#she has never gone off on me before like she does everyone else. it was simply my time to speak

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement |7-The Mischief Night.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—The night before Halloween, where kids and adults alike get up to no good. What’s the worst that could happen?

Warnings/Extras—strong language, drinking, smoking, recreational drug use (not consumed/used by any of the main cast), angst and arguing, sad party girl hours, the sexual tension is strong with this one, let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Steve Harrington is avoiding me like the plague and doing a terrible job of hiding it.

He has his odd detached moments just like everyone else—when his eyes gloss over and you can tell he just wants to crawl into bed and hide. But this is different. Steve’s dandy around everyone else but me, a harsh cold shoulder I’d accept if I had actually done anything to deserve it. The extent of our conversations are limited strictly to the topic of Archie—who we had inadvertently began raising together in some bizarre split custody agreement—and even then he’s straight to the point and ducking out of the conversation quickly. Gone is the flirty, arrogant Steve Harrington, a hollow shell replacing him. I hate to admit I’m offended by it, mostly because I thought we were actually friends. Well, maybe a little more than that.

Sure, we’d exchanged some moments that blurred the line between friendship and something more, but we had never made explicit commitments. Which is why I have no business being upset when Steve brings a girl home after his shift at the bar. But I am.

She’s all tan legs and soft brown hair with hazel eyes and a tight dress, the exact type of insanely beautiful girl you’d expect him to be with. Robin and I share the couch, sitting at opposite ends and our legs resting on top of one another as we sip on wine and complain about life and Archie sleeps in my lap. We freeze mid conversation as the clock strikes 1:33 AM and the bright blue front door swings open. That’s when I see her, drunk and stumbling but not nearly as much as Steve, whose failure to stand straight reminds me of a newborn giraffe learning to walk.

“Oh my God, hi!” The girl grins, releasing her hold around Steve’s neck to stumble over to us. The smell of her expensive perfume nearly drowns out the reek of Tequila on her breath. Huh, I guess Steve was right about Tequila imparting judgement to an extreme. “I’m Hannah! You guys must be the roommates!” Before we’ve got time to run away, she’s tugging us both into an uncomfortable group hug. My aversion to strangers and physical touch makes itself wildly apparent and I suddenly feel the urge to shower. Steve tugs on her shoulder lightly and I avoid looking at him just like he does to me. They’re down the hallway and barreling into Steve’s bedroom in a flash, and I turn the TV volume up to avoid the risk of hearing whatever they get up to in there.

“Uh, what the hell was that?’ Robin leans forward, nearly spilling her wine on my blanket.

I shake my head, swallowing my hurt and replacing it with false indifference. He’s not yours to be jealous about, remember that. “Damned if I know,” the words slip through my wine-stained lips and give me away.

Robin frowns and her shoulders slump. “I thought for sure you two had something going on,” she presses.

I grip my drink tighter. “No.” I deadpan, my voice reverberating off the glass.

She raises her brows and her eyes drift to the little orange furball on my lap. “You’re kidding, right?” She snorts. “You guys have a freaking cat together.”

“Not together,” I correct, pointing a finger. “We have a mutual interest for a living creature’s wellbeing because we are good people, therefore we agree to share the responsibility of making sure he doesn’t get himself killed.” I tell her, scratching between Archie’s ears. His white stripes and feet are growing prominent now, stark contrast against fiery red hair.

“…So you guys have a cat together.” She stands her ground, her stance fact in her mind. I roll my eyes and bite my rebuttal on my tongue because I know what she’s doing. She wants me to admit I have feelings for Steve, which I don’t—or maybe I do—Who cares?

A faint moan echos down the hallway. My face turns numb and my hands tingle. I get this sick feeling in my stomach and my lungs constrict as I stare into the abyss, trying to think about anything other than what’s happening back there. Robin’s eyes ghost over my face and she gives me a pitiful smile. “Hey,” she nudges me. I look up at her. “Wanna watch Twilight and drink every time we cringe?”

“Buckley,” I smirk. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

We giggle, grabbing the remote and settling deeper into the couch.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The digital alarm clock on my nightstand screams to life, scraping me out of my comatose. The little box of nightmares hurries me to get out of bed, the red numbers flashing 7:00 AM until I smash my hand lazily on all the buttons, desperate for the reprieve of silence. I roll out of bed, body heavy and aching. It’s a fight just to get into the shower, sleep beckoning me back to the bed. I don’t need a job that bad, do I? Yes, you do.

Maybe if I didn’t live in a thin-walled apartment with Dumb, Dumber and Dumbass, I’d actually get some sleep around here. Eddie’s always up playing his guitar, writing a song for his final at school. Steve’s bedroom is a revolving door of very vocal girls and that doesn’t bother me other than the lack of sleep I get..right? Of course it bothers you. No it doesn’t. Goddammit!

Ben’s taken to coming home late at night in a not-so-quiet way, stumbling drunk into the apartment at ungodly hours of the night, and I can’t help but wonder what type of shit influence this new girl is on him. When I’m the most normal person in the room, you know something’s terribly wrong. I don’t know what’s up with them; everyone’s been so cagey recently for one reason or another. Eddie, who lives as my human shadow, remains mostly unchanged towards me however. Though his comments about Steve and I’s nonexistent relationship have ceased.

The little tabletop calendar on my vanity reads October 30. One day before Halloween, and I’m buzzing with anticipation. The Cafe’s got itself on the roster of businesses on the Loop that will be passing out candy to Trick-Or-Treaters. Some of my favorite traditions include dressing up and seeing the kids’ costumes. I love seeing how creative everyone can get. I’m bummed that my lack of free time has resulted in zero holiday planning, including a costume.

I glance at my phone and realize I’ve taken far too long to get ready and that I am, in fact, running late for the train. By the time I get there I’ll have to wait for the next one, which means I’ll be twenty-three minutes late to work. I drop everything I’m doing and get dressed as I barrel towards the door. “Christ on a bike. I am late, I am so, so—“ The door doesn’t open as I pull on it. Maybe I’m still asleep. I yank on the handle with all my might, and it opens ever so slightly but closes shut swiftly. What the fuck? I pull on it with all my might, peeking into the sliver of open doorway I scrounge up. A rope tethers my doorknob to Eddie’s across the hall. There is boyish giggling on the other side. The shuffling of feet. I groan, hammering my fist on the door. “Ugh, boys! Knock it off, I gotta get to work!”

When the door doesn’t relent, I give up and return to the bathroom, where a second, smaller door leads out to the hallway. I unlock it and storm down the hall. I catch Eddie dashing away from me to take cover in the kitchen. I tail after him, socks slipping on the cheap flooring, and I slide into him with force. He catches me, hands gripping my arms tight but lovingly. “Could you at least wait until noon to start being a little shit?” I huff, making his curls fluff outward.

He pats my head, releasing me. “Sorry, Sweetheart. No can do. It’s Mischief Night,”

“It’s 8AM,” Ben feels the need to remind him that it’s not nighttime from behind his laptop screen. His hair is gelled back like a Ken doll and he’s wearing the nice suit he bought for Aunt Karen’s wedding. He must have an important meeting today.

“Mischief Night is the greatest day of all,” Eddie emphasizes the word as if to highlight the fact that despite its name, the holiday is active for a full 24 hours. “On the night before All Hallows Eve, children may partake in mischief. Get it out of their system before the main event,”

“Sounds very Medieval,” I attest, yanking my shoes on my feet.

The front door opens. I pivot on one foot as I tie my shoe to see Robin with a plate of pumpkin shaped sugar cookies and bags of beer. “Good morning, family! Happy Mischief,” she holds up her treats. “I brought treasure!” Archie dashes down the hallway and circles her feet, rubbing against her ankles. He’s quite a bit bigger these days, the difference most noticeable with how much more he eats now. My wallet sure does notice that part.

“Does everyone else know about this made up holiday besides me?” I complain.

“All holidays are made up.” Of course Ben is the one to point that out, sipping on his coffee flavored with cream and the need to always be right.

“Treasure for what?” I ask Robin.

“Tonight, duh!” She dances in place. My blank expression is met with her confusion. “…the party?”

I glare at the boys. Eddie shrugs, Ben hides behind his coffee. “Thank you, people who live in the apartment I also pay rent for, for telling me we’re throwing a party tonight.” I’m not mad, just annoyed. Not only do I not have a costume, but this place is a mess and I don’t trust Eddie to get it clean in time while the rest of us are at work.

Footsteps I assume to be Steve’s trickle down the hall, but as they get closer I realize those feet are far too small to be Steve’s. Just as I turn, I hear her. “Uh, who the hell are you?” A voice I don’t recognize demands, like this is her house to make demands in. I look up from my stubborn Converse. A blonde haired, blue eyed girl in an oversized T-shirt and nothing else stares at Robin and I. I realize pretty quickly by the way Eddie and Ben are avoiding looking at her that she doesn’t belong to either of them. That’s when I realize, heart sinking, that she’s with Steve. Yet he’s nowhere to be found.

“Uh, I live here?” I have the tendency to match people’s attitudes, but Robin’s presence simmers me down as she bumps her hip into mine. The girl looks at Robin expectantly, like she’s sussing out which of us if Steve’s secret girlfriend he neglected to inform her of.

“I don’t live here but I’m like… super gay,” Robin adds. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, cringing. I guess it’s the thought that counts; Thanks, Robin.

“Speaking of, where’s your girlfriend?” Eddie asks, completely ignoring the little blonde half-naked girl in our kitchen.

“Setting up Trunk or Treat at some old church,” Robin discloses. Her and Eddie devolve into heated debate about whether or not most churches are haunted.

Steve’s bedroom door opens. He doesn’t bother closing it as he bolts down the hall at record speed. It’s as if he already knows she’s caused some trouble, the way he wraps an arm around her and smiles nervously. “H-Hey guys, this is Jenny,”

“Hello Jenny,” I force myself to smile, doing my best to hide my annoyance. I can’t pass up the opportunity to glare at Steve for not warning her of his roommates. Jenny seems to be the only one to catch it though, and throws a nasty look back at me. It wasn’t meant for you, Wench. Her attitude agitates me just enough to set my sleep-deprived brain off. “Steven, if you’re going to bring girls home, would you at least warn them you live with a woman? And shut the hell up at night, remember that we share a wall.” Steve and Jenny look equally mortified.

Ben laughs. I pivot to him. “And you, Elephant Feet! Come home quieter or not at 3AM!” his face drops and he frowns, offended. Eddie doesn’t dare laugh, afraid and knowing he’s next. “You—oh, goddammit. I can’t stay mad at you—but drive me to work! I’m late!” I shout at him. I really can’t be mad that he’s working on his music, I just wish he wouldn’t do it at night. I can however be a little mad about his dumb prank this morning.

Eddie perks up, dashing to grab his keys. “Yes sir!” He salutes, wiggling out the front door. I spin on my heels to follow him, shutting the door a little too hard behind me. Our footsteps shuffle in unrhythmic chaos, down winding halls and three flights of stairs. Gloria’s parked behind Ben’s blacked out Mazda in all her rusty glory, ready to carry me to the salvation of getting to keep my job another day. Eddie unlocks the passenger side door and opens it for me with a bow. I snicker and swipe the stray food wrappers and empty cigarette cartons off the seat. He closes the door behind me and trots around the front of the van to hop into the driver’s seat. “Steve’s girlfriend of the week seems…nice,” he murmurs, shimmying the key in the ignition until the car roars to life.

I make a noise similar to what you’d produce when there’s a bad taste in your mouth. It’s not that I mind Steve dating. I mean, let’s be honest, did I really think it’d be any different? The idea of us dating gets muddied with complication just on paper. My coworker Tristan tells me there’s an unspoken rule for men about dating each other’s family members and exes. Nevermind the golden rule of Never Shit Where You Eat, or in other words, you should not cause trouble where you regularly find yourself.

My little crush on Steve Harrington—if you could call it that—gets shoved down when I weigh the consequences. Brother’s best friend. Roommate. Wildly differing personalities. Not to mention what will happen when we graduate. Who’s to say we end up in the same place? Who’s to say any of us stay together?

The thought of that makes me nauseous, the mere concept of not living with Eddie’s shenanigans or my brother’s nagging or Steve’s thoughtfulness everyday enough to unsettle my stomach. Eddie steers the van to the curb outside the Bluebird Cafe. “What time are you off? I’ll pick you up,” he inquires. I grab my purse and shove my body against the door to force its rusty hinges open. The drop from the van to the pavement is steep and I trip on my way out.

“I love you, Edward Munson,” I gasp. “Five o’clock!” I call out to him, skipping into the shop. He kisses his hand and blows it out to me, a stupid platonic gesture we’d picked up somewhere along the late nights and early mornings. I never understood how you could have two best friends until Eddie rescued me in Daizy’s absence.

I tumble behind the Employees Only counter, narrowly avoiding Tracy’s office and her disapproving gaze as I clock in at exactly 8:30AM. Shoving my purse under the register, I fumble to I put my employee ID into the register.

“On the dot again,” Tristan, a lanky boy with sandy hair and brown eyes, tosses a rag over his shoulder as he says this. He takes me in, scanning me up and down in my disheveled state. “Rough morning?”

I sigh. “Cover for me?” he hears this plea frequently, my lack of a vehicle resulting in frequent tardiness, and he lies to Tracy and tells her I forgot to clock in every time. Our manager expects us to be here and ready to go five minutes before start time, a stupid rule I hate but attempt to comply with regardless.

He cracks a smile, turning to the espresso machine on the bar. He reads the ticket taped to it carefully, robotically moving to pull shots. “Always.” I let out a breath, a mixture of relief and exhaustion. I join him at the machine, looking over another ticket before kneeling to snag skim milk from the fridge below. I pour it into the steam pitcher and flick the lever downward, swirling the milk around loudly. It’s so noisy that I don’t hear Tristan speaking at first, until he nudges my shoulder. I turn the steam wand off and look up at him. “Your roommates still giving you grief?” He asks with pity. I hate how easily he reads me. It’s unsettling.

“Yeah,” I indulge, shoulders slumped as I finish curating this woman’s complicated coffee order. The ticket reads Susan, because of course her name’s Susan. I scribble the name on the cup and call it out. “Ben’s still on this bender with that random girl; Steve’s girlfriends don’t know how to shut the hell up during…y��know; and Eddie’s, well…Eddie,” I ramble. Tristan has heard my woes time and time again, listening intently even to repeated stories.

Tristan nods as he continues to outpace me in coffee making. It irritates me. “Steve as in…the one you’re in love with?”

I gasp, smacking his shoulder. “I am not in love with him!”

Tristan giggles. He’s pressed a nerve for his own amusement and I’ve fallen into his trap. What an ass. “Then they spring on me that they’re throwing a party tonight, for some stupid tradition or something—“

“Mischief Night!” he exclaims.

“Oh no. Not you too,” I whine.

“Got something against it?”

“Uh, I don’t know—it’s made up and stupid?”

“Don’t you ever disgrace the season of Halloween like that ever again, you grumpy old woman,” He points a finger in my face like a disapproving parent.

“I am not a grumpy old lady!” I whine, scrubbing the countertops of caked on coffee grounds from the morning rush.

“I’m Y/N, I spend all day at work or school then go home to read and knit in my room!” He hikes his voice up in a high-pitched girly tone, waiving his arms about as he tugs at the hem of an imaginary skirt. I roll my eyes and throw the dirty sponge I was cleaning with at him. He catches it, tossing it into the trash can behind him.

“I told you the knitting was a one-time thing!” I counter. A month back I decided it would be an interesting test of my capability to learn a new skill, so I knit a blanket to ship to Houston for Daizy’s birthday. He continues to torment me throughout the shift. Coming up behind me when I’m lifting something to take it from me, uttering something about ‘not wanting me to break a hip’; wincing as I bump into the counter during a rush and reminding me to put my glasses on. I don’t wear glasses. He begins calling me Margaret, because according to him, everyone knows an old woman named Margaret. You think you’re a real funny man, don’t you, Tristan Briggs?

The mid-noon rush of office workers getting coffee on their lunch breaks fizzles to a crawl. Tristan restocks the walk in fridge while I scoop grime out of the drip tray. I find my task much more tolerable in comparison to hanging out in a 35 degree metal box. At the 20 minute mark I fill a cup with the scalding hot water we use for Americanos and set it off to the side. I’m wiping the shelves of the mini fridge below the bar when the door chimes for the first time in forever. I stand at attention, straightening my apron and kicking the fridge door closed with my foot. “Welcome to Bluebird’s!” I greet, not looking up as I sign into the register to cash out the incoming customer. “What can I get started…” the words die on my tongue when I look up, a pair of hazel eyes framed by untamed brown locks.

“Hey Sunny,” to hear Steve say those words after weeks, sets a fire off inside me. He’s wearing his signature crisp white T-shirt and blue jeans, telling me he’s on his way to work.

I choke on air trying to get the words out. “Hi, Steve,” I say slowly. “What do you want?” I cringe at the way my words deliver aggressively, but yet he still smiles. Always smiling.

“I wanted to apologize for Jenny this morning,” his words serve as a brutal reality check that he isn’t here for me, he never was. And if I’m being completely honest with myself, I’m a bit bitter about it. I can convince myself all the live-long-day that I don’t have feelings for him, that it doesn’t bother me he’s with someone else. But it does because I wasn’t the only one guilty of flirting. Now he’s here, apologizing on behalf of another girl and I realize he lead me on. Ben was right, I should’ve stayed away from him.

“She can’t apologize for herself or what?” My hometown accent slips through when I’m at my top tier of annoyance, and it doesn’t go unnoticed judging by the look on his face. I feel like my insides are made of sandpaper.

Steve winces. “She’s not uh… great with people,”

“Noted,” I deadpan, replacing the grate on the drip tray. Just leave. Get out, I tell him silently.

“I think you two could actually be friends if—“

“Did you want to order something, Steve?” I interrupt, pressing my palms into the sharp edge of the counter, the pain keeping me grounded. He doesn’t respond, instead looking past me. Trevor slinks up behind me. His Spidey senses must’ve been tingling or he heard me raise my voice.

Either way, he grips the hot coffee cup and warms his hands with it, giving Steve a stern look. “Hey, man. If you’re not going to order something I’m gonna have to ask you to make way for paying customers.” The hospitality version of ‘if you’re not here to buy something get out’.

Steve’s expression falls briefly, he recovers swiftly but not before I see it. “Yeah, right. Sorry. I’ll uh… see you at home, Sunny.” An awkward wave of his hand and he’s gone, leaving a hole where he stood.

“Yikes… that was him, huh?” Trevor speaks casually yet carefully, leaning against the counter. He still cradles the cup of water to warm his freezing hands.

I nod. “Unfortunately,”

“Y’know what, I get it. He’s hot,” He admits.

I scoff. “You’re disgusting,” I lull my head backwards. “But ugh, you’re right. He is. Maybe I should go see a movie or something tonight, avoid the party,” I omit the fact I’m really trying to avoid Steve, but of course Trevor already knows that.

“You’re so whipped it’s actually embarrassing. We need to fix that,” he pulls his phone from his back pocket, swiping furiously.

“What’re you doing?”

“Looking for blackmail I have on Tracy so she’ll let us off early,” he mumbles casually.

“You have blackmail on our manager?” I wonder.

“She dated my brother for a while,” he discloses. “Hmm.. yes. This will do,” he smirks. “We’re getting you a costume, we’re going to that party and you’re gonna look hot and be your awesome self,”

“I don’t know, Trev. Steve—“

“Fuck that guy!” He says a little too loud. A few customers poke their heads up. He grimaces, ducking his head lower. “Don’t even worry about it, I have a plan.”

I cross my arms and shake my head, reaching for my own device to let Eddie know not to pick me up.

Why do I have a feeling this is a horrible idea?

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Running my hands along dusty hangers, I flip through the aisles of clothes at Hawkins Place. Trevor’s on the opposite side of the store, sifting through the men’s section. I feel Robin’s presence behind me but say nothing, waiting for her to speak first. She eventually reaches forward, pulling at a white corset and adding it to the bundle she’s got in her arms, including a white skirt and heels. “You do realize this is a date, right?” She tells me, shoving the clothing in my arms.

“What? No it’s not!” I whisper-yell so he doesn’t hear us.

“So he’s over there, looking for a matching costume to yours, and you’re going to look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t a date?” She mocks.

I roll my eyes, taking the clothes into my arms and walking away from her before she’s got a chance to get in my head. I approach Trevor and he grins, holding up a silk red shirt and black blazer. “I got the clothes, but I need a pair of wings,” We’d settled on the stereotypical but easy last minute pairing of an angel and devil costumes.

“No biggie. I think my sister was an angel a couple years back. Bet she’s still got the wings,” he explains calmly. It’s like he’s got a solution for everything.

I’m not sure where the urge comes from, but the question spills out of me before I can stop it. “This isn’t a date. Right?”

He pauses and looks at me, the gears in his head turning. Suddenly it’s as if he powers back on, because he laughs. “No, of course not.”

I let out a breath of relief. “Okay, good. Let’s check out and get out of here,” I smile, hopping to the checkout counter where Robin awaits me.

She mulls over the clothes we picked out together, grinning. “Can’t wait to see you in this get up,” she flirts.

“Stop it, I’ll tell your girlfriend on you.” I joke, knowing she means nothing by the comment.

She folds and bags our clothes, refusing to let me pay for any of it. She shoves the twenty dollar bills back into my palm, closing my fingers around it. “On the house. Just pick up some pumpkins for carving before the party. We’ll be over in a bit.”

I nod, folding the money back into my wallet.

Mental note: pick up pumpkins.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

As we trudge up the stairs of the apartment complex, I seriously regret picking out the largest pumpkins as they weigh a metric fuckton. I reach for my keys, the incoherent shouting on the other side of the door prompting me to move quicker. I unlock the door and swing it open. Standing in the middle of an absolutely obliterated kitchen is Eddie, Archie in one hand and the broom in the other. There’s pieces of cereal scattered all of the floor and melted chocolate splattered everywhere. “Oh, thank God you’re home!” Eddie shouts, crossing the room to me. I drop the pumpkins on the ground just as he reaches me, handing the cat over. “Here, take your evil kid,”

I throw Archie over my shoulder, looking back at Trevor. “What’d he do?”

“Vickie asked me to make the rice crispy treats for tonight and your little monster came barreling through like a bat outta hell and knocked everything over!”

“Vickie left you to cook?” I ask in disbelief. “Well, that was her first mistake.” I sigh and set Archibald onto the couch, gesturing for Trevor to follow me deeper into the apartment. He does so timidly, watching Eddie with genuine fear in his eyes. Eddie watches him, confused. “Eddie, this is Trevor. Trevor, Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you, Trevor. Tell me, how do you feel about cat soup?” Eddie grins, wiping chocolate off the stove.

“You are not eating my cat just because he annoys you sometimes, Edward. You irritate us all the time and we don’t eat you.” I scold, snatching the broom from his hand.

“You can eat me anytime, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” I jab him in the side with the broom handle.

“I’m sorry, are you guys like… a thing or something?” Trevor says it in a way that confuses me and Eddie laughs.

“No. He’s just weird. Careful or he’ll come for you next.” I warn, sweeping stray rice cereal into the dustpan. Trevor has a horrified expression made no better by the way Eddie’s staring at him. I nudge my roommate and glare at him.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Vickie’s Frankenstein Rice Crispy treats are in the fridge to set and the apartment is cleaned just in time for Ben to arrive. He sets his briefcase on the table at the door, reaching to the ground to pick up an already purring Archie. He’s on the way to the kitchen where Eddie and I begin setting up the pumpkins to carve, when he spots Trevor on the couch. “Who the fuck are you?”

Trevor stands abruptly, filling nervously with his hands. “I’m Trevor. You must be Ben, she’s told me so much about you,”

“Bug,” Ben turns to me. I perk my head up to meet his gaze. “Who is this little man on my couch?”

“Don’t be rude. He’s my friend,” I hiss, grabbing the biggest plastic bowl we own from the cupboard, it’s scratched and stained edges rough against my fingers. I look over my shoulder to see Ben still staring at Trevor, fire behind his eyes. My friend looks like he’s gonna piss himself. “Benjamin!” I shout. Ben turns to me, his features softening when he looks at me. “You’re gonna give the poor guy a heart attack.” I wave him over and he obliges, leaning over the counter to whisper to me as I wash my hands.

“You better not date him—you’ll snap him in half if you even look at him wrong.” He tells me, setting Archie on the counter. He paws at the running water.

I scoff, flicking water at him before grabbing a ragged cloth to wipe my hands. Just like everything else in the apartment, it’s stained from Eddie’s greasy hands when he comes home from work. I’m annoyed at first, but it turns thankful for the little pieces of my best friend’s existence littered throughout the shared space. Ben says he’s off to shower and get ready for the party.

“You better hurry up! We’re carving pumpkins as soon as everyone gets home!” I call to him, voice reverberating down the hall just as the bathroom door shuts. On cue, the front door opens.

Robin emerges with Vickie in short succession. They wear matching pirate outfits, down to a plastic bird on Vickie’s shoulder and an eyepatch on Robin’s right eye. “Avast there, laddies!” Robin belts in a poor pirate voice. She reaches into her tote bag, pulling out a bottle of Rosé. “I brought wine!”

Trevor crosses the room to me, leaning in to whisper, “Does everyone just walk into your house without knocking all the time?” I nod to confirm. None of us mind because apartment 406D is practically everyone’s home now, but despite the amount of bodies it still feels empty. We’re missing someone. My face falls. Daizy’s probably already drunk at some frat party, initiating her three-day Halloween party crawl, nonethewiser to the hole she’s left here. I’d give anything for her to come back, but I settle for opening my phone and navigating to her contact. I press the FaceTime button and lean my phone up against a paper towel roll.

“Everyone come here, we’re calling Daiz!” I wave. Robin and Vickie skip over. Trevor is confused but joins anyways. Eddie leans over me from behind, his height making him tower over us like Godzilla. When she answers, her face is dripping with fake blood, a tiara on her head.

“Hey ya’ll!” She grins, cracking the heavy makeup she wears.

A cacophony of hi’s and hello’s, Eddie makes a comment about her costume. “What’re you supposed to be?”

Daizy looks offended through the screen. “I’m Carrie, you uncultured swine!”

“The hell is that?”

I gasp, then turn my head to the side to look at him. “Add it to the list of movies I gotta make you watch.” Just as the words leave my mouth, the door opens again. Steve runs a hand through his messy hair, throwing his keys into the abyss of others before pausing to stare at us, bewildered by our grouping in the kitchen. When he hears Daizy’s voice he meanders over to us, squeezing between Robin and I and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. In doing so, he pushes Trevor off my other shoulder, though I believe that was an accident. Still, my heartbeat picks up in my throat.

“Hey Handsome Man,” Daizy teases him. I’ll take Accurate Nicknames for 1000, Alex! Shit, now I gotta watch Jeopardy.

Steve chuckles like he knows she’s right. “Hey Crazy,” he fires back. “We miss you ‘round here,”

“Ah shit, don’t flatter me,” she blinks against the fake blood spilling into her fake lashes. “Ya’ll better be taking care of my girl out there,”

“Always.” Steve squeezes my shoulder and my stomach flips.

I’m thankful when Eddie breaks the tension he’s blissfully unaware of, snatching the phone from the countertop. “So… tell me of this Carrie chick. Is she hot?” I catch part of his questioning as he fades down the hall with my phone. I remind myself to retreive it from him later. Without the buffer of Daizy or Eddie I realize just how close Steve and I are, my body magnetized to his side and full of warmth. If I could see the look on Robin’s face I’m sure it’d look just like Trevors, all knowing and suspicious rolled into one.

Steve releases me. I feel cold. “Jenny’s gonna be here in a bit,” he moves to run away from us, but Robin snatches him. She tells him if he dips on pumpkin carving for a girl that she’ll skin him alive; and you know what, I believe her. I look at Trevor again and he’s already staring at me, waiting. I form a tight-lipped frown and he nods knowingly, a silent ‘I’m sorry’. Shit, I’m sorry too.

Robin forces Steve to help her haul the pumpkins into the kitchen while I lay out an array of shitty kitchen knives, spoons and markers. I skip down the hall to Ben’s bedroom, knocking on the door. He grunts in response, his way of giving me permission to enter. I push the door open just as he’s throwing on a t-shirt. He roughs his wet hair up with his hand, making it stick out in an array of directions. “Hey, come in. I need to talk to you about something,” he tells me.

My heart-rate picks up and I nod, closing the door behind me. He looks at me, a serious look on his face, and my body stiffens. Here we go, someone died. I bet it was Granny. “What the hell’s going on in this house?”

I groan, flopping onto his bed. “Goddammit Ben, you scared the shit out of me. I thought someone died,”

“Knowing you, someone will die tonight. You’re lookin’ like you’re one inconvenience away from ripping someone’s eyes out,” he sighs.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Whatever.”

Silence settles between us for a few minutes. I’m on the verge of asking him where his costume is but he beats me to speaking first. “You’re not dating that guy, right?”

My stomach churns, the idea making me sick. “Oh God, no! I mean, Trevor’s a great guy and all—not that great though—he’s here to get me out of my slump,”

“You mean make Steve jealous?”

I furrow my brows. Am I really so transparent? “You mean the guy with a girlfriend?” I deflect, tilting my head.

“Oh please, she’s hardly that. He doesn’t do girlfriends,” he searches my face like he’s looking for a reaction, and I try to hide my disappointment from him.

“Good for him. None of my business,” I bite, standing up to leave. Steam must be blowing out my ears at this point, and my hands just barely turned the doorknob when he speaks again.

“Bug,” I spin aggressively to face him, feeling like I’ve been plunged in ice water when I look at his soft expression. “That’s why you gotta stay away from him, y’hear me? He’s only gonna hurt you and then… well shit, I’ll have to kill my best friend.” There’s that accent again. You sound just like our dad. Suddenly I feel bad for being such a brat, the sobering realization that my big brother is genuinely trying to protect me settling like lead in my veins. I nod silently, blinking rapidly to shy from eye contact before stepping out of the room.

A cacophony of voices dance off the peeling wallpaper in the apartment. Robin and Steve are arguing about something, and Trevor occasionally pipes in with level-headed responses. I stop at Eddie’s door that’s open a sliver, wiggling my hands into the opening and pushing it open. He’s sitting on his bed with one foot propped up on his knee, surrounded by clothes and sheets of music and still blabbering into my phone. I leap onto the bed, suffocating him as we wrestle for my phone. After a string of threats shot his way, he relinquishes the device to me. Triumphantly, I blow a kiss to the screen and tell my best friend goodnight. She doesn’t ask about Ben, which surprises me but I’m thankful to push the messy conversation off for another day. My phone enters my pocket to be forgotten about as I reach for Eddie’s arm, using all of my body weight to pull against him. He chuckles, allowing me to drag him back into the kitchen. I sit next to Trevor on the floor and Eddie sits next to me, squishing me between the two of them. Steve sits on the counter, pumpkin on his lap as he doodles on it while Archie sits on his shoulder trying to swipe the marker from him. Ben stands next to him, balancing his own pumpkin on the edge of the countertop. Robin and Vickie are distracted giggling and eating candy, even though this was a tradition instated by Robin years ago. As Eddie told me, it’s been happening since they moved to Chicago—their first Halloween in particular was quite depressing since they were broke and new to the city—and they’d done it every year since.

I nosily look over Eddie’s shoulder to see what he’s mapping out. “Dude! Is that a dick?” I scold. Ever the proud idiot, he gleams and nods, lifting the pumpkin up to display to the world. “You’re a pervert,” I joke.

“No, I’m an Artist,” he puts emphasis on the last word, pronouncing it as Ar-eee-tst , just to be extra annoying.

“Archie, quit it!” Steve complains. My eyes drift to him so naturally, and I laugh when I see the cat attempting to climb up onto his head. A mess of their combined hair, it’s a sight to behold as Ben snatches Archie from Steve’s head and tossing him over his shoulder like a fuzzy limp noodle. He stays that way, Uncle Benjamin with his unruly nephew slung on his shoulder as he carves a pumpkin.

I’m almost done scooping my pumpkin clean when Eddie slaps a handful of the seedy goop strait onto my lap, a wet slop ringing through the kitchen. “Ugh, Eddie!” I whine, stealing everyone’s attention. I scoop the glob into my palm and throw it at him, splattering pumpkin guts everywhere. It prompts him to throw it at Ben, who flinches and throws some at Steve. Steve attacks Robin who lovingly wipes the mush onto Vickie’s cheek. Our kitchen devolves into all-out pumpkin gut war, and there goes our clean kitchen. My skin tingles where pumpkin juice soaks into it, my hair plagued with stringy squash innards and I know I’ll have to shower before everyone else gets here.

“Shit, we gotta clean the kitchen again,” Ben giggles, a welcome sound rarely heard from him. He spins his pumpkin around, displaying his artwork: a—poorly done, but adorable—cat. He picks Archie up and sets him in front of it. “Look, it’s you!” And to think he didn’t even want the cat at first.

I finish my ghost and look over at Trevor’s work. He’s made a goofy face, which is honestly quite in character. He excuses himself to the restroom to dig pumpkin guts out of his hair. I turn to look at what fowl thing Eddie must’ve come up with. “You did not actually put a penis on your pumpkin,”

He gives me a lop-sided grin, holding the pumpkin up for all to see. “He’s well-endowed,” he beams.

“What’re you, twelve?”

“In my soul, Sweetheart.”

There’s a cacophony of laughter, everyone taking turns displaying their art like children showing a project at school. Steve’s showing off his spider with only seven legs instead of eight when the front door opens. I’m confused because everyone that’s welcome to freely enter and exit our domain is right in front of me. Then I hear her. That godawful, I’m-Better-Than-You tone of voice that makes me wanna shove cotton in my ears. The room falls uncomfortably silent in her presence.

“What’re you guys doing?” Jenny snips. I still can’t see her, her figure hidden behind Steve and Ben.

“You’re still here?” Robin blurts and I cover my mouth with my hand to avoid laughing. She makes an excellent point, Steve’s girls typically don’t surpass the ‘meeting the roommates’ phase. Somehow one of us—usually Eddie—scares them off.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Ben asks her as she approaches them but she ignores him. Now I can see her; She’s got a shitty spray tan and golden hair tied into a messy bun, dawning one of Steve’s shirts that conceal the shorts I pray she’s wearing.

“Carving pumpkins,” Steve smiles.

“Seriously? Are you guys ten?”

“Twelve, actually.” Eddie corrects, and everyone gets the joke but her. She’s got this piss-poor look on her face that perfectly reflects her crappy attitude, and I wish I was braver like Daizy to tell her to screw off to her face. I bump Eddie’s shoulder with my own, leaning into him and hoping I absorb some of that dumb bravery he seems to be full of.

Trevor’s footsteps slip down the hallway, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen. “Jen?” He gasps.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, face screwed up in annoyance.

“I’m here with Y/N,” he admits. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with Steve,” she says proudly, wrapping her hands around one of Steve’s arms. He flexes under her touch but his expression remains neutral.

“Of course you are,” Trevor deadpans, like she’s oh so predictable, whilst I see her as a ticking time-bomb

“Hey man, what the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Steve’s brows furrow as he asks the accusatory question.

“I’m sorry. What’s going on here?” Robin chimes in, wiggling her finger between Jenny and Trevor.

Trevor looks at Robin, shoulders slumped and clearly annoyed. “You guys obviously know Jennifer… my twin sister,”

Steve and I look at each other simultaneously, eyes meeting in a silent conversation. Did you know he had a twin? No. Did you know she did? No.

“Well, isn’t this just a fucking conundrum?” Eddie voices what everyone’s thinking. “Your boyfriend and your girlfriend are twins! That’s gonna be one awkward family reunion,” he turns to Steve and I respectively.

“He’s not my boyfriend—“

“—We’re just friends,” Trevor and I’s objections overlap one another. Steve opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it when he looks at Jenny. Eddie groans, reaching into the chest pocket of his denim jacket. He pulls open a pack of cigarettes and hands one over to me, whispering,

“You’re going to need this.”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Robin sits in my bathroom sink as I scrub pumpkin material out of my hair in the shower behind her. She’s applying a heavy black eyeshadow to her lids to make herself more ‘pirate-like’, as she put it. Vickie’s sitting on my bed, facing the open bathroom door as she plays with Archie. How the hell did this happen? Trevor and Jennifer being siblings, what’re the fucking odds? I turn the water up hotter to burn my skin and distract my brain.

“Sucks, I really liked Trevor,” Robin pouts.

“You don’t anymore?” Vickie asks.

I stop scrubbing my skin to listen to them. “No. If he’s related to Steve’s girlfriend then that means evil runs in his DNA. He can’t be trusted,”

“Robin what kind of backward’s ass logic is that?” I add. “And she’s not evil. Just…“

“Insane?” Vickie finishes, which surprises me because I’ve never heard her talk bad about anyone.

I cringe. “Yeah.”

“She hates you the most. Better watch your back before she suffocates you with a pillow at night,” Robin cautions casually, rubbing a ruby lipstick against her lips.

“Wow, thanks Rob.” I hiss, shutting the water off and reaching out of the shower.

“You’re welcome, Love.” she sings, leaning back to hand me a towel.

I almost feel bad that all the girls except for Jenny are in here getting ready. Almost. Robin makes a great point, from the moment I met Steve’s girlfriend this morning she’s been a stone-cold bitch, and I believe that’s letting her off easy. It makes me wonder how two people like Trevor and her can be raised the same and come out so wildly different. Unless, perhaps Trevor is hiding his true self very well.

I change into my costume and reach for my hair dryer, rummaging through all the crap under the sink before locating it. I plug it in just as Robin leans into my shoulder. “Y’know, your buddy might be the key to getting rid of Jenny. Then you’ll have Steve all to yourself.” She wiggles her eyebrows. Annoyed, I flick the button to turn on the hair dryer and point it at her face. The burst of hot air hits her face and she sputters, clambering away from me like a cat sprayed with water. I giggle, turning to the mirror to begin to treacherous process of drying my hair, and desperately thinking about anything other than Steve Harrington.

Chestnut hair and hazel eyes, drop-dead gorgeous Steve Harrington, with tan skin and a gigantic ego. In another universe I’m in Jenny’s place; it’s not even the sex I want—but I mean, who wouldn’t?—but the companionship. I want to be the one to wake up next to him, to go on dates and call him mine. God, Eddie and Trevor are right. I am down bad, and it is embarrassing. I decide that it’ll be my little secret. I’ll never act upon my gigantic crush on my roommate and I will pretend as though I don’t seethe with jealousy when he brings girls home. I’ll cut it off at the source completely, I tell myself. Fuck that guy, as Trevor said. Concluding that my predicament is completely my fault because I let Steve play with my emotions in the first place.

“There’s nothing going on between Steve and I.” I curl my hair, careful not to burn myself as Robin continuously bumps into me while dancing to her own rendition of Monster Mash. Vickie finally joins us to complete her makeup and Archie hops onto the counter to watch us curiously. At least I still have the three of them.

“You wish there was, though?” Robin presses, spraying a generous amount of hairspray in her dishwater blonde hair.

Honesty’s the best policy, right? And I trust the girl enough to know that my secret’s safe with them. “Of course I do,” I feel sick the second the words leave my mouth. My arms tremble and Vickie comes up behind me to take the curling iron from my shaky hands. She curls my hair slowly, wrapping the little ringlets around her finger. “I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s Steve, and, well, he’s…” I trail off.

“…an ass?” Robin finishes. Vickie elbows her and smiles. “I’ve known the guy for way too long, so I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she continues adjusting the collar of her blouse. “His dad’s a total piece of shit and his mom’s complacent. He’s never been shown love so he’s got this aversion to it, and the one time he did fall in love it went…not great.”

She leaves the details cryptic, my thankfulness outweighing my curiosity. If I’m going to hear about his ex I’d want it to be from him and not the grapevine. I believe everyone deserves that respect.

Vickie brushes my hair and carefully slips the flimsy halo onto my head. I try not to think about how it belonged to Jenny before me. I slip out into the hallway, eyeing Eddie and Trevor lounging on the couch. Ben’s texting nonchalantly on his cellphone, feet propped onto the coffee table draped in sparkly purple cloth.

“Eddie,” his name comes out more whiny than anything and I cringe. He turns quickly, the cape tied to him at the neck swishing around.

“Yes, Sweetheart?” He hisses in a poor Dracula impression through bulky face vampire teeth.

“I wanna get drunk,” I admit. Ben looks up from his phone with suspicion. Trevor is—bizarrely—stoic. If he’s got an opinion he keeps it to himself. Eddie leaps over the back of the couch, scampering over to his not-so-secret cupboard of liquor in the kitchen.

“Would you like whiskey? Vodka?” He lisps through the teeth.

“Would you take those out?” I giggle, pinching one of the fangs between my fingers and pulling. The plastic loosens and lifts easily. I remove them and set them slowly on the counter.

“My teeth!” He exasperates, not letting up on. the Dracula voice. He pours two shots of cheap vodka from a purple and blue bottle. I sniff it and gag.

“This smells like a hospital,”

“It’s great, right?” He grins.

I shake my head and hook my arm into his, slotting my elbow into the inner corner of his. We cross our arms and chant ‘bottoms up’ in unison, downing the shots with one big gulp.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I’m so drunk, I almost don’t notice the way there is multicolored glitter on every square inch of the kitchen and living room. Almost. Who the fuck’s idea was it to make Halloween costumes sparkly anyway? All I can think about is the mess we’ll have to clean up tomorrow, and how I’ll be finding glitter in obscure places until the end of time. Fake spiderwebs cling to the chunky gems on my corset as I lean against the counter to pour another shot of Don Julio into the festive skull shot glass Robin bought for me. There’s rubber spiders set along the surface in between the snack trays and Jell-O shots. 8 legs. That’s about four too many in my book. I shudder, raising the shot glass to my lips. Peeking through my lashes, I make out Trevor talking up a petite girl in a Pennywise costume through the blur. Music pounds in my ears and I count us lucky our neighbors haven’t filed a noise complaint yet.

“How many of those have you had tonight?” The one voice I don’t want to hear asks from behind. I jump, spilling some of the shot over the edge of the glass.

“Jesus, fuck,” I complain, wiping the spilt alcohol onto my skirt. That’s $5, right there. “What’re you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He leans in, staring at the shot in my hand. He’s wearing sunglasses and a green bomber jacket over a white t-shirt.

My face burns hot. “Go away before you make me spill more of it,” I flick my white fingernails in the air in a ‘shoo’ motion.

“I’ve watched you down four of those. How many more did you take that I haven’t seen?” Seven total, not that I’d tell him that.

“Are you stalking me?” I knit my brows together.

“Tequila makes you violent,” he’s referring to the fight at the bar the night we met, I know it, but I ignore that.

“Think you know me so well, huh?” I roll my eyes.

“I think so, yes.”

I watch him a while, feeling awkward as he stares down at me intensely. “What the hell’re you supposed to be anyway?” I slur, blinking slowly.

Offended, he opens his arms. “I’m Tom Cruise in Top Gun!” He says it like it’s so obvious, removing the sunglasses. His face hardens as he clenches his jaw and his eyes thin. I roll my eyes at him and open my mouth the take the shot that’s rested in my hand for far too long. He lunges for it but misses, knocking it out of my hand to spill down my face and chest. The liquid is cold against my hot chest, making me gasp in surprise. Steves face falls, soft and puppy-dog like as he reaches out to me again, this time to comfort me but I shy away from his grasp. He settles on ripping the towel hanging off the stove handle, wiping the tequila from my chin. His touch lingers over my lips, tracing them with his eyes. That familiar buzz; the excitement and anxiety, overwhelms me.

No. No, you don’t get to keep doing this to me.

I snatch the cloth from his hand, blinking away tears as I storm down the hallway to my bedroom. Footsteps follow me but I ignore them. These two complete strangers making out on my bed and someone snorting a line of powder off my bathroom vanity. They must be some people Jenny invited because I don’t recognize them. Full of fury and feeling the effects of five shots, I scowl, “Get the fuck out of here!” As they scramble away, I can’t help but laugh at the absolute disrespect and audacity.

“Sunny, just chill out for a second,” Steve stammers, pushing past the three people trying to weasel their ways out the door at the same time.

Speaking of audacity.

“Oh, my God! What do you want!” I turn on my tiptoes so fast that I see double for a second. I wobble but don’t accept his outstretched arms. His eyes are big and doe-like, watching me with intent. “I’m serious, Steve. What do you want?”

He stiffens, scared to answer. “To make sure you’re okay,” he speaks softly.

“S’fine,” I murmur, feeling guilty. Blinking slowly, I turn away from him and head to the bathroom. I use the hand towel to carefully sweep the powdery substance and rolled up dollar bill left on the counter into a trash bin, throwing the towel away as well. I groan, begrudgingly admitting to myself that I’ll also have to deep clean my own bathroom and bedroom. Dirty degenerates, defiling my personal space. Make sure you wear gloves, I remind myself.

I need another drink.

“You definitely don’t,” he answers. Shit, did I say that aloud?

I lean over the sink for support, reaching for my makeup bag to reapply the foundation and lipstick Steve had smeared when trying to wipe my face. “I’m gonna do what I want and you’re gonna leave me alone and go hangout with your girlfriend,” I snap, brushing foundation onto my cheek.

I watch him subtly through the reflection in the mirror. He shakes his head. “She’s not my girlfriend,”

“Then what’s she still doing in our house, Steve?”

“Why does it matter?!”

“It doesn’t!” I shout, slapping the makeup brush on the counter. Why am I so angry? Why do I care?

It happens in the blink of an eye. His hand on my waist, spinning me around and pressing himself up against me. Suddenly I’m stone cold sober, adrenaline flushing through my veins and reinvigorating me in a way that makes my heart want to leap out of my throat. His large hand cups my face, fingers tangling into my hair. He’s clearly fed up with my theatrics, but his voice remains steady. “You’re such a brat when you’re drunk, y’know that?”

I can’t really blame him for thinking that way; I got in a fight at the bar the very first night he met me, I threatened him with violence against his laundry if he didn’t help me set Daizy and Ben up, and now we’re here. And I’m yelling at him for things I shouldn’t be, because I have no one to blame but myself for getting myself into this mess. Ben warned me and I didn’t listen time and time again. The common denominator here is the alcohol, the second it touches my tongue I become much braver. Or dumber. Both?

He’s been drinking, too. I can smell it on his breath, fanning my face as his lips hover mere inches away from me. It’s so strange, how I’ve craved being this close to him but now that I am I want nothing more than to run away. In the measly distance between us, those inches, are where bad decisions are made. To break the seal is to never return, the start of an apocalypse. The end of the world as we know it.

He leans in closer—holy shit, he’s getting closer—but flinches at the last second. Desperately clinging onto familiarity.

Familiarity. Early morning wakes before the sun, whispers over steaming coffee mugs. I’ll feed Archie just as Ben wakes up. He’ll make a comment about how Steve never seems to sleep just as Eddie comes to make himself his daily Irish coffee. The four of us will eat breakfast then go on about our lives, knowing we always had each other to come home to on the days when everything sucks. One big, happy, fucked up family. And we’re about to completely ruin that.

“What the fuck?!” It’s for the better that Jenny’s scream rips through the room and spooks me so bad I shrivel up.

“This is totally not what it looks like,” I gasp out, shoving Steve away from me.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re making out with my boyfriend!” It’s a serious situation dulled by the ridiculousness of her fairy costume. Don’t you dare laugh, this is a horrible time. Ben, alerted by the shouting, arrives first. Trevor and Robin follow after him.“You filthy liar,” she starts up again, pointing an acrylic nail at Steve. “You promised me there was nothing going on between you two!”

“There isn’t!” Once he lies the first time, it’s like he can’t stop. “She drank too much and got sick. Was just helping her fix her makeup,” oh sure, make me look bad when you’re the one that spilt tequila all over me. Jenny’s not buying it, so he adds, “she’s got a boyfriend!”

“I do?” I murmur under my breath.

“You what?!” Ben snaps from beside Jenny, who folds her arms.

“If not my brother,” She looks back at Trevor. “Then who?”

Everyone watches me expectantly. I can feel Steve’s eyes boring a hole into my skull, begging for his life. I’m going to murder you, Steve Harrington. “I’m uh…” I start. Think, think! Late as always, Eddie barrels into the room, tripping and smacking into Ben’s back. Trevor catches him, helping him stand upright. Suddenly, I remember earlier. ‘Are you guys like, a thing or something?’ Trevor’s voice echoes in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull. “I’m dating Eddie, obviously!” I lie in desperation.

Eddie seems very surprised that we’re dating. Can’t blame him. He points at himself drunkenly with questions in his eyes, but as everyone stares at him and he looks between Steve and I—our pleading glances—he scoffs. “Oh, shit. Yeah. Totally forgot to tell you guys that,” he shrugs, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh really? Then how come I walked in on him fucking some girl when I was looking for the bathroom earlier? Sure as hell didn’t look like you,” Jenny snaps.

“…you walked in? Didn’t even hear you…” Eddie slurs, vampire teeth long gone, cape barely hanging on. Oh God, he’s to far gone to do this right now.

Shit. Well, you’re in too deep now. Might as well keep lying. “You son of a bitch!” I shout at Eddie, crossing the room. “You’re cheating on me?” I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the commitment to the bit, but I land one slap on his cheek. He looks down at me, leaning back and his chest puffed out like an angry bird. I want to laugh so bad but I restrain myself, grabbing his wrist. “Come here. I’m gonna… throw you off the balcony… or something!” I pretend to be fuming until I’ve dragged him all the way down the hall into the now empty living room. Seems as though the yelling made everyone scatter like roaches. Desperate to get away from everything, I open one of the windows and shove him out onto the fire escape, following right after. He’s laid on the ground like an idiot, so I fall into him when I jump down.

He giggles, spreading out like a starfish and his breath crystallizing in the air. “Did you—did you fucking hit me?” He says through belly laughs.

I plop down next to him on the cold metal. “Ugh, yeah. Sorry,”

“S’okay. I didn’t feel it,” he sits up, scooting backwards until his back hits the brick wall. I do the same and he wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. I rest my head on the junction between his collarbone and shoulder. “You’ve really done it now, Sweetheart,” he tells me, suddenly sounding sober. I’m pretty stone cold myself. The cold air does that to people, I suppose.

“Tell me about it,” I groan. I remember the cigarette Eddie gave me and I dig into my bra, where I’d stashed it for a situation like this one. I don’t smoke, but this seems like a perfect time to start.

He laughs. “So, you get lucky with Harrington or what?” He asks, digging through his back pocket to retrieve a metal Zippo with a skull on it.

“No,” I breathe, shivering as the sweat on my body cools to near freezing temperatures. Eddie feels it and pulls me closer, careful to not accidentally touch one of my many exposed parts in this skimpy costume. “You’re the only one who got lucky tonight. I can’t believe you scored a girl in one night,” I laugh, lighting the cigarette and handing the lighter back to him.

He slips a cig into his own mouth and lights it, the metal clink of the Zippo fading into the Chicago noise below us. “Yeah, well, she was actually a he. So not only is Jennifer a bitch but she’s also not very observant,” he discloses, casually puffing his cigarette. I didn’t know he swung that way until now, though I can’t say I’m surprised. “Something tells me she won’t be around much longer anyways,” he adds, shoving the lighter into his front right pocket.

“Why’s that?” I huff.

Eddie cackles, pushing smoke out his nose. “I stole her coke from her purse and planted it in Steve’s room for him to find,”

I snort. A surprised yet joyful sound. “Jesus, Eddie.”

Comfortable silence settles between us as we smoke our cigarettes. A buzz tingles through my body and my head feels light. It’s a wonderful feeling, but definitely not worth the taste of dirt and cancer. “Hey, Ed?” I finally say.

“Yeah, Sweetheart?”

“Thank you for playing along earlier,”

“Of course. I’ll be your fake boyfriend anytime,” he coos through a plume of smoke.

I wave the cigarette around. ‘This thing’s fucking gross. I’m never smoking again,” I smile, waving the cigarette between my fingers.

He laughs so loudly I’m scared he’ll wake up the neighbors. “That’s alright, you can stick to drinking,” he tells me. “How much have you had to drink? Must’ve even a lot to try to jump our roommate’s bones,”

“Six, seven including the one I had with you. And you know I hate when you say it like that,” I complain.

“Jesus H. Christ, how are you still alive?” He coughs.

“Spite.” I answer simple, snuffing my cigarette out on the wall to my left. I lull my head back onto his shoulder, exhausted and sick from the unholy concoction of nicotine and alcohol. What a night.

“That’s my girl.” He beams, mirroring my actions before leaning down to kiss my forehead. I smile to myself, allowing the drama of the night to seep out of me and sink into the earth to be forgotten about. That is, until the window opens again. Steve’s head pops out, solemn and puppy-like.

He looks at Eddie. “Hey uh…Can I talk to her for a minute?”

Eddie looks to me for approval. I nod and he stands, lending me a hand to help me up. I take it and he unties his cloak, draping it over my bare shoulders. On his way back inside he pats Steve’s shoulder twice. They exchange what I can only describe as guy telepathy, as I for the life of me can’t figure out why they’ve both got that look on their face. Eddie disappears into the apartment, the lack of his warmth palpable so I pull the cloak tighter to my figure. I look down at the city below us, zooming cars honking at drunk college kids in costumes scurrying across the streets.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly.

I peer up at him, thankful that the dark hides my pink cheeks. “Hi,” I squeak. Cringing, I stand up straight and tall. Appear confident. Do not seem weak.

“Jenny is uh—she’s gone. For good,” he shoves his hands in his blazer pockets, rocking on his feet.

“Oh. You found the drugs, huh?”

“The what?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it…” I make a mental note to force Eddie to remove the paraphernalia from Steve’s bedroom before it’s discovered. “Sorry you guys broke up,”

He surprises me when he laughs, dry and bitter. He shakes his head. “We were never really together in the first place. Honestly, she just scared the shit out of me. Thought if I called it off she might murder me,”

“You live with Ben and Eddie. How can you be afraid of anything after that?”I laugh. He mirrors it, warm and genuine, unlike the previous one.

There’s something hanging in the air, heavy like dumbbells suspended by flimsy string. About to drop on our heads and crush us both. What were we about to do? A lump in my throat forms as I choke down all the agonizing questions. Would you kiss me? Would you like it? Would you regret it? It seems there is no appropriate time to ask such loaded questions. But God, do I want to know. It’s driving me insane.

“About earlier—“ we both start in unison. Shared breathy laugher. I gesture for him to go first.

He steps closer, cautious and weary, like he’s approaching a skittish animal. “Before I say anything. Are you still drunk?”

I suppress my giant smile and shake my head. “Honestly, Jenny scares me too. I’m pretty stone-cold sober after that,” we are inches apart now, chests brushing. I look up at him in a surge of bravery. “Are you? Drunk, I mean,”

He smiles, white teeth and flawless skin. Silence. He reaches out, stroking my face with his thumb. “No. I stayed sober to keep an eye on you,”

“My hero,” I joke.

He chortles. “You drive me nuts, you know that?”

There’s a scuffle from inside the apartment. I peer through the window and catch Robin, Eddie, Vickie, and Trevor, thinking they’re ever so sneaky as they watch us. They catch my glare and scatter, a mess of limbs and someone must fall because I hear a loud bang. Ben shouts something that’s muffled through the wall.

Suddenly aware of watching eyes, I tilt my head back to Steve. You gotta stay away from him, Ben’s voice echoes in my head. We can’t do this here. Not now. “Keep up, Harrington.” I tell him, standing on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek before releasing myself from his hold. He stands there, dumbfounded in thought, until I open the window and call back to him, “Hey Superman. You comin’ inside? Or do you wanna sleep out here again?”

He laughs and runs a hand through the gel in his hair before chasing after me.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

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[jazzums]

told a manager today, "i don't like the way you're speaking to me," in front of god and everyone to see. she got pulled into the office by another manager for "coaching." she came out to apologize to me. i told her that everyone comes to vent to me and one of the things i hear often is the way she speaks to employees in front of customers. i told her, "it won't happen again."

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[invoncible]

mark grayson & fem!reader, MDNI.

cw. overstim

mark’s never been good at taking losses.

he hates feeling he’s even a second too slow or a punch too weak. hates being reminded of the impossible expectations everyone has for him… like he can never quite get it all right. it makes him itch for something he can win at.

at the end of the day, the only thing he does right 100% of the time is doing you, and he never ends a hard day without proving it. makes you remind him of that over and over again until you’re spent and unable to give him anything more than the shake of your body underneath his.

your breath comes in weak, shuddery pants, throat raw from begging for him. you don’t know how long you’ve been at it. the only thing that anchors you is the deep, slow roll of his hips as he works you through the mess of slick and cum between your thighs.

your body soaked, drenched in sweat and the heat of his body pressing heavy against yours. the air is thick with sex, filled with the wet sounds of his cock dragging through your swollen, fucked-out cunt that made your body flush with heat all over again.

“she’s so good to me,” he groans, pulling out of you before snapping back in, sharp and fast. his grip on your hips tighten. “so good.”

he’s not talking to you—not even looking at you. his chocolate eyes almost black from his blown pupils while he commits your ruined pussy to memory. she’s the best reward he could ever get.

you’d been going for… who knows how long. it’s like he had something to prove. he had your skin covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening under the low lighting.

for the first time in hours, mark’s given you just a bit of mercy and slows the snap of his hips to a lazy grind. not that it helps how overstimulated you feel. you still feel him so deep, his tip prodding that spongy spot inside.

“mm…” your brows knit as you moan hoarsely, back arching off the bed for what seemed like the millionth time, whining as your nails scratch up his back. “mark—”

“yeah?” he grins because that’s what he wants to see, your body readily accepting the pleasure he’s giving you. he’s breathing heavy as he pulls your legs higher up on his hips, lowering himself onto you nd propping himself up by his elbows on either side of your shoulders.

your eyes flutter when he leans in, his hair damp as it tickles your forehead. his lips brush over yours. “you still with me?” he murmurs, kissing you before you can respond.

dick. he knows the answer, and the way he smiles and chuckles lowly against your neck proves it.

barely. you’re barely there. he’s spilled on you more times than you can count, and it doesn’t seem like he’s stopping. mark exhales against your jaw, pressing kisses at your cool skin, and starts to piston his cock inside you again. whatever gentleness he felt like giving you gone in an instant.

“mark—!” you cry out, your body tensing around him, thighs squeezing his hips like a vice.

“fuck—” he groans, voice muffled in the crook of your neck. “i know, baby. but you take me so perfect, you always do, i just need—”

your walls clamp down in weak, desperate pulses, struggling to keep up as he pumps his veiny cock into your ruined insides.

fuck everyone else. everyone else could figure out their own problems. cecil could go fuck himself too and find someone else to get thrown around and beat up for the day. this was the win he needed. you were what he needed. and if he could bring you to pleasure over and over again, then he was doing something right.

“needed this today,” he grunts, “well. need you everyday, but—you know what i mean, don’t you?”

“uh-huh.”

he didn’t know why he asked. he knew he wasn’t getting a real response. the only thing bouncing around in that pretty head of yours was him and how good he was making you feel.

your lip burns from biting down on it, your head lolling to the side.

he chases you, perking up and putting himself in your field of view. “tapped out already?”

‘already’ like he hadn’t made you cum three times so far.

“fuck...” he loses his train of thought, his eyes unfocused as he gets close. his thrusts become erratic. “one more,” he begs brokenly, letting his head drop onto your chest. “gimme just one more. you can—can you do that for me?”

“yes,” you nod breathlessly. “please.”

“that’s my girl,” he smiles languidly and kisses your cheek before sitting up and towering over you once more. his hands gripped your hips, pushing you down into the mattress as he fucked himself into you. “knew you—fuck—knew you would, pretty girl.”

you gasped sharply, clawing at the sheets. you open your mouth to speak but all you could do was whimper and whine. his eyes flicker to your face in recognition, his thumb flying to your clit to bring you over the edge.

“s’too much,” you sob, tears pooling in your eyes as your body shakes. you try to push him away with your leg instinctively.

“don’t run,” he pouts.

“i can’t—“

“you can.” he coos, his fingers curling around your calves and folding them into you in a mating press. he adjusts his angle before fucking into you with renewed vigour. “you said one more, remember?” he grits out through his teeth.

you cry out as he drives his thick cock deeper than before, hitting your g-spot with precision with every crack of his hips.

“that’s it,” this man is pussydrunk, the joy on his face as he feels your tight heat squeezing him for all he’s worth. “you—”

he doesn’t get a chance to spew whatever bullshit he had in mind—you came with a ragged cry, arching into him, pussy tightening around him like a glove and milking him dry.

“shit.” mark curses under his breath at the sight of you. his eyes roll and his hips stutter, pulling out of you with crazy speed and shooting hot ropes of cum onto your already cum-stained stomach.

he drops on top of you, both of you panting and basking in your bliss.

you smile, threading your fingers through his dark hair as you come down from your high, body buzzing with satiated desire.

then he shifts. stares up at you with those puppy dog eyes of his and nuzzles against your chest. “i like this position,” he starts lowly, his voice thick and heavy. he presses kisses to the valley of your breasts, making your breath catch all over again.

“wanna go again? last time this time, promise.”

© invoncible

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It���s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[eloquentlytired]

18+ NSFW. MDNI.

dreamlike — tommy miller x fem reader

warnings: slightly dark content, dark!tommy, smut, unspecified age gap but reader is over 22+, masturbation, handjob, cheating, tommy’s moral compass breaks down, unclothed grinding, surprise ending, sex outdoors, tension, maria ily this isn't personal I just rlly like ur man

notes: hi guys it's been 100 years I'm sorry ily + take this bc im ovulating 😎 tommy miller suddenly making me feel things bc of gabriel luna that's right. likes and reposts are appreciated🥹

“I don't think you've settled down quite just yet.” joel tells him one day while they're eating breakfast together. tommy glances, swallows then responds.

“I don't know what you mean.” but his eyes betray him as they return somewhere for the fifth time; at a distant specific table where you're reading some silly book again.

your food is yet to be touched while tommy’s and joel’s are nearly gone.

“tommy we're too old for this shit, you and I. you're my brother, I already know what you'll do before you even do it.” joel throws the bait and tommy bites it.

“I’m not doing anything joel except—”

“except eating Maria's food while throwing damn heart eyes at her.”

tommy hisses at joel’s truthful interruption, not so much at being interrupted but at the validation of those words.

“I’m just making sure she likes the food.” joel deadpans, tommy does the same right after because of his own words. gods, he is pathetic.

“fuck, just shoot me already.” joel shrugs at his brother's words and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's grinning. “tell your wife, I'm sure she'll be delighted.”

tommy shakes his head and keeps on eating. he stresses over his thoughts so much that, lucky for you, he misses your piercing gaze and the bite of your lips.

he spends days trying to blame it on something other than him being a terrible person. the breakout, the virus, the living circumstances, the we need to work faster from Maria or that everyone depends on him for the hard stuff.

sure, tommy had chosen this in the first place but he doesn't even know if he wants whatever this is anymore. what does he want?

“mister miller!”

the tension leaves his shoulders as he watches you walk towards him, only wearing that favourite sundress of yours and an oversized jacket.

it's the first real summer that wyoming has felt since the outbreak. tommy only appreciates it because he's too lazy to gear up for winter.

“you’re early.” he says and finds himself smiling as you flop down beside him, sitting on the green weeds.

the snow is still melting but it doesn't make things less cold — but clearly you don't feel the cold he does.

“I helped in the kitchen so they let me off early.” you explain and tommy hums. he thinks about the past months when he'd found you during patrol, covered by the snow and nearly dead. he'd never ridden back home faster, urging for the medics to help you out and thank gods they'd done a great job. now you were here, a few months later, and trusting him more than anyone else while tommy was just a straight up bastard.

he fed you more than others, brought you new clothes that you might like and most importantly showed you his spot. that well hidden spot outside the fences which was an hour's walk away... it wasn't even special but it was spacious and quiet and a little cleaner — and suddenly he was calling it our spot instead of my spot.

for months you'd come here, chat with him and draw in your worn out notebook. the pages were running out and tommy made a mental note to find you a new one. fuck.

“what’s this?” tommy murmurs while his hand points at a very specific drawing on the left page.

he seems to pale while you just feel yourself growing hot. you'd drew him back in the cafeteria when he was looking at you, when he thought you were so unaware of his eyes but you always knew.

“I just—” you try to find the right words, or better yet the right excuse, but you can't. “I just did it.”

tommy catches on your tone as if you were afraid to receive a reaction. his reply surprises you.

“do I really look at you that way?” he asks and you nod, the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder clearly to test him.

tommy has never succeeded in any tests in his entire life.

you lay on the ground, indifferent about the weeds tangling in your hair. tommy’s face hovers over yours as he kisses you, one of his hands sneaking beneath your dress to squeeze your thigh and nothing more.

“tommy.” he swallows his own name from your lips, his lips kissing you feverishly yet the rest of his body doesn't dare move. tommy just sticks to laying beside you while his elbow achingly supports his weight.

he cannot trust himself to move, to slip between your thighs and only kiss.

the hand he's placed on your thigh earlier starts to retreat but you don't let it as you use both of your hands to capture his wrist.

“sweetheart.” tommy warns, his eyes blown wide with lust while his chest heaves up and down. he’s affected by this, feeling overwhelmingly lustful like he's young again, while also fearing the consequences of this. the aftermath of it.

for the first time you don't listen to him, pushing his hand between your thighs until his fingers come in contact with your soaked panties.

you hear him cursing beneath his breath, fuck this, as he touches you after what feels like forever.

he rubs you through your panties, his massive hand feeling the material soaking further as his thumb finds your clit. your head turns and you bury it in his chest while tommy just rubs.

his breath is hitched and he's in a far worse state than you for a different type of reasons. you drool on his shirt and throb against his fingers because you're excited, you feel good. on the other hand, tommy cups and fondles your pussy possessively while stressing over the limits. he can't do more than this — he shouldn't.

“can I touch your cock?” you whisper almost too shyly and tommy wishes joel would have just shot him when he had asked the first time.

your hand unzips his trousers and takes out his cock because tommy has obviously agreed, because it's your fault for looking at him with those sparkling eyes.

your foreheads collide as tommy touches you and you touch him.

his fingers eventually sneak beneath your panties because he wants it to be fair, you're touching his bare cock so he's entitled to your pussy right?— or maybe he really is just an asshole deep down.

nothing like the tommy that maria loves, nothing like the tommy that everybody respects. no, once again he's the tommy miller that only joel knows.

your fingers circle around his cock, feeling it at first, before caressing every inch of skin you can get. your eyes are on tommy’s as your foreheads keep touching and a soft smile occupies your face while you stroke his cock.

you're smiling and touching his dick and tommy likes it too much.

“you need a new notebook, don't you?” tommy asks through gritted as your fingers squeeze around his hard cock. because it's definitely the right time for conversations.

you nod, mouth slightly agape as his fingers circle your swollen clit and then dip between your lips, feeling you dripping.

“anything else?” he asks too softly while his nose brushes against yours, offering some intimacy that isn't just sexual.

“pencils?” you don't order him or demand. you ask because you care and tommy likes that you care in that way. it's always only if it's okay with you and that's exactly how he needs it.

“notebooks.. pencils.. whatever you say, it'll happen.” he slaps your pussy, not too hard, and you whimper.

you can feel your nipples hardening beneath your dress while your pussy simply leaks for tommy miller. your legs shift and you spread them.

tommy sways his hips, fucks his cock into your tight but soft fist and curses.

the summer breeze carries your soft whimpers and tommy’s gentle grunts. your hand strokes him a little faster as your thumb purposely brushes against his sensitive slit and you don't fail to notice the way tommy’s hips twitch when you do it.

the front of his shirt is a mix of your drying drool and his sweat but it doesn't bother him. his solid focus is to fuck your small fist and, of course, to pleasure you which is his first priority.

tommy can handle you, his middle finger circling your wet entrance slowly before he pushes in, the slide smoother than he'd expected. he adds a second finger minutes later, then a third.

you stroke his cock as he thrusts his fingers inside your pussy and for a while nothing else really matters.

the squelching of your cunt is loud and tommy curls his fingers inside you, reaching a place that makes you see stars. “tommy!” you gasp in that angelic voice and he goes a little crazy, fingers digging into your sweet spot as he becomes a little desperate with his thrusts.

your lower tummy shudders with delight and your thighs flex as his fingers thrust into your tight pussy recklessly, poking at those sensitive nerves every damn time.

tommy thinks you warn him about your orgasm but he's also not sure as he's too busy watching your face and your pussy reacting simultaneously. your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forms a small ‘O’ as your walls are suddenly gripping his fingers too tight, too deep.

you cum with a shuddering moan of his name and coat his fingers generously, becoming a spectacle. you squirt for him, because of him, and he'd draw out more if it wasn't for time running away from you two.

tommy seems confused when you push his hand away but then everything happens so fast. he can't stop it, he swears.

he watches as you roll to your side, your chest brushing against his, and slip his cock between your thighs. tommy can't breath when his entire girth slides between your pussy lips, soaking through, until his tip kisses your clit.

“no sweetheart—” tommy warns weakly but you're already moving, swaying. his cock is wet with your juices as it slides against your pussy, harder than ever, and he is utterly defeated.

“please cum on my pussy.” you mumble against his lips and he kisses you otherwise he might do worse. he satiates himself with this situation, sucking your bottom lip while thrusting his hips upwards and taking half of what he wants. something he doesn't deserve.

his balls swell and then clench as he orgasms, lowering his hips a little to cum on your pussy. he fulfils his promise, painting the surface white with his cum before resting his forehead on yours again. spent.

it's quiet for a long time as his arms remain lazily wrapped around your body. you melt against him, into him, and you two do your best to catch your breath.

when he looks at you again, the sun is setting right behind you and making you look surreal. you're like a dream while tommy is just there with a stupid smile on his face and half indecent because of what you've done.

then suddenly he doesn't feel real, his body is all too light before it gets incredibly heavy.

he hears his name being called out repeatedly tommy tommy tommy and he jumps, looking around with sweat dripping down his back.

maria stands over him as he lays on the couch because he's home — not outside the fence. not with you.

“I told you to cut day drinking with joel. he's bringing back old habits.” his wife tells him, pressing a kiss on his forehead before walking away.

tommy rises and stumbles to the window. the snow is still there, white and thick, while the red calendar on the wall reads December 25 like it's a fucking joke. like he'd never met you secretly in the spot that belongs to you and him.

reality hits hard as you pass by his house, that familiar notebook resting against your chest as you hug it preciously. you look at him instinctively, as if feeling his burning gaze, and you smile.

“merry christmas, mister miller!” you yell cheerfully and tommy nods, forcing his best smile.

miracles can only go so far and in the end, tommy can be content with just dreams.

[misaerabl]

Down, Girl

CONTENT: wc…9.7k ✦ toxic reader, loser ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), reader riding ellies face, fingering (both receiving), you eat ellie out in the bathroom, reader is a freak, more commanding, possessive, and is a bitch to everyone, uh you didn’t let her cum, reader guilt tripping ellie. SUMMARY: Ellie has always been yours—pathetic, desperate, following you around like a stray dog hoping for scraps. She worships you, does whatever you say, lets you push her around because she thinks maybe one day, you’ll love her back. You just like the attention. But then something shifts. Ellie starts pulling away, making friends that aren’t you, not always answering when you call. She’s still there, still yours, but she’s hesitating. You can’t have that. So you remind her—she belongs to you.

February 8, Afternoon.

You’re used to having Ellie right where you want her.

It’s almost funny, how easy it is. You press a little, and she bends. You pull, and she follows. Always so eager, always so desperate. It’s adorable, really. The way she watches you like you’re something holy. Like she’s lucky just to be near you.

You lean against her locker, waiting. The hallway is loud, but you don’t hear any of it. You’re too focused on the fact that she’s late. She’s never late.

She shows up two minutes later, looking like she rushed over. “Hey,” she breathes, pushing her hair back, shifting under your gaze.

You tilt your head. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Ellie scratches the back of her neck. “Yeah, I—uh, I had to finish something.”

Your eyes flick over her, taking in the way she won’t quite meet your gaze. She looks guilty. She should.

You step closer, your voice honeyed but sharp. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

Her head snaps up, wide-eyed. “No! No, I just—”

You hum, watching her squirm. Cute. “Good.”

You don’t have to say anything else. Ellie falls in step with you like always. Like she doesn’t even realize you just put a leash back around her neck.

You met Ellie Williams when you were thirteen.

Back then, she was just some scrawny, awkward kid with too many freckles and a closet full of ugly hoodies. The kind of girl who looked like she belonged in the background of a school photo, forgotten as soon as the camera flashed.

You were different. You had a presence—one that people noticed. And Ellie? She noticed you the most.

You don’t remember the exact moment she started following you around. It just happened. One day, she was a classmate. The next, she was yours.

It started small. She’d let you copy her homework, save you a seat at lunch, carry your things without you asking. She never expected anything in return. She just wanted to be close to you.

You liked that.

So you let her in, just enough to keep her hooked. Just enough to make her think she had a chance.

Now, years later, nothing has changed.

Ellie still follows you like a lost dog, still waits for your texts, still lights up when you so much as look at her. You let her sleep in your bed sometimes—when you’re feeling generous. You let her drive you places, take care of you when you’re drunk, clean up your messes.

She doesn’t complain. She never does.

But lately, something feels… off.

She hesitates before answering your texts. She doesn’t wait for you after class like she used to. You caught her sitting with some new people at lunch last week. When you asked about it, she stammered out some excuse, but it didn’t matter. You already knew—she was getting comfortable somewhere else.

You can’t have that.

So now, as you walk beside her, your fingers brush over hers—light, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch.

“Missed you,” you murmur, voice sweet. “You’ve been distant.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I haven’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

You grip her wrist, stopping her in the middle of the hallway. She looks down at you, startled.

You smile, tilting your head. “Then don’t.”

She nods. Just like that, the hesitation is gone. Just like that, she’s yours again.

Good girl.

Ellie’s house is small, lived-in, the kind of place that smells like old books, laundry detergent, and whatever air freshener her aunt picked up from the store that week. It’s familiar. You’ve been here more times than you can count, curled up on her bed, stealing her hoodies, making yourself at home like you own the place.

You do own it—at least, the parts that matter.

Ellie sits on the floor, back against the couch, guitar balanced on her thigh. Her fingers move over the strings absentmindedly, plucking a tune you don’t recognize. Her head is bowed, auburn hair falling over her face. She looks calm, focused. Content.

She should be looking at you.

You shift slightly, adjusting the little boy in your lap. Luke is Ellie’s half-brother, a quiet kid who took to you the way most people do—easily, naturally, like it’s impossible not to. Right now, he’s holding onto your wrist with his small hands, playing with the bracelets on it as he leans against you.

You hum, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Ellie,” you say, dragging out her name just a little, letting it settle in the air.

Her fingers falter against the strings. She looks up, eyes flicking to yours immediately, like muscle memory.

“Play something I know,” you say, voice soft. Sweet.

Ellie nods without question, shifting the guitar, adjusting her grip. She starts playing again, and this time, the song is familiar—one she knows you like, one she’s played for you before, late at night when it was just the two of you.

You smile, satisfied.

Luke tugs on your sleeve. “Sing,” he says, tilting his head up at you.

You laugh, ruffling his hair. “I don’t sing, baby.”

He pouts. “Ellie says you do.”

Your gaze snaps to her. She freezes, caught.

You raise a brow, smirking. “You been talking about me, Williams?”

Ellie clears her throat, looking away, ears tinged pink. “Just—just mentioned it.”

Cute.

You lean back against the couch, letting Luke curl against you, your gaze still on Ellie. She keeps playing, but you can tell she’s distracted now, too aware of your eyes on her.

Good.

She was starting to forget her place. But that’s alright—you’ll just have to remind her.

Ellie’s room smells like her. A mix of faintly sweet vanilla and something sharp, like the lemon-scented cleaning spray her mom always insists on using. Her bed is unmade, as usual, a pile of mismatched blankets and clothes scattered around the floor. The space is small, but it’s hers. Her little kingdom.

And right now, it’s just the two of you—her sitting at the edge of the bed, fiddling with her fingers, her knees drawn up to her chest. You sit across from her, lounging in the chair by her desk, legs stretched out, letting your fingers lightly tap the rhythm of a song you’ve been listening to on repeat.

You watch her. You always watch her.

Her hands keep moving, an unconscious twitch, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tracing circles on her knee. She looks away from you, a little too quickly, as if she’s trying to avoid your gaze.

You raise an eyebrow. Nervous again, huh?

It’s cute.

"What's going on?" you ask, leaning forward slightly, letting your voice fall soft but sharp, like a thread pulling her closer to you.

Ellie shifts her weight, finally looking up at you, her brown eyes wide. Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates, just long enough to make it obvious. You know she’s working up the nerve. You know she’s always working up the nerve when it comes to you.

"Just…thinking," she says, voice quiet, almost sheepish.

You can’t help the smirk that curls on your lips. “Thinking? About what, Ellie?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bites her lip and continues to fidget, her thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles in that rhythmic, nervous way you’ve come to recognize. It’s a habit, a tell. One of many.

You wait, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to disappoint you," she says suddenly, the words spilling out before she can stop them.

Your breath catches in your chest, but you don’t let her see it. Instead, you stand up slowly, taking a few steps toward her, watching the way her posture shifts, like she’s waiting for something.

You kneel in front of her, just close enough that she has to meet your eyes. You don’t speak at first. Instead, you reach out and gently touch her hands, making her stop fidgeting.

Her fingers freeze, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening. She still won’t look at you.

“Disappoint me?” you repeat softly, voice low and teasing. You let the words linger, making her feel the weight of them. "You know I don't like when you do that."

Her eyes dart up to meet yours, and for a moment, you see the tiniest flicker of fear in them—like she’s scared of what you might do if she does disappoint you.

You smile, that same sweet, dangerous smile. "You won’t disappoint me, Ellie. You can’t."

Her breath hitches, and for a second, you think she might say something else—something more. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she just lets you pull her hands into yours, squeezing them gently, her heart racing beneath her chest. She’s waiting for you to speak again, to tell her what she needs to do next.

You whisper, “Good girl.”

Her shoulders finally relax, just a little, but her gaze stays locked on yours, like she’s trying to read your mind.

You stand, dragging her with you, pulling her close enough so she can feel the heat of your body against hers. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in just slightly, letting your lips brush against her temple.

“You’re mine, Ellie,” you murmur, low and quiet, just for her. “Always have been.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You both know the truth.

You take a step back, letting her breathe, but you don’t go far. She follows your every movement with her eyes, like she’s afraid to miss something.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add, just to remind her.

The relief in her eyes is unmistakable. She’s not sure what you want from her, but she knows she’ll give it.

And that’s exactly how you like it.

Ellie is still looking at you like that—like you hung the damn moon, like she’ll do anything to keep you happy, like she wants to be owned.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She doesn’t fight it. She never has.

You’re still close, her hands limp in yours, like she’s waiting for you to decide what happens next. Always waiting on you.

And maybe—maybe you should remind her why.

You hum softly, tilting your head. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

Ellie swallows, her jaw clenching slightly. She looks down, and you know—you know—she’s trying to gather herself, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words.

She never gets the chance.

You lift a hand to her chin, gently tilting her face back up to you. “Ellie.”

Your voice is softer now, coaxing.

She meets your eyes, and for a second, she’s just staring—like she’s trying to memorize you, trying to understand what you want from her.

You let the moment stretch, let the silence settle heavy between you, before you speak again.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

It’s not really a question. You both know the answer.

Ellie’s breath shudders, and she nods.

You tighten your grip on her chin, just slightly. “Words.”

She exhales shakily. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I’m yours.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips.

Good girl.

You don’t give her time to think—you move before she can, leaning in, closing the space between you. You kiss her like she belongs to you, like you need her to understand it.

And fuck—Ellie melts.

She lets out the smallest noise against your lips, her hands gripping at your waist, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away too soon. You don’t. You press in closer, one hand slipping into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

She’s so easy for you. So desperate.

You deepen the kiss, swallowing the tiny gasps she makes, reveling in the way she’s already pliant, already giving you everything you want without hesitation.

When you finally pull away, Ellie is breathless, flushed, her lips red and swollen. Her eyes stay locked on yours, wide and dazed, like she still hasn’t caught up to what just happened.

You grin, dragging your thumb over her bottom lip. “Still thinking?”

Ellie swallows hard. “Not really.”

You laugh softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek, then to her jaw, just because you can. Because she lets you.

Because she’s yours.

February 9th, Evening. 

The party is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the hum of conversations, the clinking of drinks, the occasional burst of laughter from the kitchen. The air smells like cheap beer and something vaguely sweet—someone must’ve brought those shitty fruit-flavored vape pens everyone’s been obsessed with.

You barely notice any of it.

Abby fucking Anderson is pressed against you, arms wrapped lazily around your waist, her lips brushing against your neck every now and then. She’s warm, solid—her grip firm, like she knows she can have you if she wants. And maybe she can.

You let her hold you. Let her lean in close as you talk to—Sierra? Sidney? Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is. The host, too busy with the party to care that Abby’s hands are sliding lower, her fingers digging into your hips.

You smirk, amused.

Abby’s been flirting with you all night, making it obvious, shameless. She’s charming, in a way that comes easy—cocky but not overbearing, confident in the way that only someone who’s used to winning can be. The way she looks at you makes it clear she knows she could have you. That if she tried a little harder, pushed just a little more—

And then you see her.

Ellie.

Tucked away in the corner, half-hidden behind the couch, talking to some girl you don’t recognize.

Fidgeting.

Nervous.

Almost… blushing?

Your stomach tightens.

She doesn’t see you watching her, too focused on whatever the girl is saying, nodding along, lips twitching into an awkward little smile.

And suddenly, Abby’s touch doesn’t feel as interesting anymore.

Your jaw clenches, fingers curling slightly at your sides.

Ellie looks—fuck, she looks comfortable. Like she’s not thinking about you. Like she’s not waiting for you to notice her. Like she’s—

No.

You pull away from Abby, ignoring the way she raises an eyebrow at you. Your drink is still in your hand, but you barely register it, your focus narrowing in on Ellie, on the way she shifts her weight from foot to foot, playing with the rings on her fingers, nodding along to whatever the girl is saying.

Like you aren’t even here.

Like she’s forgetting who she belongs to.

That won’t do.

That won’t do at all.

“I’ll be back,” you murmur, already taking a step away.

Abby scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Where are you even—”

You don’t let her finish. “Relax, Anderson,” you say, turning to glance at her over your shoulder. “Go find someone else to grope.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, but she doesn’t stop you. She knows better than to push when you’ve already lost interest.

Your heels click against the floor as you make your way to Ellie, purposeful, sharp. The girl she’s talking to—Dina, apparently—is still speaking, something animated, something that has Ellie nodding, shifting from foot to foot like she’s actually engaged in the conversation.

How cute.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Oh, there you are,” you drawl, stepping into their space without so much as a second thought. You barely glance at Dina, eyes locked on Ellie. “Didn’t realize you wandered off. Got bored of waiting for me, baby?”

Ellie stiffens, her hand twitching at her side. “I—”

“She doesn’t have to wait for you.”

Dina cuts in, arms crossed, glaring up at you like she actually thinks she has a say in this. You raise an eyebrow, finally sparing her a proper look.

Excuse me?

Ellie shifts beside her, awkward, rubbing the back of her neck.

Dina scoffs. “Do you just—let her talk to you like that?” She turns to Ellie fully, disbelief written all over her face. “Like, seriously? You just let her push you around?”

You tilt your head, watching Ellie, waiting.

She knows what to do.

And of course—your good girl never disappoints.

Ellie scratches her cheek, glancing between the two of you, and then—she shrugs. “It’s not—” She hesitates. “It’s not really like that.”

Dina’s expression darkens, her frown deepening. “It kinda is like that, Ellie.”

Your patience thins.

Your lips curl into something amused, something condescending, as you step just a little closer, tilting your head at Dina like she’s a fucking pest.

“Who even is this skank?”

Ellie flinches. Dina’s expression twists.

You smile.

Ellie clears her throat, glancing at Dina apologetically before mumbling, “Uh—this is Dina. She’s a—uh, she’s a scholar.”

You barely blink. “Cool.” You turn back to Ellie, gaze dark. “We need to talk.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I—”

You grab her wrist, firm, but not rough. Not yet. “Now.”

Ellie hesitates for a moment, but then—then she nods, letting you pull her along without protest.

Good girl.

You don’t even look back at Dina as you lead Ellie down the hall, pushing open the first unlocked door you find—a bathroom, small and dimly lit.

Perfect.

You shove Ellie inside, stepping in after her, closing the door with a sharp click.

She shifts on her feet, rubbing her arm, looking at you like she knows exactly what’s coming.

Smart girl.

You cross your arms, gaze hard. “What the fuck was that?”

Ellie shifts under your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, avoiding eye contact like she’s some fucking schoolgirl getting scolded.

You step closer.

She tenses.

“Since when do you wander off?” you ask, voice sharp. It’s not loud—doesn’t need to be—but it’s firm, edged with something that makes Ellie shrink a little, pressing her back against the sink.

She swallows. “I—I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“You just what?”

She flinches at the bite in your tone.

Your head tilts, arms crossed, waiting.

Ellie exhales, rubbing at her jaw. “I had to use the bathroom,” she mumbles. “And then—uh—Dina was outside, and we just… started talking.”

Your jaw clenches.

She’s never done this before. Never just drifted away from you. Usually, at these parties, she stays put—sits in the corner, waits, watches, like a good girl. Until you decide you’re done with everyone else. Until you tell her it’s time to go.

But this?

This won’t do.

You scoff. “And what, you forgot about me?”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No! I—I didn’t forget, I was just—”

You take another step, crowding her against the sink.

She shuts up immediately.

Good.

Your fingers lift to her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at you. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parting slightly, breath shaky.

You hum, fingers tracing along her jaw, light, teasing. “You know better, don’t you, baby?”

She nods quickly, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Your grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind.

“Say it,” you murmur.

Ellie swallows, cheeks flushed. “I—I know better.”

You smile. “That’s my good girl.”

But she still needs to learn.

Ellie barely has time to react before you push her back, hands firm on her hips, guiding her onto the edge of the sink. Her breath stutters, hands gripping the porcelain as she looks at you—wide-eyed, confused.

“W-What—”

You drop to your knees in front of her.

Ellie freezes.

Her fingers twitch against the sink, chest rising and falling a little too fast, a little too shallow. She swallows hard, staring down at you like she can’t quite process what’s happening.

You tilt your head, running your hands up her thighs, slow, teasing. “You need to learn, don’t you, baby?”

Ellie nods automatically, like it’s instinct.

You smirk. “Then let me teach you.”

Your hands find the edge of her pants, you tug it slightly 

“Take it Off.” 

She hesitates, eyes flickering between yours, searching—maybe for reassurance, maybe for a way out. As if she doesn’t already know there isn’t one. As if she doesn’t already belong to you.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Your gaze stays firm, unwavering, expectant.

Ellie exhales sharply, hands hovering at the waistband of her jeans, fingers gripping the fabric like she’s still weighing her options. But you both know there’s only one.

Slowly, she complies.

She was wearing some black and grey boxers, you smile as you watch her. “Those come off too, Ellie.” 

Ellie's face burns as she looks down at you, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches for the waistband of her boxers. She hesitates for a moment, before pulling them down her legs and stepping out of them.

Her breath comes in short, nervous bursts as she watches you, wondering what you'll do next. Her thighs are clenched together, as if trying to hide herself, though she knows it's pointless.

“Legs open, baby” 

"Mhm," Ellie moans softly as she spreads her legs wider, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. Her cheeks are stained red, eyes watching you carefully. She's fully exposed now - her bare pussy on display, wetness already gathering at her entrance.

You lean in close, breath ghosting over her skin, With one hand, you gather your hair, twisting it up into a makeshift ponytail. Then, without a word, you reach for Ellie’s wrist, guiding her trembling fingers to take over.

Her breath catches.

She doesn’t need you to say it. She knows exactly what you want.

And she obeys.

Ellie's fingers curl around the base of your ponytail, her grip tentative at first, before tightening as she becomes more confident. She pulls your head forward, guiding your face towards her dripping wet pussy. "Oh god," she whispers, her voice shaking.

You bury your face between Ellie's thighs, your tongue diving straight into her slick folds. She cries out, fingers tightening in your hair as she rocks her hips forward, seeking more contact. Your tongue laps at her clit, swirling around the sensitive bud before sucking it into your mouth.

Ellie's moans grow louder as you expertly work her clit, her hips rolling desperately against your face. Wetness coats your chin as her juices flow freely. One hand grips your hair tighter, while the other covers her mouth to muffle her increasingly shameless noises.

You slip a finger inside her, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes her see stars. Ellie's legs shake as she grinds down onto your hand and mouth, chasing her release. She bites down hard on her lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure builds and builds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..." her words come out as whispers between gasps, her hips moving in small, desperate circles against your face. She can feel her orgasm approaching, her body tensing. Her legs threaten to give out completely as you ravage her. "I'm gonna…”

But then—just as she starts to tremble—you pull away.

Ellie barely has time to react before you wipe the liquid from your mouth with the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that makes her breath hitch. Her hand still lingers in your hair until you slap it away, standing back up like nothing happened.

She just looks at you. Panting. Pleading.

Why the fuck did you stop?

The question is written all over her face—eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted, body still tense, waiting.

You just smile, tilting your head as you run a teasing finger along her flushed cheek.

“Maybe next time,” you murmur, voice dripping with amusement. Then, leaning in just enough for her to feel your breath against her ear—

“When you didn’t piss me off.”

Ellie swallows hard, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

Let her stay like that. Let her ache for it.

February 13, Morning

The café is warm, filled with the quiet hum of conversation, the clinking of cups against saucers, the rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your laptop’s keyboard. Outside, the sky is overcast, a dull gray that matches your mood.

You sip your coffee, glancing at the time. Ellie’s late.

She always is.

But eventually, the door chimes, and there she is—messy auburn hair tucked under a beanie, hands stuffed in her pockets, hoodie slightly oversized on her frame. She spots you, and something flickers in her expression, something unreadable, before she makes her way over.

“Hey,” she says, dropping into the seat across from you, rubbing her palms together like she’s cold.

“Hey,” you echo, closing your laptop. She smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne, like she just came from somewhere she doesn’t want you asking about. But you don’t press—yet.

Things feel normal. Like you didn’t have your lips on her five days ago. Like you didn’t have her trembling for you in some grimy bathroom four days ago.

You talk about nothing for a while, easy, effortless. Then, casually, you ask—

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?”

Ellie freezes mid-sip, eyes darting up to yours like she just got caught in a lie she hadn’t even told yet.

You laugh, light, amused. “What? Did you forget?”

She swallows, scratches the back of her neck. “Uh. No. I mean, kinda. I just—”

Your amusement fades. “Spit it out, Ellie.”

She shifts in her seat. “Dina and some of the guys invited me to hang.”

Silence.

You blink, tilting your head. “And you agreed?”

Ellie exhales, looking away. “I figured you’d be on a date or something.”

You stare at her.

A date.

A date.

The sheer audacity makes your jaw clench, fingers tightening around your coffee cup. Since when have you ever done that? Since when have you ever let some guy take you out on Valentine’s instead of spending time with her?

Ellie finally looks back at you, realization dawning in her eyes as she sees the irritation brewing in yours.

“Are you serious?” you ask, voice calm, even, but sharp.

Ellie doesn’t answer. Because she already knows.

Ellie, ever the nervous wreck, tries to salvage it.

“I mean, I—I’ll still come over,” she says quickly. “After. We can hang in the evening.”

You just stare at her.

She’s squirming in her seat, fidgeting with her rings, eyes darting between you and the scratched-up wooden table like she’s waiting for your verdict. Like she knows she fucked up and is just hoping you won’t punish her for it.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. Then you scoff, shaking your head. “Wow. Lucky me.”

Ellie flinches, the tips of her ears going red. She doesn’t say anything. Of course she doesn’t.

Because she knows—knows—that whatever you say, she’ll do it. You’re already in her head, buried under her skin, wrapped around her ribs like something vital, something she can’t scrape out no matter how hard she tries.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll let this slide.

Your phone is already in your hand before Ellie can say anything else. You don’t even hesitate. If she’s spending time with other people, then so are you.

You scroll through your messages until you find her name.

Abby Anderson.

She replies within minutes. A smug, easy response

Abby : "Thought you weren’t interested."

You smirk.

You : "Changed my mind."

Ellie shifts in her seat, oblivious, still trying to figure out how much trouble she’s in.

Who the fuck does she think she is?

February 14, Valentines

You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly as you smooth out the fabric of your dress. It hugs your body in all the right ways, accentuating everything that Abby will no doubt appreciate.

Abby wasn’t a bad choice. Smart, jacked, and disgustingly wealthy. You knew this date wouldn’t disappoint. She wouldn’t disappoint.

But as you swipe a final coat of lipstick on, as you spritz perfume over your collarbone, as you slide on your heels—your mind isn’t on Abby at all.

It’s on Ellie.

On the fact that she texted you an hour ago— On my way. —like she wanted you to acknowledge it. Like she expected you to care.

You didn’t even respond. Just left her on read.

Because you wanted her anxious. Wanted her restless the whole day. Wanted her checking her phone every five minutes, heart pounding every time the screen lit up, only to be met with silence. You wanted her thinking about you.

But now, as you grab your bag and slip your phone inside, something bitter creeps into your chest.

She’s out there. With them.

Laughing at something Dina says. Maybe fidgeting, maybe stammering, maybe blushing.

You inhale sharply, roll your shoulders back, shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight will be perfect.

Abby will make sure of it.

…But will you?

The restaurant Abby picked was perfect—fancy but not showy. Dim lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, a bottle of wine already chilling at the table before you even sat down. She had everything planned, down to the smallest details.

She picked you up in an expensive car, a sleek black Audi with leather seats that smelled brand new. The kind of car you knew she could replace in a heartbeat without a second thought. She even stepped out to open the door for you, the perfect gentleman.

You posted pictures on your story—subtle flexes. The perfectly plated steak, the candlelit ambiance, the empty wine glasses. But most of them were of you—Abby had taken them, of course. She had an eye for it. The angle just right, your features highlighted in the soft golden light.

And Abby… Abby was undeniably perfect.

She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Knew how to touch you in ways that made your skin warm and your heart beat just a little faster. Her lips brushed against your neck at just the right moment, her fingers grazing your knee under the table in just the right way.

Nothing could ruin this.

Nothing.

At least, that’s what you thought.

But when Abby excused herself—standing with that easy confidence, telling you she’d be right back, that she had another present for you—you pulled out your phone. Just to check. Just to see.

And there it was.

A story.

Ellie.

Drinking.

With Dina.

Some ginger-haired bitch sitting on her lap.

Your grip on your phone tightens.

Your jaw clenches.

Everything else—the restaurant, the wine, the warmth of Abby’s touch—fades into the background.

Ellie doesn’t drink. Not unless she’s nervous, or desperate, or being stupid.

And that girl—who the fuck is she? What the fuck is she doing in Ellie’s lap?

Abby’s voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“Miss me?” she teases, placing a small, elegantly wrapped box on the table.

You glance up at her, then back at your phone.

Your mood has already shifted.

And now, you need a drink.

Abby’s hands were firm on your waist, her grip possessive in a way that most girls would melt under. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, her confidence unwavering—like she knew exactly how this was going to go. Like she was sure you were going to let her in.

Your arms were draped over her broad shoulders, fingers lazily playing with the soft strands of her hair as you deepened the kiss. The night had been perfect. She had been perfect. A bouquet of flowers so big it barely fit in your arms, a new pair of designer heels that she had practically forced you to accept, and an expensive necklace that still sat around your throat, cool against your flushed skin.

Abby made it easy. She never made you wait, never made you feel like you had to chase her, never made you question your place.

So why the fuck were you thinking about Ellie?

Her stupid nervous fidgeting. The way her knee bounced when she was anxious. The way her voice cracked sometimes when she tried to talk back. The way she looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

The way she had someone else on her lap.

Your nails dug into Abby’s shoulders, and she let out a small, amused hum against your lips, mistaking your sudden aggression for passion.

“You’re on me tonight, huh?” she teased, smirking as she pulled back slightly, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

You should be focused on this. On her. On the way she looked at you like she knew she could have you.

But instead, your phone buzzed.

And you—like a fucking idiot—glanced at the screen over Abby’s shoulder.

Ellie.

“I’m outside. Let me in.”

Your breath hitched.

Abby noticed.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, lips ghosting over hers, but suddenly the air had changed. The control had slipped for just a moment.

And now, you had a choice to make.

You shifted in Abby’s lap, her hands gripping your waist instinctively, like she didn’t want you to move. Her lips were hot against your neck, trailing down, hands sliding over your thighs, her touch deliberate.

Then your phone buzzed again.

You glanced at it, saw the name on the screen, and immediately pushed yourself off Abby, standing up like nothing had happened. She looked up at you, brows furrowed.

"You good?" she asked, voice thick with something unspoken.

"Yeah," you said, brushing your hair back, fixing the straps of your dress like she hadn’t just had her hands all over you. "That was my mom."

Abby’s eyes flickered with something skeptical. "Your mom?"

Your heels clicked against the floor as you stepped out of Abby’s car, your arms full of gifts—flowers, designer shoes, jewelry, all things that screamed that you were wanted. Abby leaned against the doorframe of her car, arms crossed over her broad chest, watching you with an expression that teetered between amusement and frustration.

"You sure you don’t want me to take you upstairs?" she asked, her voice smooth, calculated. She knew what she was doing, giving you one last chance to let her in.

You smiled, soft but firm. "I’ll text you."

She held your gaze for a moment longer, like she was trying to see if you were bullshitting her, but ultimately, she nodded. "Alright," she murmured. One last time, she stepped forward, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your lips—slow, deliberate. Like a silent reminder that she had been here first tonight.

You let her, even smiled against her lips, before pulling away and wiping the smudged lipstick from her face.

"Goodnight, Abby," you said, voice sweet, final.

You turned on your heel, the weight of her gaze burning into your back as you made your way into the building, clutching the expensive gifts she had given you like they meant something.

But by the time you reached your door, all of it—the necklace, the shoes, the flowers—felt heavy. Unimportant.

Because Ellie was here.

Waiting.

Just like she always did.

You saw her tuck her phone away, her gaze flickering over the gifts in your arms—the bouquet, the neatly wrapped designer bags, the weight of the night still lingering on your skin.

Then, you watched as it clicked.

Ellie’s jaw tightened just slightly. "You were on a date."

It wasn’t a question.

You just hummed, shifting the weight in your arms. She stepped forward, reaching out. "Here, let me take those."

You didn’t argue, handing her the heavy bouquet first. When you leaned in to pass it to her, your perfume mixed with the faint traces of expensive cologne clinging to your skin. Ellie inhaled instinctively.

And there it was.

Familiar, but not yours.

She knew that scent.

Abigail Anderson.

You ignored the way her fingers twitched when she took the bouquet from you, brushing past her as you unlocked the door. "Just leave it on the coffee table," you murmured, voice light, like this was any other night.

She did as you said, but you could feel the weight of her stare the whole time.

You walked into your room, slipping off your heels. Ellie followed, wordlessly taking a seat on your bed as you went to your vanity. You caught her gaze in the mirror—steady, sharp, calculating.

You started getting unready, removing your earrings first.

"Soo..." she finally spoke, her voice low, unreadable. "You were with... Abby?"

You saw the way her hands curled into the sheets at her sides. The way she tried to keep her voice casual.

You smirked.

This was going to be fun.

"Yeah, I figured if I was gonna spend Valentine’s with anyone, it should be her..."

Your voice was smooth, deliberate—each word sharpened just enough to cut. Like Abby was the only one who deserved your time. Like you hadn't even considered spending it with Ellie.

Why should you? It wasn’t your fault she had other plans. She blew you off first. She chose to be at some party, surrounded by people who weren’t you. Chose to let some girl—some nobody—sit on her lap like she belonged there.

Ellie doesn’t say anything at first. You see the way she tenses, fingers curling against the hem of her hoodie. Her knee bounces, jaw clenched like she’s trying to keep herself together, trying to be unaffected. But then she huffs out a breath, all forced nonchalance, and leans back on her palms.

"Right," she mutters, nodding slightly, like she’s convincing herself more than responding to you. "Makes sense. She’s, like... perfect, huh?"

There’s something in her voice that makes you pause—something bitter, something jealous. And it satisfies you.

ou unclip your earrings, dropping them onto the vanity with a soft clink. "Well, yeah," you say simply. "She knows exactly what to do, what to say... how to treat me."

Ellie’s jaw tightens.

You smirk at her reflection in the mirror. That got to her.

"She bought me all this, by the way." You gesture lazily to the designer shoes, the necklace glinting under the light, the massive bouquet sitting on your coffee table. "Really went all out. I mean, not that I’m surprised."

Ellie swallows, looking away. Her fingers fidget in her lap, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

"So," she starts, voice quieter now, "you had a good time, then?"

You twist your lip in amusement, watching her through the mirror. "I did."

Ellie nods again, but she doesn’t look convinced. She’s avoiding your gaze now, staring hard at the floor, at the carpet, at anything but you.

Good. Let her wallow in it. Let her sit in the weight of it, in the consequences of her choices.

You turn around, arms crossing over your chest as you lean against the vanity. "Why do you care?" you ask, tilting your head, studying her.

Ellie flinches, just slightly. She lifts her head, and for a second, she looks like she’s going to deny it—going to say something sarcastic, something dismissive. But then her lips press into a thin line, and instead, she lets out a shaky breath.

"I don’t," she lies.

You smile. "Good."

The room was quiet now. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft rustling of fabric as you moved, slipping off your necklace, tossing it onto the nightstand. The weight of the night clung to the air, thick and heavy, pressing down on both of you.

Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot at the edge of your bed, shoulders hunched, fingers tangled together in her lap. She was stiff, tense, like she was forcing herself not to look at you.

And maybe she was.

You were down to just your underwear, skin bare under the warm glow of your bedside lamp. You stood up, moving across the room with slow, deliberate steps, grabbing an oversized shirt from your drawer and tugging it over your head.

When you flopped back onto the bed, right next to where she was sitting, you felt her shift. Barely. Just the tiniest movement, like she was reacting to your closeness without meaning to.

You turned your head, looking at her. She was staring at her hands now, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of your comforter.

You smirked.

"What?" you drawled.

Ellie shook her head. "Nothing."

"Liar."

She exhaled, long and slow, like she was trying to collect herself. Her knee bounced again, her nervous energy filling the space between you.

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. "You mad?"

Ellie scoffed, finally looking at you. "Why the fuck would I be mad?"

You hummed, tilting your head. "I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause I spent Valentine’s with someone else?"

Her jaw clenched. There it was again—that flicker of something, jealousy twisting its way across her face before she could shove it down.

You smiled, slow and smug.

"I mean," you continued, drawing out your words, "you were so busy today, after all. Out with Dina, drinking, letting some random girl sit on your lap—"

"She wasn’t—" Ellie groaned, running a hand down her face. "Jesus, are you serious right now?"

You shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it."

Ellie looked at you then, really looked at you, green eyes sharp and searching. The tension between you both was suffocating, crackling like a live wire, like a fire waiting to ignite.

And then—

She reached out, fingers brushing against your thigh, just barely, just enough to make you aware of the heat in her touch.

You inhaled sharply.

Ellie smirked this time, tilting her head as her fingers lingered. "You don’t actually think I give a shit about Abby—do you?"

You laughed. Not loud—just a quiet, amused little chuckle under your breath. Like the thought of Ellie even comparing herself to Abby was so ridiculous, it was funny.

"God," you sighed, shaking your head, still smirking. "You’re so fucking stupid sometimes."

Ellie frowned but didn’t argue.

"Lay down," you told her.

She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should, but then she did—slowly easing onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like it would give her answers.

You turned onto your side, elbow sinking into the mattress, head propped up on your hand as you looked at her. Studied her.

"You really think I would’ve picked her over you?" you murmured, dragging the words out, letting them settle.

Ellie tensed.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Wow. And here I was, thinking you knew me better than that."

She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her hands fisted the hem of her hoodie, gripping the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.

"I mean, I guess I did have a nice time," you continued, voice featherlight, tipping closer to her. "The restaurant was beautiful. Expensive as hell. Abby’s just so... put together, you know?"

Ellie’s jaw clenched.

"And she was so sweet. Got me all these gifts, picked out the prettiest necklace—"

You reached up, dragging your fingers lightly across your collarbone where the necklace should be. You knew she was looking.

"And God, she was so..." You trailed off, exhaling a small, pleased hum. "Perfect."

Ellie inhaled sharply through her nose.

You smirked. Got her.

"But I guess you don’t care, huh?" you added, faux-disappointed. "You were too busy with Dina and your little party. Guess I was just supposed to sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie’s brows pinched. She turned her head toward you, finally meeting your eyes, guilt flickering behind the green.

You just blinked at her, expression unreadable. Waiting.

She swallowed. "I—"

"No, it’s fine." You exhaled through your nose, like you had just made peace with something disappointing. "I mean, if you don’t care, you don’t care. I won’t force you to."

Ellie flinched. "I— That’s not what I—"

You shook your head, shifting onto your back, staring at the ceiling now too. "Forget it, Ellie. Just forget it."

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Ellie stared at you, at the way your face was turned away from her now, at the way you had just shut her out.

She hated it.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Ellie didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You could feel her eyes on you, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

Good. She should feel that way.

You sighed, shaking your head like you were just so disappointed in her. Then, before she could even react, you shifted—climbing over her, straddling her waist, pressing her into the mattress.

Ellie’s breath hitched. Her hands twitched at her sides, like she wanted to grab your hips but knew better.

"God," you murmured, staring down at her, fingers dragging up her chest, curling into the fabric of her hoodie. "You’re such an idiot."

Ellie swallowed hard. "I—"

"You didn’t even think to ask me what I was doing on Valentine's?" you cut her off, tilting your head, voice low and sharp. "Just assumed I’d be off on some date like some desperate little bitch? Like I don’t always spend that day with you?"

Ellie flinched. "No— I—I just thought—"

"Yeah, I know what you thought," you spat. "You thought you could ditch me, spend your night with Dina and whoever the fuck else, and I’d just sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie looked away. "I didn’t mean—"

"Shut up," you hissed.

She did.

You leaned in, your breath ghosting over her lips, your fingers tightening around her hoodie. Her hands clenched into fists against the sheets, body completely tense beneath you.

"I bet you didn’t even care what I was doing," you murmured, voice laced with venom. "Didn’t even think about me while you were at that party, huh?"

Ellie’s breath came out shaky, her eyes flickering up to meet yours. "I did," she whispered.

You scoffed. "Oh yeah? That’s why you had some bitch on your lap, right?"

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. "That wasn’t—"

"You’re so fucking selfish," you continued, fingers dragging down her chest, over her stomach, stopping just above her belt. "You get to go off, do whatever you want, and I’m just supposed to sit around and be fine with it?"

Ellie was breathing heavier now, chest rising and falling beneath you, her hands twitching against the sheets. She wanted to say something. You could tell.

But she didn’t.

Because you were right.

You tilted your head, your fingers curling around the collar of her hoodie, yanking her attention back to you.

“What happened, Ellie, huh?” Your voice was smooth, dripping like honey but firm, unwavering. "You're mine."

Ellie stayed silent, staring up at you like you were something holy, something dangerous.

"Are you fucking stupid, or did you forget?" You dragged your nails up her jaw, tilting her chin up, making her look at you.

Her lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling like she was struggling to breathe.

She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t. What could she even say? That she knew she fucked up? That she knew you had every right to be mad? That she hated the thought of you with Abby, hated that you went on a date, hated that you let her kiss you?

Ellie was selfish like that. Always was.

She just kept staring at you, eyes dark, full of something between guilt and desperation.

And you smirked, because of course she wasn’t going to fight you on this.

Then, slowly, you leaned down.

Her breath hitched the second your lips brushed against hers, barely even touching before she was already reacting—lifting her head to chase your mouth, hands twitching like she wanted to grab you but knew she wasn’t allowed to.

You let her suffer for a second, just hovering, letting your breath tease her, watching her fall apart before you even gave her anything.

Then, finally, you kissed her.

Ellie let out this soft, broken sound—something between a whimper and a sigh—like she’d been holding her breath since the moment you climbed on top of her.

She kissed you back instantly, desperate, needy, like she had something to prove, like she was trying to apologize without saying a single word.

But you weren’t gonna make it easy for her.

You pulled back just as quick, barely giving her a second of relief before you were already ripping it away.

Ellie’s lips were parted, her breath uneven, pupils blown as she stared up at you, dazed, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to move or if she had to wait for you to give her permission.

God, she was so fucking easy.

You pulled back completely, watching the way Ellie instinctively followed, like she wanted to chase after you but forced herself to stay put.

Then, without a word, you climbed off her, settling beside her on the bed. You didn’t look at her at first, just leaning back on your hands, legs crossed at the ankles, letting the silence stretch long enough for her to start squirming.

Ellie stayed on her back, still staring at the ceiling, but you could see her hands gripping the sheets, her knuckles going white.

Then you finally spoke.

"You’re gonna make it up to me."

Ellie stiffened. Her head slowly turned to you, eyes flicking over your face, searching for something—anger, maybe, or some kind of mercy—but all you had was that same unreadable smirk.

You tilted your head, watching her. "You do wanna make it up to me, don’t you?"

Ellie nodded instantly, sitting up slightly. "Yeah. Of course."

You smiled, pleased.

"Good," you said, voice smooth, tapping your fingers against your thigh. "Then listen carefully."

Ellie looked wrecked. Like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to explain, but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to test you when you were like this.

"You ruined this day for me, Ellie. You hear me?" Your voice was steady, sharp. "God. You had fun without me? Let some girl sit on your lap that wasn’t me?" You scoffed, shaking your head like the thought alone was disgusting.

Ellie flinched, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. "No—"

"And best of all," you interrupted, leaning in, "you came to my door, right when I was gonna let Abby in." You tilted your head, watching the way Ellie’s face froze. You let that sink in before delivering the final blow. "Let her have me."

You were lying, of course. But she didn’t need to know that.

Ellie’s breathing had gone shallow, her whole body stiff, jaw clenched. You could see the jealousy rising in her, the way her hands twitched like she didn’t know what to do with them.

"So," you continued, calm, tilting her chin up with your fingers so she’d look at you, so she’d really understand. "You’re gonna make up for all that. Do you get it?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, and nodded. "Yeah," she rasped, voice barely above a whisper. "I get it."

She watches as you sit up, lifting your hips to remove your panties. She swallows hard, waiting for you. 

Ellie barely had time to react before you shifted, grabbing onto the headboard as you moved, positioning yourself just above her face.

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping at the sheets like she was waiting for permission—waiting for you to tell her what to do.

"You want to make it up to me, right?" Your voice was teasing, low, but there was no room for argument.

Ellie nodded, her pupils blown wide as she looked up at you, desperate, waiting.

"Then do it."

As you move into position and take off your shirt and bra, straddling her face with your bare pussy hovering just above her mouth, Ellie's heart races. She looks up at you, her hands slowly reach up, grasping your hips gently.

That's your good girl. 

Your hips begin to move, rolling and grinding against Ellie's mouth. She grips your hips tighter, spreading her legs wider beneath you. She sticks her tongue out, catching your clit with the tip. You moan softly, riding her face faster. She hums softly, taking your movements like a champ.

Ellie's fingers dig into your hips possessively as you bounce on her face. Wet noises fill the room - your pussy smacking against her mouth, her sloppy suction sounds. She sticks her tongue deep inside you, making you moan loudly. 

You can feel her nose pressing against your clit with every downward thrust. The angle lets you grind harder against her tongue, chasing your orgasm. She looks up at you with glazed, fuck-drunk eyes, completely devoted to pleasuring you. Just like how it should be.

You loved her like this—obedient, eager, desperate to please. Making you feel better, making you feel good—she fucking should.

She was yours. And after that shit she pulled today, God, it was only right for her to make it up to you.

Her hands gripped your thighs like she was holding on for dear life, her breath hot against your skin, her eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. And you were.

“Better make this count, Ellie,” you murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, threading your fingers into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

“Because I’m still so fucking mad at you.”

Your movements become more erratic as you near the edge. Ellie's fingers flex against your hips, helping to support you as you ride her face with abandon. She can feel you getting closer, your pussy clenching around her tongue. She doubles her efforts, determined to make you come undone.

You throw your head back, arching your back as you reach the peak. Ellie opens her mouth wider, catching your release as it gushes out. She swallows hungrily, trying to drink every drop as you shudder and tremble above her. "Mmmphhh…”

You slowly come down from your high, your pussy still twitching as the last waves of your orgasm subside. Ellie keeps her mouth pressed against your folds, licking up every bit of your juices. Finally, she pulls away, her lips shiny and glistening.

 "Good girl, but we're not done yet baby” 

She looks up at you, doe eyed. A small amount of your juices drip down her chin. She licks her lips, swallowing the excess. She hummed, her voice soft and submissive, clearly eager to please you further. 

Ellie obediently sits up, pulling her hoodie over her head and tossing it aside. She reveals her breasts. Crawling onto the bed, she positions herself above you, her knees straddling your hips.

She offers her hand to you, palm up. You spit into her palm, and she looks down at the saliva, then back up at you with a confused expression. You guide her fingers towards your center. She slowly inserts her fingers inside you, curling them upwards at your instruction.

As she fingers you, her other hand reaches up to play with her own breasts. She pinches and rolls her nipples between her fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her hips start to rock slightly, grinding against your thigh. She's clearly getting turned on from pleasuring you.

You feel her fingers moving faster, more confidently inside you. She's learning quickly, hitting your spots just right. Her other hand leaves her breast to reach down, spreading your lips open so she can watch her fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

You spread your legs wider, pushing your hips down to meet her fingers. "God yes," you moan softly. She watches your reactions closely, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your quickened breath. Her fingers curl again, making you buck your hips sharply. "Right there," you gasp.

Pressing hard and rubbing. "Jesus," you moan loudly, your back arching slightly. She sees how wet you're getting, how your body responds to her touch. She adds another finger, stretching you. Your inner thighs tighten, your heels dig into the mattress.

Ellie curls her fingers deeply inside you, her palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed, a breathy moan leaving your lips as you grind against her hand shamelessly. "So Beautiful," she whispers in awe, feeling your arousal coating her fingers.

She leans down, her face hovering over your breast. Without breaking eye contact, she sticks out her tongue, circling your nipple teasingly before sucking it into her mouth.

Her fingers move faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over while her palm maintains constant pressure on your clit. Your breasts heave with each laborious breath, legs trembling as another orgasm builds. "Oh fuck..." She notices your approaching climax and curls her fingers even deeper.

Watching your face contort with pleasure, she realizes how good she's become at pleasing you. Your moans get louder, more insistent…

With a choked gasp, you surrender to your climax, your pussy clamping down hard around Ellie's fingers. She continues to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging every last shudder and twitch. As your release subsides, she slowly withdraws her fingers, bringing them to her mouth to lick clean.

Ellie swallowed, her lips still glossy, her eyes still blown wide as she looked up at you. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, trying to steady herself, but you weren’t going to let her think this was over.

“How was that?” she asked, voice raspier than usual, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear you say it.

You tilted your head, watching her carefully, dragging your fingers along her jaw, down her throat, feeling how she tensed under your touch.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice slow, teasing. Then you leaned in, close enough that your breath tickled her skin before you pulled back again, smirking.

“But don’t think I’ve already forgiven you.”

tag list ! : @reinam00n @macaroni676 @blackdykegirlblogger @monki-nat

[bucketbueckers]

ACCOUNTING

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

synopsis: You're watching KK and the rest of the team fool around on live when Azzi walks in asking for an accounting tutor. Deciding to humor it, you're surprised to find that Azzi was completely serious, and even more surprised when your offer leads to something more between the two of you.

notes: in honor of azzi fudd hoops last night - i was supposed to have this up before the game but i forgot i had a three hour lab and unfortunately i will not write fanfiction in the middle of the university food court. first tumblr post, lmk if we're rockin w it 🙂‍↕️

You’re settling into bed to unwind for the night when you get the TikTok notification.

KK Arnold has gone live!

For the better part of your day, you’ve had your nose in the books, trying to get ahead of your weekly homework. You have a terrible habit of letting most of it pile up during the week and finishing it all over the weekend. As an accounting major, you didn’t really have fun weekend plans, anyway, but it would be nice to lay in bed all day and not worry about something that was due at 11:59. You only had three classes today: managerial accounting, intro to auditing, and intermediate accounting. It wasn’t a rigorous schedule by any means; you were done and out of classes by lunchtime, but after two and a half hours of listening to your professors drone on, you were ready for the nap you couldn’t afford to take due to your piles of homework. 

Seeing the live notification is enough to remind you that you aren’t really that tired, so you click on it. KK’s face fills the screen and she’s unboxing Crumbl cookies. You say a silent prayer for the girls – Crumbl tasted terrible and that was a hill you were willing to die on. Paige sat behind KK, with Ayanna, Jana, Kayla, and a few other players milling about off-camera. For a painful few minutes, KK tries her best to get everyone’s attention so she can narrate about whatever monstrosity of a cookie they’re eating, but everyone’s laughing too hard to fully lock in.

Ayanna leaves to get a knife so KK can cut the cookies evenly. KK entertains the live while Ayanna is away, singing, chatting, and interacting with commenters. When Ayanna finally returns, she has the knife, but Azzi also trails behind her - a fact that the live is definitely appreciative of. “Oh, my God, look who it is!” KK intones in a shrill voice, much to Azzi’s clear bewilderment. You’ve never seen an expression of such confusion on someone’s face before. “It’s Azzi Fudd!”

Azzi buries her face in her hands and moves off-camera as everyone laughs. KK’s voice softens as she asks, “Azzi, wanna try a cookie?”

“No,” Azzi whines.

KK’s entire expression shifts, and admittedly, yours does, too. It’s no secret that Azzi was almost nationally known as the people’s princess. Perhaps you’d have to fight someone. You hope that no one’s actually done something wrong to her – first of all, you can’t even fathom the idea. It’d be like kicking a puppy. Second of all, you were just someone, along with 13,000 other viewers, watching the team interact behind a screen. You were sure that Azzi’s team would handle business, although you were willing to step in if needed, too, even if you stood a solid six inches shorter than Azzi herself. “What happened?” KK asks. Paige echoes her question.

“Ask the live if anyone can tutor me in accounting,” Azzi says forlornly.

You don’t think she’s serious until KK turns back just in time for the cowboy hat to return. “Hey, y’all! Is there anybody who’s really good at accounting for Azzi Fudd? Please send help. If you do have someone who’s really good at accounting, please DM me at k2times TikTok or at kamoreaarnold Instagram or at azzifudd Instagram! Thank yew.” The room dissolves into giggles as KK continues, “And if you DM me with edits or anything else but accounting help, I will block! Thank yew.”

You have the time today, so you switch over to Instagram as the live continues in the background, and you go to Azzi’s page and hit the Message option. You doubt she’ll see it, let alone respond, but as an accounting major, it’s basically your civic duty to help those in need, especially since you know these classes are hell.

hey do u actually need accounting help? i major in it!

Satisfied, you click back over to the live just in time for Azzi to comment, “KK, I might actually have a tutor,” she says in near disbelief. You think nothing of it as KK turns her head, humming at Azzi. “Wait, I think she’s in my class.”

That manages to catch your attention. Sure, you’re watching a live with a couple thousand people on it, but how many of those people are accounting students at UConn who happen to share a class with Azzi Fudd?

An Instagram notification pops up on your screen as Paige leaves the camera frame to most likely peer over Azzi’s shoulder. You’re shocked again to see Azzi has DM’ed you back.

Yes please this homework is killing me Are you in ACCT3201 with Cansler??? I recognize you

Discovering just how unobservant you are should not come as a great surprise. Apparently, you’ve been sharing a class with Azzi Fudd this entire semester and you didn’t even realize it. This is easily the most embarrassing moment of your entire life.

i am i can’t believe i didn’t know u were in it i’m a lot better at accounting than i am at paying attention, i promise

This draws a giggle from Azzi that you can hear over the live. It makes a flush rise on your cheeks. The fact that Azzi Fudd knows who you are combined with the fact she’s laughing at your jokes is enough for a feeling of anticipation to twist in your chest. This is your life now, apparently.

“Azzi is cheesing so bad,” KK teases. You can’t help but feel a little pride at that. “Who’s chatting her up right now? Lemme invite you. Accounting rizz is insane work.”

“Don’t scare away my tutor,” Azzi grumbles, coming back into view of the camera. True to KK’s words, a faint blush has settled on her cheeks. Feeling far too smug, you comment on the live, ‘calling it rizz is crazy, i’m just helping the people.’ Azzi’s eyes scan the screen before rolling slightly. “Look at what you did, KK.”

“Is that her?” KK shrieks. She leans in closer to the screen, blocking out much of the background. “Oh, she fine. Lock in, Azzi; she can help you with more than accounting.”

At that, you and Azzi both blush a deep scarlet red and Azzi turns on her heel. “Goodbye, KK!” The room dissolves into rambunctious laughter as Azzi walks out, calling, “I’m going to finish my homework!”

A moment passes before Azzi messages you again.

I’m so sorry about KK, she’s feral

You swipe away from the live again, grinning slightly. In your DMs, the typing bubbles appear for a few short moment. You heart her most recent message in the meantime.

Will you please help me? I genuinely don’t understand what I’m doing wrong

Yes, you’ve spent most of the day in classes and doing homework. Yes, you’re tired. Yes, you really only joined the live to unwind. But when Azzi asks for help, you can’t really say no to her.

of course, are u working on this week’s homework set?

Her affirmative response is swift, telling you what she’s having trouble with. Your fingers hesitate on your screen, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words before settling.

i know this is incredibly forward but would u want to ft? i can explain better verbally

Azzi sends you her number. After tonight’s events, you really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but you can’t help it. Azzi is a nationally (and internationally) recognized college basketball player and, until now, you were just a girl who watched her team’s TikTok lives and cheered in the student section. Azzi had seemed so untouchable, by virtue of her celebrity and your lack thereof; it’s hard to believe you’re this close to her now, even if it’s just to help her with accounting homework.

The two of you talk well into the night, even hours after Azzi submits her problem sets successfully and she understands the material. You feel like you get to see a side of her so rarely seen by other people who aren’t her teammates. She’s softer, with a beaming smile on her face when she finally understands a difficult concept. There’s something so alluring about the way she speaks that you can’t help but listen to every single thing that comes out of her mouth, ranging from her frustrated rants to the smoothness of her giggle. The lamplight reflects off of the lenses of the glasses perched on her nose and you think she’s so incredibly beautiful – bare-faced and slightly delirious from staying up so late.

When the two of you finally hang up half past three, you can’t wipe the smile off your face, and somehow, you just know that this is the start of something new.

From then on, your friendship with Azzi all but flourishes. She’s incredibly sweet, soft-spoken, and so deliberate in the way she moves and speaks to you. When your next accounting class rolls around, she finds the seat next to yours, asking to sit there with an almost shy expression. When there’s lulls in the lecture, you entertain her with jokes, drawing red-cheeked giggles that she has to stifle. You’re almost like her personal TA, sitting next to her and clarifying concepts that she doesn’t understand. It helps you, too; the best study advice you’d ever received was to teach it to someone else. 

Your friendship progresses outside of the lecture room and outside of your texts. You both spend a lot of time in the library, studying in peace together or enjoying lunch in each other's company. You always thought Azzi was gorgeous, but now that you know her on a far more personal level, falling for her was a near guarantee. The far-away admiration transformed into something pure, genuine. You couldn’t imagine Azzi returning those feelings — she’s far too busy, too committed to ball — so you keep your rapidly growing crush close to your chest. 

You’ve always showed up to the UConn games, though there’s something distinctly different about them now. Azzi was never one for grand celebrations or trash talk in the way Paige was. She was intentional and lowkey, which is why you feel like you could float when she makes direct eye contact with you in the student section, throwing up three fingers to celebrate a particularly deep three. It’s why you cheese when she finds you after the game, after she’s showered and changed, and asks if you want to get ice cream with her. The better question was how could you refuse?

Azzi deliberates between vanilla and cookie dough for a long while before settling on the latter. Even as the clerk fills her bowl, she stares at the the vanilla and your choice of ice cream becomes obvious. Azzi stares at you as the clerk fills your bowl with vanilla. “What? It’s my favorite flavor,” you lie, and her lips quirk up as she studies you. 

“Said literally no one ever,” she says wryly. The clerk hands you the bowl and Azzi swipes her card before you have the chance to even contemplate otherwise. When you stare at her in disbelief, her smile widens and all fight leaves your body. What were you supposed to do about that? You were a puddle for pretty women — a puddle for Azzi, honestly — and your resolve should be commended for maintaining months of friendship with Azzi. 

The two of you find a secluded booth towards the back of the ice cream shop. Azzi shares her midterm grade — a solid 100, and you whistle lowly. “I got an 89,” you say, not hurt by it at all. As long as it was above an 80, you could care less. “You sure you still need me?”

Azzi swirls her ice cream around her bowl, suddenly quiet. The realization dawns on you immediately. Your words were meant to be a joke, but the truth to them stuns you. You really hoped Azzi would say, ‘of course not, it’s not like that!’ but her silence keeps you guessing. 

“I have a confession to make,” she says after a beat, finally glancing up at you. The vulnerability and nervousness makes your heart fall out of your ass. “Promise it won’t make anything weird?”

You open your mouth just to close it again. You clear your throat. “Promise, Az,” you say finally. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she says quickly. “Um, so here’s the thing. I struggled a lot with the first problem set. You know, the one I needed the tutor for?” You nod, confused by her words. “You helped a lot. And, like, I haven’t really needed actual tutoring in weeks. I just really liked spending time with you.” You blink at her. She stares at you right back, brows furrowed with guilt and her doe eyes wide. “I’m sorry. You must feel like I wasted your time.”

At that, you can’t help but laugh, and Azzi pouts. “Az. I thought you were about to dump me,” you explain. “Plus, I kinda figured after a while we were just like, studying together, and not me actually tutoring.”

She sighs, burying her face in her hands. You laugh again, pushing your leftover ice cream towards her. Azzi glances up again, her eyes soft and fond. “I guess I just wanted an excuse for you to stick around.”

“You never needed one,” you tell her honestly, and a blush creeps up her neck. 

“You’re not really picking up what I’m putting down, are you?”

Her words almost make you recoil. It’s no secret at this point that you can be a little oblivious, but her words make your heart skip a beat. “Az, I have no idea what you’re putting down,” you admit.

“So, I just admitted to you that I liked spending time with you and lied about needing study help just so I’d have an excuse to hang out with you,” Azzi confirms. “We are sitting here, alone, after a game while my teammates celebrate at Ted’s. All of that, and you have no idea what I’m putting down?”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh,” you say smartly. 

“Yeah.”

“So, you like me?” you ask just to be one hundred percent sure. 

She smiles at you. You’re certain your heart almost stops beating. “How could I not?” she asks like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “You make me laugh. You’re always so patient with me, you make me feel seen — like I can just be myself. It’s… hard to find something genuine like this. You don’t expect anything from me.”

“I just want you to be happy,” you say simply. 

Her eyes confirm everything for you. You’re not observant, sure, but your main priority has always been what was directly in front of you. And right now, it’s hard to focus on anything that’s not Azzi. Azzi’s eyes are so soft, kinder than anything you’ve ever seen before. They hold so much understanding but there’s also a silent plea of let this be mutual that you’re too happy to give into. 

“I’ve been falling for you for a while,” you admit, and her face brightens. Your shoulders feel lighter; carrying around your feelings has burdened you, but if it’s the price you had to pay to make sure Azzi felt comfortable and that she could have friendships without people taking advantage of her celebrity, then so be it. You’d bear a lot more for her if it ever came down to it. “I kept it to myself for a while,” you continued. “You deserve normal. A friendship without expectations. But, God, Az, how could anyone not fall for you?”

Azzi’s cheeks flush a pretty red. You can’t help but smile at her, growing a little braver, and you slide your hand across the table. She wastes no time before intertwining your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

She walks you home that night, refusing to let go of you until you’re halfway through your doorstep. She stops you; her height would be intimidating if you didn’t know she was the sweetest person to ever walk the earth. “Can I…” She trails off, her hands gentle on your waist. 

You don’t need much more convincing — you loop your arms around her neck and tug her down to your height, planting your lips on hers with a softness that she eagerly reciprocates. You can taste the vanilla on her lips, the sweetness of the cookie dough, and the promise of something distinctly reminiscent of Azzi Fudd. You’re suddenly thankful for KK’s stupid live, for Crumbl cookie, for the accounting class you shared together. It’s all led you to where you are now, in Azzi’s arms outside of your apartment, overcome with the knowledge that all of this is so new, but you have everything you could have possibly wanted.

(You ask her to officially be your girlfriend two weeks after that, having been on three dates since — it’s only after you pop the question and the two of you are settling in to watch a movie that she admits to you the real reason she was struggling so bad with the problem sets was because she’d spend entire lecture periods staring at you. You roll your eyes, feeling inexplicably cared for in a way you haven’t experienced before Azzi, and your only true response to her confession is the lingering kiss you place on her lips.)

[fear-is-truth]

❝ WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT’S LESS DANGEROUS ❞

warnings — murder mention. s2 spoilers. suggestive pairing — nam-gyu x f!reader word count — 745 a/n — english is not my first language sorry

THE DORMITORY IS UNNERVINGLY QUIET TONIGHT, just the occasional cough or the faint rustle of shifting blankets break the stillness, but even those small sounds seem out of place. the events of the night before hang like a disaster on a frayed piano string, threatening to snap at any second. bodies are still sore, bruised, and battered from the chaos that erupted when the lights went out—violence erupting in the pitch black, leaving a trail of terror in its wake. the air reeks faintly of sweat and fear, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that had dried into dark brown stains on the floor.

the thanos team is completely disbanded, not that you cared. you didn’t much like the rapper anyway, but his death felt like a strange relief—a violent severing of a bond you never wanted in the first place. se-mi, though. your chest tightens at the thought of her. se-mi didn’t deserve what happened to her. you don’t even know how she died—no one does.

now it’s just you, min-su, and that asshole nam-gyu.

min-su doesn’t say much these days. he sticks close but keeps his distance at the same time, like he’s not sure if you’re allies or just temporary survivors sharing the same sinking ship. nam-gyu, though, you don’t trust that prick.

you’ve learned to sleep lightly, one ear always tuned to the sounds of the room. and tonight, something feels… off. the faintest sound of movement makes you jolt awake, fingers instinctively curling around the shard of glass tucked in your sleeve.

“relax.” even without seeing him, you know it’s nam-gyu. the last person you want to deal with in the near darkness. “what are you doing?” you whisper harshly, fear twisting into irritation as his silhouette moves closer. he doesn’t answer, just shoves your legs aside like he has every right to be there. the audacity of this man.

“move.”

“get off,” you shove at his shoulder, but it’s like trying to push a wall. he wedges himself onto your narrow bunk, his body pressing flush against yours.

“someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“not after what you did last night,” his arm bumps into your ribs as he makes himself more comfortable. “you’re better at playing dirty than i thought.” you bristle at the words. from anyone else, it might sound like begrudging respect, but from nam-gyu, it feels like a thinly veiled insult. after all, you were just trying to make it out alive.

“then keep an eye on me from your own bed.”

“what bed?” he snaps. you realise belatedly that his mattress must’ve been stolen during the free-for-all. you open your mouth to argue further, but nam-gyu suddenly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down against the mattress with him.

“shut up,” he hisses, breath warm against your cheek. “you think i trust you after everything? you’re lucky i’m still on your side, or you’d already be dead.”

the shard of glass digs into your palm, and you loosen your grip, debating whether to stay still or stab him. the latter is very tempting. a chill runs through you, but it isn’t fear. not entirely. his grip on you is unyielding, almost desperate, as if holding onto you because he doesn’t know what else to do with thanos gone.

“this isn’t necessary.”

“stop moving,” he hisses. you shift again, uncomfortable because there’s something hard pressed against your lower back. “unless you want to wake everyone up. trust me, they’ll have a field day when they see us all cuddled up.”

“this isn’t cuddling. it’s you being a creep.”

“call it what you want, just quit squirming for god’s sake.” he grouses, “you’ll just make it worse.” nam-gyu moves again, adjusting himself discreetly.

“make what worse?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, but the second they do, you freeze.

then it dawns on you.

oh.

heat rushes to your face, mortified as the realisation settles in. you freeze, hyperaware of every inch of him against you—the solid weight of his chest, the curve of his thigh pressed to yours, and now… the unmistakable press of his hardened cock slotted firmly against your ass. nam-gyu clears his throat awkwardly.

“just go to sleep.” the edge in his tone is softened by exhaustion, one that mirrors your own. “we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[lomlhwa]

scandal (l.c)

pairing: idol!reader x idol!chan

preview: you got into a dating scandal with another idol and chan is not happy. it should've been him, he's your actual boyfriend after all.

tags/warnings: fem reader, mentions of beomgyu and other idols, possessive chan, kisses galore, pet names (pretty, baby, my love, angel), oral (fem.receiving), holding hands while fucking, so much praise, monster cock chan, marking, did i say possessive?, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.8k

song rec for this fic: obsession by exo

a/n: i tried making fake tweets + texts for this how did i do? also i just threw in random female idols to make a fake group lol

you sigh, putting your phone down and rubbing your temples. dating as an idol is so tiring and sometimes you honestly forget why you even try. but you love your boyfriend so much. beomgyu is your good friend and sometimes you fail to remember to be sneaky when hanging out. even small things like going out to eat together makes fans assume you’re madly in love. this isn’t the first time you’ve been roped into media with beomgyu and you’re certain it won’t be the last. 

with your swift rise to fame, you’ve had many dating scandals in your time. what pisses chan off the most is the fact that it’s never been him that you’ve had a scandal with. you’ve gone out on many public dates before and no one has ever picked up on the fact that you’re together. he even kissed you in the view of a sasaeng one time and they didn’t notice. he wonders if it’s intentional on the media’s part or if they’re seriously just that oblivious. 

you run your hand through your hair, trying to fathom why the general public knowing about your relationship is so important to him. everyone within the industry knows so why does everyone else have to? relationships can ruin idol reputations and he doesn’t seem to care. maybe it’s because you’re both already so big that he’s not worried? or he’s hoping your fans are just accepting enough to be okay with it? 

your members come wandering into the living room and you’re quick to compose yourself. you don’t want them to know you’re having relationship problems again. “you okay, y/n?” minji asks you, concern spreading on her face. you nod and smile to the best of your abilities. “hmm, i don’t believe you but we have schedules so i’m not gonna push,” karina shakes her head before gesturing for you to follow the group out the door. you gather your things and do your best not to think about anything but the late night ahead of you. 

___________________________________________

after a late night at dance practice you finally get the time to check your phone. you know chan had a fansign today so you decide to check on some of his fan accounts. you smile as you’re met with cute photos of him posing with gifts from fans. you find lots of updates on things he said as well. his current favorite movies, foods, tv shows and… songs. of course he mentions you. it’s cute that he listens to your music and likes to promote you to fans. 

you jump as you realize sana is perched over your shoulder, reading your text messages. “he’s gonna get in trouble when people realize he keeps talking about you,” she comments, clicking her tongue. you sigh dramatically, slouching your shoulders. “that’s what he wants.” suddenly all your members are gathered around you, confused as to what you’re talking about. “i got into another scandal with beomgyu and chan is jealous that it’s not him. so he’s putting in extra effort to try and get people to assume things.” your members share a weird look between them before turning back to you. “i think you should go on the most public date ever and make sure everyone knows you’re with lee chan of seventeen,” lily smiles brightly at you. this comment shocks you a little but you agree. 

“will you guys help me set up a giant celebration at the restaurant under our dorm?” you ask and they all agree excitedly. you all rush to get back to your dorm, eager to plan an extravagant dinner for you and your boyfriend. you talk to the owners of the restaurant and they agree to vacate the restaurant for you. they even promise to make food on the house. your girls help you pick the perfect outfit, hair and makeup for the event. they even “accidentally” tell a well known media outlet that you have plans for tomorrow and they should be there. 

___________________________________________

you sit in eager anticipation waiting for your boyfriend to show up. you can see a photographer out of the corner of your eye, waiting for something to happen. you hear the backdoor open and chan walks in, confidence filling his every step. your eyes fall on the suit he chose for tonight. he left his blazer undone, showing off that the buttons resting on his chest were begging to burst open. 

“hello, my love,” he says as he pecks your cheek before sitting down across from you. “what’s the occasion for such a fancy dinner?” his face changes to panic for a moment before he speaks again; “did i miss our anniversary? your birthday?” you shake your head and chuckle just as a waitress comes scurrying out of the kitchen with pre prepared food. you thank her and shoot her a quick wink before turning back to your lover. chan looks at you with an unreadable expression, but you hope it’s positive.

the two of you eat your food happily, the atmosphere feeling very comfortable. your share anecdotes from your lives as idols, laughing that the ridiculousness of your respective companies. before long, your meal is coming to an end. chan gives you a look you know all too well and you’re quick to scurry away, up the stairs and to your dorm. your boyfriend follows swiftly behind you after thanking all the staff. 

you thank your members mentally as you enter your normally occupied dorm. as soon as the door is closed, chan’s hands are on you. he drags you by your hips, crashing you against him. he kisses you with such aggression that you would think he was trying to eat you. your tongues tangle like snakes, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. “fuck, baby. you’re so sexy, you know that?” he connects his lips to your jawline, sucking on your skin gently. he sucks dark red marks on your collar bones, taking a moment to lean back and admire his work. 

“jump,” he mutters as he hooks his hands under your thighs. you hop and he catches you before quickly scurrying towards your room. he lays you down on your bed, pressing your legs wide open. he groans as he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties. you bite your lip as he admires you. “stop fucking me with your eyes and fuck me for real,” you demand. chan drops to his knees in front of you, desperation filling his eyes. you lift yourself onto your elbows so you can see him better. he kisses his way up your thighs before meeting his lips with your drenched core. 

his skilled tongue darts out to circle your clit, small whines escaping from your throat. he grips your thighs, holding you exactly where he wants you. he slurps and drinks you up as you twitch and squirm under him. he focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, rubbing his tongue back and forth over it. “channie, please please ple-ah,” he silences you with a harsh smack to your inner thigh. “let me enjoy your cunt. god, i love that you’re mine,” he presses kisses against your slit, licking a fat stripe up it to follow. “fucking mine.”

he grazes his teeth over your clit, drinking in the way you squeak and raise your hips towards his mouth. your hands fly to his hair and drag his mouth back to you. he chuckles before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it before letting it go with a small ‘pop.’ you grind your core against his face, his nose brushing your clit as you get more and more desperate for release. “you have the most perfect pussy, baby. could eat you forever.”

a low moan slips from his lips as he watches you clench around nothing at his words. he places one final kiss to your core before rising off his knees. “you’re so tasty, angel. but i think i might explode if i don’t get inside you.” he reaches down to undo his pants and let them pool around his ankles. he aligns himself with your desperate hole before pressing in gently. “my pretty, pretty girl.” he grabs your hands and intertwines all ten of your fingers with his. a gesture like this always felt so romantic to you. 

he arms flex in reaction as you clench around him in an eager effort to get him to move. he draws his hips back slowly before returning himself to the hilt. your eyes cross and your back arches off the bed as he repeats this ritual over and over before he can’t take the slow pace anymore. he tightens his grip on your hands as he speeds up, the sounds of skin slapping filling the room. he stares between the two of you, watching as he disappears and reappears between your legs.”fuck, baby. you’re all mine. i don’t care what the media says. i’m the one fucking you. not beomgyu, me.” you nod your head, panting like a dog in the summer heat. “say it. who does this pussy belong to?” he thrusts into you faster, as if to make it harder for you to answer. “y-you, chan. fuck, it’s all yours.”

he lets go of your hands and opts to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your chest. he ruts into you with such vigor you think you might snap in half. he lifts you partially off the bed so you’re kind of sitting in his lap. your grind down on him, desperate for more. “channie… god, need it so bad,” you plead, your orgasm threatening to rip its way out of you. he runs his tongue between the valley of your breasts before pulling back to look at your face.

“keep eye contact with me while you finish. let me see how fucking good i make you feel.” you nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as he connects the pad of his thumb to your clit. you let out a deep sigh and fight your hardest not to throw your head back. the way chan looks at you through his sweaty bangs has you seeing stars. “cumming. oh my god i’m cumming,” you cry out as your whole body spasms. “yeah, that’s it baby. squeeze my cock like that.” your arms give out and you fall back onto the bed, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white. 

your lover’s orgasm is quick to follow, ropes of cum painting your walls white. he moans and whines out your name like a hymn, gripping your waist so hard you might bruise. you twitch as he rides out the last of his high before stilling completely. he pulls out of you slowly before laying next to you. he pulls you tightly against him, panting slightly as he settles. “i promise i don’t care what the media says. i love you."

___________________________________________

© lomlhwa 2024

[mosskissed]

best friend shidou, who is a complete and total nuisance any time he goes out with you and your other friends — hovering around you like a shark, baring his teeth and scaring off anyone who shows any sign of interest in you. you've officially gone and invited the world's greatest cockblock out, and the best part?

you've never even realised it until tonight.

("dance with us," you begged your friend from work, tugging on her hands when she looked content to stay seated in the booth with the rest of your coworkers.

she snorted and glanced over your shoulder, no doubt at where shidou was lingering while he waited for you. "i'm nowhere near drunk enough to third wheel you and your guard dog; i was half-expecting him to start humping your leg in the middle of the club last month. do us all a favour and bang it out already, would ya?")

you hadn't taken her seriously at the time, scrunching your nose up at her words but letting shidou pull you away to a spot near the corner of the dance floor. even then, her remark only echoes in your mind a while later when a guy tries to dance with you.

he's cute, entirely your type — but you never get to give him a proper chance. you're jerked backwards when shidou curls a toned arm around your waist, anchoring you in so you're left pinned against him with just enough wiggle room to keep swaying your hips to the beat of whatever song is playing.

you've never been bothered by how clingy he is; it's hard to be put off by that stuff when you've grown up sharing single beds together on sleepovers. but the way his arm tightens around you? and the way he snarls at the guy to fuck off? this is definitely something that needs to be nipped, you think to yourself when he only backs off once the other guy has walked away.

maybe this is on you for never taking him seriously. shidou's always been possessive, from toys to favourite characters to you, he's never been great at sharing. somewhere along the way, you must've learned to turn a blind eye to it, and now you've landed a best friend who can't let anyone else so much as look at you.

your parents did always gush that you'd make a perfect couple when you grew up. you'd never really thought about it past the rush of embarrassment it filled you with; it sounded so gross to you as a kid, even though shidou would just grin at you every time he heard it.

he still smiles at you like that now, sometimes. it never fails to make your stomach flip, inexplicably nervous.

years of hearing stuff like that must've filled him with some strange sense of ownership over you, but whatever claim he thinks he has on you needs to be stopped now before it becomes a genuine problem somewhere down the line.

your decision is made for you when you witness another guy smile at you, making as if to approach before catching sight of shidou and whatever face he's pulling behind you back at him. you sigh mournfully at the 180 he does, tactfully withdrawing into the crowd.

you grit your teeth before turning to face shidou, resenting the way he has to bend down to get close enough to hear you. "you've gotta quit it," you say flatly.

he doesn't waste a second. "quit what?" you can see the way he's biting down on the inside of his cheek to try and smother a smile before it can show, head tilted in faux-innocence.

you frown, only growing more frustrated when he smooths the crease between your eyebrows out with his thumb, clearly not taking you seriously. "you’re scaring everyone away from me! i wanna go home with someone tonight, ryu—"

whatever you're about to say next is silenced at the way he looks at you. it's scathing, his face twisting in a way that suggests you've just said something incredibly dumb. "... i'm not stopping you."

"you're so annoying!" you're full-on scowling now, aggravated at him playing innocent when you've personally witnessed him intimidate two different men away in a 5 minute timespan. "what do you mean you aren't stopping me? you won't let anybody come near me!"

he's straight up grinning at this point, all teeth, and you know now that this conversation isn't going to achieve anything tonight. you huff and step back, ready to just call the night a bust and head home for the night.

you're stopped by shidou grabbing your hips tightly through your dress, palms burning hot through the fabric while his fingers dig in tight enough to bruise, pulling you in close until you're flush against him.

you're too busy trying to regain your footing to notice it right away, but then he pushes his hips forward purposefully and you feel it — the unmistakeable feeling of his cock, hard against your stomach.

you freeze like a deer in headlights, eyes darting straight up to see what he's trying to pull. this close, you can see how long his eyelashes are, the dizzying scent of his cologne mixed with a hint of sweat slowing your brain. it felt big, you think helplessly to yourself, rubbing your thighs together absentmindedly. since when has your best friend been packing?

"i told ya, i'm not stopping you from going home with someone tonight," he shrugs. a filthy grin splits his face when lets one of his hands drift from your waist to your ass, palming a greedy handful and pressing you against him firmer — and god, did you just feel his cock twitch? "but if you even think about taking some loser back to your place instead of me, i'm not responsible for what happens to 'em."

[ldrfanatic]

Italian Theodore Nott Headcanons

So... by popular request (I think like literally one person commented on a post from ages ago) and also because I'm still working on my most recent part to the '13' Series (linked here) here's some Italian Theo headcanons to keep you sated.

sorry if this is inaccurate it's based off of my own knowledge of italians and what I think Theo would be like

slytherin boys masterlist works

So, unlike most, I don't think that Italian Theo would be a whore. Let me explain:

Sure Italian men like to flirt, (although Theo doesn't), but they do it because it comes so natural to them and because more than anything, they value their partner.

They're well dressed and take pride in their appearance (something Theo does do) but they don't always entertain the people of the heads that they turn

They also have a natural air of confidence that Theo has and doesn't even have to use

However, just because Theo isn't a whore doesn't mean that he doesn't have his own little clique of fangirls.

In general:

As a person, Theo is incredibly quiet. His English is not the best as he grew up in the Italian countryside and spends his breaks there. He spends most of his time observing, and the rest of his time, mentally translating sentences from English to Italian and vice versa (and yes that's exhausting).

He does however take food incredibly seriously (as most Italians do I feel). His favorite kind of pasta is Paccheri and he will die on the hill that the Italians were the first to make Pizza (who else could make bread, sauce, and cheese taste so good?). He was also incredibly shocked when he found out the drinking age in England was 18. Theo had a glass of wine with dinner every night since the age of ten.

Another thing he doesn't quite understand about England is the frequency through which they drink tea throughout the day. At most, he has a cup a day while some of his English friends have four to five cups a day and usually, one cup with every meal.

Theo also had a very strong connection to his mother. Now that she's gone, he spends a lot of time in his head with his memories of her. It's not all that shocking to anyone really that he doesn't quite have the time or the patience for girls.

Platonically:

As a friend, Theo is a little more open but not much. His two closest friends in the group are you and Lorenzo who's also Italian. He'll talk to either of you and open up a little, but only if no one else is around. He's a bit impartial to Mattheo although he does think the boy is a loose cannon and he actually secretly despises Draco and his blood purity nonsense as it reminds him too much of his father (whom he also hates). So yeah, he spends the majority of his time with Lorenzo and Blaise.

In regards to your friendship with Theo, he's a complete gentleman. He never sits too close in fear of startling or offending you. He opens all of the doors the pair of you walk through and carries your books to class when you have the same class.

In fact, despite being significantly more well mannered than any other boy in your year, the only thing that hinted to you that Theo felt anything towards you other than indifference were small smiles and shared secrets.

Romantically:

Before you even became friends you'd caught Theo's eye. The first time he'd noticed you, you were comforting a crying first year muggle-born that Draco had bullied to tears. You spoke so kindly and softly to the boy. Theo knew then that you weren't like everyone else in Hogwarts. Most people were too afraid to stand up to Draco but the next day, you punched him square in the jaw and told him to stop being such a prick.

The first person to find out about Theo's crush on you was Lorenzo of course. He didn't tease him for which Theo was grateful. Now as stated, Theo is an incredibly quiet person so it's not clear to you that Theo has crush on you.

Also, once Theo has decided that he likes you, other girls don't even approach him anymore. Not after the Ravenclaw incident. A Ravenclaw from your guys' year approached him and asked him out. He didn't even acknowledge her. Just stood up and left.

He does however, make an attempt to spend more time with you whenever her can. He sits with you at meals and during lessons, he asks you for help in charms (even though he's already receiving high marks, but you don't know that). He brings you soup when your sick.

The way that you find out Theo has a crush on you is actually really surprising for you.

Lorenzo came running up to you after Potions one day, completely out of breath. "Y/n! Come quick." He didn't give you any room to disagree as he grasped your wrist firmly and began dragging you down the corridor towards the courtyard. When you got out there, your stomach dropped.

For the first time since meeting him, you saw Theo fight. He had Addrian Pucey on the ground and was currently pummeling the poor boy. The scariest part was that he remained completely calm, cold. Mattheo and Draco were standing on the sidelines egging him on while Theo ruthlessly delivered blow after blow in dead silence. He didn't even wince as his knuckles began to split open and bleed.

Blaise was desperately trying to pull Theo away but he wouldn't budge. Finally, you snapped out of your stupor and approached the boy. As he was throwing punches with his right arm, you approached him from the left and placed a hand on his left shoulder apprehensively. "Theo."

At the sound of your voice, Theo stopped immediately. He didn't look at you immediately. Instead, he stood and kicked Adrian who was on the ground rolling in pain. "Stay away from her." The crowd dispersed as the fight ended. When Theo turned to look at you, his eyes were blazing. For the first time since you'd known him, Theo was burning with rage.

"Theo come on." He let you lead him away in complete silence. Worse than what Adrian had said to you, Theo was ashamed. He couldn't believe that he'd let his emotions take over like that. Now he may have lost you for good. When you finally stopped in a secluded corridor, Theo turned away from you.

"Theo?" He was silent and your concern grew. It wasn't Theo's usual kind of silence, it was a silence that made your heart feel heavy. "Theodore."

"Don't."

"What?"

Finally Theo turns to you and his eyes are glossy. It was startling almost, to see the normally calm and collected boy tearing up. "Don't do that tesoro. Yell, push me, hit me if you need to, but I'm not Theodore. Not to you."

"What happened?" He sighed.

"I overheard Adrian say something completely vile about... you. I couldn't let him talk about you like that. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me cuore. You are the only light in my dark life."

You reached out and grabbed Theo's hands in your own. "That's incredibly sweet of you Theo. But why would you do that for me?"

"Isn't it obvious! I am entirely and irreversibly in love with you. I cannot live without you and I will not allow anyone to say such things about you."

After that, Theo took you out on a date. Thanks to his Pureblood lineage, Theo's family was quite wealthy. And his father had always taken to making sure he was well cared for financially, perhaps out of guilt from his emotional abuse.

For your first date, Theo took you to a London shopping district with his Black Card. At first you refused to spend any of his money. That is until Theo became resigned to buy you everything that your eyes lingered on for more than five seconds despite all your protests.

To end the date, he treated you to a nice dinner and then brought the pair of you back to Hogwarts.

As your boyfriend:

As your boyfriend, Theo's go-to nickname for you is either tesoro (treasure). He spends a lot of time staring at you which Mattheo teases him endlessly for of course.

He wishes you could meet his mother, but he adamantly refuses for you to meet his father. Instead, he introduces you to his grandmother. She teaches you how to make pasta from scratch and you and Theo often sneak into the kitchens at Hogwarts to try and make it there.

He makes it pretty clear that you're the only girl for him. He even tells you one night how his mother's dying wish was for him to find someone that he loved wholeheartedly and who loved him as much. Theo knows that this person is you, and he has no shyness in telling you.

He hates to see you cry, but if for any reason you're feeling sad, he recites Italian poetry to you in a soft and devoted tone.

Questo nostro amore, vita mia

lo prospetti felice

destinato a durare per sempre.

Dei del cielo, fate voi che lei dica il vero,

che lo prometta sincera e dal cuore,

che si possa per tutta la vita

mantener questo patto inviolabile

(This love of ours my life; I predict will be happy; destined to last forever.; Gods of the sky, do what you deem to be true; that promises to be sincere and from the heart,; which can be for a lifetime,; keep this inviolable covenant.)

When Theo speaks his native tongue it makes you a little weak in the knees. The way that his lips curve around the words and his tongue effortlessly forms each syllable makes your heart swell.

Overall:

Italian Theo is a complete cutie with impeccable manners and expresses more romance in ten minutes with you than most men express in their entire lives. He sees you as a light that brightens his life that he will do anything to protect.

----

help this is so bad

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

My take on stalker!Tim:

Robin!Jason gets distracted during a patrol and doesn’t meet up with Batman, who panics is mildly concerned. Jason doesn’t want to reveal the real reason he got distracted (could be something he was working on for Bruce or just him being a cute baby nerd) so he makes something up the spot. A kid! He saw a kid. It was definitely child shaped. And. Uh. Photography! That’s right, he saw a kid taking photos and made sure he got home safe.

Batman: Photography?

Robin!Jason: Yeah, uh, nighttime photography.

Batman: At midnight?

Robin: I mean, it’s not a school night.

Batman: What were they taking pictures of?

Robin, panicking and going to the first thing he can think of ch just so happens to be last Sunday when Dick called Bruce an emotionally repressed furry: Uh, wildlife?

Bruce is skeptical but honestly he’s seen weirder things even tonight so as long as the kid got home safe…

Jason proceeds to use this same excuse a few more times.

Batman: Don’t tell me, it was the kid again.

Robin!Jason: You just missed him.

Batman, who isn’t feeling strong parental feelings at all: Hrn.

Okay so then fast forward a few years. Jason is on his little murder training gap year and Tim has shown up to the manor trying to fix the disaster that is currently Bruce Batman Wayne. Dick, trying to bond with the kid now that it’s apparent he’s not going anywhere, asks what Tim’s interests are.

Tim: Well, I like photography, and…

Dick, putting two and two together and getting forty-seven: Ohmygosh you’re the kid.

Tim: The what now?

Dick: The kid with the wildlife photography.

Tim, thinking about that one competition he entered a year ago: Uh, I guess?

Dick thinks that’s how Tim figured out all their identities. He thinks he has it all figured out. He does not. Bruce now thinks he has it figured out too. He does not. Tim is unaware there was something to be figured out. Jason is off learning the finer points of poisoning or something idk.

So skip forward some more and Jason is back, minus some murder attempts or whatever because this is crack, and Dick is now trying to get his two brothers comfortable with each other. It is not working. Finally, Dick remembers they’ve definitely met before.

Dick: So, do you remember meeting Tim before?

Jason, whose memory resembles Swiss cheese but is fairly certain he never met Tim before now: Uh…

Dick: He’s the kid! The one with the wildlife photography!

Jason, suddenly remembering the excuse he used several times as Robin: The what now?

Tim, knowing full well that Jason was very dead at the time he submitted anything in a wildlife category: The what now?

Jason pulls Tim into a hall closet to interrogate him about this.

Tim: There’s like five rooms right here that no one has stepped in in a month. Why are we in a closet?

Jason: What, exactly, did Dick mean by you were the one with the wildlife photography, because I’m pretty sure that was just an excuse I made up but now I don’t know.

They figure it out. They also agree to just let that belief be. Jason doesn’t want to admit he made that all up. Tim doesn’t want to admit he thought Dick had gone to his art competition thing before they even officially met. Tim also doesn’t want to explain how he actually figured out their identities because this sounds way cooler. So they decide to just roll with it.

Damian shows up and tries to hunt down Tim’s early photos of Batman. Tim and Jason get really into making it look like he just keeps missing it. Barbara knew about all of this the entire time but no one asked her so she didn’t bother to fill them in.

Everyone else that joins the family after that point and hears the story of Jason and Tim supposedly meeting while Jason was Robin has the exact same response: “Oh, ‘cause Batman’s a furry. Right.”

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n thinks Lando slept with someone else and they have a big fight about it, only for y/n to learn Lando needed help proposing

as soon as i seen this in my inbox i got excited to write it! thank you anon, it's a great idea!

tw: fem!reader, swears, sneaky lando but i'm sure you know where it's going based on the ask, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.8k

lando has been acting very suspicious lately. at first you has brushed it off to busy weeks filled with important racing duties but when he was still secretive after a lovely spa day you had set for him at your apartment, you knew something was up. the night of the spa day you were laying in bed with lando and usually if he's forgotten to set an alarm for the next morning, he will ask you to just go onto his phone and set it for him, so when he asks you to hand his phone over so he can set an alarm? well it sets off your own alarm bells in your head.

lando had never ever hidden his phone from you, always completely open with you and willing to scroll through his phone if you wanted to. you had never felt the need to but sometimes you liked to scroll through his photos and have him explain them to you.

you did not say anything to him about it that night, or afterwards but you kept a note of things you found suspicious or weird or even just a little out or character for your boyfriend, knowing that if the time came where you found out something you could not even think about then you had have evidence. if you had more guts you would have asked to scroll through his phone that night to see what he did but you did not want to fight after such a lovely day. maybe you were just postponing the inevitble.

the next time you had written down in your notes was a doosy. you had gone out to lunch with a few of your friends and lando had offered to drop you off and pick you up once you had all caught up. you had gotten ready and lando had dropped you off with a sweet kiss goodbye and promises of picking you up whenever you wanted to come home, you were just to give him a call. you grin and agree as you close the car door and make your way to the table your friends had sat at. it seemed you were the last one to arrive.

it is only when you have sat down and gotten comfortable that you realise, your best friend is not here.

"hey, where is lacy?" you ask the group, confused as last night when you were all confirming in the group chat if you guys could make it or not, lacy was the first one to confirm.

everyone mutters that they are not sure or that they thought she mus be running later. you all shrug and you try to forget about it but you have a lingering feeling in the back of your mind. it is a bit big to push all the way to the back of your mind but a few drinks and a gossip with your friends would do the trick.

you guys chat away and drink through three or four rounds. none of you drunk, really but none of you even thinking about drinking and driving. everyone had sorted out how they were getting home before coming. "responsible group of girls." you had joked when you had asked about it and they had all told you they had a way home.

everyone texts their lifts home as you head to the foyer where it is a bit quieter and call lando. it send you to voicemail. you try him again but it does the same thing, ringing until the voicemail blared in your ears. you were pissed off to say the least. you did not mind if he wanted to go out and do things without you but do not promise you will pick someone up if you will not be back in time! is that not just common courtesy?

you ask one of the girls if her boyfriend can take you home and she says it is no problem. you are embarrassed because you are just after bragging about how amazing lando was and now here you were... getting proved wrong.

good job you remembered to bring a key with you so you did not get locked outside. you thank your friend's boyfriend as you get out your car and see lando's car parked in front of the apartment complex.

you stomp into the apartment and throw your keys down on the table in the hallway.

"thanks for remembering to pick me up lando! i had to get a ride with micheal and amy!" you shout as you pull your trainers off and put them in the rack. you walk into the living room to see lando on the couch and lacy in the kitchen, making tea.

"what the fuck?" you ask, internally freaking out but not showing it. this paired with your suspicions that lando was cheating send your brain into panic mode. instead of freaking out and jumping to conclusions you ask "why weren't you at lunch? and why are you here now?".

lando could tell you were pissed and at this point, he felt like saying he was cheating would be the easier option, rather than hiding all of this from you. he hated lying to you. the boy had literally never done it before. you could tell from how sloppy he was, this being a prime example.

"i couldn't make it to lunch in the end. you know that boy i've been talking to? he asked me out on a date and i just couldn't say no." lacy explained, handing you a cup. her explanation did not ease your worry though, lando could easily be the boy she was talking to and they have went on a date when you were busy out with your friends.

"i came over to tell you about it but i forgot you were out at lunch with the girls. i've only been here like ten minutes." lacy adds, lando nods on the couch not really doing much. you decide to believe them but you put it in your notes. lando and lacy out together? while i'm with my friends. lando cheating on me with lacy???

you end up taking that out of your notes a few weeks later. you lay in bed while lando is in the shower and you think that now is a good time to go through your notes, thinking about things you could add or take away and if it all still makes sense in your mind.

as your sorting through the semi-long list you make you lando's voice. you had not realised the shower had stopped. at first you think he is talking to you so you are about to shout back when you hear the distant sound of someone speaking through the phone. not to sound like you were accusing your boyfriend of cheating but it sounded like a girl. it sounded like a girl you did not know.

"i can't tell her. it's stressing me out to no end. i just want to be done with it now." you strain to hear his hushed words, done with what? tell who? you? why was he stressed?

you are tired of all the secrets. the hushed conversations, lando hiding things from you. you do not think you can deal with it anymore.

once lando is off the phone he makes is way into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. "hi, baby." lando acknowledges you as you lay on the bed. the towel around his waist distracted you for a moment before you got your mind back on track. it helped that he had gotten changed into some pyjama trousers, although his abs were still on display.

"are you cheating on me?" you just come out and say it, you voice is a little worried. lando drops the towel in his hands at your words.

"am i what?" lando stares at you. "is this one of those tiktok trends? what am i supposed to say that will get the most views. where's your phone we can start again?" lando glances around the room for your phone. he thinks this is a joke. a tiktok prank. you does not think you are distressed over this.

"i'm serious lando. you've been acting weird for a while now." you tell him your frown deep as you speak.

lando is surprised and practically leaps towards you.

"i'm not cheating on you. i swear to you. i would never even think about hurting you like that." lando swears his hands holding your face gently to stop you from avoiding his eyes.

"then what are you doing? because you're acting weird. you're not acting like you. i miss the old you, when you didn't set your own alarms." you pout at him.

lando sighs. "i guess i'm gonna have to tell you, huh?" the driver asks. you are confused as he gets off the bed and walks over to your dressing table. on top there is a small dish where you keep all the rings you wear when they are not on your fingers. you prefer the dish to a box, it is less work to get to them. lando calls it lazy but you call it time efficient. he grabs the one your grandma got you for christmas back when you were still at school. it is old and most of the rose gold plating has come off, the colour does not match with the rest of your jewellery but you wear it everyday.

it is quick and sudden the way he is standing in front of you a few steps away from the bed, then he is on one knee holding out the ring. "the ring i was gonna use isn't here yet because you're too impatient for me to do anything properly. i had a whole day planned out, you know?" lando is joking with you but there is nothing in you that wants to laugh right now.

your hand slapped over your mouth as you feel your eyes well up with tears.

"what are you doing?" you ask him, it is muffled from your hand but lando can make you out.

"what's it look like? i'm proposing. will you marry me please, baby?" he asks the old ring sits in between your fingers as you stare at him, tears finally falling.

"yeah." you murmur.

"yeah?" lando asks, a little cocky but mostly to make sure.

you nod frantically, lando takes your right hand and slides the ring on your middle finger (it is where you usually wear the ring. you honestly cannot believe he even knows where it goes). you then jump towards him, arms swinging around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

lando's lips mould over yours as he you kiss him frantically. the kiss is cut short because lando can not stop laughing.

"why're you laughing?" you ask him, smile plastered on your face from his laughter.

"just can't believe i get to love you for the rest of my life. i can't wait." you kiss him again.

[luvyeni]

HAVING A THREESOME 𖹭 엔하이픈 ( reaction ) !

genre smut 𖹭 warning threesomes , gxg mxm mxf themes, unprotected sex , pegging, sub jake — parings enhypen hyung line x fem reader | back to library .

— how enhypen would feel when you ask them for a threesome.

「 authors note 𖹭 」 my first time writing a enha member as a sub and i'm not mad at it.

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

heeseung is freaky so i think he definitely would be interested in having a threesome; he wouldn't mind having one with a girl but it wouldn't be his first choice , he doesn't really feel all too comfortable with fucking another girl but he's not gonna lie , watching you kiss a girl would be hot , but he definitely doesn't want to kiss her. i think he'd want to fuck you with one of his friends , jake or sunghoon. he want to watch them fuck you , before he does , most likely be into double penetration as well , both of them fucking you at the same time , he just want to show how pretty his girl looks while she's being fucked past her limits by his friend.

"see how pretty she looks when she's cumming , keep fucking her and watch her squirt."

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

jay would never agree to a threesome, he's way too territorial over you , and he definitely doesn't want to fuck another girl. if you ask him ; he's gonna laugh , thinking you're joking, but when he notices that you're serious his entire faces changes. "you seriously asking me this?" he's pissed off that you would even think about that. "what you want me to fuck another girl , cause that's not happening and if you think im bringing another man in here , like one of my friends you're cute baby but you're as dumb as they come." will end up fucking you right there , face down ass up; showing you that you don't need anyone else in the bed room to pleasure you , make sure you never ask a dumb ass question like that again.

"next time you want me to fuck you dumb just ask , don't ask stupid questions to piss me off."

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

this mother fucker here , he's down for anything; one of his friends or one of yours he's down either way, jake isn't afraid to admit he'd be down to kiss another dude , like his members , he's also not afraid to admit that he wants to be used by too pretty girls , tie him up and use him , toying and using his cock while he can't do anything but cry and shoot blanks, begging you both to stop even though he doesn't want you too , having you sit on his cock , and the girl sitting on his face , he's in heaven. "let's try something different baby." his eyes widened when you pull out the strapon , he's nervous because he's never had anything up there before but he's such a good boy so he takes it like a champ , he's not gonna lie he did like it more than he thought it would. when he's all gone and fucked out , you let the girl leave and you go take care of your baby.

"i did good right?" "so good baby , you did so good."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

he'd say no at first— he likes fucking you and that's it , but of you really want one he might let it go once , but he has to pick who it is— he chooses sunoo , he thinks sunoo would be the perfect person , simply because he know inexperienced sunoo wouldn't fuck you as well as he would and he knew you wouldn't ask again— everyone wins. he'd guide both of you through the entire thing , making sure you both came , showing sunoo how to make you cum , and cum you did. once sunoo left , sunghoon wasn't finished , now he wanted to let you know that it would be the only time someone fucked you besides him , and that no one could fuck you as good as he could.

"he barely made you cum , you see nobody else could make you cum like i can , so don't ask again."

©LUVYENI

[meazalykov]

playgirl

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

part two

summary: why do you treat her the same way as everyone else?

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut with plot, long chapter (4.7k+ words), oral (r receiving), r!bottom, strap, r's first time being a bottom, angst, jealousy

the pitch inspection is in full swing, and you’re trying to focus on loosening up, taking in the energy of the stadium before your champions league match against arsenal. 

your attention keeps pulling toward lena. she’s walking around on the pitch, chatting with some of the arsenal players before warm-ups officially begin. her hair is tied back into her usual messy bun, and even in her ivory colored puffer jacket, she looks effortlessly composed. 

you notice her laugh at something alessia russo says. lena is standing in front of alessia, beth, and mariona. her head is tilting slightly, her smile easy and natural. it shouldn’t bother you—it really shouldn’t—but it does. 

a knot forms in your chest as you watch the two of them exchange words, their body language comfortable. 

you shake it off, forcing your attention back to your team. lena isn’t yours. she never has been. besides, it’s not like you don’t have a reputation. you’ve flirted with most the bundesliga, a little bit of every league actually.. and lena knows that. this—watching her laugh with someone else—it stings in a way you didn’t expect.

warm-ups pass, and the game begins. you’re in the zone, scoring one of bayern’s six goals and assisting two more. the 6-2 victory feels incredible, but the lingering tension in your chest hasn’t gone away. 

after the final whistle, you’re on the pitch celebrating with your teammates when you spot emily, your national team best friend, walking over. her away arsenal jersey is drenched in sweat, her hair sticking to her forehead, but she’s still grinning despite the loss.

“em!” you call out, jogging toward her, arms already open. 

“y/n!” she laughs, letting you pull her into a tight hug. 

“seriously, do you have to make it so hard for us every time we play you?”

“everytime? this is the first time i’ve played against you since you joined arsenal!” 

“fair..” emily giggles at herself.

“what can i say? i’ve got a flair for the dramatic,” you reply, smirking as you pull back but keep your hands resting lightly on her shoulders. 

“missed me, didn’t you?”

“always,” emily says, rolling her eyes playfully. “you’re the worst to play against, but yeah, it’s good to see you.”

“good to see me?” you tease, leaning in slightly. 

“come on, em, you can do better than that. just admit i’m your favorite.”

“in your dreams,” she fires back, grinning, though there’s a faint blush on her cheeks. 

“but i’ll give you credit—you were on fire today.”

“for you, always,” you say, your voice dropping into a soft, flirtatious tone. you know exactly what you’re doing, and it’s impossible to resist. emily laughs, shoving your shoulder lightly, and you smirk at her in return.

out of the corner of your eye, you spot lena standing near the edge of the pitch, watching the two of you. her arms are crossed, her expression unreadable, but the way her jaw tightens when you laugh at something emily says? it sends a pang of guilt and something like triumph through you all at once. 

lena should’ve known that your flirting with her is the same way you flirt with everyone else. there was no one special in your life, she could never compete with the people in the sight of your wandering eyes. 

after media duties, you finally catch up with lena near the locker rooms. she’s leaning against the wall, her bag slung over her shoulder, and her sharp gaze locks onto you as soon as you approach.

“you seemed busy today,” she says, her tone calm but with an edge that makes you pause.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, trying to play it off, though you already know where this is going.

“you tell me,” lena replies, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. 

“you couldn’t keep your hands off emily out there.”

“she’s my best friend from my national team, obi,” you say, shrugging. “we were just catching up.”

“right,” lena says, her voice laced with sarcasm. 

“because leaning into her space, whispering in her ear, and giving her those ridiculous lines is totally normal best friend behavior.”

“oh, so now you’re watching me?” you counter, crossing your arms defensively. 

“thought you were too busy eye-fucking russo?”

lena’s eyes narrow, and she lets out a sharp laugh. 

“are you serious right now? i was talking to her about our transfers to different clubs this season. you know, something we actually have in common?”

“and i was just talking to emily,” you fire back, though the defensiveness in your voice betrays you.

“talking?” lena raises an eyebrow. “you’re unbelievable, y/n.”

“why do you care anyway?” you ask, your voice softer now but no less charged. 

“it’s not like we’re... you know.”

her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she’s not going to answer. then she exhales sharply, shaking her head. “maybe that’s the problem,” she says quietly before turning on her heel and walking away.

you’re left standing there, the weight of her words settling heavily in your chest. this playful, carefree game you always play? it suddenly feels a lot less fun. 

later that night in your apartment, you weren’t having a good time with lea standing in your living room. her arms were crossed, her expression sharper than you’d ever seen, and the air felt thick with unspoken tension. 

lea wasn’t just lena’s best friend—she was yours too. right now, it felt like she wasn’t on your side.

“you’re gonna tell me what’s going on,” she said, her voice calm but with an unmistakable edge. 

“because whatever you’re doing with lena? it’s not fair to her.”

“lea,” you started, trying to brush it off, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“don’t,” she said firmly. 

“you don’t get to joke your way out of this one. if you’re just going to mess around, fine, but leave lena out of it. she doesn’t deserve to get hurt.”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair as you paced the room. “i’m not trying to hurt her,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

“then why are you always flirting with everyone in sight?” lea asked, her eyes narrowing. 

“why is it that one minute you’re bringing her pastries and giving her compliments, and the next you’re all over emily on the pitch?”

“i don’t know,” you lied, avoiding her gaze.

“bullshit,” lea snapped, though her tone wasn’t angry—just determined. 

“you do know. and i’m not leaving until you tell me the truth.”

you stared at her, the weight of her words pressing down on you. lea had never been like this with you before—so serious, so unwilling to let you dodge the conversation. it made you feel exposed, like she was peeling back all the layers you worked hard to keep intact.

after a long silence, you finally sank onto the couch, your shoulders slumping. 

“it’s not that simple,” you muttered.

“then make it simple,” lea said, sitting across from you. 

you took a deep breath, the words catching in your throat. it wasn’t something you liked to talk about—hell, you hadn’t talked about it with anyone in years. but lea’s steady gaze told you she wasn’t going to let this go. 

“three years ago,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “i was in a relationship. we were together for two years. i thought everything was perfect, you know? but… she was cheating on me. the whole time.”

lea’s expression softened, the hard edge in her eyes giving way to something gentler. “y/n…”

“it messed me up,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “after that, i didn’t want to be with anyone. i isolated myself. i pushed everyone away. until one of my teammates at lyon told me to put myself out there again.”

lea tilted her head, waiting for you to continue.

“and i did,” you said, letting out a humorless laugh. 

“but i liked it too much. flirting, messing around—the hookups… it was easy. it didn’t mean anything. it was safer than actually letting someone in.”

lea was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “but lena’s different, isn’t she?”

you nodded slowly, your chest tightening. “yeah. she is. and that’s the problem.”

“why?” lea pressed.

“because i don’t want to screw this up,” you admitted. 

“and i feel like that’s exactly what i’m doing. when i saw her with alessia, laughing like that... it made me feel like maybe she doesn’t need me. like maybe she’d be better off with someone else.”

“so you flirted with emily to make yourself feel better,” lea said, not unkindly but with enough bluntness to make you wince.

you nodded again, guilt weighing heavy on your shoulders. “i wasn’t thinking. i just… i couldn’t handle seeing her with someone else.”

lea leaned back, letting out a long breath. “were you jealous?”

“yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “i was.”

lea gave you a small, understanding smile, but her tone remained firm. 

“then prove to her that she’s the one you care about. because right now, y/n, you have no right to be jealous. not until you show her that you only have eyes for her.”

her words hit you like a freight train, but you knew she was right. you couldn’t keep playing this game, not with lena. she deserved more. 

over the next month, you made a conscious effort to change. it wasn’t easy—flirting had become second nature to you, a shield you used to keep people at arm’s length. but you were determined to show lena that you were serious about her. 

each game, when an opposing player clashed with you, hoping to get your attention with a cheeky comment or a playful shove, you brushed them off. you were still friendly, still yourself, but the flirting? it was gone. your teammates noticed the change almost immediately.

“who are you, and what have you done with y/n?” sydney teased after one match, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“funny,” you said with a smirk, but you didn’t elaborate.

lea noticed too, and one day after training, she pulled you aside. “you’re doing good,” she said, her voice warm. 

“lena’s starting to notice.”

those words gave you a sense of relief you didn’t realize you needed. lena and you hadn’t talked much since the game against arsenal—her decision, not yours. but knowing that she was aware of your efforts made it all feel worth it.

you understood that she needed time, and you were okay with that. for now, it was enough to know that she saw you trying. 

you’d noticed her watching during games, her gaze lingering when you brushed off an opponent’s playful remark or walked away from a clash without so much as a grin. it wasn’t much, but it was a start. 

another week passes, and the national break finds you in america, suiting up for friendlies against iceland and argentina. the mood in camp is light, as it always is, but something feels different this time. 

you’re not your usual self—not the y/n everyone expects to see, flirting with staff members, cracking jokes with the refs, or turning every passing conversation into a chance to charm someone. instead, you’re just… friendly. polite. normal.

it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“okay, what’s wrong with you?” trinity asks as you’re all sitting in the lounge after training, her tone half-teasing, half-genuine concern. 

“you’re not… you. are you sick or something?”

“yeah,” sonnett chimes in, leaning forward with a suspicious look. 

“no flirting? no checking your phone every two seconds with a bright ass smile on your face? ridiculous pick-up lines? what’s going on?”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “nothing’s wrong, i’m just… holding back from that stuff now.”

“holding back?” naomi repeats, her brows shooting up. “since when do you hold back?”

“i still want to be friendly,” you clarify quickly, “just… no more over-the-top stuff.”

there’s a collective pause as your teammates exchange glances, clearly trying to process this revelation.

“did something happen in germany?” ashley asks cautiously, her voice laced with curiosity.

“no,” you say firmly, but the way you avoid their eyes makes it clear you’re holding something back.

“uh-huh,” e. fox pipes up, narrowing her eyes at you. 

“you’re such a bad liar. something definitely happened.”

you sigh, leaning back into the couch as all eyes fix on you. emily, of course, isn’t letting this go. “fine,” you mutter.

“there’s… someone. i have feelings for someone.”

the room practically erupts with questions all at once.

“who?”  

“is it someone from bayern?”  

“how long have you felt this way?”  

“is it someone we know?”  

emily leans closer, a smirk tugging at her lips. “it’s lena, isn’t it?”

your head snaps toward her, your heart skipping a beat. “what? how do you—”

“because i saw you during the bayern v. arsenal game,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“your eyes were glued to her in the crowd every time you weren’t on the ball. it was so obvious.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands as your teammates erupt into laughter and playful teasing.

“okay, fine,” you admit, your voice muffled through your hands. “it’s lena.”

“so what’s the problem?” naomi asks, sliding over to sit beside you.

“if you like her, just tell her.”

“it’s not that simple,” you say, dropping your hands. 

“she doesn’t trust me. not yet. and i get it—i mean, look at what i’ve done.”

“so change it,” casey says simply. “you’re already holding back, right? keep doing that. show her that you’re serious.”

after the friendlies, as you’re boarding your flight back to germany, you find yourself staring at your phone, your fingers hovering over lena’s contact. you haven’t spoken to her in weeks, but if you’re going to make things right, you know you need to start somewhere.

you: hey, can we talk?

lena: we can. come to my apartment after you land.

as the plane takes off, you lean back in your seat, already thinking about what you’re going to say. 

however, the words are stuck in your throat as you stand outside of lena's door. the faint sound of her dog barking inside only adds to your nerves. your luggage feels heavier than it should, your fingers gripping the handle tightly as you shift on your feet. 

you’re here, at her apartment, determined to finally get everything out in the open with the girl who’s been occupying your mind for months. now that you’re standing in front of her door, it’s as if all your resolve is slipping through your fingers.

before you can overthink it any further, the door swings open. lena stands there, her tall frame filling the doorway, her expression neutral but curious. she looks beautiful, even in a simple hoodie and shorts, her hair loosely tied back. her gaze drops to your luggage, and one brow arches.

“you came straight here?” she asks, stepping aside to let you in.

you nod, managing a small smile as you roll your suitcase inside. “yeah. figured it couldn’t wait.”

lena shuts the door behind you, the click of the lock making your heart race. her dog, a playful little thing with floppy ears, rushes toward you, wagging its tail furiously and pawing at your legs.

“seems like someone missed me,” you joke, crouching down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. the pup immediately showers you with affection, licking your hands and nuzzling into your touch.

lena smirks, leaning against the wall as she watches you. her lips curve into a small smile. “she likes you.”

“i like her too,” you say, giggling as her puppy jumps onto your lap, her tail wagging so hard it’s practically vibrating. for a moment, you let yourself focus on the dog, using her excitement as an excuse to delay the inevitable conversation. you can feel lena’s gaze on you, steady and expectant.

“do you want something to drink?” lena asks after a beat. “water?”

you nod again, standing up and brushing dog hair off your black joggers. “yeah, water’s good.”

lena disappears into the kitchen, and you take a moment to steady yourself, inhaling deeply as her dog circles your feet. when lena returns with a glass of water, she hands it to you, her fingers brushing against yours briefly. the contact feels good, sending a jolt up your spine.

you take a sip, but the silence is heavy, and you know you can’t avoid it any longer. lena seems to sense it too.

“so,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning against the back of the couch. “what did you want to talk about?”

you set the glass down on the coffee table, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you sit on the edge of the couch. obi’s puppy rests at your feet, her presence grounding you slightly.

“i… don’t really know where to start,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended.

“start wherever you need to,” lena says gently, though her tone carries a weight that makes it clear she’s been waiting for this.

you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “i’ve been thinking about us. about… everything. and i realized I haven’t exactly been fair to you. or to myself.”

lena tilts her head slightly, her brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

“i mean—” you pause, running a hand through your hair. “i know I’ve built this reputation. the flirting, the hookups, all of it. and it’s not like I don’t know how it looks but that’s not who I want to be anymore. not with you.”

obi’s expression softens, but she doesn’t say anything, giving you the space to continue.

“i told lea about this,” you say, your voice steadying as you finally let the words spill out. 

“why I’ve been like this. three years ago, i was in a relationship. we were together for two years, and… she was cheating on me the entire time. it wrecked me. after that, I didn’t want to let anyone get close, so I kept everything casual. it was easier.”

lena’s eyes don’t leave yours, her gaze unwavering. “go on,” she says quietly.

“one of my teammates at lyon told me to put myself out there again, and I guess I did,” you continue, a humorless laugh escaping you. “but I went too far. flirting, hooking up—it became my way of coping. it was fun, harmless, or at least I thought it was. i get it now. it wasn’t harmless. not to me, and definitely not to you.”

“so what changed?” lena asks, her voice calm but curious.

you swallow hard, your heart pounding.

“you. you changed everything ever since you came from wolfsburg. shit, if i went back and told myself that lena oberdorf from wolfsburg would make me have feelings, i would’ve been surprised. you make me want to be better, lena. not just for you, but for me too. and i’ve been trying—really trying—to prove that.”

“you’ve stopped flirting,” she says, more as an observation than a question.

you nod. “yeah. it’s not as hard as i thought it would be, because I only want you.”

lena’s eyes search yours, and for a moment, you’re terrified she won’t believe you. but then she exhales softly, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips. “i believe you,” she says.

the words hit you like a wave, relief washing over you so strongly it almost makes you dizzy. “you do?” you ask, your voice filled with disbelief.

“yeah,” she says, stepping closer. “because I’ve been watching you. and I can see how much effort you’ve been putting in. but more than that, I just wanted you to understand how harmful your behavior was getting. not just for me, but for you too.”

the tension in the room shifts, the air growing heavier but no longer with doubt or frustration. instead, there’s something else—a magnetic pull between you that feels impossible to ignore. your eyes flicker down to her lips, and you catch the way her gaze darkens slightly in response.

“i only want you,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

lena steps even closer, her presence overwhelming in the best way. her hand reaches out, brushing against your cheek, and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“prove it,” she murmurs, her voice low and commanding.

you don’t need to be told twice. you close the distance between you, your lips crashing against hers in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and relief. lena’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her dominance taking over effortlessly.

your hands tangle in her hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as her lips move against yours with a confidence that leaves you breathless. her tongue brushes against yours, and the sensation sends heat pooling in your stomach, your body pressing instinctively closer to hers.

lena backs you against the couch, her hands gripping your hips as she guides you down onto the cushions. her weight settles over you, and the way she looks at you—like she’s been waiting for this just as long as you have—makes your heart race even faster.

“you’re mine,” she says against your lips, her voice low and possessive, and it sends a thrill through you.

“always,” you whisper, your hands roaming across her back as she kisses you again, her lips trailing down to your jaw and then to your neck. the sensation of her lips on your skin makes your breath hitch, your fingers digging into her shoulders as you arch into her touch.

your hands reached up and caressed her face tenderly as she moved her lips to your jaw. lena’s lips were so soft, and that was the only thing you were thinking about. you wondered how her lips would feel like on other areas of your body. 

“please.” you suddenly pulled lena up to kiss her on the lips.

“please what?” lena’s eyes were darker as she smiled down and kissed you again, you couldn’t stop herself from grinding up onto her.

“please fuck me.” you said, not embarrassed by boldly asking what you want from lena. 

you have experience, of course you did. however, you’ve never been the one to beg or be a bottom for someone. 

there is room for new experiences with lena, someone who clearly had more dominance than you. 

“you’re not used to being the one laying down, i see.. it’s okay, i won’t hurt you.” lena leaned over to kiss your temple. at the same time, she pulled down your black adidas shorts, and your underwear went along with it. you crossed your legs since lena’s living room was cool in temperature.

lena moved down in front of you and uncrossed your legs, her lips parted as she saw the most beautiful sight.  

“you’re so pretty.” lena whispered to herself as she kissed up your inner thigh, but you heard it, causing you to cross your arms over your face in shyness.

the taller german girl continued to kiss down your inner thighs, going closer and closer to where you wanted her to be.

you released the loudest moan when you closed your eyes, feeling obi swipe her full tongue over your vagina before going lower to flick at your clit. your hands grabbed her messy bun as obi held one hand on your waist while the other is massaging your left thigh.

“yes yes! oh my god” you mumbled to yourself as lena did her magic in your sensitive areas.

you know that obi is enjoying this due to her groans and sounds that caused vibrations on your vagina, knowing that obi is enjoying your taste.

lena pulled back and saw your swollen bud, she looked up at your satisfied face and smirked before she blew onto it, causing you to move your entire body to the right.

“ah ah no.” lena used her strong arms to hold your entire body in place before looking back to see your soaked and swollen vagina ready for her.

“stay here.” obi says after a few seconds of your whining. 

your plump swollen lips, on both ends, your messy hair spread out on her couch, and her tv casually playing a movie you’ve never seen were a sight that lena could keep in your mind forever. 

lena walked back out into your living room, and your droopy eyes widened at the sight of her blue colored strap. 

again, this wasn’t your first time having sex. however, you were never the receiver of sex in the past. the one wearing the strap happened to be you with your last hookups. 

the german is a sweetheart, and you trusted her with this entire thing, but she could see the small hint of curiosity in your eyes as she settled herself back in between your widened legs. 

“is this okay?” lena places your legs on your shoulders before bending down to give you a light kiss on the corner of your lips. 

you look down and moan at lena moving the blue dildo along your folds, you lightly squealed when it makes contact with your sensitive clit before it slips in, due to how soaked you were on her couch.

the feeling of the seven inch material caused you to blow air and clench your teeth in unfamiliarity. the stretch is uncomfortable, since this was your very first time being on the receiving end. 

“breathe.” lena didn’t move inside of you, she rubs her thumbs on your forehead softly as the palm of her hands held both sides of your head.

“breathe in.” lena stared into your eyes as you took a huge breath in, “breathe out.” lena kissed your tear that came out from your left eye. this moment was vulnerable for you, and for her.

“it will feel good soon, i promise baby.” lena played with your hair and kissed your lips while it took your body a minute to get used to the new feeling.

“go ahead.” you breathed out after you felt a new wave of pleasure settling in. lena adjusted her body and started to pull in and out of you slowly, causing the both of you to moan loudly.

“harder.” you moaned out and lena listened to your request.

one thing you didn’t forget about is that this was lena’s first time with you. lena knows that she is the first girl to be able to do this to you. aware that you wanted to open up to her, literally, made her more gentle than she wanted to be. 

lena wanted to put you in your place, using dirty words and letting you know that you were all hers, and to remind you that the girls you used to flirt with have nothing on her.

however, she pushed that aside seeing you take it for the first time. 

maybe she will let you know about that later, but to lena– seeing her love under her with glassy eyes and swollen lips– she couldn’t think about anything else as her clit started getting stimulation from the base.

“gosh you’re fucking soaked.” obi whimpered, leaning down and giving you marks on your neck. 

you felt yourself clutch around her strap due to her whimpering. 

it didn’t take you long before you felt your orgasm pooling inside of your lower stomach. 

you tried squeezing your lower body to hold it in longer, but your voice shot out a pornographic moan feeling your body rejecting your attempt to hold in your orgasm. 

your walls squeezed around obi as your legs had an involuntary shake, liquid squirted all over the grey couch as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“shit, shit, shit–” lena clenches her teeth as she feels her orgasming approching. 

“you feel so fucking good, baby.” you moan as you reach around and grab a handful of lena’s ass. 

the german’s orgasm hits her as she fully lays her body weight onto yours, her mess adding onto yours on the soft couch as you push yourself up on her, trying to get her to come down from that high. 

“great job, baby.” you whisper giving peppered kisses on obi’s earlobe.

the woman pulls the blue seven inch dildo out of you, not without getting a moan from you, before tossing the strap aside and cuddling her naked body with yours. 

“you’re mine.”  obi mumbles before her eyes close entirely. 

“i’m yours.” you smirk, the love in your eyes complementing the glow of your skin. 

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