips curling slightly.

You almost flinch when you feel soft lips press against your forehead, but you keep your eyes shut tightly when he leans closer to your ear this time.

"goodnight, my lady." He whispers before taking his leave.

[burreauxsworld]

Ours To Keep (2) | Joe Burrow

Angst/Fluff

Summary: Joe doesn’t have the best reaction to your news, and it causes some tension between the two of you.

••••••

You stared at Joe in confusion as he laughed.

“Good one, Y/N” he says, still laughing. “But if you’re going to play a prank on me, at least come up with a better joke” he adds as he calms down. “Joe, I’m not joking” you tell him quietly. “The acting was seriously top tier. How have you never shown that to me before? I mean the tears looked so real-“

“Joe I’m not kidding. I’m not trying to play a prank on you” you cut him off. “I’ve been nauseous all week, my boobs are incredibly sore, and I missed my period over a week ago” you explain, and he lets out a sigh. “There’s no possible way you could be pregnant. You’re on birth control. You have that thing in your arm” he reminds you, smiling again. “I think you’re being paranoid” he says causing you to scoff.

“Joe, this is serious-“

“You’re not pregnant. You sound crazy” he says pulling back from you. “Have I been working you too hard? Maybe it’s stress. Take the rest of the day off-“

“That doesn’t explain the positive pregnancy test on my bathroom counter” you argue starting to get aggravated. “I’ve been ignoring it for weeks. Hoping maybe I was a little bit crazy. But we weren’t exactly the most careful-“

“So you’re turning this around on me?” Joe asks, his jaw clenched. “No, I’m not-“

“That’s how it sounds. You were irresponsible and now you’re paying the price for it and taking it out on me” he spits with his eyes full of anger. “Last time I checked it takes two people for something like this to happen. I didn’t have sex with myself” you retort and he scoffs. “How could you let this happen? Do you know how much shit this is going to cause? I don’t need this right now. I have to go back to practice, and to be honest I’m not sure I even want you here right now. You’re dismissed for the day” Joe walked out of the office leaving you stunned.

You knew he might not have the best reaction but you didn’t think it would be like this. Joe has never spoken to you that way, even when he was at his worst. With tears in your eyes, you gathered your bag and slowly began to make your way toward the parking lot.

You had a lot of things running through your head, but one rash thought lingered and it made you sick to your stomach. It was going to be a long night.

•••

Later that night, you’re sitting on your couch with your laptop open in your lap. You decided to throw yourself into work, and Joe had a foundation event coming up that Robin asked you to help organize. Even mad at him you couldn’t let this go undone. His foundation was one of the most important things to him, and you kept telling yourself you were more so doing this for his parents. You’re about halfway through editing the announcement picture that would eventually be posted to the foundations instagram, when you heard a knock at your door.

Furrowing your brows, and setting your laptop on the glass coffee table, you walked over to the door and looked through the peep-hole. Your heart lurched at the sight of him. You open the door, and the two of you stare at each other for about a minute.

“You’re not here to throw me down the stairs, are you?” You ask, half joking.

Joe rolls his eyes, “can I come in?”

You move to the side and let him into your home. He kicks his shoes off, knowing you don’t like shoes on your light colored carpet. “What’s up? Why’d you stop by?” You ask, a sigh escaping your lips. You know exactly why he’s here, but you wanted to see what he had to say for himself. “I went home today after practice and had some time to think. The way I treated you was wrong and just absolutely disgusting” he says, stepping toward you, and you take a step back.

“I deserve that.” He says running his hand through his hair. “I never should have blamed you for this. This is just as much my fault, if not more. You did your part being safe, I’m the one that decided not to use condoms. That’s on me. I want you to know how sorry I am about today,” Joe says. You guys never breaking eye contact.

“You’re probably terrified, and I didn’t make it any easier-“

“That’s for sure.” You mutter. “Joe, I never meant for this to happen. And I’ve done a lot of thinking myself. I’m going to keep this baby. I’m not asking you for any help, I’m not asking you for any money. I’m fully prepared to do this by myself. I’ve started looking for another job-“

“Hang on a second-“

“You can sign your rights away. We don’t even have to tell anyone that the baby is yours. You’ll have no ties to it” you ramble, and he shakes his head. “That’s not what I want.” He states, his voice firm. “This is my kid, Y/N. Not just something I can pretend doesn’t exist. I want to do this with you, if you’ll let me” he pleads, reaching out to grab your hand.

“You really hurt me today, Joe.” You told him. “You made me feel like I ruined your life”

“I know, and I regret everything I said to you. I can’t even put into words how sorry I am. You didn’t ruin my life. Neither one of us could have anticipated this happening” he assures you. “I am so so sorry” he says, pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug. “I’m still very upset with you. It’s going to take some time to fully forgive you” you tell him, and he frowns, but he understands.

“I have a doctors appointment in the morning, if you’d like to come” you offer. “It’s just to confirm everything and get a due date and all that fun stuff”

“I’ll drive and buy you breakfast” he says, looking down at you. “Speaking of food, I’m starving” you groan, and he lets out a laugh. “Alright, I guess I’ll feed you” he jokes, making his way to your kitchen. “Ooh, can you make that pasta that I like? I’m pretty sure I have all of the ingredients” you ask with pleading eyes.

“Yes, I can make you the pasta. Pick a movie, and shut that laptop. Work is over for the day” he orders.

“Sir, yes, sir”

•••

The Next Day

“Well congratulations, Y/N. You are indeed pregnant,” the doctor says, entering the room after your test results finally come back. “Both the urine and blood test came back positive. Judging by the numbers on your results it’s looking like you’re around 8 or 9 weeks pregnant, that’s around 2 months and a week.. Which would make your due date sometime in February, but we can’t be sure until we do an ultrasound” the doctor explains.

“The next course of action is going to be removing your nexplanon and doing an ultrasound” she explains.

You look over at Joe, who’s listening intently. He hasn’t said much since the two of you got here, but you’re giving him time. He wants to be involved, but he processes things a different way. You respect that.

“We can schedule the ultrasound for about a week from now. I don’t have any available ultrasound techs today. So I have a list of appointments, and you can choose what works best for you and your schedule. All of them are on Monday. There’s a 9am, 10am, 12pm, 3pm, and 4pm-“

“We can do Monday at 9am” Joe says, and you look over at him. “You have practice on Monday” you remind him. He shrugs. “We only watch film for the first two hours on Monday, you know that. They’ll be fine without me for an hour” he assures you. “We’ll do Monday at 9am” you tell the doctor, knowing Joe wasn’t going to let up.

“Perfect. Stop at the front desk to check out on your way back out. See you Monday. Congratulations, again” she smiles as she leaves the room. You look back over at Joe. “You okay?” You ask, and he nods. “I’m good. Now let’s go get you guys some breakfast,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads through your chest. You slip your hand in his and he leads you out of the room.

•••

“What can I get you guys to drink?”

“I’ll take a coffee with extra cream and sugar” you say, and Joe protests. “You can’t have coffee. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby” he says, and you shoot him a glare that’s strong enough to cut. The waitress looks between the two of you hesitantly. . “I can have a little bit of caffeine,” you argue, and look back at waitress. “Ignore him. I’ll have a coffee” you say with a smile. It’s Joe’s turn to roll his eyes, as he orders a water for himself.

Once the waitress walks away, you kick Joe’s shin under the table. “You’re not going to be one of those overprotective fathers who dictates what I eat, drink, and do. I’m an adult. I can handle myself”

He lets out a sigh, knowing not to argue because your hormones are high right now. “Please do your research before acting like a control freak. I can have up to 200 grams of caffeine a day,” you tell him, and he sighs. “I just want to keep the two of you safe,” he admits, and you start to feel bad for going off on him.

“I appreciate that, Joey, but we’re good. We can handle a little bit of caffeine” you assure him, a slight smile on your face. The waitress returns with your drinks, and the proceeds to ask if you’re ready to order your food. “Can I have two over medium eggs, with hash browns, and toast?” The waitress writes down your order, Joe looks confused, but orders his blueberry pancakes and the waitress goes to put the order in.

“You hate eggs,” Joe comments.

“The baby wants them.”

Joe laughs, tossing his head back. “What the baby wants, the baby gets”

~~~~~~~

Ahhh our guys won yesterday!! I’m so proud of them :)

[evie-sturns]

confession - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you show up at chris’s house completely drunk at 1am, the last thing he expects is for you to admit all your feelings for him.

contains: bestfriend!chris, drunk!reader, fluff, teasing.

——————————————————————————

12:54am

i definitely drank too much, the air around me seems to be spinning and my head is pounding, what better place to go then my bestfriend chris’s house? i’ve known him forever anyways, he shouldn’t mind.

i giggle to myself as i walk up the stairs to chris’s house, everything is funny at the moment, especially the little garden gnome he has right by his doorstep.

my minidress rides up my thighs, my hair is messy and in my eyes and i barely know where the fuck i am.

i twist the doorknob and open his front door, the whole house is dark except for a small light down the hallway.

i invite myself into his house, deciding to walk down the hallway to his room.

i trip over my feet a couple times before reaching his room.

i push open the door slowly to find chris, sat up against his headboard, the only light in his room being the screen of his phone, illuminating his features perfectly.

“y/n- how the fuck did you get in my house?” he speaks, his voice is filled with pure shock, i don’t blame him.

“oh- it was open.” i mumble, slurring my words with a small laugh at the end.

“you’re drunk? oh gosh.” he groans, standing up out of bed and jogging over to me.

his sweatpants are slung low around his hips, he’s shirtless, showing off his small happy trail.

“hey- did you know that my friend layla is pregnant!? how crazy is that.” i instantly start to yap,

he wraps his arm around my shoulder and guides me to his bed.

“and- and she’s like super pregnant aswell- who knew!” i shrug, flopping back onto chris’s matress.

“that’s crazyy” chris says, standing over me and inspecting me.

“i know right- and she didn’t even tell—“ i start but chris cuts me off.

“how much have you drank, seriously.” he asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“not a lot.” i lie,

“y/n..” he warns,

i instantly give in, “okay maybe a lot- but it’s okay cause it was a birthday party and you’re always meant to-“ i start but chris interrupts me again.

“do you feel like you might be sick hon?” he asks softly,

“no..” i mumble, manspreading on his bed.

he instantly walks over to me and subtly closes my legs,

“should we get you out of this tiny ass dress?” chris asks, tugging it down my thighs for a bit of modesty.

“yeah- i didn’t bring my sleepover bag though.” i say with a small pout,

chris laughs, “i wasn’t expecting you to bring your sleepover bag, wasn’t expecting ya in general!”

“sorry but it’s not my fault that i lost my phone so i couldn’t call an uber!” i whine

“you lost your phone?” he asks,

chris sorts through his closet to find me something to wear, before pulling out some sweatpants and one of his shirts.

“yeah but i’ll find it!” i grin widely,

chris walks over to me with the clothes he picked me out, “these look okay?” he asks,

“chrissuhhh! you know i don’t suit red!!” i groan, pulling the shirt he gave me out of his hands.

“do you want a different shirt?” chris says with a small laugh,

“no..” i mumble,

“let’s get you into these then,” he says, handing me the sweatpants

i stand up off the bed, before instantly tripping over into chris,

“oops- oh god.” he exclaims with a small smirk

“you want some help?” chris asks, his hands resting on my shoulders

“undress me chris.” i giggle with a wink,

chris shakes his head, “don’t eveeerr says that again.” he laughs.

“sorryyyy.” i smile, letting out a small hiccup from the alcohol

chris quickly tugs my dress up over my head, his eyes diverted to the side,

“i’m not looking- i swear..” he mutters,

he pulls the sweatpants up my hips,

“um- do you want to sleep in your bra or..” he whispers,

i shake my head, “take it off!” i say loudly with a exaggerated wink

he scoffs, wiping his eyes.

he unclasps it with ease, it drops to the floor and chris wastes no time pulling on the shirt.

“done.” he says proudly, kicking my dress to the side.

“let’s get you to bed.” he whispers, picking me up around my thighs and launching me onto his matress.

i squeal loudly, followed by a loud laugh.

“you have a lot of energy for somebody who’s been awake all night.” he grins, getting into bed beside me.

“wait! let me get back to my stories from the party-“ i start up again, chris rolls his eyes with a small smirk.

i tend to talk a LOT when i’m drunk, maybe even too much.

“okay so basically i was talking to uh- what’s her name? jen, i was talking to jen right and she’s just talking all this yap yap yap to me about her boyfriend being a bad boyfriend- and obviously i’m like single so i can’t relate to a word she’s saying but-“

i start, half of my words indistinguishable due to how slurred my speech is.

my mouth starts to move faster than my brain,

“so i told her, i was like- ‘babe i can’t relate’ and she was all like pissy at me! how crazy is that! she was like ‘not my fault that chris guy doesn’t want you’ that’s what she said!” i say with a small scoff,

chris nods, quite unsure of what i’m even saying.

“but- but i’m sure you want me chris.” i giggle,

“cause i really.. really want you and like i had a dream about you and it’s like apparently psychic shit if someone’s thinking about you they want you!” i exclaim,

“so if your thinking about me i’ll dream about you!” i finish,

“you really really want me?” chris says with a laugh,

i nod eagerly, completely unaware that i am talking too much, accidentally confessing.

“yeah- you’re so sexy! i wanted you for so loooong.” i giggle,

“funny joke sweetheart.” chris scoffs, pulling me to his side,

“it’s not even a joke anymore.” i laugh,

“want you ssooo bad, god i have for soo long chris” i say,

chris goes silent,

“you mean me? like you want me?” he says, sounding genuinely confused.

“yeah, i like you a lot!” i blurt out,

chris sits up to lock eyes with me,

“wait-“ i raise my voice, slamming a hand over my mouth as i realise what i’ve just said,

he looks down at me with raised eyebrows,

i shake my head as i keep the hand over my mouth, i bury my face into the pillow beside me,

“no- nonono- i wasn’t meant to say that!” i whine,

“shh,” chris says with a laugh, rubbing my shoulder.

“get some sleep sweetie, let’s talk in the morning, wake me up if you think you might vomit okay?” he says, laying down beside me.

i nod shakily, yawning.

i instantly pass out, my soft snores filling the room.

——

(The next morning)

i stir awake, my head pounding.

the warm sun seeps through the cracks in the curtains, shining directly into my eyes.

“you’re awake!” chris smiles, rubbing my back.

i sit up in bed, wiping my face.

“god i’m so hungover- how did i even get here what the fuck..” i mumbles,

“you showed up at a very late time.” he grins,

“one in the morning!” he follows up.

“oh god i’m so sorry.” i say with a croaky laugh.

i flop back down on the pillows, rolling over to face chris.

“you told me a secret last night.” chris says with a smirk,

my eyes widen, “what- what did i say.”

“i don’t think you meant it cause you were verryy drunk, but let me just tell ‘ya what you said.” chris grins,

“okay- okay fuck.” i groan,

“you said something along the lines of ‘chris i want you so bad you’re so sexy and that you’ve liked me for ages.” chris giggles, poking my sides.

my face goes red, “no i didn’t.”

“yes you definitely did.” he grins,

“oh god- i’m- i’m sorry-!” i groan, burying my face into the pillow,

“did you mean it?” he asks softly,

i pause,

i could just tell him i was drunk and wasn’t thinking straight- no.

“i might’ve meant it.” i whisper, “i didn’t mean to say that though.”

“yeah? you think i’m soo awesome.” he grins cheekily.

“yes, i like you a lot chris.” i whisper,

“you’re cute, y’know that?” chris smirks,

“god i can’t believe i confessed to you- not even while i was sober!” i scoff,

“at least you did.” he smiles,

the room goes silent.

i stare into chris’s eyes, my heart thumping

he grabs my chin, his thumb grazing over my lower lip.

“cmere.” he whispers,

chris sits up against the headboard,

i sit up aswell, crawling onto his lap.

i sit comfortably on his lap, my hands shaking nervously.

“don’t be nervous.” he whispers, his voice deep and hoarse now.

he keeps a firm grip on my chin,

he leans in?

i pause for a second, “i think i have morning breath.” i whisper

“you’re all good.” he grins,

chris presses his lips gently against mine.

oh my god.

i instantly deepen the kiss, my hand moving up to his jaw.

he keeps a hand on my ass,

he lets out a small groan into my lips, causing me to subconsciously rock my hips against him.

he pulls away softly, “can’t get too carried away.” he mutters, completely out of breath.

“sorry.” i grin,

“that was an unexpected way to start the morning.” i whisper,

he nods with a smirk, looking at me in awe.

he keeps his eyes fixed on my lips,

“i think it cured my hangover though.” i smile,

“you’re so pretty.” chris mutters, his eyes roaming over my face.

“i think i should get drunk more often and confess random shit to you, it seems to have a good outcome everytime.”

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

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[julietsf1]

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night (1.2k words)

Warnings: None :) wholesome vibes

AN: reminder to check your smoke alarm batteries!! kisses <3

__________________

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I called out, eyeing Franco with a mix of amusement and mild concern as he confidently moved around the small kitchen. His apron—bright red and definitely way too small—barely covered his front, leaving the rest of him looking like he’d outgrown it by several sizes.

Franco turned to me with a grin that oozed confidence, waving me off like he had it all under control. “Help? Please, I’ve got this. You’re in for the best dinner of your life, mi amor.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. His green eyes were sparkling with energy, despite the ridiculous apron that was comically snug around his waist. His fluffy brown hair, still slightly damp from his shower, bounced with every exaggerated movement he made as he whisked something in a bowl.

“I’m serious!” he continued, pointing the wooden spoon in my direction, like he was daring me to doubt him. “This pasta is going to blow your mind. My abuela used to make it for us, and I swear, the whole family would fight over it.”

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him in full-on ‘Franco Chef Mode,’ which mostly consisted of him yapping enthusiastically and throwing ingredients into the pan with dramatic flair. “Sounds amazing,” I teased. “You sure your abuela didn’t mention anything about using a bigger apron?”

He glanced down at his too-small apron and smirked. “I think it looks great,” he quipped with a wink, “Makes me look extra muscular.” With that, he turned back to the stove, tossing onions into the pan like a pro. Well, a very confident, slightly chaotic pro.

“So, where was I?” Franco rambled on, stirring the onions with a flourish. “Ah, sí. My abuela always had a secret ingredient for this dish—made it the best in all of Argentina.”

“Let me guess,” I said, already knowing what was coming. “Love?”

“Exactly!” He spun around, pointing the spoon at me again like he’d just revealed the greatest culinary secret of all time. “You’re catching on. It’s the love that makes it special.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched him. He was talking a mile a minute, bouncing between stories about his family and random facts about the pasta, his enthusiasm filling every corner of the kitchen.

“Oh! And one time I tried making this while camping with my cousins,” he continued, stirring the pan with far too much confidence. “We had no pans, no stove, nothing! So we made this big firepit ourselves, and I swear, we nearly set the tent on fire. But the pasta? Still amazing. Not to brag, but it was probably the best meal ever made on a camping trip.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Really? Best camping meal ever, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod, his voice filled with pride. “I think my cousins still talk about it to this day. Of course, they might have been a bit crazy from hunger after the hike and the whole nearly-burning-the-tent-down incident, but I’m pretty sure it was my cooking skills.”

“Uh-huh,” I teased, my eyes flicking to the stove, noticing the onions beginning to smoke. “Are you sure we’re not about to have a repeat of the tent fire here?”

Franco waved me off without even looking. “No way, mi amor. I’ve got this under control. Trust me, once I add the garlic and—wait, did I add the garlic yet? No, no, we’re good. Anyway, as I was saying, the key to any great dish is improvisation. You have to feel the ingredients, let them tell you what they need. You can’t follow a recipe too strictly, you know?”

“Uh-huh…” I tried to hide my smile, but the smell of something burning was unmistakable now.

“So, this one time in Argentina—”

“Franco!” I finally cut in, pointing toward the stove. “The onions!”

His eyes widened in shock. “Mierda!” He lunged for the stove, but it was too late. The onions were charred beyond recognition. With a dramatic sigh, he grabbed the pan, lifting it up to inspect the damage. “Okay, so maybe... I overestimated the heat a bit.”

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand. “A bit?”

Franco turned to me with a sheepish grin, still holding the smoking pan. “Hey, it’s all part of the process, right? Even the greatest chefs burn something every now and then.” He set the pan down with a shrug. “You know, I think this is fate telling us we should be eating takeout instead.”

“Oh, is that what it’s telling us?” I teased, stepping closer to peer into the burnt remains of his ‘famous’ recipe. “Your abuela’s going to be so proud.”

Franco groaned dramatically, setting the pan down with a defeated sigh. “Okay, so maybe my abuela wouldn’t be proud of this particular attempt.” He looked at me with that same sheepish grin, charming as ever despite the burnt onions. “But next time, I’ll definitely get it right.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving the mess on the stove a pointed glance. “Next time? Are you sure you’re up for it?”

He chuckled, pulling me closer by the waist, his hands warm against my skin. “I’m always up for a challenge, mi amor. Besides, I make up for it in other ways.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a soft, teasing kiss that left me smiling.

“Is that so?” I teased, tugging playfully on the string of his too-small apron. “Because right now, all I see is a confident chef... with no dinner.”

Franco smirked, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good thing I’m great at improvising, then. How about this: I’ll make it up to you with pizza—takeout, of course. No burnt onions, I promise.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really going for the easy option, huh?”

“Hey,” he said, leaning back to look at me, his grin widening. “Sometimes the best plan is knowing when to call it quits.” He pulled out his phone, already scrolling through the takeout options. “So, what’ll it be? Pizza? Sushi? Anything you want, I’ve got you covered.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. “Pizza sounds perfect.”

He laughed, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “Deal. But I’ll still win you over with my cooking skills one day. You’ll see.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that,” I teased, grinning as I pulled him in for another kiss—this one deeper, slower. His hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until there was no space between us, the warmth of his touch sending a flutter through my chest.

When we finally pulled apart, I smiled up at him, pretending to be unimpressed. “Okay, so maybe you’re better at this than cooking.”

Franco smirked, his confidence back in full force. “See? I told you I’m quite talented at some things.”

We settled onto the couch, Franco’s arm wrapped around me as he ordered the food. I snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

“You know,” I said after a moment, glancing up at him, “I think I’m kind of glad you burned the onions.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Glad? Really?”

I grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. Because honestly? I much prefer cuddling up with you here on the couch.”

Franco laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he kissed the top of my head. “Well, in that case, I might have to burn dinner more often.”

[mattybsgroupie]

late night rides 2 | matt sturniolo

contents: fwb; making out; (slightly) choking; oral (f receiving); p in v; use of “y/n”; lowkey sub!matt

- ♡ -

part 1

notes: idk why you guys liked this one so much but here’s part 2 of “late night rides”! not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes but thank you so much for all the love youve been sending me and my stories, it really means a lot <3 posting earlier this week cause it’s my finals at uni! gonna be crazy busy wish me luck!! btw just wondering should i make a taglist? would anyone be interested? lol let me know! enjoy!

- ♡ -

“i told you we gotta stop doing that” i said as soon as entered matt’s car, sitting next to him.

“yeah, i heard the first time” matt giggled, never taking me seriously. “good night to you too, princess”.

“good night, matty” i responded as i buckled my seatbelt, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “what did you tell your brothers?”

“that i was going to watch a movie by myself” he said as he started the car, checking if he was good to go by the rearview mirror.

“are you?” i teased, resting my hand on his right thigh. i could see his boner from miles away and he quickly tensed the muscle on his leg as i caressed my fingers over his jeans. matt stared at me, sarcastic blue eyes answering my question. “yeah? then where are you going?”

“somewhere i can fuck you, y/n” matt raised his voice, but still kept a jokeful tone. i rolled my eyes back and didn’t bother saying anything back, turning on the radio and adjusting the sound. “you look really pretty with that dress” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“but you’re crazy to take it off aren’t you?” i giggled, but matt actually nodded his head in disapproval. “nah, gonna go underneath the skirt” he said as finally found some alley for us to park, turning the car off and removing his seatbelt. “and i won’t even have to remove your panties” matt teased me, opening his door and coming to mine.

as he opened my side of the car, i couldn’t help but laugh at him acting like a gentleman. i stood up and leaned my back on the van, matt’s hands quickly coming to my waist. he smiled before tucking my hair behind my ear, the cold wind making the strands fall over my face. matt then leaned in, softly sealing our lips.

i melted into his touch. always gentle, matt’s digits traveled through my collarbones and shoulder before stoping by my neck, wrapping his fingers around it as he deepened the kiss. my breath instantly got heavier, matt tightening his grip as i bit his lower lip. when he noticed i’d have to pull out to get some hair, he loosened it, moving his hand to the back of my head instead. matt kept placing kisses over my face, soon going over my jaw and biting my ear.

“well, i know someone who likes coming in their pants way more than i do” i had to say. he was teasing me way too much, to the point i’d let him fuck me right there - in that fucking cold weather and in public.

“i might” matt said as he looked to the tent growing on his jeans. “it’s your fault for sending me that bra pic” he confessed, getting closer to me.

“oh, so you were a naughty boy?”

“n-no” he’d always break when i called him boy. baby boy, good boy, pretty boy, naughty boy - all of these would make matt submit in seconds. “haven’t since… last time” matt hid his face from me, snuggling into the crook of my neck. i widened my eyes as i realized it had been two weeks since our last encounter.

“matt” i called, grabbing his face with both hands. his lips were pouty and his blue orbs shiny, cheeks burning red - not really sure if it was from the weather or his shyness. “you don’t have to”.

“like better with you” he cut me off with a sudden kiss, giggling as he backed off like it was no big deal. “let’s get in?” he asked, already opening the back door for me.

i lied down on the seat, much more comfortable than the front one. matt soon entered, hovering over me as he placed both of his elbows next to my shoulders. i knew he was about to burst inside his pants, so as soon as he started kissing me, i traveled my hands down his torso, grabbing his belt and playing with the cold metal.

i closed my eyes, moving one my hands to matt’s neck, tugging my fingers on his curls while the other one stood by his boner, quickly unbuttoning his jeans. i palmed him through his underwear - completely wet. wasn’t even fair trying to tease him in such a situation, aching cock begging to get some relief. as i placed my digits on his waistband, matt suddenly denied with his head. “you first” he said, completely out of breath.

“matty, you seem like you could really use some help down there, hm?” i said, slightly stroking him.

“y/n” matt called, giving a kiss on my neck “i miss you” and with each phrase, another kiss trailed down my collarbones. “your smell, your body” he stopped by my chest, looking at me with puppy eyes, “your taste”.

matt got under my skirt, exactly as he said he would. his lips brushed against my thigh, making me hold my breath and pull my dress upwards. he touched me over my underwear, playing with my clit through the cloth and moving down to my entrance. before i could even think, his teeth meet my panties and matt started to removed them with his mouth. it was painfully slow, his blue eyes staring at me as he finally took them off completely.

matt gave me a long lick, starting at my hole and stopping by my clit before circling his tongue against it, teasing me. my hands went back to his hair, grabbing the curls as i lowered my body in the back seat in order to get some more friction.

matt’s licks got sloppier, his spit mixed with the wetness of my cunt making everything messier. “matt, be a good boy” i moaned and he instantly got it. he didn’t waste time, moving his tongue to my entrance and sliding in, slowly opening my walls.

matt’s grip on my hips got tighter, trying to keep me from moving around so much. i couldn’t help but hump against his face, matt’s nose almost touching my already swollen clit. realizing how needy i was, he quickly changed positions, one of his hands getting near my pussy.

his digits were soon teasing my entrance as his tongue travelled through my lower lips before sucking my clit and making me gasp, throwing my head back for finally getting some friction. as i clenched, he slid his middle finger into my tight hole, quickening his pace at my clit.

matt started humming something i couldn’t hear properly, my mind getting fuzzy as his finger curled inside of me. the vibrations from his voice made my pussy throb and the knot in my lower belly started to get tighter. my hands where everywhere - on his hair, shoulders, my own thighs, grabbing the leather of the seat as i whined. i couldn’t cover my moans anymore, begging for release when he entered another finger in, filling me up entirely.

“i’m gonna-” i was suddenly cut by his deep thrusts meeting my spot, whining loudly as my orgasm crashed down on me without any warning. my legs trembling against matt’s head only made the grip on my hips stronger and he kept on licking my release, making me spasm from the sensitiveness of my clit against his tongue.

matt realized i was getting overstimulated and finally stopped, showing off the biggest smile, face wet and lips red from eating me out.

“did i do good?” he asked, eager blue eyes meeting mine and sealing his lips on my own. i nodded between the kiss, smiling as he gave me a taste of myself.

“i told you’re always my good boy, matt” i said, caressing his hair, matt resting his head in my chest and laying over me. “you’re actually getting too good at this”.

“see? i’m not that naughty. only doing the best for the best” he joked back, giggling. i could feel his cock twitching over my pussy as we spoke, our heats rubbing against each other before he started another lewd kiss. i moved one of my hands to matt’s neck, my thumb applying pressure next to his addam’s apple. matt gulped and unconsciously jointed his hips forward, making me whine for the sudden contact at my exposed cunt. “fuck- sorry”

i loosened the grip on his neck and wrapped my legs around matt’s waist, bringing him closer to me. “didn’t you say you wanted to fuck me last time?” his blue eyes widened and he nodded frantically, wet spot growing on his pants. “so? you don’t want anymore?”

“i do!” matt said, loudest he’d been in hours, as if i was going to change my mind at any second. “i want it so bad i just- didn’t even… bring… protection” he whispered, disappointed at himself, hiding his face from me. before i could say it was okay - it wasn’t our first time and i loved it raw - matt started speaking again.

“i’ll pull it out! i promise, i’ll be a good boy and i’ll take it off” i nodded, reassuring him. “i don’t even have to cum, i can jack off in my hand afterwards i just- just need you. need you so much, y/n”.

i cut him off by moving my hands to his jeans, getting rid of the belt that had been bothering me all this time. matt was now only in his boxers and i quickly wrapped my fingers around his lenght.

matt's cock was rock hard, leaking pre-cum all over his shaft. i pumped him a few times, matt closing his eyes and groaning in my neck before i finally removed it from his underwear. his body kept glued on mine and i could feel matt's tip rubbing against my clit, both of us moaning at the same time.

my nails went to his back, scratching him as he kept on teasing my pussy. “can i?” he asked, not waiting for the answer he knew it would be yes, fuck, for christ's sake, just fuck me and gradually burying himself inside of me. i felt matt's cock stretching me completly, his veins throbbing against my walls.

“you're s-so fucking tight” he said under his breath, biting my earlobe.

“gosh, matt” i whined, trying to get used to his size.

matt started to move his hips slowly, allowing me to feel all of him entering my cunt. matt had been hard since i got into the car, so i knew he wasn’t gonna last long. he rapidly got worked up, not being able to keep the pace of his thrusts, pounding into me mindlessly.

i could feel his dick twitching, bringing me closer to come once more. “wanna cum” he whimpered. “please, wanna cum for you”.

“you can come baby boy, come inside of- fuck, yes!” as i gave him permission, matt released his thick spurt, filling me up with his cum. this threw me off the edge, another orgasm fully hitting me, making me tremble under him as my toes curled and i arched my back. matt panted heavily and quickly got out off me, his swollen tip leaking over my thighs and skirt.

just when we were coming from our highs, matt’s cellphone started ringing. we both grunted, annoyed by the interruption. “i’m not picking it up” he said, looking at me and kissing my cheek.

“you fucked my dress” i answered, coming back to my senses and realizing he had completely ruined it, from top to bottom.

“i’ll buy you a new dress each time we have sex” he giggled, looking at the mess he made. “how does that sound?” i showed him my pinky finger, making he promise me that he could destroy any cloth he wanted if he bought another one. we interlocked our fingers and sealed or lips together once more, laughing at the cheesy act we had just done.

“y/n” he called. “i think i’m in love with you”

“oh, shut the fuck up matthew” i giggled, pulling his hair and moving him off me.

i couldn’t let him know that this caught me off guard. i couldn't say how he’d make my heart beat faster, and i could never confess it out loud, but deep down i knew.

i was in love with him too.

- ♡ -

[stark-ironman]

I am in love with your writing, and I am also OBSESSED with Hugh, I simply need to give this man five children, anyway, could you please do something with Hugh now, with a younger girlfriend, maybe 21? She's getting pregnant for the first time and being scared, and Hugh is there for her as the sweet and loving man he is 🙏🏻❤️ plss, sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language, tkss

I'll be there for you

A/N: I loved writing this! I wish it was longer but I might come around and do another part to this. I hope you like it! Always remember you can send in more requests!

Warnings: Accidental pregnancy, age gap (reader is 21, I made Hugh 51)

Positive +

Your breath hitches as you look at the four tests laying on the counter. This wasn't supposed to happen, not when you and Hugh made sure to be really careful when having sex because you two agreed on just being friends with benefits, nothing more. There's absolutely no way he wants to have a baby at his age. Not that he's too old but you know he's had other plans for his life that never involved a baby.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you from your thoughts and you read it.

"Come over when you get done. I want to see you." Hugh texts, making you start panicking. Fuck, fuck, fuck... what are you going to tell him? Better yet, how?

Taking a deep breath, you stick the tests in a bag and drive over to Hugh's place, a little slower than normal but you arrive faster than you planned.

"Great to see you, love." Hugh smiles as he hugs you, letting you walk inside and you give him a small smile. "Do you need to put the stuff in the bag up?" He asks. You start fidgeting with the bag, feeling your heartbeat and breath start picking back up.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?" Hugh starts immediately asking, pulling you in for a hug. Apologies fall from your mouth as tears run down your face, handing him the bag.

He looks at you confused but opens it, pulling the test out while you try to read his face for any kind of emotion. "You're pregnant?" His voice is hoarse as he continues to stare at it. "Yeah, I found it when you texted me earlier." You sniffle, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Well, what do you think about it?" He asks.

"I don't know. I know you didn't want anymore kids, especially with someone as young as me. I wasn't even sure if I wanted kids and now..." Your voice trails off and he motions for you to continue, "Now I want to keep the baby. I know you probably don't want to but I'll raise the baby by myself and I-" Hugh cuts you off by kissing you, running his hand through your hair.

"I never thought I would want kids again but being with you these past several months has made me question what I want out of life. I know I'm too old for you.. fuck, we probably should've never gotten together but I can't help but feel a deep love for you. I've loved you for a long time now but I was okay with being your fuck buddy. I want this life with you and our baby too. We can have as many babies as you want if it meant I get to be with you." Hugh confesses, not caring that he's rambling.

You stand on your tiptoes, kissing him softly. "I love you too, Hugh. I want this life with you. I've never cared about your age and that won't change, ever." He smiles at you, leaning down and pressing his lips against your stomach.

[yanderefarm]

could I perhaps be goofy silly and request skott bullying.........

skott x mean supervisor!male reader

hehehehehehehehehe

ok but the funny part is after you sent this i thought of something and i was like... no thats too far. censoring myself after what id already said.

a lot of the meaner bullying comes at the end. also. whore skott is real he told me

cw; violence, electrocution, nsft, bully reader, power dynamics (you're his supervisor), dub con because of said power dynamics? i guess

your pathetic, stupid, horrible subordinate had just come crawling back to you from aurum alley. again. it was one thing to screw the ipc on the deal to begin with, it was humiliating to have the video of someone under your command barking like a dog spread across the entire star system, it was degrading when your bosses chewed you out for his poor treatment of the xianzhou natives. to do it all again? for no reason? skott should have died to the amateur swordsman. that would have been better.

you watched the video of the man squealing like a pig, your face twisted into a scowl at the disgusting sight. fucking skott. you looked from your screen, the sound of his squealing still playing as you eyed up the man in front of you. skott had his head held low, clearly aware of how much trouble he was in. you tapped your boot against the ground impatiently as his squealing seemed to only get louder. your teeth clenched together as you suppressed all the cruel words that you wanted so badly to spit at him. finally after what felt like an eternity of the squealing, the angry silence, the clenching of teeth, you took a deep breath and calmed yourself down.

"there are a lot of things that I could say to you. there are so many words i could call you. i could fire you right now." you paused the video as you spoke calmly.

"p-please i-" skott started in his way that made you want to grind your teeth again.

"stop. i won't fire you. in fact i think you've earned yourself a little promotion." you gave a small smile as you opened your desk drawer.

"oh- oh! w-well thank you so much sir i-" he was cut off again when you put a heavy collar on your desk in front of him.

"you should be grateful skott, all this time you've been a stupid stray dog running around freely. you need an owner, in fact i think you've been begging for it." you gestured for him to come closer. skott's eyes went to the collar and then you and he swallowed hard.

"this is unprofessional i-i could report you to-"

"oh please. don't act like you don't want this. i see how you eye up my desk, how you examine the width of my office. i know how hungry you are to climb the ranks." you rapt your fingers against your desk, each soft thud against the desk like another rock against a glass door. "you would sell out your girlfriend and now you're not going to play dog with me? just think, skott. you could be a good doggy for a few months and gather all this evidence of my HR violation. maybe they'd reward you with my position. with my office."

each word is like music to the power hungry idiots ears. if he had any brain he might stop and think for a second about why you're so willing to put your job on the line just to get your rocks off. of course dogs aren't smart enough to think. just like you expected skott moved to your side of the desk. before you could even open your mouth to tell him to he got on his knees in front of you. he wanted this so bad, its evident behind his golden eyes. his desire. his need. you reached down and pulled away his stupid glasses exposing his soul to your cruel gaze.

"good boy." you coo at him as you grabbed the collar.

skott didn't reply but his cheeks were red and his eyes closed in anticipation. you wasted no time clasping the black collar around his neck. a soft gasp leaving his lips as it adjusted itself to fit him perfectly, you hummed in approval. one of your hands moved from his neck to his hair and you ran it through the surprisingly soft locks. you sat there petting him for a minute, his head naturally moving to rest on your lap. you could already see the wheels in his head turning around how to bring your downfall. he's kind of cute when he's not talking. maybe instead of just ruining his life you really could train him to be a good obedient doggy.

the best start would be to break his already weak spirit. your fingers stopped in his hair and you pulled on it hard causing his eyes to shoot open as a yelp left his lips. you clicked your tongue at him before shushing him.

"don't be noisy doggy." you cooed as you guided his head from your lap to between your legs. one of your legs rested on his shoulder, the heel of your boot digging into his back.

the expression of embarrassment and disbelief that painted his face was so cute you found it hard not to laugh. he had opened his mouth to try to say something but clearly the words were lost on him as he stumbled over various exasperated sounds. yeah he's cute until he opens his stupid mouth. you pushed his head down onto your bulge, his hung open lips finding place around the outline of your shaft. a whimper left his throat but he didn't complain again, in fact you didn't even need to tell him what to do. his mouth so naturally began to move along your bulge, tongue pressing against your uniform all too eagerly. you couldn't help but wonder how many times had he done this? how often did pretty little skott drop to his knees for a promotion?

"you're such a fuckin slut." you groaned at him, your tight grip on his hair pushing his head down until you could feel his nose press against your belt. "who did you fuck to get here skotty? i might get jealous if i find out you're someone else's dog too."

skott tried to answer but you didn't let him up. instead your free hand began to undo your belt as you made him drag his tongue along your massive length. when his lips met your tip resting against your thigh he sucked greedily on it. it was hard to tell if the spot that formed was your precum or his drool. you moaned as you pulled your belt free and discarded it on the floor.

"slut."

skott didn't even look embarrassed anymore, more dazed and hungry if anything. you let his head go expecting to hear him complain about how inappropriate this was, or maybe defend himself from being called a slut. he didn't. he sat there patiently waiting for you to pull your cock out. fuck it was hot. you undid your pants and pulled down your underwear enough for your cock to spring free. you slapped the tip against his cheek and all too eagerly skott attempted to take it in his mouth. you gripped his hair again and held him still.

"beg, doggy." you ordered before the desperate whore got the taste of your cock.

"i-i.. uh.. pl-" you cut off his pathetic yammering with a harsh tug to his hair.

"doggies don't talk." you reminded him. it was funny the way his dazed, cock hungry eyes refocused into shock and confusion.

he started whimpering. he started whimpering way too easily and way too dog like. he really was some kind of kinky pervert who got off on being treated like a dog wasn't he? did he keep picking fights so that he would be publicly humiliated? what a pervert. his tongue hung from his mouth in between his all too accurate whimpering. you decided to humor him, waiting for his tongue to hang out again before you pressed your tip against it. the moment your cock touched his tongue he took it in his mouth so eagerly, his warm wet mouth closing tight around you as his tongue circled your tip. he knew how to give head. not just knew about it, he was good at giving head.

"jesus you really are such a fu-fuckin whore" you thought you could keep your composure but he was too good at this.

he took your cock back to his throat and he gagged on it a little bit before he relaxed and took your whole length down his throat, his nose pressed against your skin. then he pulled his head back and sucked and licked at your tip again. as he began the process of bobbing his head up and down he let his teeth ever so lightly brush against your skin. it was like a pornstar. he even sounded like a pornstar, the wet sound of your cock pounding into his face, the moaning that accompanied it, and the delightful sound of him always gagging a little bit. he pulled his head up, coming up for air as his hand wrapped around your cock and continued stroking your length as his swollen lips kissed the tip like he was trying to make out with it.

"fu- fuck skott you love cock that much..? you want me to cum all over your face?" you couldn't believe how quickly he had gotten you to the edge. your tip was swollen and red and dripping as skott eagerly licked up every drop.

skott didn't talk, instead he opened his mouth and pressed your tip against it while letting out a cute doggy whimper.

"inside, pretty boy?" you were met with a nod.

you reached down and began stroking your cock against his tongue as he eagerly held it open. he was even panting like a dog. you grunted as your cum finally sprayed across his tongue and into his mouth. you were gonna tell him to swallow after you caught your breath but he didn't need to be told. you watched skott's adams apple bob as he swallowed hard before opening his mouth again to show you it was empty.

"where... where the fuck did you learn that?" you could feel your cock twitch at just the sight of him, how messy and undone his face looked.

"i don't have to tell you about my personal life." oh god there was his smug attitude again. you let go of his hair and grabbed his face instead.

"you want to try that again, mutt?" you asked, regaining your composure.

"this was fun, i won't lie. i can assume "being your dog" will be similar things along with running errands and getting coffee. i'll begin saving samples of your dna starting next time." he was so fucking smug as he straightened his clothes and began looking for his glasses. "please try not to trash my office while you're still here."

you watched him put his stupid glasses back on and get up. you were stunned to say the least, surprised by his nonchalance and annoyed in equal measure. you were about to say something as he headed towards the door when he stopped in the middle of the room and turned back to you.

"oh i almost forgot you can t-" he had reached to remove the collar around his neck when it sent an electric current through his body causing him to scream and collapse on the ground.

you started laughing, his scream brought you to your senses from his stupid haughty attitude. you fixed yourself and buckled your pants, leaving your belt off. instead you grabbed the thick leather material and folded it in half. you got up and walked over to where skott lay twitching on the floor, tears in his eyes. you laughed again as you nudged him with your boot.

"oh you almost had me, doggy. i thought you were actually smart for a minute." you brought your boot heel down on his leg, grinding into him and bringing another scream from his throat. you smacked your belt against your free hand a sadistic smile on your face.

"im gonna teach you what happens to bad dogs"

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Author’s Note: *F/C = your fav color* I'm enjoying writing this so much that I've been writing in ALL of my free time!! :) Have more parts started already so hopefully I won't keep you all waiting too long!

Summary: Maybe if you pretend to be alright, then it will be?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions scars, let me know if I need to add any others :)

The next morning you woke up determined. You would prove to everyone that you were ok. But first, you would need to get out of bed, bathe, and then get dressed... all on your own.

You slowly dragged yourself out of bed, your bones creaking from the lack of movement for so long. Madja may have healed you but you could still feel a lot of the pain. And there were large welts over your body where the deepest cuts had been. You would have some pretty nasty scars soon.

It took way too long to get up and walk towards the bath. You might never make it down to the group if you don't get dressed and go right now. So opting out of bathing, which may have not been the best idea, you grabbed some clothes instead. You got dressed in what you would normally wear. Because you needed everything to be normal.

You slipped a nice F/C dress on, brushed down your hair and braided it back. You walked over to the mirror in your room to check yourself over and that's when you really saw the marks covering your arms.

You gasped and ran your fingers over each mark. Air seems to vanish from your lungs and tears sprang to your eyes. No. You grabbed a hold of that feeling and shoved it deep down inside of you. You would not break.

You heard a creak and whipped your head around to see the shadowsinger standing there. You don't know how long he was there but you knew he made the noise on purpose to make himself known. You watched as his eyes moved along your arms, surely he was disgusted with you.

"Y/N-" He started

"Stop" You interrupted him

He cleared his throat, then waited a minute, "I uh came to see if you needed anything, I can bring you some food" the male gently spoke

"No thank you, I'll be joining you all today. I'll be down in a minute" you gave him a smile, hoping he would buy it.

He eyed you suspiciously but didn't push any further and left your room.

Grabbing a sweater to cover up as many of the marks as you could, you began downstairs. The stairs were just another challenge you needed to get through. You managed to make it down one deep breath at a time.

Before you entered the kitchen, you forced a smile on your face. Walking to grab some coffee, you could feel all eyes on you. Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, Elain, Amren, and even Lucien were all watching your every move.

"You got yourself dressed and came down on your own." Rhys stated simply

"I am not a child. I know how to clothe myself," You snapped at him, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it... I just..."

"Y/N I found the most interesting book on the history of the Day Court but it appears to be in one of their old languages. I was wondering if you could help me translate it?" Lucien asked

You felt grateful to the male for changing the subject.

"Yes, I would love to help" you were happy to have something to focus on

You didn't notice Azriel looking between you and Lucien, softly glaring at the male.

As you went to sit at the table, you stumbled slightly, a sharp pain shooting up your leg. Everyone jumped up to help you.

"I'm fine, just tripped on my dress. Seriously, I promise" you gave a small smile to them all as you sat at the table.

You could feel a small shadow wrapping around your ankle and climbing your leg exactly where the pain had been. You smiled softly at the comfort, then remembered that you didn't mean enough to him for him to even show up. A scowl quickly overtook your face and you shooed the shadow away.

Conversation started amongst everyone. You were sat next to Nesta, who started telling you about her most recent smutty book she had read. At least she was treating you like everything was normal.

Besides the fact that you could barely look at Az, you wanted to forgive him. You wanted to take his guilt away but that was a lot harder than it seemed. Avoiding him seemed to be the best option for now.

Eventually everyone started heading off to whatever work they had to accomplish that day. Azriel took off in search of any answers. You, Rhy, Cass, and Lucien were left at the table.

"Until we can figure out why this happened to you, we think its best you stay here, where you're safe" Rhys said

"I will stay with you and we can do research from the house so you'll still be helping" Lucien added

You were about to reluctantly agree, knowing your limits, when Azriel's shadows started to appear and their master not too far behind.

"Eris is here" he said coldly

"Bring him in and be nice. He's the reason y/n is alive." Rhys replied

The spymaster returned quickly with Eris.

"Y/n I had no idea that was going to happen, I need you all to believe that." Eris started out

"Why have you been ignoring our requests to meet?" Rhys countered

"I was trying to figure out what was going on, just like you. These past few days have been rough. I couldn't just go around asking questions, it would raise suspicion... But, I figured out why they attacked and kidnapped her." the autumn court male stated

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[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 3

[prompt: fingering] male reader x kim chaewon 2.5k words

Chaewon hates that you’re actually good at this.

To be clear, there’s plenty more that Chaewon hates; it’s not exhaustive, just that bit.

She hates losing. Hates whenever anyone talks over her or doesn't give a second's worth of attention to whatever it is she's trying to say. She absolutely loathes it whenever her friends insist on complimenting her appearance when she doesn't have her clothes or makeup or hair or attitude down just yet.

But the thing she hates most? There's reason to believe it might be that her friends laugh at your jokes, or that when you roll up your sleeves and smile, they all notice things they normally wouldn't (and like it), even when Chaewon fixes them a look just this side of sour and scowly.

Realistically however, and Chaewon doesn't seem to mind admitting this part out loud - especially once you stop teasing her thighs with kisses that tickle the crease where her legs meet her hips - you really are good at going down on girls.

This, is absolute truth.

"Fuck," and "me," she breathes out, harsh little syllables coming with her fingertips knotting into your hair, right above the nape of your neck. She crashes down into the pillow behind her. Back and hips tensing - thighs all spread wide. She probably gives a bit too much, but Chaewon's the kind who gives, then turns around to take some more:

"You can-" is cut short when she gasps at the sudden, slow touch of a finger at the sensitive bundle of nerves atop her folds. There and back. "Ah - a little more, fuck, god. Again."

It's your mouth. The exact right movements - pulling and kissing, sucking gently, fluttering your tongue. Then harder and harder and harder, licking against the crease. That's what has her toes curling and feet flat to the bed. Little fistfuls of cotton sheets twisted up in her grip.

Actually, It's the flat of your tongue, soft and slick and moving on her clit in these long and languid sweeps that really makes the tears in her eyes begin to sting - like all that ache around her pussy is nothing compared to the one simmering in her stomach - like if only she could unwind around you a little bit faster and have her body turn to water and utterly ruin your sheets, she could catch her breath - and find her voice again.

You pull her puffy lips into a kiss, a devilish little suction, and her thighs press tighter and tighter together, around the sides of your head until you start to get a little dizzy. With a hand splayed open across her thigh - a tiny tickling gesture - you urge her to spread. Beg for breath.

Only to your surprise, she closes her legs completely.

"Asshole. Fuck," Chaewon sighs out.

"Did you think you'd lose me?" You kiss your way up from her hips to the flat of her stomach and grin into her skin.

"Was about to kick you," she rolls her eyes, then raises an arm and pushes her bangs off her forehead - wiping a sheen of sweat with the back of her palm. "No mouth."

"No mouth?" You cock your head, giving her an innocently questioning look.

"It's..." Chaewon is barely a hair's length away from what you expect. "Don't kiss me either. Unless you wanna make out, in which case actually, the answer's also no. I don't want to taste myself."

"Chae, you actually taste pretty good."

"Stop." Chaewon's sigh has a lilt, something obviously worried in the noise. Tucked into the shape of her half-lidded eyes. "I'm literally too turned on for this."

"So you want me to touch you."

Here’s to that what Chaewon doesn't say, "I want you to stick three of those fingers into my pussy and fill me 'til the knuckle and eat my ass while your thumb is tucked deep in my cunt. I want it to hurt, how badly I'm aching for you to fill and ruin and tear me the fuck apart."

She instead asks, "what the fuck do you think?"

"But no mouth," you repeat, slowly running your fingers down the creamy skin along her thigh, watching how she shivers when you brush a certain spot near her knee, and feeling a tightening grip on the opposite hip.

Chaewon groans a bit, lips twisting down.

"Can I perhaps, like, ask why?" you ask, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses into the flesh of her leg, down from her knee, over the curve of a thigh - but not, determinedly, into her where she's hotter and softer and practically melting, from all this pressure built up inside.

"Mind your own business," she mutters back.

You look. Chaewon's pussy is so, so pretty. Wetness gathering at the glistening, flushed hood. She's fluttering: desperate for the faintest touch. It's hard to imagine yourself doing anything other than making her writhe and gasp and wail on your mouth and lips and tongue, as your undoing - reducing her to an exhausted, sweat-drenched, wracked mess, the kind of spent that follows with long, long sighs and whispered curses under her breath.

With a fingertip ghosting touches around her cunt, Chaewon lets out an unexpectedly high-pitched whine. One that fades, bit by bit. Into an eventual murmuring - begging?

"Baby," you say, when you just can't resist. "I just want to make you-"

"I said, I wanted-I want-" and then with the pillow over her face, her groan, muffled, "look - it's fine. It's...great, even," is what you think she means by "amazing," but she continues, "you're literally the best thing I've ever felt, please. Fuck-come on. Keep touching."

You slow your hand, smoothing down the soft skin over her thighs.

And as soon as your lips cover her hole, from where she's wet and dripping and open, her hands fall to her side, pillow sliding into the corner of the sheets. "It's too good."

You're kidding. With a tip of your head, and your most self-satisfied little smirk, you ask, "too good?"

"Can you shut the fuck up, I hate you. I really fucking do," she says in what you figure was meant to be a dismissive sigh. One that's something stuck in a guttural moan and the squeak of mattress springs. "Please, you make me cum too fast otherwise."

You chuckle, trying your damnedest not to keep the mood going and actually get her to enjoy the moment - the best orgasm of her life, you want her to remember. To deserve the bragging rights.

“Odd complaint, princess.”

The stare she has fixed on you - over the space where her shirt is bunched up over the arch of her ribs - cuts right through you, if a bit hazy. And with her hands over her face, squirming her hips closer to you, she says, “don’t fucking call me princess.”

The implication is not lost on her. You let out an apologetic laugh, bringing your mouth, if briefly, closer to the peak of her hips and blowing a cold breath.

Chaewon just mutters something that sounds vaguely like, "fucking prick, just go back down."

Which is where she ends up. Or, starts. Because now she's lying back on the pillows with her hand slung across her forehead, leg up and bent and calf draped over the crook of your elbow, her eyes rolling back as you start to touch her - really, earnestly; work her up again, thumb rubbing the length of her clit. You can hear Chaewon's breath leaving her chest, in a broken pattern, until the sensations finally allow her to settle into one smooth inhale.

And then, slowly, just the length of one finger up to your first knuckle, the second - you slip inside her so, so easily. Then almost all the way. Her body tense, and her cunt, deliciously soft.

When you stroke and rub and slide your way back in, adding another digit, the noises she begins to make - your name, then god - sound raw, like a far-off cry and a drawn-out wail. There's a swishing sound whenever you get really slow and rhythmic, with the push, that turns slick-wet from the hot, milky way her insides get all sticky with her own want, before you can press more kisses into the bone of her hips and lap against the same skin - almost biting.

"Tell me if you want to stop," you whisper, the hot, humid breath of which does not fail to cause her spine to bend.

"Don't."

She's half-swearing, half-whimpering.

"Fuck you," is what follows next. As she wraps a hand in the hair around the base of your skull and pulls you close, right into her thighs and hips.

It's the small pleasures that have always gotten to you the most, the smallest, most vulnerable and unthinkingly personal acts, like, you think, when she presses the heel of her hand over her eyes and half-smiles, when the palm spreads out across the flatness of her stomach, as if, somehow, her whole self could not be any more delicate and devious at the exact same time.

And you are compelled, because of course, you are compelled: to be anything and everything Chaewon asks for in this moment, you tell her.

(Here's the embarrassing part. For her, really.)

You have your thumb tucked up along the muscle of Chaewon's thighs, opening and stroking a straight line from where your finger is still nestled all the way up the entirety of her folds, "so good and so," before circling the tensed point in a delicate, feather-touch, "tight, baby."

"Shit, oh, that's. You're." And all you do is hum, agreeing, adding another stroke and letting your lips fall into her open thigh. Your finger fucking her cunt a few times before twisting back and pulling out.

"You're making me feel so," and her whole body relaxes. Not only her voice. A shudder that breaks up her spine and spreads to her thighs, loosening. And looser and looser.

And at the exact same time she's saying: "hot."

Chaewon runs the pad of her thumb over her lip, bucking her hips into the flutter of your fingers. The soft, velvety heat of her cunt takes quickly to the slow circle-stroke, slide and curl, repeat, again. Her whine is longer, louder. More-so once her whole body tightens up once your fingers fuck into her, especially deep, in short-rhythmic staccato strokes, rubbing at her from the inside until she's shaking all over and can hardly breathe.

"Fuck, the way you're so-" Chaewon's heels digging deeper, "oh, deeper. Right there, please right there–."

This isn't even the worst of her embarrassment. When her stomach gets visibly tensed, muscles bunching and giving, and your free hand falls to rest on top of it. All this friction happening within her. Just beneath the surface of her skin and how that must be lighting every nerve along her spine and sending them all aflame, so overwhelmed and tightened, only relaxing in small increments whenever you move a bit too slow, to a bit more pressure - adding the extra touch, kissing her everywhere between her thighs, right into the dips between them. Close but not there. So frustratingly near, and she barely has the air left in her lungs to make a frustrated noise, but somehow finds the impetus to let the weight fall out of her body - let her limbs stretch open, give, release the tension.

Then all those incoherent twitching spasms: "God. Now-"

When the sudden ache inside her walls hits, it catches first in her chest, spreading out where the fist curling into the covers can't hide. "Right there, right there," she's panting, nodding her head in these tiny little shakes, rocking her hips into the movement and pushing them into your touch. And you just nod back.

Her orgasm hits her like a fucking lightning storm: blinding and thunderous, heavy. 

Chaewon simply cries out when she unravels, finally, and the sound is a little wrecked. Cursing your name, god's. 

Her hand is twisted in your hair, and she pulls, twists and wrenches, an arm tossed over her face when it feels like you're rushing, surging waves breaking all along her senses, the pads of your fingers pushing into the ridges, knuckles wrapping, knocking at her core, finger prints seared into her skin and pressing into that knot of pleasure, swollen and raw.

She just exhales into a groan and runs a palm down her face and throat, and breasts, rubbing a bit harshly at the tops of her shoulders. You raise yourself over her, until your head's just next to her collarbone, not speaking but watching how her breaths are slowing - the moment they become steadier, like a boat to shore.

You prop an arm over her, carefully, letting Chaewon twist her palm, finger the tips of yours. It's like listening to music, hearing how she laughs and swallows around this haze. Her whole body in the dreamy afterglow, writhing a little when the ache crawls back up through the space between her hips and she settles onto her side, curling up in your half-embrace.

"Oh, well. Look what you did to me, fuck," she murmurs. You can't help smiling.

"Too fast?" you ask, lowering your head, propping yourself up on a single elbow and gently placing a kiss along the top of her hair, tangling her fingers with your own.

"You're really annoying," she huffs. She tries her best not to blush, but the glow in her cheeks is quite apparent - especially once it reaches her ears. You laugh right into the top of her head, and she playful slaps a fist to your chest. "Go to bed, idiot."

"To think - you said you liked me."

"Said. Said, being the key word here."

When you roll over - slightly onto her and slip a thigh between her legs - Chaewon groans, and her hands press into your back. The touch is light. Practically nothing. Then you're grinning down at her, a sly smile playing in your eyes. "Maybe it’s my turn," she murmurs, "to make you squirm."

"No mouth?" you tease. "You might need the help sweetheart."

"Fuck that. Absolutely not." Chaewon rolls and turns until she's on top of your thighs, pinning you gently in place. She’s fixing her hair into a clumsy little ponytail, hallmark signs of impatience, that says, "if I want to suck your cock, I'll do it," she glares a little, but her smirk is turning the corner, and her whole face softens. 

"Shouldn't have laughed earlier, asshole."

(And here is the start and end of all you think you know, watching as she places a trail of kisses down your chest.)