#this was done before pride month finished i promise. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shybunnie20 · 11 months ago

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Virgin!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

strangers to friends to lovers

★Teasers ★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie embarks on a new chapter after finally graduating. He expects to face a variety of hurdles that come with a change of scenery, but what he doesn't anticipate is falling head over heels for you.

Author's Note: Holy shit, I can't believe this is finally finished after 11 months. It’s the first time I've written smut in well over a year and I'm pleased with how it turned out (I couldn't have done it without the support of my beloved @eddiethefreakkmunson)

Location photos are linked above and in the fic at their first mentions. AU with no Upside Down, no use of Y/N, focuses on Eddie's POV, fluff and mild angst with a happy ending *wink wink*

Word count: 17.3k

Warnings: MDNI 18+! alcohol consumption/drunken behavior, subtly pervy moments, masturbation, fondling, dry humping, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), a little bit of praise & possessiveness, includes swearing.

Eddie was determined to leave Hawkins for good as soon as he tossed his graduation cap to the sky. He didn’t expect how expensive a venture like that would be, so he devised a plan. For a couple of months, he would stick around to save up a financial cushion.

To pocket every penny possible, Eddie took up odd jobs around town like mowing lawns and painting fences. With every task completed, he army crawled his way toward living life on his terms. He didn’t expect it to take him well over a year to save up enough cash.

On this sweltering afternoon, the atmosphere is charged with the promise of new beginnings. The summer sun peeks out from behind the dense clouds and casts irregular shadows on the dirt road of Forest Hills.

His van is packed to the brim with boxes of his belongings. After mentally checking everything twice over, uncertainty twists Eddie’s stomach into knots. What if I have car trouble? What if I get lost? What if it’s not everything I hoped it would be?

Wayne descends the concrete steps and joins Eddie. He lets out a belly-deep sigh that speaks volumes. You’ll figure it out. You’re gonna find your way. Your best days are ahead of you.

There’s a hint of sadness in seeing his boy take this significant step toward independence. But beneath that sorrow, profound pride prevails within Wayne. Eddie’s dreams reach far beyond the boundaries of Hawkins. Sticking around here won’t do him any good.

Eddie looks at the man who’s been his rock; the one who used to rise before dawn to plate crispy bacon and fluffy pancakes, meeting Eddie’s needs before his own. The memories are vivid as he reflects on the milestones his uncle guided him through. Without a doubt, Eddie wouldn’t be half the man he is today if it weren’t for Wayne.

His beloved van sits atop the very spot where he once wiped out while learning to ride a bike without training wheels. “It’s time to be a big boy,” Wayne said, urging Eddie to muster some faith in himself.

Reluctantly, Eddie mounted his small bicycle and clutched the rubber handles. With a push to set him off, he experienced the fleeting thrill of accomplishment as he pedaled forward. He only made it a few feet before his balance wavered.

The bike wobbled, sending Eddie tumbling to the gravel. His knees and palms bore the brunt of the fall, and the sharp pebbles embedded themselves into his scraped skin.

Wayne isn’t exactly a ‘rub some dirt on it’ kind of guy, but he isn’t the coddling type either. He cleaned Eddie’s wounds, slapped on some bandages, and told him to give it another shot. Faced with his nephew’s tearful protests, Wayne emphasized that just because failure stings, it shouldn't deter him from trying again.

“I guess this is it then.” Eddie wipes beads of sweat from his brow using the back of his hand.

“Yep, looks that way. It sure will be quiet without y’here. I got so used to living with all that racket of yours.”

“It’s called good music. You should take it for a spin sometime, it’s way better than that honky-tonk shit you made me listen to growing up.”

“I like my honky-tonk shit just fine, thank you,” They share a laugh.

Wayne will undoubtedly miss their banter, but it’s their Sundays together that weighs the most on his heart. Occasionally, the summer graces them with a few perfect days—pleasantly sunny with a stirring breeze. That weather maintained an unspoken tradition.

When little Eddie moved in, he was struggling to find his footing and hadn’t spoken much. Wayne took him to a serene lakeside spot where the water gently lapped against the shore.

He cast his line into the water in pursuit of a crappie dinner, and six-year-old Eddie gleefully played with the live bait. Over the years, their dynamic remained largely unchanged. Wayne watched his bobber from the swaying dock while Eddie kicked back in a folding lawn chair. It was simple father-son time that didn’t cost more than an afternoon or two. As of now, those days are over.

“You sure you’re gonna be alright without me, old man?”

Wayne shrugs and shoves his hands into his front pockets. “I suppose I’ll manage one way or another.”

“Take care of yourself,” Eddie says firmly.

“Will do. Oof-” Wayne chuckles when he’s abruptly hugged. He smooths over the back of Eddie’s head with his calloused palm.

The men hold onto one another, their unspoken sentiments conveyed in the silent embrace. They exchange a pat on the back before parting.

Wayne’s eyes follow his nephew as he closes the rear doors and makes his way toward the front of the van. “Eddie, one last thing. Remember to take your chances while ya got 'em and strike while the iron’s hot. Don’t let nothin’ pass ya by.”

Offering a firm salute, Eddie hops up and settles into the driver’s seat.

With Hawkins in the rearview mirror, Eddie sets off. Chicago may not be the sprawling metropolises of New York or Los Angeles, but it’s a world apart from his hometown.

It’s far enough away to provide a much-needed change of scenery, yet close enough that he can move back home if things go to shit.

The drive goes smoothly overall with a couple of instances of getting turned around. By the time Eddie is finished with the long hours on the road, he’s bone-weary.

His new place may not be the epitome of luxury, but it’s a roof over his head and that’s all that matters. After lugging his things to the fourth floor, Eddie can finally consider himself moved in. His apartment lacks furniture and decor, but it’s a space he can call his own.

The throbbing of an unbearable intensity plagues his thighs, a fiery reminder of the multiple flights of stairs conquered. He collapses onto his twin mattress and emits a low groan. The sound bounces off the bare walls and echoes through the studio apartment.

Eddie starts noticing the difference in sounds around him. Gone are the barking dogs and tires rolling over gravel. His fridge hums like the one in the trailer, which is nice, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out the argument happening in the unit above his.

When the noise finally subsides, he hopes to catch up on some much-needed sleep. But just a few minutes later, the ruckus rekindles. In a bid for tranquility, Eddie clutches his pillow to his ears to block out the animalistic makeup sex seeping through his ceiling. He’s praying that the man is a two-pump chump because this is a lot for a first night. Hell, it’s too much for any night.

In a matter of days, Eddie has already encountered a series of issues. Whenever he tries to use hot water, his shower head screeches like a banshee. And the upstairs neighbors? They wear bricks for shoes and have a hoedown at 2 a.m. on a nightly basis; that is, if they’re not at each other’s throats.

Job hunting has been fruitless. The gas stations, car washes, and tobacco shops turned him down for the same reason: no documented experience. This means that he’s going to be stuck with the makeshift bed frame he came with for a while, which is just wooden planks zip-tied together. He’s not sure how long it’ll be able to withstand his tossing and turning.

There’s good news, though. Eddie refused to succumb to defeat. Today, he strolled past a tattoo parlor and impulsively checked it out. When he approached the counter, Eddie was met by an imposing man with a rather unwelcoming demeanor. In spite of feeling a bit intimidated, he greeted the man warmly.

As expected, the shop owner Cliff, did not reciprocate. When Eddie inquired about job openings, Cliff promptly replied with a curt “no.” Eddie’s tone grew desperate and he nearly pleaded. Cliff became irritated and offered a non-existent custodial position just to get Eddie to shut up and leave.

Currently sprawled on the rickety mattress, Eddie holds Mr. Pickles in the air and looks up at him. His trusty plushie is a bit worse for wear, having had his seams sutured with crimson battle vest thread.

“We’re doing it, buddy. We’re finally doing it.”

Shortly after moving in with his uncle, he had trouble falling asleep in the unfamiliar trailer. Wayne, hoping to provide comfort, gifted Eddie the stuffed bunny. It swiftly became a treasured part of his life, symbolizing safety and support—two things he hadn’t received much of up to that point.

The floppy-eared companion got its name from Wayne’s favorite snack. Whenever his uncle would pop the lid on a fresh jar of pickles, young Eddie would erupt into a fit of laughter. He insisted that Wayne was going to transform into a pickle due to how fast he blows through a jar.

In his twenties now, Eddie still cuddles with Mr. Pickles every night. If his pal could talk, he’d tell him how proud he is. Eddie rolls onto his side and nuzzles the bunny’s worn fur. That smile lingers on his face while he drifts off to sleep, now with a sense of hope for the days ahead.

The time has come. Eddie has worn through his entire wardrobe and needs to make a trip to the laundromat. Having a washer in the trailer was something he didn’t fully appreciate until now.

Taking a quick look around his apartment, Eddie spots a cardboard box that’ll suffice in lieu of a laundry basket. He fills the box with the scattered clothes from the floor, slips on his sneakers, and makes his way out onto the street.

Nestled in the heart of his neighborhood, Eddie arrives at his destination. The air carries an overwhelming fresh scent of detergent. It’s not bustling by any means; there are only a handful of people here.

Compared to those who are well-versed in their routine, Eddie feels out of place. He chooses an available machine and plops his box of dirty clothes on the counter behind him. He inspects the front-loading washer, not versed in its functions and operation. Eddie goes to open the machine’s door but it refuses to yield.

His patience wanes with each futile tug. Just as frustration peaks, a sudden realization dawns on him, prompting a blush to sweep across his cheeks. There’s a lock hidden on the flip side of the handle.

With the press of his thumb, the lock disengages and the door screeches open. Hot under the collar, Eddie hastily scoops up his clothes and stuffs them into the damp drum. He slams the door shut with a mechanical click, the sound signaling the lock relatching.

This place lacks helpful signage, to say the least. The only one here displays the cost of running a cycle, but there’s nothing to guide newcomers through the process.

Eddie pulls out his wallet to retrieve a few quarters. After inserting them, he figures out the detergent tray without much trouble. But as Eddie presses the START button repeatedly, increasing his force with each press, the machine stubbornly refuses to respond.

“You have to choose a setting.”

Eddie jumps at the sound of your voice, his brows arched and mouth hanging open. “Huh?”

You walk over from the adjacent wall of driers a few feet away. “It won’t start unless you select a wash setting first.”

He looks at you like a deer-in-the-headlights, so you step in and set the machine to delicate for him. The washer springs to life and water begins to fill the drum.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Eddie says while rubbing the back of his neck. “These are so different from the one I had back home.”

“Where’s home?” You ask, resuming your task of folding your clean laundry on the nearby counter.

Eddie is visibly taken aback by your continued engagement. “A town in Indiana that you’ve definitely never heard of,” He starts to fidget with the detergent jug’s cap, though it’s already sealed.

Suddenly, Eddie feels self-conscious about his appearance. Talking to a cute girl wasn’t on the agenda today, he didn’t dress for this. He regrets choosing function over fashion; his denim shorts are an old pair of Wayne’s jeans that he cropped to wear while mowing lawns. The raw hems are messily frayed and the light blue is darkened with grass stains.

“Indiana, huh? You’re a ways from home then. What brings you to The Windy City?”

Eddie’s attention lands on your pile of clothes, subtly assessing your wardrobe choices. “Uh- just needed a change of pace, I guess.”

“Chasing the dream, right? Figured Chicago had more to offer?” You peek at him, catching his stare fixed on a pair of underwear at the top of the pile—a standard white cotton panty, nothing worth ogling.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, his posture stiffening when you make eye contact. He swallows hard, averts his gaze, and shifts his weight between the balls of his feet. “Something like that.”

“Did you bring your band with you?” You take the undergarment in question and fold it, seemingly unfazed.

As you move the folded pile into your laundry basket, his clothes start thumping inside the machine, causing suds to splash against the glass window.

Eddie’s brows knit together. “How’d you know I have a band?”

“You’ve got the look,” You remark as your eyes travel over him.

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “Is that so? Do enlighten me, what’s the dead giveaway?”

“Your hair,” You suggest charmingly.

Eddie swishes his brunette curls like a lady in a shampoo commercial. “Too predictable?”

“I’d say it’s on brand. Let me guess, Slayer? Maybe a little Dio or Megadeth?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at you before looking down at his shoes. “Jesus Christ, you’re reading me like a goddamn book.”

You cock your head to the side, playfulness tugging at your lips. “And if I were to look for this book in a store, what name might I find it under?”

“Eddie,” He lets his arms fall to his sides. When you tell him your name, it bounces around in his head. How pretty, he thinks.

After lifting your full laundry basket, you step away from the counter. “Good luck with the dryers. Oh, and just a heads up, those doors lock too. Don’t go yankin’ the handle off unless you’re looking to take home a souvenir,” You giggle to yourself as you walk out of the laundromat.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open while he watches you leave. Once you’re gone, his attention drifts to the nearby bulletin board. Among the various flyers, one advertises an open mic night. He decides that he’ll check it out sometime this week.

At Double Barrel Bar, Eddie is swallowed by a sea of mainstream nonconformity. The bar-goers are dressed similarly to him, and while the crowd is mostly younger people, they’re still a touch older than him.

A symphony of clinking glasses and animated chatter collides with the thunderous live metal music. The dense haze of tobacco smoke and the distant clatter of pool balls only enrich the ambiance. The walls are adorned with framed music memorabilia and band posters, a mix of global icons and local talents.

Eddie is enveloped with nostalgia. This place reminds him of the gigs he used to play with Corroded Coffin, although they never played for an audience this size. Staring at the stage, he questions whether he could engage such a crowd and persuade them that he’s worth listening to.

Between two other men at the bar, Eddie takes a seat.

Lee, the bartender, greets him. “What can I get ya?”

Eddie shrugs and hooks his sneakers beneath the rung of the stool. “I'll take a cold one, whatever's cheapest.”

“You got it. Bottle or tap?” Lee wipes his hands on the white rag draped over his shoulder.

“Bottle is fine.”

Lee retrieves a bottle of beer and deftly pops the cap before sliding it over to Eddie.

His fingers curl around the icy glass, the condensation cool to the touch. Eddie’s plump lips wrap around the bottle’s rim and he takes his first sip. The crisp liquid trickles down his throat, offering a short-lived remedy for the stuffiness of the room.

As Lee tends to another patron, Eddie fidgets in his seat, causing the flier in his back pocket to crinkle. “So, you host an open mic?”

“Yeah, Thursday through Sunday. Are you any good?” Lee asks.

Eddie flips his guitar pick necklace between his fingers. “I like to think so. I guess you’d have to ask the ants in my kitchen, they’re the closest thing I've had to an audience lately.”

Lee snorts. “I've got a good feeling about you, I’m gonna reserve a spot.”

“Oh, uh- you don't have to do that.”

Lee waves his hand in dismissal and gathers the abandoned glassware from the now-empty seat beside Eddie. “No pressure, just swing by on Thursday if you’re interested.”

The opportunity intrigues Eddie, but performing alone is uncharted territory. Contemplating the offer, Eddie grapples with a cloud of self-doubt looming over his decision.

It’s been two months, and his routine is now established. Each day brings progress and a sense of reward, even though there have been occasional hiccups along the way.

Surviving the sweltering summer with a broken AC was sheer hell. He found himself spending ample time nude in his apartment or standing in front of the open freezer compartment of the refrigerator; sometimes simultaneously. Fortunately, September has arrived, and the temperature has begun to wind down.

Managing expenses requires a frugal approach, given the modest pay from his custodial job. Eddie resorts to taking power showers and using candles to keep his utility bill low.

Sometimes he forgoes meals to keep an extra couple of bucks on hand. But when he does eat, he opts for saltine crackers slathered in butter, bologna sandwiches, canned soups, and plain noodles. Occasionally he treats himself to store-bought pasta sauce, though it’s still the saddest spaghetti known to man.

Eddie faces skepticism from the seasoned artists at the tattoo shop, all military veterans who view him as an arrogant kid. Their perception fuels his determination to prove himself. To earn their respect, he’s dedicated to cleaning more thoroughly than he ever has in his life.

He’s become keenly observant, absorbing every detail of the professional tattooing process, despite never being included in those conversations. Within the circle of artists—Ace, Lunchbox, and Dozer—Eddie gravitates toward Ace, who becomes a mentor. Seeing Eddie’s genuine enthusiasm, Ace asks about his drawing abilities.

Although Eddie’s sketchbook is brimming with fantastical creatures, Ace can recognize a young man’s raw ambition and desire for direction and purpose. He takes Eddie under his wing, allowing him to learn the medium while on the clock.

After taking Lee up on his offer, Eddie found himself on stage every Thursday night. His performances were rusty, as he hadn’t played in front of anyone since before he was working his ass off to get here.

As he strummed through the jitters, Eddie rediscovered the sanctuary that music had always offered. It felt like a part of him had resurrected, reviving the passion he sorely missed.

Playing Thursday nights may not rake in tips like the weekends would, but he’ll take what he can get. Eddie’s been saving up for some pre-owned furniture, and he’s happy to snag any extra cash he can for it.

Life is good right now. The worry about moving back home has lessened, and he’s genuinely amazed at how smoothly things are going. Just when Eddie thought things couldn’t get any better, a Saturday night slot opened up at the bar.

It would be twice as busy, packed from wall to wall with people who could bare witness to him fucking up. Doubt crept its way in, but when Lee mentioned that Eddie could pocket thirty-five bucks or more by the night’s end, it was a no-brainer.

Tonight marks his debut Saturday gig. Stepping through the red brick archway and out onto the stage, the creak of the rustic boards beneath his feet sends a ripple up his legs. Eddie hasn’t even made it to the mic and he’s already forgotten what foot he’s supposed to be stepping with next.

Beneath his t-shirt, his back grows slick. A lump lodges itself in Eddie’s throat, causing his voice to crack when he introduces himself to the room. Amidst the overlapping conversations and the flushing from the nearby restroom, the amassed noise seems muffled. The strong winds in his head distort the sounds, whirling like a twister.

Eddie hooks his guitar up to the amp and forces himself to take a deep breath. As he tunes his instrument, the upheaval begins to settle. Gradually, Eddie finds unity with his guitar and concentrates on perfecting the tone.

Throughout the performance, there’s a persistent undertow of nerves refusing to fully subside. In spite of his efforts to lose himself in the music, his fingers occasionally falter as they dance on the strings.

At the end of his set, Lee can be heard whooping and hollering over the sparse clapping. With a sense of relief, Eddie packs up and makes a beeline for the bar, eager to ease the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Normally, the rush is akin to a high, but this time around it’s so intense that he’s dying to dial it back a notch.

He splurges and orders something a bit fancier than his usual bland beer. Why not celebrate a little? Eddie claims a recently vacated table in the bustling crowd, seating himself on the leather stool adorned with studs. His eyes roam the room while he takes a swig of his drink, savoring the superior crisp taste.

His attention zeroes in on a figure just feet away, a quick recognition igniting in his mind. Eddie recognizes you instantly, due to the scarcity of memorable encounters he’s had.

Eddie observes from afar, observing your mannerisms as you execute your waitressing duties. You must only work weekends, which would explain why your paths haven’t crossed again until now. When your eyes meet his, a shock shoots through his body.

He sits in rapt anticipation as you make your way over. Time seems to stretch unbearably from your previous spot until you finally stand opposite of him, separated only by the circular wooden table.

A courteous smile graces your face—a skill that waitresses must master if they want to pay rent. “Ready for another?”

Eddie stares back at you. His eyes drift down to the almost full beer bottle in his hand. The cogs in his skull are scraping, unable to put the words you’ve said to him in a comprehensive order. He nods without making a peep.

You pivot to leave, but then turn back to him and lift a brow at his unaltered dumbstruck expression. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you don’t look it.”

He remains silent and shakes his head sheepishly, feeling foolish for agreeing to another beer and then changing his mind just because you asked again. Is there more dignity in being indecisive than a bumbling mess?

“You were just singing up there for nearly an hour,” you call him out, folding your arms and tucking your serving tray against your side. “I know you can talk.”

Eddie clears his throat, but he ends up making an odd sound. “Uh, my throat’s a bit sore, that’s all.”

“Did you forget to do your vocal warm-ups or what?”

“It probably sounded like I did,” Eddie laughs, the self-deprecation evident.

“Not at all, I thought you were great.”

“You did?” Eddie’s lips curl at your compliment. Heat blooms on his cheeks, amplifying the full-body perspiration. He takes a casual sip from his beer, a guise to moisten his dry mouth and escape your intimidating gaze.

“Totally, you really come alive when you’re up there,” you rest your forearms on the table’s edge. “Is it just Eddie, or do you go by a stage name?”

No way. There’s no fucking way that you remember him, his face is so forgettable it’s not even funny. Lee had to have said something about who was filling the Saturday night spot. Eddie is inwardly thrilled to hear his name roll off of your tongue, but he tries to maintain his composure. “I suppose not, I guess I never thought about it.”

“You could pull it off, it suits the whole ‘one-man show’ thing you’ve got going on,” You say while giving him a once-over. The intrigue on your face is unwavering as you walk away.

He’s drunk, he has to be. Or maybe his drink was spiked somehow. The room is spinning and he feels nauseous as all hell, despite only having taken a few swigs from his beer.

A short while later, Eddie’s bottle is half-empty as he sits, continuously replaying the moment in his mind. More specifically, he can’t stop thinking about the sparkle in your eyes; he’s never seen anything like it.

He snaps back from his daydream at the sight of your return, this time with an unopened beer in hand. Eddie looks nothing short of puzzled as you slide it across the table toward him. “Uh, no thanks, I’m-”

“Relax, it’s not for you. I’ll be clocking out in six minutes. I wanna hear more about that small town of yours. I mean, as long as that’s okay with you. I understand if you have other plans tonight.”

“No!” Eddie exclaims. “I mean, yes it’s more than okay, and no, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

You glance downward while scuffing your shoe against the floor. “Okay, cool. Keep it cold for me then?”

“Yeah, for sure. You can count on me.”

Shit shit shit. How is he going to keep this beer cold? Of course, ways to heat it flood his mind. If you come back to a lukewarm beer, that’ll be the end of him. He’s going to fuck this up and any chance of getting to know you will be squashed.

When you join him again, your drink is still cold and the bottle has left a ring of moisture on the paper coaster. Eddie’s unsure of how he managed to not lose it; if he’s capable of anything, it’s misplacing something when his only responsibility is to keep it in his possession.

As you slide onto the stool beside him, you’re quick to inquire. You ask him typical ice-breaker questions at first, and Eddie responds with a plethora of details. At times, he goes off on tangents. You don’t appear bothered by it.

Eddie talks about his ability to learn how to play songs by ear, and he delves into the intricacies of his favorite Dungeons & Dragons campaigns that he’s created over the years. He earnestly tries to convey its depth to you and throughout his ramblings, he doesn’t miss the concentrated look on your face as you try to keep up.

Lee is nearing the end of his cleaning routine and the other waitresses have left for the night. Neither of you is aware that the bar is devoid of a crowd, scorching lights, and blaring music.

Eddie has been too busy asking you about your origins and passions, his wide eyes and attentive demeanor affirming his genuine interest. Just as he mentions working at the shop and you’ve asked him how many tattoos he has, you’re interrupted.

Lee stands beside the table, armed with a damp rag and a spray bottle. “Awfully hard to wipe the seats when your asses are still on them. Scoot your booch,” Lee instructs by motioning toward the entrance.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to slip off his stool. You, on the other hand, take your sweet time.

“Have a good night,” You say and give Lee’s shoulder a friendly pat.

Uncertain of his next move, Eddie hesitates while you make your way to an unmarked door. It’s half past two in the morning, and he feels a tug of concern about you leaving by yourself.

There’s a very good chance that you’d consider him clingy or intrusive if he waits here. Eddie opts to stand outside. He props himself against the building and idly nudges a loose chunk of concrete with his shoe to keep himself occupied. Soon after, you emerge into the night.

The slam of the heavy door prompts him to straighten up. “Hey.”

“Oh, I thought you left,” you admit and adjust your purse strap on your shoulder. “Thanks for telling me about Hawkins the Hell Hole.”

“The pleasure was all mine. Do you, uh…” Eddie inches forward, his Reeboks scraping loudly on the pavement. “Would you like me to walk you home? It’s pretty late.”

“I don’t live far, it’s just a few blocks.’

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you around then?”

Your eyes twinkle brighter than he’d previously seen. “I’d say the odds are in your favor.”

“Goodnight. Get home safe,” He says with a half-hearted bow.

“Likewise,” You reply, biting back a giggle.

Eddie watches you fade into the darkness along the unlit patches of sidewalk. Once you’ve turned the corner, Eddie smiles from the surreal sensation of floating on clouds.

In this moment, the feeling of joy is so potent that it’s borderline palpable. He’s the embodiment of elation, a soul soaring high. It’s a feeling he wishes he could bottle up and carry with him forever.

The next Saturday plays out much like the previous one, save for one detail: it’s considerably tougher to concentrate on stage knowing who’s in the audience. Post-performance, the routine echoes that of the prior week. The two of you gravitate toward the same table as before, establishing it as the one you’ll always sit at.

At first, a hesitation lingers before diving into more personal topics. However, as the night progresses and more beers are consumed, you seamlessly fall into them. Eddie weaves elements of drama and romanticism into his past, making it utterly engrossing for you to listen to.

When you propose getting together outside of the confines of the bar for the first time, Eddie eagerly accepts your invitation to show him around since he has yet to do any sightseeing.

Eddie is swept up in an exuberant wave of boyish excitement, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. He never experienced it during his teenage years like the average person. The sheer thrill of having an instant connection with a girl is an entirely new feeling for him.

Week after week, your laundry days are synchronized and you’ve started the habit of making silly faces or giving each other the finger just because. During the late nights spent together at Dove’s Diner, Eddie finds enjoyment in seeing you eat. It’s a peculiar fascination, but it makes him happy. Seeing you completely at ease while enjoying greasy food is endearing to him.

When he arrived in Chicago, Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling of not wanting to move back to Hawkins. Even so, he wasn’t experiencing the same comfort here as he did in that cramped trailer.

There was a longing for familiarity that he had in his old surroundings. Eddie didn’t want to have to go back home in order to feel that sense of belonging again. He had his doubts about ever truly adjusting to life here until you came along. In your company, the foreignness of the city fades away, replaced by that feeling he’s been missing.

Several times, he’s been working in his sketchbook, adding to the pin-up style figures and faces that bear a striking resemblance to you. While engrossed in drawing, he hadn’t picked up on the similarities. But when he absentmindedly drew a simple heart, that's when it occurred to him.

Eddie like-likes you.

As your shift comes to an end, you head to the back room to gather your belongings. Eddie stands idly at your claimed table, picking at his hangnails while he waits.

“When’re you gonna ask her out?” Lee asks while tidying up nearby.

Eddie laughs heartily at the idea. “How about never.”

“You should. I can tell she’s into you.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t stand a chance.”

Lee puts down his spray bottle and looks at Eddie. “Listen, I’ve known her for a while now. Trust me on this,” he dumps a used ashtray out into a trash bag.

Eddie emits a noise of disbelief, his mind flickering back to the painful lesson he learned in his youth—he’s no one's type. Lost in reflection, he doesn’t realize you’ve returned with your sweatshirt draped over your bent arm.

Despite the tiring evening, you're upbeat in his presence. “Okay, I’m ready! I was thinking we could get some takeout and watch TV at my place.”

“Sure, I could eat,” Eddie says with a grin. Lee is shaking his head, looking particularly smug.

Your apartment is the polar opposite of Eddie’s, the difference is like day and night. It has a homey atmosphere and there’s a notable absence of wear and tear. He does have band posters, framed personal photos, and furniture, but they fail to create the same inviting ambiance that your apartment effortlessly exudes.

Seated beside Eddie on your couch, you tease him. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m trying!” He attempts to mimic your technique, but the piece of chicken repeatedly falls from his chopsticks.

“I can see that,” you stifle a laugh. “And you’re total shit at it.”

Out of frustration, Eddie impales his sweet and sour chicken with both sticks.

Glancing your way, he catches you smiling ear to ear, watching him. Eddie smiles back as he chews. “What? This way works just as well.”

You laugh and refocus your on the TV while resuming your meal. Eddie swears that you’re sitting closer to him than when you first sat down. Your thigh is almost touching his and your shoulder is just as close.

The paranoia subsides as he gets lost in thinking about how he can feel the heat radiating off of your bare thigh. But Eddie’s pulled back to reality when your chopsticks cut across his vision and dig into his takeout box.

He doesn’t mind, not really; sharing is caring. Having said that, when you lean over to look into the box, your shoulder bumps against his. A particularly appreciative sound escapes your lips, one that’s borderline pornographic.

“That’s really good, I’ll have to get some next time,” you hum and place your takeout box on the coffee table. “Or I could just keep stealing yours, it tastes better that way.”

Eddie is frozen, eyes unblinking. As you return to your spot on the sofa, you’re unquestionably closer this time. Your beautiful skin is on display in those shorts of yours and your bare thigh is brushing against his own. He could choke on air right now if he were still breathing.

You look over at him, your brow furrowed. “You good?”

“Yeah, yep. All good,” Eddie avoids making eye contact and stares blankly ahead. “Peachy keen.”

“Okay, weirdo,” you brush off his abrupt awkwardness and scoot toward the edge of the cushion. After gathering your trash, you look at him. “All finished?”

“Mhm,” He replies weakly and extends his box toward you.

With your arms full, you head into the kitchen, leaving him by his lonesome in the living room.

Eddie releases a heavy sigh and drags his hands down his face. Your absence allows him to reenter his body, but it only makes him keenly aware of his not-so-subtle half hard-on that’s outlined through the thin fabric of his shorts.

His eyes widen in alarm and panic takes over. “Shit!” Frantically brainstorming ways to conceal it, Eddie spots a fuzzy blanket at the far end of the couch and he retrieves it, draping it over his lap. While he tries to make himself look as casual as possible, he catches a glimpse of your approaching shadow just before the kitchen light is switched off.

In the few seconds he has left, Eddie tries out various hand placements, but none feel quite right. Every position feels forced and conspicuous.

As you stride back to the couch, your sweet expression eases some of the tension in his bones. “I got a bit chilly,” Eddie blurts out, hoping to preempt any impending questioning. “Is it okay if I use this?”

“No, I’m totally gonna tell you that you can’t use a blanket for its sole purpose.”

Eddie laughs nervously, “Alright, alright.”

This is arguably worse, being wrapped in your scent. It’s awfully hard not to get any harder when your natural smell is flooding his head. It’s intoxicating, and he finds himself inhaling deeply to capture as much of it as he can.

“What’d I miss?” You ask while plopping back down beside him.

The continuous movement causes Eddie to clench his back molars together because an image surges before he can even think to suppress it. He’d bet all the money he has that you’d look stunning on top of him. There’s fantasy looming alongside the image; Eddie wonders what you look like beneath your clothes.

“Nothing, you didn’t miss anything,” He mutters. When you start to squirm against the back of the couch, Eddie shoots you a questioning look. “You got ants in your pants?”

You huff, “No, there’s an itchy spot on my back. Could you scratch it for me, please? It’s driving me nuts.”

“Oh, um, sure,” Eddie fumbles for words as you angle yourself and present your back to him. “Where is it?”

“Right between my shoulder blades.”

Eddie’s eyes zero in on the outline of your bra strap that’s visible through your shirt across your back. Given his luck, that would be the target. Just to be cautious, he starts by scratching at the higher middle part of your back.

“A little lower.”

Eddie swallows hard as his fingers tentatively inch their way down. His belly begins to swirl the closer he gets to the clasp, but thankfully, you stop him just before he reaches it.

“Right there! Yeah, harder.”

If this goes on too much longer, Eddie could very well pass out. But, per your request, he applies more pressure. Beneath the blanket, the discomfort has only intensified—his arousal is now raging with a persistent ache.

“Oh my god, finally,” You say appreciatively and settle back into a more relaxed position.

The overwhelming urge to touch himself skyrockets as his body begs for friction. Eddie repositions himself to adjust the blanket, hoping to keep his erection concealed. From the corner of his eye, his gaze drifts along your figure, pausing at the rise and fall of your diaphragm as you watch TV.

A jagged breath falls from his lips, but he’s determined to clear his mind. Realizing that he can’t leave here tonight with your blanket as a shield, he has to find a way to distract himself by the end of this program.

Miraculously, he survived. Now lying in his bed, Eddie is surrounded by the darkness, save for the glow of the moon and the faint residual light from the streetlamps filtering through the broken blinds. Eddie stares up at the ceiling while his mostly naked body responds to the vivid recollections swarming his train of thought.

On any ordinary day, Eddie would resort to the routine of using his hand and lotion to relieve himself. Be that as it may, the stirring in his core demands a different sensation.

With the thought of you weighing heavily on his mind, there’s an alternative means by which he’s going to alleviate the frustration and desire that’s grown too loud to ignore. Eddie, already shirtless, yanks his boxers off in a swift motion and kicks them off carelessly. Moving onto his knees, he leans over the edge of his bed and retrieves a pillow from the floor.

He sits back on his heels in the middle of his bed and contorts the stuffing with intent. For a moment, he’s not sure how he wants to use it. His body’s impatience grows, causing his erection to bob expectantly.

Eddie licks his lips in anticipation and sets the bent pillow down with the bend facing him. With one hand, he firmly holds the makeshift toy in place. With his other, he strokes himself languidly, blotting the fabric of the pillowcase with precum as he taps his cock against it repeatedly.

Experimentally, Eddie rolls his hips downward, thrusting the sensitive underside of his length against the smooth material. His eyes fall closed, and he can’t seem to pick just one aspect of you to fantasize about, not when every inch of you is so captivating. Eddie grunts, “Yeah, you like that?”

He adjusts his hips, angling them lower to get more friction. The heat blooming causes Eddie’s jaw to go slack. The usual five or six minutes have been halved as the thought of your smile makes Eddie embarrassingly close already.

Wanting to get in a few more thrusts before he’s spent, Eddie pistons himself against the pillow. “Tell me how badly you want me, I wanna hear you say it.”

With one fist continuing to pin the pillow down against the mattress, Eddie trails his other hand up his pale, slender stomach. He digs his gnawed-down nails into his skin, leaving red streaks behind, as he tries to imagine it as your touch. Eddie doesn’t know what it would feel like if it wasn’t his hand, but the thought of you is more than enough.

Devoid of any visual aid, the absence of a magazine or porno tape isn’t hindering him. Typically, when Eddie only has his imagination to utilize, he can beat off without finishing until he eventually gets bored and gives up.

This time it’s different. As his thoughts run wild, Eddie’s rhythm falters. The bed frame squeaks, and the wood shifts while he thrusts as hard as he can.

“Uhhh,” A coarse moan pours from his throat as his cum shoots onto the pillow. Eddie’s thrusts slow to a stop and he pants. The tension in his abdomen gradually subsides as he floats his way back down to earth.

His eyes flutter open, and he’s faced with the mess he made. “Fuckin’ hell,” With a sigh, Eddie decides that he’ll deal with it tomorrow.

After changing into fresh boxers, he chugs down a glass of tap water. Utterly exhausted, Eddie collapses back onto his bed. The aged frame creaks in protest to his abrupt flop. The intensity has been burned away, and what lingers is rawness.

Here’s the thing, Eddie has a way with words, and his unconventional charm comes without a second thought. But conveying himself physically is a different story. His upbringing lacked affection, and consequently, Eddie was robbed of particular milestones. Among those missed moments was sitting on the grass beneath a starry night sky on summer night.

Eddie never got to pluck the green blades from the ground as he gathered the courage to have his first kiss. He hasn’t so much as held someone’s hand before.

With Mr. Pickles tucked under his chin, a wave washes over his heart, wading him further into the tide of ache. Eddie may be inexperienced but he’s not stupid. He’s picking up what you’re putting down. Your persistent hints practically scream at him to make a move.

But your persistence only worsens the anxiety because Eddie’s not sure that he can take the leap like you want him to. It’s not that he doesn’t want you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s uncertainty about what to do if he gets to be with you.

Eddie’s drawn to you, his poor pillow could tell you that much. This isn’t the first night he’s spent laying here trying to talk some sense into himself. When he practices being smooth instead of awkward, Eddie struggles to navigate through the hypothetical scenarios that he’s in complete control of.

If his bedroom walls could speak, they’d tell of those nights. But after the sinful act he just committed, they have a hell of a lot more to say. Those bold utterances were far from who he is. It was a facade, a portrayal of a self-assured man he’ll never embody.

Talking dirty made him feel powerful in the moment because the mask allowed him to avoid facing how he truly feels about you. At his core, what Eddie craves is to baby you, he wants to show you that he can be sensitive. He’d die on the spot to see you in a state of delight from being showered with adoration.

Eddie closes his eyes and envisions a world where he can be what you want. He’d never be oblivious to having food in his teeth, and he’d never push a door that should be pulled. This false reality is one where he doesn’t disappoint you by shying away from your advances. It’s unrealistic, he’s just not wired that way.

During his younger years, Eddie endured the worst of taunting. The other kids mocked his short frizzy curls by referring to it as a “rat’s nest.” They told him that he’d resemble a troll until his dying days. It was ingrained into him that he was unworthy of any form of love—be it familial, platonic, or romantic. The remarks made about Eddie’s prominent nose convinced him that he was a walking safety hazard and he’d poke someone’s eye out if he ever dared to kiss them.

In the seventh grade, Eddie hit a breaking point. He was fed up with having chewing gum put into his curls. There are too many times to count where Wayne sat for hours with a jar of peanut butter, attempting to free the cemented wads from his nephew’s locks. One day, Eddie stood in front of the mirror in the cramped bathroom and cried at the discovery of another bright pink clump of gum tangled in his hair.

It may have been just one piece at that time, but it was the final straw. Out of desperation, Eddie did the only thing he felt would solve the problem for good. By taking matters into his own hands, he used the clippers to give himself a buzz-cut. As chestnut-colored locks cascaded down, settling atop the sink and his feet, the damage was done.

Wayne lent a hand in handling the patchy spots in the back of Eddie’s head that he couldn’t quite reach. The impromptu solution worked as he’d hoped, but it only opened the door to different torment.

The following school day, his classmates didn’t hold back, likening his appearance to that of an inmate waiting to meet Old Sparky, or cruelly suggesting that he resembles his imprisoned father.

Eddie quickly came to understand that he was never going to be the guy girls wished would ask them to the dance. The scars of rejection were etched into his self-esteem, and since then, he’s come to terms with his inadequacy.

Perhaps you’re interested in Eddie because there are still things you don’t know about him. Surely, once you learn how unworthy he is, you’ll laugh in his face just as the others did.

Tonight he’s shielded from the nightlife commotion inside his van, parked along the curb outside your apartment. He sits patiently, watching the pine tree-shaped air freshener gently sway with the feeble push of air from the AC vents.

It’s Friday night, and there’s nothing he’d rather do than spend it with you. Eddie directs his attention toward your building as you descend the steps of your apartment’s stoop.

Eddie detects the effort, even from afar. Your shoes look new and you’re wearing more makeup than he’s used to seeing you in. These differences have him pondering the significance behind the deliberate choices.

When Eddie casually suggested catching a movie a few days ago, he hadn’t thought much of it. To him, it was merely something you hadn't done together. He didn’t think twice when you got so excited about seeing a late-night showing of Die Hard.

It’s dawning on him that it wasn’t because you’re a big Bruce Willis fan. The reason you’re all gussied up is because this is a date. He asked you out on a date.

This is not a problem, per se. Eddie’s thrilled about going on his very first date, but fear also has him in a chokehold because he’s unprepared.

Wayne never took the time to give his nephew the lowdown on dating. It didn’t come up because Eddie never displayed interest or curiosity about it.

He’s at a loss. Eddie doesn’t know how to carry himself, he doesn’t have a clue about what’s considered proper etiquette beyond what he’s seen on TV and in movies. Are those even reliable sources?

As you cross the sidewalk in his direction, Eddie’s palms grow slick. It suddenly registers that he should be outside, ready to hold the car door open for you. But before he can act on this realization, you swiftly swing the door open and slip onto the passenger seat.

"Hi," You chirp, the sound almost a squeak as you close the car door behind you. You subtly adjust the bottom of your dress before securing your seatbelt.

“Hey,” Eddie’s eyes wander over your body until he finds himself admiring your bare knees.

With a jolt, his eyes snap back to your face, only for you to be watching him with a pleased expression adorning your features.

Eddie clears his throat and busies himself with turning over the ignition. “You look nice,” he scrunched his face. “Pretty! I meant to say you look pretty.”

"Thanks," you reply appreciatively and inspect your freshly painted nails to ensure they’ve withstood the indecisive wardrobe changes of the past half hour.

Throughout the brief drive, engaging in small talk grants Eddie a temporary respite from his brain being in overdrive. Determined to maintain composure, he makes a conscious effort to avoid looking your way.

Eddie successfully carries the conversation as you enter the lobby and get through the refreshments line. Luckily, you secure the last two seats at the end of a row; he’d have been mortified if the theater was oversold and there weren’t any seats left.

The first half of the movie goes as one would expect; you’re comfortably seated beside him, occasionally whispering commentary to each other. Meanwhile, Eddie shovels fistfuls of over-buttered and under-salted popcorn into his mouth, crunching away as the scenes progress on the screen before him.

But then there’s a subtle shift in your body language. He assumes that your inability to sit still might be caused by the need for a restroom break. That is until your knee gradually inches closer to his.

The film has become an afterthought as Eddie watches you place your hand on your thigh, noticeably close to his own that’s casually hanging off of the armrest. It’s impossible to differentiate the pounding pulse in his ears from the blasts of gunfire booming through the theater.

When your fingertips graze his, Eddie rips his hand away to reach for the bucket of popcorn that’s resting in the ditch of his opposite arm. “Want some?” he fails to whisper while offering the bucket to you.

The explosive flashes of red and yellow harshly illuminate your face and without a word, you shake your head and go back to the movie.

Eddie puts the bucket back where it was, and in the hopes of distracting himself from the guilty tingle in his feet, he fidgets with his wristwatch. Repeatedly, Eddie clasps and unclasps it, making the strap incredibly loose and uncomfortably tight around his wrist.

A few minutes go by and without warning, his heart stops because you unexpectedly rest your head on his shoulder.

As if struck by lightning, Eddie leaps to his feet. The motion launches the bucket of popcorn into the air, and the people in the row in front of you are showered with kernels. He's as stiff as a board as he’s confronted with mild uproar and a chorus of expletives.

Red-faced and unsure of whom to apologize to first, Eddie turns to you. “Shit! I’ll go get another one,” He doesn’t wait for your response and rushes down the stairs, practically leaping over them two at a time.

After bursting through the double doors and out into the empty hallway, Eddie brings his palm to his forehead, his other hand propped on his hip while he paces. Once he’s able to collect himself, Eddie heads toward the lobby, only to find that everything is powered down.

Eddie decides to use the little time he has to rehearse what he’ll say. There might not be anything he can do to play off his peculiar behavior; at least, nothing that he can think of at the moment.

As he shows up empty-handed, Eddie doesn’t overlook your rigid posture. Your left leg is crossed over your right, pointing away from him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just upset that he wasted the popcorn and didn't get more.

In your lack of questioning, Eddie feels compelled to explain himself. “Concessions were closed, so…” He gestures with upturned palms, but you don’t acknowledge that he’s spoken or come back.

Not having received a response, Eddie resorts to chewing on his thumbnail and his leg bounces in tandem. Lost in his head, he finds it increasingly difficult to focus on the remainder of the movie.

Exiting the theater and stepping out into the parking lot, Eddie’s voice lacks confidence as he walks alongside you. “What’d ya think? I give it a solid six out of ten.”

You reply with a casual shrug and wrap your arms around yourself. “It was alright.”

“How ‘bout I treat you to Dove’s? Wanna go for a bite?” Eddie suggests to salvage the remainder of the evening.

“I’ll pass. I’m not hungry,” you say curtly, taking a step ahead to open the passenger door for yourself, denying Eddie a second chance to hold it open for you.

“Oh,” Eddie begins, but his sentence is severed by the slam of the door. “Okay,” he finishes with a sigh.

During the drive back to your neighborhood, the air feels dense. The radio commercials do little to fill the space between you.

Upon the front tire nudging the curb, you get out of the van before Eddie has put it in park. He hurriedly follows suit, rushing over to catch up with you as you head toward your front steps.

“I had a good time tonight. Did you?” Eddie blurts out.

Pausing in your steps, you turn around and face him. “Yeah, I guess.”

Knowing that he’s the cause of your deflated spirit punches a pang to his chest. Eddie offers a gentle expression. “Would you wanna go again sometime? Probably best if you hold the popcorn though,” he chuckles uncomfortably.

“Night, Eddie,” You say with finality before letting yourself into your apartment.

Once you’ve gone inside, dejection overtakes Eddie’s features. “Goodnight,” he mutters to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

Sifting through the mental archive of wisdom passed down by Wayne, Eddie desperately rummages for any guidance that could apply to his current situation.

Eddie has officially had the world’s worst date, and it very well could be the only one he’ll ever get to go on. It only hurts more that the outcome was entirely his fault.

You’re avoiding him, that much is obvious. You stopped showing up to do laundry together and while he performs, you intentionally keep your back turned to the stage.

After your Saturday shifts end, you no longer stick around to hang out with Eddie, instead choosing to leave with your fellow waitresses.

One would think that it was a tough decision, but it makes perfect sense to him. Eddie gives up playing on Saturdays to avoid crossing paths with you. He reverts to his old spot on Thursday nights.

It’s a way to protect himself while making things easier for you. He can’t fathom how repulsed you are by his presence at this point.

Eddie sits at the folding table in his living room, his feet hooked with one another. The blaring thrash metal fills the room as he meticulously drafts tattoo concepts, completely absorbed in his sketchbook.

The incessant ringing of the telephone hardly cuts through the music. Eddie ignores it for the first two rings and lets out a reluctant huff before pausing the tape and picking up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy, can you come get me?” Your cheerful request weaves through the lively chatter and honking car horns in the background.

Not having seen you in two weeks, your voice hits him like a wall. “What for?”

“M’ready to go home.”

Eddie reads his watch and leans against the wall. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“You know what, forget it. I’ll just walk home.”

“Absolutely fucking not. What bar are you at?”

“Errr, The Dugout I think.”

“Stay put, alright? Wait for me inside, I’ll be there in a few,” After hanging up, he recklessly shoves his feet into his Reeboks and snatches his car keys from the counter.

Eddie arrives, expecting you to be inside. But there you are, sitting on the curb, right where you shouldn’t be. He calls out to you and jogs over, dodging a few bar-goers on the way.

At first, you turn your head the wrong way when you hear your name called. When you spot him, you scramble upright. “You came for me!” Excitedly, you raise your hands above your head and it slightly throws off your balance.

“Holy shit, you’re plastered,” Eddie half-scoffs, half-laughs. His eyes roam your body, and he immediately takes notice of your scraped and bloodied knees. “Jesus, what happened?”

“Huh?” you ask, your drunken buoyancy unaffected by his evident concern. Following his guided point, you simply shrug. “I dunno, can’t remember.”

“You’re not here by yourself, are you?” Eddie scans the area, looking for any signs of someone accompanying you.

“Mmm... no, well yes. My girlfriends were here but they left.”

Eddie scoffs, “You’ve got some shitty friends.”

“Good thing I have you. My very own knight in shining armor is here to rescue me!”

“That tower of yours must’ve had quite the mini bar, princess,” Eddie remarks.

“Let’s go,” Eddie instructs, heading toward his van with the assumption that you’re following. Peeking over his shoulder, you’re practically tripping over your own feet.

The long strap of your purse slides off your shoulder, snags on your bent elbow, and the bag thuds against your calf.

“What am I gonna do with you, hmm?” He steps back, takes hold of your purse, and throws it over his shoulder. Then, he wraps his arm around your waist and holds you snugly to his side, determined to get you home safely by whatever means necessary. After helping you into the passenger seat, he reaches over to fasten your seatbelt. “No hurling in here, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you salute before sitting back so that your head is supported by the headrest.

Getting you up the stairs was the hard part. He unlocks the apartment door and gently steers you toward the bathroom.

You make a feeble attempt to resist, grasping onto the door frame before finally yielding to your waning strength.

Eddie lets go of you and begins to rummage in search of supplies.

“Okay, Eddie Bear. I’m ready for my bath,” You slur, leaning against the wall for support as you start to ease yourself into the tub.

“Eddie Bear, huh? That’s new,” he snorts before glancing over. “Oh, no you don’t. C’mere,” Eddie grasps you by the waist once more, guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat.

With both hands, he cradles your booze-warmed cheeks, unintentionally pushing your lips into a pout. “Stay put, would ya?”

Mumbling to himself, Eddie goes back to gathering the first aid supplies. “I look away for two goddamn seconds. Nothing but trouble, I swear.”

The pout doesn’t leave your face and you cross your arms with an annoyed huff. As the seconds pass, it's as though there’s elevator music playing in your head while you wait for something to happen.

Eddie crouches at your feet. “So, what’s your justification for getting shit-faced on a weeknight?” The tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he begins wiping away the dried blood on your knees with a damp cloth.

“Boys are dumb, that’s why.”

“I know, aren’t they just the worst?” Eddie concurs with a hum. He stands to rinse the cloth, washes his hands, and then fully gets to his knees on the tile floor to apply ointment.

“Yeah, they are,” Your voice trails off as you look at his fingers resting firmly on your thigh, just above your knee, to prevent any inadvertent movement.

Engrossed in your own little world, you start humming an improvised tune. “Like them so much,” you sing-song to yourself.

Eddie glances up at you briefly. “What’s that?”

“Your hands,” you explain and poke each of his knuckles with your index finger. “You’ve got such nice fingies.”

“Fingies?” Eddie smiles as he secures bandages over both of your knees. He withdraws his touch from your thigh and he takes hold of your hand, turning it palm-side up.

“Mhm, the nicest.”

“Yours are nice too,” he comments as he cleans the scrape on the heel of your hand. As Eddie admires the intricate lines and wrinkles across your palm, he inadvertently brushes the cloth directly against your wound.

You make a high-pitched fuss in reaction to the sudden contact, reflexively pulling your hand away.

“Shit, sorry,” Eddie apologizes earnestly. He applies the ointment before applying a bandage. Rising to his feet, he theatrically brushes off his hands. “There, good as new.”

You reach out to him in a toddler-like manner and make grabby hands at him.

Eddie laughs and leans against the door frame. “I’m not carrying you. Brush your teeth so we can get you into bed.”

“You’re no fun,” you groan while you stand awkwardly, the bandages restricting full movement. You wet your toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste onto it, making sure to shoot a scowl at Eddie as you do.

After lackadaisically brushing your teeth, you plop the brush back into its cup. “There, squeaky clean. Happy?”

“As a clam,” Eddie says with a grin. He steps back to allow you out of the bathroom. “Go put your PJs on.”

With a dismissive wave, you drag your feet to your room and begin to dig through your dresser drawer.

Just as he’s about to start picking up after himself, he’s interrupted.

“Eddie,” You call out defeatedly.

“Yeah?” When he doesn’t receive an immediate response, he cautiously steps into the doorway of your room. There you stand, still wearing your dress.

“I can’t reach it,” You say, turning your back to him and bowing your head slightly, signaling that you need his assistance.

Eddie swallows hard and mutters under his breath, “Right, the zipper,” Stepping into the room, his hands start to tremble.

Now positioned behind you, he carefully takes hold of the small piece of metal. Despite the trembling, Eddie tries his best not to make contact with your skin as it’s revealed by the descending zipper.

Dizziness consumes him as his eyes flit between your shoulder blades. Once your dress is completely unzipped, Eddie takes a significant step backward, putting distance between the two of you. “Is that all you need?”

You return to sifting through your pajama options. “I think so.”

Eddie retreats to the bathroom. The image of your bare back is seared into his memory, he’s just gonna have to live with it etched into his mind forever.

After regaining his composure, he locates some aspirin and fills a drinking glass with water. “Are you decent?” Eddie asks hesitantly, not daring to step closer to the threshold without receiving confirmation.

“Uh huh,” You mumble, flopping onto your bed and committing to the first position you land in.

Holding the cup of water and two tablets of pain relief, Eddie re-enters your bedroom. He finds you sprawled and droopy-eyed lying on your back.

Eddie’s chunky metal rings clink against the glass when he sets it down on your nightstand. “I think you’ll appreciate this little visit from the aspirin fairy come morning. You’re gonna feel like shit.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your attention glued to how his strong nose casts a shadow on his cheek in the glow of your bedside lamp. Flipping onto your side facing the door, you yawn and stretch your toes.

Eddie gathers the jumbled blanket from the other side of the bed and drapes it over you, covering you up to your shoulders with care.

Although he wants to, he refrains from tucking you in, concerned that you might trip or get more hurt if you need to get up. “Well, goodnight.”

Just as Eddie turns to leave, your weak grasp seizes his hand before he’s out of reach. It stops him in his tracks, and his gaze follows the path from your joined hands, tracing up your arm until his eyes meet yours.

Fighting to keep your eyes open, you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness. “I don’t want you to go.”

He returns without needing any further invitation and sits on the edge of the bed by your belly. Releasing his hand, you rub your eye before tucking your fist beside your head.

Looking down at you affectionately, a grin graces Eddie’s face. He watches as your eyelids flutter closed, and your breathing becomes slow and steady. “Such a sleepy girl.”

With your eyes cemented closed, you adjust your head on the pillow before drifting off to sleep. Eddie stays put for a minute or two, simply admiring you. He’s never seen something so precious.

His heartbeat rattles his ribs, just as it did the first time he saw you waitressing at Double Barrel. That static-like tingling plagues his extremities as an old thought resurfaces. In those conversations where you shared your life stories, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be kissed by you.

Eddie’s eyes brim with tears at the fact that his presence is solely due to your inebriation, and this closeness it’s about to expire. “God,” he exhales, rolling his eyes skyward to hold back his tears.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, pulling the blanket a touch higher over your shoulder. Then, he switches off the lamp and leaves you to rest.

Dwelling on the fact that you won’t remember tonight won’t do him any good. Getting this close to you would have never happened in sober circumstances. At least he got to take care of you in the way he always wanted, even if only for a short time.

Over the past few days, Eddie has been thinking about how he felt when you relied on him to get you home. He’s curious whether the call you made to him signifies that you still want him in your life. If that happens to be the case, then he can work with that.

Going through with this might worsen the sting of rejection, but Eddie has his heart set on mending things.

Within moments of entering the bar and scouring the room for you, he spots you conversing with Lee about a table’s order. Eddie begins to pat his thighs in an erratic rhythm as he feels his insides lurch.

As soon as Lee notices Eddie, he wraps up the conversation and gets back to work. You observe Eddie, noticing the hopefulness on his face as he strides across the room. “Do you need something?”

“Not necessarily. I was wondering if I could uh, make you dinner or something?” Eddie kicks one foot with the other and totters back and forth in place.

Your expression changes to one of disbelieving annoyance. “I can slap together a PB&J at home, but thanks.”

“No, no. I’m serious, I’ll make whatever you want,” Eddie insists.

“What for?”

Eddie briefly looks away, scratching at the nape of his neck. “I miss hanging out with you.”

“I don’t know,” You ponder with uncertainty, your gaze monitoring the occupied tables in case you’re needed.

“Let me cook for you. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

His pleading eyes wear you down. “Fine, when?”

A bright smile spreads across Eddie’s face, stretching from ear to ear. He bounces on his tiptoes with enthusiasm. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can set a time then.”

“Sure, yeah,” you respond, your attention diverted to a booth on the far side of the room where the seated customers wave you over. “Look, I gotta go.”

You’re already back in work mode and walking away before Eddie can say anything else. He just stands there, incapable of shrinking his smile to a mere grin.

Bowing his head, Eddie pumps his fists at his sides in a moment of triumph. With the opportunity for redemption sitting in his lap, he has his heart set on making things right.

In the days leading up to the agreed-upon dinner, Eddie makes several trips to the library, hunting for a recipe for the meal you mentioned. He dips into his emergency savings to purchase extra ingredients, dedicating his time and money to practice making it.

The first go around, he forgot to add two crucial ingredients, resulting in a bland and tasteless dish. Eddie couldn’t let it go to waste, so he settled for the less-than-impressive dinner that night.

On the second attempt, he tried to compensate for the previous mistake by adding more than enough seasoning. He didn’t exactly do it on purpose; it poured out of the canister much faster than Eddie expected. Regrettably, that meal went straight into the trash. Eddie couldn’t stomach a forkful of it.

Eddie absolutely, positively cannot fuck this one up. He can’t afford to, both figuratively and literally. Without a doubt, if he serves you a shit dinner, you’ll push him out of your life for good.

When you knock on the front door, the perceived silence on the other side of the door is broken with a clatter and muffled cursing. The quiet resumes and hangs in the air for a couple of seconds before the door swings open.

There stands Eddie, hair a little tousled. “Hello, hello!”

His stomach does somersaults at the sight before him; your clothes accentuate your figure, and your skirt suits you. Once again, you look stunning and appropriately dressed for a date.

Meanwhile, Eddie doesn’t have many options to choose from. The most formal thing he owns is a button-up shirt and it’s too dressy, but it’s all he has. Paired with it are his holeless black jeans. Before today, he never thought it was possible to be both over and underdressed at the same time.

“Come on in,” Eddie says, stepping aside with reluctance, allowing you to enter his apartment.

As soon as he opened the door to you, his mind turned into a whirlwind of second-guessing himself. The shirt is definitely too formal, but Eddie wants to prove that he knows it’s a date this time, and he means for it to be one. If only he owned an iron so that the material wasn’t as wrinkly as it is.

He wants to prove that he can clean up nicely, evident from the scent of aftershave and cologne. Eddie meticulously clipped his fingernails and tidied his eyebrows, ensuring that he is as presentable as possible.

“This is my castle,” He gestures to the space.

The entirety of the afternoon was spent tidying up and Eddie couldn’t bear to leave a single surface undusted. Any potentially embarrassing materials were tucked away and he washed all of his dirty dishes.

As you enter and survey his studio apartment, he takes the opportunity to rake through his bangs with his fingers. You spot his sketchbook sprawled open on the guitar amp and pick it up.

“Oh, those are nothing, you don’t have to-” Eddie moves forward and reaches out, intending to retrieve the drawing pad, but pauses when you point to the sketch he recently finished.

“This one,” you trace the lines of the drawing with your finger before looking over at him. “I’d get this one.”

“You’d let me give you ink?” There’s a hint of insecurity and surprise in his voice as he subtly retrieves the sketchbook from your grasp.

“Maybe. It depends if you’re still shit at it,” you shrug casually, interlocking your hands behind your back as you assess the living room area. Your attention falls on the antique bookshelf, adorned with miscellaneous items and framed photos. “Has Cliff let you take clients yet?”

“No, you’d be my first real canvas,” Eddie admits.

As you continue looking around, his gaze is one beat ahead of yours. His eyes land on it just before yours do, and his stomach drops upon spotting the one thing he forgot to hide.

“Oh my god!” You squeal, rushing over to the couch and scooping up Mr. Pickles. “Who’s this cutie?”

Pale as a ghost, Eddie stares blankly back at you. How the fuck did he forget to hide the one thing on this planet that rids him of all masculinity.

“I’ll introduce you another time,” Eddie silently urges you to put Mr. Pickles back in his spot, desperately hoping you’ll never bring it up again.

In actuality, he should be thanking himself for the oversight, because you look far more high-spirited than when you stood outside his door.

“I’m looking forward to it,” You brush over the matted fur on the bunny’s head before carefully placing him back on the sofa.

The tension dissipates on his body as he picks up on the change in your energy. It’s reminiscent of how happy you were to see him when you were drunk. But this time is different; it’s genuine, rather than influenced by alcohol.

You’re lured into the kitchen by the incredible aroma, and the steaming food matches the enticing smell. “There’s no way in hell you made that.”

“You bet your ass I did,” Eddie retorts with his hands on his hips while he makes his way from the front door to the kitchen.

You step closer to him. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” you purr, inching closer until your toes nearly make contact with his socked ones. With featherlight pressure, you place a tender kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Eddie’s internal circuits fry as he tries to process the fact that he just got kissed on the cheek for the first time. His lungs refuse their vital function, denying him oxygen. He retreats by half a step, attempting to mask the blazing rosiness of his face.

“For god’s sake, I’m so sick of whatever this stupid game is.”

“What game? I’m not-” Eddie panics.

“You get me to throw myself at you by doing thoughtful shit like this, but when I finally make a move, you act revolted.”

“I swear to Christ I’m not playing with you. I mean, I’m not trying to,” Eddie explains, his words jumbling together. “I know I've been making a total ass of myself, and tonight was supposed to fix that. But I just- I keep screwing up because I like you and you make me so nervous.”

You scoff, halfway turned toward the door. “That’s hard to believe. You flinch if I so much as bump into you. You don’t want to touch me, I get it.”

A pang of guilt hits him like a baseball bat to the stomach. “No no no, I do! I wanna touch you,” Eddie admits. “Look, you mean so goddamn much to me. You deserve someone who can make you feel good, and I can’t do that.”

Still guarded, you sound agitated but you turn to face him nonetheless. “What are you talking about?”

His voice lowers, a whisper of shame. “I don’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman. Nobody wants to fuck the dorky virgin, y’know?” Eddie’s vision blurs from the tears veiling his vision.

You frown at the vulnerable quiver in his voice. “I do, I’ve been wanting to.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t be able to make you cum.”

“I have to disagree with you on that. You’re a fast learner,” You extend your hand to him at waist height.

Eddie stares at your outstretched hand, struggling to process the gesture. He holds his breath, torn between his anxiety and trust. Cautiously, he places his hand in yours.

The benevolent hold pulses a flash flood through his being, the frigid water jolting his systems alive. When you intertwine your fingers with his, the clamminess is evident against the softness of your palm. Insecurity floods him, worried that you’ll be repulsed by it.

Cracks of lightning electrify Eddie’s heart, rendering him unable to meet your gaze. Instead, he focuses intensely on your joined hands. “I have no idea what I'm doing though.”

“That’s okay,” you assure him with a confident smile. Giving his hand a slight squeeze, you add, “See, not so scary anymore, right?”

Eddie shakes his head, even though fear is still coursing through his veins. You pick up on his hesitation and knowing that he won’t do it himself, you guide his hand to your hip and leave it there.

He sort of caresses, not out of boldness, but seeking to alleviate the numbness in his fingers. The sensation has already spread to other parts of his body.

Your patient expression, graced with a grin, grows into a bright smile when you meet his eyes. Eddie’s confidence blossoms, and he uses his other hand to cradle your cheek.

Acquainting himself with the contours of your face, his thumb strokes lightly from beneath your eyes and along your cheekbone. He starts to smile too as his nerves give way to the feeling of reassurance.

As you tilt your head into his touch, your eyelids flutter closed, and you grasp at the loose sides of his shirt, pulling him closer. He steps forward willingly, but his voice retains an uncertain tone. “I really wanna kiss you, but I’ve never, uh…”

You lean in, and the tip of your nose gently brushes against his. The thundering of his heart in his ears drowns out everything but your voice.

“Close your eyes and follow my lead, okay?” The warmth of your breath encircles his lips, turning his knees to jelly.

Eddie can’t even whisper a confirmation. At your request, he closes his eyes, leaving him solely reliant on his other senses. The smoothness of your lips against his registers as a gentle peck with just enough pressure for him to feel it. It lingers, and he finds himself incapable of moving his lips in response.

“Want another?”

With his eyes still closed, he murmurs, “Yes, please.”

Devilishly, you press a kiss to his wrist, the hand that is still gently cradling your face.

Eddie’s eyes open, a pout and a scowl simultaneously forming his reaction. “Nu-uh, right here,” he insists, leaning in eagerly. He’s caught up in the desire to feel it again but he’s still hesitant to initiate the kiss himself.

You happily close the gap and this time, Eddie slightly purses his lips against yours, doing his best to follow your lead. After giving it a few tries, he feels you withdraw but his head instinctively follows, chasing your lips.

His eyes swirl with affection as he grapples for something to say, feeling breathless and dumb. “Fuck, I don’t wanna stop doing that.”

“Then don’t.”

Finally, Eddie’s able to pursue, but only a fraction of a second before you. With determination, his pecks carry more verve. It’s easier than he thought it would be; granted, he can rely on his ability to keep a steady rhythm, a perk of being a musician.

Eddie didn’t think this could get any better—that is until your lips slot perfectly between his, wet and warm. He pauses, malfunctioning once more. As you kiss him deeply, his mind is dusted in a golden haze and it feels as though he’s floating within himself. Enveloped by the sensation of your hands on his collarbones, a soft noise escapes him.

Mortified, Eddie freezes. Instead of deterring you, it only spurs you on. You wrap your arms around his neck and mold your body against his. The intensity of the kiss only escalates, he’s chasing your storm, matching your every move.

Your fingers entwine in the curls at the nape of his neck, coaxing more noises from him. Eddie is so far gone that he’s unaware of the growing bulge in his jeans. His hand leaves your cheek, traces down your shoulder, and along the outside of your arm before clinging to your waist with both hands.

You hover over his lips, a stream of electricity fizzling between you. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”

Eddie forgets to respond but then nods fervently. With curious eyes, he watches intently as you lift your shirt, unveiling skin he’s never seen before.

He inhales and exhales shakily as your necklace falls back into its place against your chest. It’s not a swinging pocket watch, but Eddie is entranced nonetheless.

“You said you wanna touch me,” you draw his trembling hands up your sides. “Now’s your chance.”

Eddie’s hands ascend and meet the silky band of your bra, and you guide his palms forward to the plush foam padding. Your reassuring hold is encouraging, but Eddie tears his stare from your breasts to check-in. He finds you already looking at him, exuding a sweet demeanor. “Give it a try.”

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs in the thick column of his throat, his hands unmoving beneath yours.

“Like this,” You squeeze your hands twice before removing your guidance and allowing him to proceed at his own pace.

Adrenaline motivates him to cup them independently this time, and his cock twitches as he commits to the action.

“You’re doing great by the way,” You offer a smile.

Growing more confident, Eddie applies more pressure. His thumbs move in tandem, brushing over the area where your nipples are concealed. The innocent delight in his eyes burns dark into frustration after a few squeezes. Eddie huffs in annoyance at the fact that he’s only getting handfuls of padding.

“Easy, tiger. Want this off too?”

Heartened by the lack of ridicule, he feels safe. Regardless, Eddie fails to articulate more than a few words, his heart lodged in his throat. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Come sit,” You suggest, taking his hand in yours to lead him to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he sits, Eddie thanks himself for having washed his sheets for tonight, despite never imagining that this would happen.

When you release his hand, both of them return to the plush of your waist, making himself at home there. The straps of your unhooked bra drape loosely on your arms, and his pupils dilate as the foam cups gradually gain distance from your body.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says under his breath, his bottom lip shining after a swift swipe of his tongue.

Your hips receive an involuntary squeeze as his patience begins to waver. He then slides his hands back up to your ribs, using his thumb followed by the heel of his palms to graze the bottom of your breasts.

With a sigh of relief, Eddie no longer has to daydream about what they might look like. His beautiful brown eyes roam over your body like you’re a masterpiece, a sculpture carved from stone solely for him to admire endlessly. Savoring the moment, he takes his time to appreciate every second. Eddie doesn’t take your trust for granted.

After a minute or two, you scoot backward onto the mattress toward the pillows. “Let’s get more comfortable.”

He watches you recline half-naked on his bed, and his belly swirls at the sight. Eddie follows suit, crawling to you. Now positioned between your legs, Eddie hesitates as he looks down at you, your hips not making any contact.

His touch resumes at your waist, but this time he’s stroking the expanse of your tummy; it inadvertently brings comfort to both you and him. Until this moment, he’s never had the chance to see the tiny details on your face up close—the distinct aspects that compose your sheer beauty.

Eddie’s hazelnut curls hang over his ears as his gaze trails over your neck and chest. His intense adoration makes you want to hide, but the unease is melted away when he captures your lips with his own. Eddie feels like it’s already been too long since he last kissed you, the deprivation like that of extreme thirst.

Goosebumps prickle his fully dressed form, a surge of belonging filling the cracks in the surface of his heart. Timid pecking is a thing of the past, each kiss more fervid than the one before it. The wet click of your lips drowns out the inhibitions buzzing in his ears.

Eddie’s large hand paws at your breast, his thumb playing with your pebbled nipple, drawing a whine from the back of your throat. You tug him closer by his jeans, bringing his hips down against yours. Regardless of the denim barrier, this causes a change in him. When you lift your hips against Eddie, he grinds back just as needily.

As your lips part, he begins a trail of affection along your cheek, jaw, and down your neck. When Eddie reaches your collarbones, his mouth moves hurriedly. He’s itching to fulfill the longing that’s been something he’s imagined plenty of times before. Kissing every inch in his descent, Eddie hunches over and takes your nipple into his mouth.

The melodious sound that pours from you makes him painfully harder. His cock strains against the metal zipper of his jeans, fighting to defy the taut material. You arch into his mouth, and Eddie continues to grind against the apex of your thighs.

He licks his way across to give much-needed attention to your opposite breast, all the while maintaining stimulation on the other with his thumb. Eddie suckles and flicks his tongue, his breath hitting your bare skin like a sweltering midsummer heat wave.

The reciprocity of sincerity is blowing his mind; the way it feels to have your hands weaving through his hair. There’s a slight tug when your fingers catch on a knot, and the sting only fans the flames burning in his lower belly.

Eddie releases your nipple, leaving it bereft of the heat of his mouth. Following his previously explored path up your chest and neck, he bashfully looks into your eyes. “Could I, uh, kiss you down there, too?”

“Normally I’d have to ask for head. Are you sure?”

The melted milk chocolate of his irises practically drips off of his lashes as he blinks at you. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

“I’m not entirely convinced,” You coax him playfully.

“I’ll just have to prove how starving I am then, won’t I?” Eddie quips, moving out of the way to remove your skirt. As he does, the waistband slips from your hips and he slides it off your legs.

You’re in nothing but your panties and the white cotton is not particularly sexy, but they sure are familiar. That day at the laundromat, Eddie never imagined he’d see you in this exact pair at some point. He wonders if you did.

His fingertips tap their way up your thighs until they reach the band of your underwear. You look so cute with your hands resting across your belly like an awaiting princess—his princess.

Much like the skirt before it, the garment is tugged down the curvature of your legs. Your knees knock together as your legs reflexively close. Meanwhile, Eddie is mesmerized by the damp patch on panties hanging from his fist.

“You wanna keep 'em?”

Eddie nods with feigned innocence. These would go to good use, he thinks.

“They’re all yours,” You grant his wish.

“I feel so spoiled,” he says while tucking them into his back pocket for safekeeping. Then, Eddie redirects his attention to the living art laid out before him. “Especially for getting to see you like this,” he drags his fingertips along the outside of your calves until they reach your knees.

Your legs fall open, proudly putting your glistening cunt on display for him.

“Fuck,” Eddie says, moon-eyed. He repositions himself between your legs, lying on his stomach. Drool pools on his tongue, his mouth just inches away from your body. With one arm wrapped under your thigh, Eddie uses a finger on his free hand to collect the wetness that’s all for him.

“Don’t be a tease,” You fuss.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie responds, ready to put his new skill to use. It starts with a testing press of his lips against your clit. He works his way lower, mouthing at you messily, making out with your cunt. Eddie licks his lips and rests his cheek against your inner thigh. “Can I use my fingers too?”

“Yeah, just take it slow,” You gather his hair and keep it out of his face so it doesn’t get in the way.

Eddie glides two digits through your folds, admiring the way the pads of his fingers glisten with the mix of your slick and his spit. Slowly, he eases his two fingers into your entrance. They sink deeper without facing resistance, and you soak him down to his bottom knuckles. Eddie looks up at you from between your legs, amazed. “You’re so wet.”

You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze. “You own a mirror, don’t you? How could I not be.”

Flattered, Eddie smiles. He draws his fingers back before plunging them into you a little faster this time, though not by much. As you lay back and get comfortable, you instinctively roll your hips downward with each thrust of his fingers.

With his cheek still resting on the inside of your thigh, he’s unable to bring himself to speed up, downright mesmerized by the sensation of your velvety walls squeezing around his fingers. When he accidentally flexes and curls them upward, it elicits a pretty gasp from you.

Eddie’s gaze flits up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What was that?” he teases and does it again, deliberately. “Did you say something?”

You moan, “That feels amazing,” You run your hand up your belly to your breast, massaging yourself in tandem with his improved technique.

He finds a steady tempo, rubbing the spot that makes your nerves flare. With nothing else on his mind, Eddie is fully engrossed as he drives his digits into you. Your fingers suddenly appear before him to rub your clit for added stimulation.

“Oh my god,” You moan unabashedly, arching your back off of the bed in response to the heightened ecstasy.

“You like that?” Eddie looks up at you, feeling a rush of pride as you writhe.

“Yes- fuck, I’m almost there.”

Eddie boldly nudges your hand away with his nose, swiftly replacing your fingers with his tongue, flicking it passionately.

Your moans fill his ears as he laps at you, enjoying the way you taste when you unravel. He’s so in the zone that he fails to realize you’ve already reached your peak and become overstimulated.

You squirm in his grip, gently pushing his forehead away. “Eddie, Eddie!”

“Yeah?” His fingers stop abruptly, and he looks at you with doe-like eyes, your glossy sugar smeared all over his lips and chin.

“It’s too much,” You say exhaustedly.

“Shit, my bad,” Eddie frowns, disappointed that his fun has come to an end. He slowly withdraws his digits, admiring the way you’ve coated them. He drags his fingers down his tongue like your arousal is cake batter from a bowl. A low hum emanates from Eddie as he sucks them clean, inadvertently making a show of it. “God, your pussy tastes good. Even better than I dreamed it would.”

“Come here,” You beckon him, smiling blissfully.

Eddie wastes no time getting onto his hands and knees and crawls up between your legs. Hovering over you, he gazes into your eyes, cheeks dimpled. “I made you cum.”

“I can’t remember the last time I came that hard either,” you chuckle, noticing the sheen on his face. You grab your discarded shirt to wipe it off. “Here, let me-”

“No!” Eddie angles out of your reach, his brow furrowed. Using his still-sticky fingers, he wipes at his lips and chin, licking his digits clean once more. “Can’t let it go to waste.”

After you tuck his frizzy curls behind his ears, Eddie’s tender grin fades. Your hands slowly move down his pecs to his belt, and you tug at the metal buckle. Just as you free the leather from the prong, he stops you.

“Uh- wait.” The hesitance in his voice brings your pursuit to a halt. The way you shrink back causes his heart to squeeze.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to go all the way if you’re not ready.”

“It’s not that. Believe me,” Eddie reassures you. He brings a hand to the side of your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m just worried that you’ll never wanna see me again ‘cause I'm so terrible in bed.”

Your shoulders raise and lower with the deep breath that you take. “You said you want to make me feel good, right?”

“More than anything,” Eddie declares in a heartbeat.

“Your cock would.”

Eddie nearly shudders and his voice burns raspy. “Yeah? You want it?”

You hook your fingers through his belt loops and tug, staring back at him intensely. “Not want. I need you inside me.”

“Christ,” he gulps and presses his hips forcefully against yours, dampening the denim. Eddie lowers his mouth to your shoulder and kisses it. “I wanna know what it feels like so bad.”

You turn your head and nibble his earlobe. “Let’s take care of that, shall we?” When your hands return to his partially undone belt, Eddie doesn’t intervene this time.

“I don’t have protection though.”

Blindly, you unbutton and unzip his jeans. “Side pocket of my purse.”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away and awkwardly scoots backward off the bed. His pants hang low on his slender hips, exposing the snug elastic band of his blue plaid boxers. After finding the condom, he inspects it. “I have no fucking clue how to use this.”

Sitting up, you hold your hand out. “I can put it on you if you want.”

Eddie hands it to you, then it occurs to him that he’s still fully dressed. While you’re tearing the foil package, he yanks down his jeans and kicks them away, his belt jangling. Only a few buttons are undone from the neck before he gets impatient. Eddie tears his shirt over his head, leaving his mane disheveled.

He pulls at the waistband of his precum-soaked boxers indecisively, but the sight of your beautiful naked body reminds him that it’s only fair. Eddie pulls them down and his anxiety has caused him to go partially soft. When you look at him, he wishes the world would swallow him whole.

Your eyes rake across his slim frame, then meet his eyes instead of drifting below his waist. Eddie climbs back onto the bed, sitting on his haunches. You crawl onto your knees to join him and pull his body against yours, kissing him.

Mumbling against your lips, he tries to apologize for already failing you by being unable to stay hard, but his words falter as the kiss deepens, his worries becoming an afterthought. Eddie grips your waist, and the sensation of your breasts pressing against his bare chest makes him feel woozy. As soon as you break the kiss, he’s immediately filled with fear once more. “If it’s small or it looks weird, don’t tell me.”

You effectively distract him from his insecurities by trailing your lips down his pulse, dragging your teeth along the supple skin there. Eddie grips your ass harshly, a shaky sound pouring from his throat as you kiss your way down his body. He watches, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

As you finally look at his shy cock, you run your palms up and down the sparse hair on his outer thighs. “You’re the perfect size for me,” You compliment him with a smile.

“I am?”

You suck a bruise on the pale skin of his waist. “Yeah, you are.”

Eddie’s eyes close, his hands resting on your shoulders as he focuses on the sensation of you licking and biting him. Lost in the feeling rather than inside of his head, Eddie’s cock gradually rouses.

Having previously set it aside, you grab the condom. “Hold it still for me, please.”

“O-Okay,” he secures it at the base, his palm covering the trimmed thatch of curls. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” With one hand, you fit the band around the tip, and with your other, you roll the latex down his shaft. That alone causes Eddie’s mouth to fall open, a ghosted moan tumbling from his lips.

“There, easy peasy,” Sitting back up and wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him flush against you. His wrapped, twitching cock is trapped between your bodies. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m not sure I could if I tried,” Eddie says, his eyes flitting between yours. “Is this really happening?”

“It’s happening,” After kissing the tip of his nose, you settle back bringing him down with you to get comfortable, your head resting on the pillow.

Eddie returns to the previous position, this time with your legs hiked around his hips, causing his cock to rub against your mound. Afraid of poking around too much, he asks, “Would you do the honors, m’lady?”

“Why, of course,” you say with a giggle. You guide the head of his cock right where it needs to be and look into Eddie’s eyes. “Go ahead.”

He swallows hard and inches his hips forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance. Eddie sinks until he’s halfway sheathed by the hot embrace of your cunt. As he pushes the rest of the way in, his jaw falls slack.

“You doing okay?” You soothingly stroke the bulging veins on his forearms.

“Mhm,” Eddie mumbles with his lips rolled inward. After a few seconds without moving, he draws his hips back and then drives them forward. The moan that rips from his chest is unholy.

After two or three agonizingly slow and experimental thrusts, the motion comes naturally to him after all that practice he’s gotten from humping his poor pillow in this very spot. “Fuck me,” The hand that isn’t supporting Eddie’s weight fists at the bed sheets as he thrusts repeatedly, falling into a slow and steady pace. “Jesus fucking fuck.”

“Look at you go,” you moan out. “It feels amazing, doesn’t it?”

“Feels… god, you feel incredible,” Eddie grunts, propping himself up on both hands. His hair hangs down, swaying with the tempo of his hips. In this position, he can watch the bounce of your body with each thrust and he’s doing just that.

The grazing of your fingernails along his flexing hips throws off his pace. It weakens him, especially when you’re looking at him the way you are. Eddie is so consumed by the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can’t be self-conscious about the fact that he’s moaning every time he sinks back into you.

The shame of virginity has been lifted away as Eddie experiences this night of firsts with the girl he’s crazy about. Eddie is struggling to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of this. He’s captivated by the way you’re watching his length disappear inside you over and over.

You look stunning lying on his pillow, anchoring his body to yours. Before tonight, he considered the concept of moaning someone's name to be cliché because it only happens in the movies. But Eddie’s had a change of heart because he can’t stop saying yours. It’s all of you right here, right now, all over, making a man out of him.

His muscles begin to tremble, and he lowers himself onto his forearms. Eddie rests his forehead against yours, his hips stuttering. “I’m so close, baby. I don’t wanna cum,” He slows his movement to stave off his orgasm.

“I want you to,” You express while gliding your hands down his muscular back.

“No,” Eddie protests, ceasing his thrusts entirely. “I want you to cum again first.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Are you shitting me? It’s always been about you,” he pulls back to look into your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, you’re so damn worth it.”

Just before you have the chance to respond, Eddie unexpectedly rolls his hips. With one hand, he thumbs at your clit, watching how your eyes roll back. He doesn’t even have to look down to see the mess you’re making because he can hear it.

Eddie’s moans dance with yours as he pushes his knees forward, adjusting the angle of his hips to mimic a ‘come hither’ motion. He knows he’s found the spot he discovered prior when your legs spasm around him. In response, Eddie rubs your clit harder.

The way your walls tighten makes it all that more difficult for him to hold back. He’s on the cusp, his abs tensing as he tries to fight it. Your hand flies above you to push against the headboard, your other one occupied with gripping his flexing waist.

“Cum for me,” Eddie growls, frustrated with himself as he teeters on the edge, just seconds away from spilling into the condom.

Your brows furrow and your eyes squeeze shut, a rush of air getting caught in your throat as you climax.

“Yeahhh, that’s it,” Eddie’s abdominal muscles tense to their limit. “Oh- fuck,” His voice pitches higher.

“I’m yours,” You moan prettily and guide him down, letting him bury his face in your neck to give his arms a well-deserved rest.

“All mine,” Eddie says between his labored breaths. He grips and lifts your hips while you kiss his shoulder. Losing their previous steadiness, his strokes become shorter and more sporadic. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna cuh- uh- mmm.”

Eddie lets out a whimper as he delivers two unsteady thrusts before slamming his hips against you, burying himself as he orgasms. His ass tenses and ripples, the muscles contracting as he rides out his high.

Panting loudly, Eddie stills his movements completely and props himself up to look down at you. “Jesus Christ. After that, I wanna have you for dinner every day,” he says against your cheek before kissing it. “As a snack in the middle of the night,” Eddie adds, kissing your temple. “Shit, you’d be good for breakfast too. It’s the most important meal of the day, y’know.”

You let out a winded giggle, your bodies sticking together as he struggles to keep himself propped up.

“Sweetheart, can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” You tease and smile wide when he rolls his eyes and snorts.

Eddie takes your hand, flattening your palm against his chest so that you can feel how vigorously his heart is beating. “Is this what being in love feels like?” He asks tearfully.

“Yeah,” you nod, placing his hand over your own heart that’s thudding just as hard. “Just like this.”

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yesimwriting · 1 year ago

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okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader

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verstappensrealwife · 9 months ago

Text

Off Track Desire - Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

smut, fluff.

approx. 1100 words.

warnings: SEX, p in v, oral (fem receiving), swearing.

oscar piastri masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

As the anticipation mounted before the exhilarating sprint race in Qatar, you playfully bantered with your friend, Oscar Piastri, teasing that if he emerged victorious, you'd indulge in a more intimate form of celebration. Little did you anticipate that his performance would exceed al yourl expectations, but you found yourself not at all dismayed by the outcome of your playful wager.

With each rev of the engine, he poured his heart and soul into the race, his determination fueled not only by the pursuit of victory but also by the unspoken attraction between you both—a truth acknowledged by him, you, and the discerning eyes of Formula One enthusiasts worldwide.

Though he had openly expressed his desires, he opted instead to wait for the perfect opportune moment; it seemed that the chequered flag marked the perfect culmination of his ambitions.

As he soared past the finish line at breakneck speed, your jubilant cheers echoed through the air, a testament to the pride and elation swelling within you.

“Very nicely done everyone,” Oscar said in his radio, “Thank you, very much. Very Very well managed and uhh, yes, tell Y/N I still expect the gift she promised me.” He finished before the radio crackled.

With the race behind him, Oscar emerged from his car, the visor of his helmet lifted to reveal a visage glistening with sweat—a detail inconsequential in the face of your overwhelming admiration. Rushing into his embrace, you held him close, your heart brimming with pride and affection.

"I am beyond proud of you, Osc!" you exclaimed amidst the cacophony of cheering fans, your words a testament to the depth of your admiration.

A mischievous twinkle danced in his eyes as he playfully inquired, "So, am I still entitled to my reward?" Though delivered in jest, the underlying sincerity in his tone left no room for doubt.

Your cheeks flushed with a vibrant crimson hue as you stumbled over your words, "I- Yes," the embarrassment evident in your voice, eliciting a smirk from him.

"I’ll see you later then, yeah?" he remarked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. Your response was a silent nod, your mind still reeling from the exchange. "Oh, and wear something pretty for me," he added with a suggestive tone.

As the heat of your blush persisted, you could only manage a wordless acknowledgment, your thoughts consumed by the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Later that night, he arrived at your hotel room, rapping his knuckles against the door before you welcomed him in. His eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight before him. Clad in daring red and black lace that left little to the imagination.

With a swift motion, he shut the door behind him, his hand finding the nape of your neck, pulling you into a fervent kiss. Your breath hitched as his lips claimed yours, igniting a fire within you. The room was cast in shadows, the soft glow of the bathroom light providing the only illumination, while the moon's gentle rays filtered through the curtains. The king-sized bed, draped in delicate pink sheets provided by the hotel, awaited your passionate embrace.

"God, I would've killed to see you like this a few months ago," he murmured, his urgency palpable as he guided you towards the bed, his desire undeniable.

"What's the hurry?" you teased, a playful glint in your eye. "I'm all yours."

Pressed against the wall, his hands firmly gripping your hips, you could feel his arousal pressing against you. His lips trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine as he nibbled just below your ear. "Tell me what you want me to do," he whispered huskily.

"You tell me," you moaned in response.

Before you knew it, you found yourself seated on the edge of the bed, his head buried between your thighs, his expert tongue sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Gripping his hair, you guided him, relishing in his every touch and groan.

After reaching the pinnacle of ecstasy once, twice, three times, he rose to his feet, shedding his clothes with haste. "Let me know if I'm too much," he breathed, his eyes ablaze with desire.

Propped against the pillows, you welcomed him, feeling him enter you slowly, eliciting a breathy moan from both of you. Each movement was gentle at first, his kisses sweet and his whispers tender. But soon, his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful and erratic, with no real rhythm, you love the feeling. His head falls back, abs flexing, satisfied moans falling out as his hips go back and forth. “So fucking good, baby. You’re being so fucking good for me.”

His hips flexed, his words a symphony of passion as you both reached the peak together, your cries of pleasure mingling in the air. "So good," he gasped, his voice trembling with satisfaction, as you surrendered to the intoxicating bliss of the moment.

He tells you how close he is and it pushes you over the edge. Both finishing at the same time, “Fuck- Fuck-Fuck.” his voice cracks a little as he finishes inside of you.

In the serene quietude that followed their passionate union, a gentle calm settled over them, punctuated only by the rhythmic cadence of their intertwined breaths. Lost in the tender reverie of the moment, they found solace in the comforting embrace of each other's arms, their hearts beating in harmonious synchrony.

As the moon cast its soft glow upon the room, Oscar's gaze lingered upon you, his eyes alight with a newfound clarity and determination. With a soft, hesitant breath, he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering against your skin.

"Y/N," he began, his voice soft and earnest, "I know we've always danced around it, but… Do you wanna maybe be my girlfriend… like officially."

A flutter of anticipation danced in your chest as you met his gaze, the question hanging in the air between you. With a tender smile, you nodded, your heart overflowing with warmth and affection.

"Yes, Oscar," you whispered, your heart brimming with joy, "I'd love to."

A flicker of relief and joy danced in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his gaze locking with yours in an unspoken promise of affection.

el fin.

still cant write smut too well. im working on it shhh

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lotomber · 1 year ago

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Heyyy!

I am not sure if this is similar to things you've written before but I would love to read a chuuya x femreader smut yandere fic with the concept I love you so much, so much that I cant help but hurt you. (Something like Akito and Shigure s relationship from Fruits basket)

A/N- Hii I'm not sure if this is what you were looking for but I do hope you enjoy it!

Twisted love!

Pairing: Yan! Chuuya x Fem reader!

Warning: Nsfw, manipulation, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, mdni, lmk if I missed anything, not proof read!

You loved chuuya, you really do love him a lot but he was too possessive and he broke all the lines when he tried to lock you up. So you broke up and left him. It wasn't easy but you had to do it. Just like that a month went by without seeing him and it was the start of your misfortunes. You failed in your college finals but you knew you did well in your exams so that couldn't have been possible, even when you tried to talk to your professors you were just disregarded by them. You were also fired from your part time job. When you asked your friends for help they all started to ignore you. No one was even willing to listen to you, It hurted a lot, you were just left alone but you didn't even had time to cry as you struggled to find a job. As if that all wasn't enough your landlord also kicked you out of your apartment saying that the property has been sold. You were just flabbergasted cause how could he just sell the apartment without giving you a prior warning? He said that nothing could be done now he already sold it cause he needed money and that your term of lease was about to expire either way. Just like that you were on streets with no where else to go. And by no means you had money to stay at a hotel. So he was your only option left now, if possible you never wanted to go to him, You even thought about returning to your parents home but they lived very far away and you didn't wanted to worry them. You really didn't wanted to go to Chuuya but you couldn't care less about your pride now cause you were just desperate. You went to his penthouse and rang the bell, some minutes later the gingerhead opened the door and looked surprised to see you but what surprised him even more was the luggage you had by your side.

" Chuuya I....I." As if sensing your hesitation "First come in then we'll talk, you look cold." You were honestly expecting him to be angry at you but he just looked calm as you came in.

"Chuuya I...Can I stay here for a day or two? Actually my landlord kicked me out so I need a place to stay. I promise I'll leave as soon as I find another place to stay!" You were starting to get nervous as you looked pleadingly at him.

"Hey calm down! It's okay you can stay for as long as you want, I don't mind it. And if you want should I talk to your landlord?, after all how could he just kick you out!" He just looked affectionately at you just as he used to.

"It's no use I already talked to him besides he already sold the apartment."

"But are you okay?" It was just a simple question but it made your heart ache, for the past month you've been struggling still no one bothered to ask it. But Chuuya just looked worried for you even when you were the one who left him. You couldn't control it anymore and broke down in tears.

"Hey it's okay I'm here! please don't cry. If you want to talk I'm here okay? You can tell me what happened." He embraced you and gently patted your back to help you calm down. Your head was on his chest so you didn't notice the smirk he had on his face. After some time you stopped crying and then you told him everything that happened from crashing your finals till losing your job and he just listened to you, soothing you whenever you choke in tears waiting for you to finish.

"I'm really sorry such things happened to you but I'm sure it's gonna be okay and I'll help you so don't worry and please don't cry it breaks my heart to see you like this. And umm I..I don't know if I should say this right now but y'know after you left I've been reflecting on myself everyday and although it's late I still want to apologize to you." Now that you took a closer look at him there were dark bags under his eyes and he himself looked a bit stressed.

"I'm really sorry! But can you please give one more chance? Just one and I promise I won't do anything to disappoint you anymore." There was a genuine look on his face, you couldn't help but give in to him as you pulled him in a kiss. Your lips pressed against each other, as your faces flushed with desire and emotion. You would be lying if you said you didn't miss him, his lips, his touch instead you craved it. Not holding back anymore he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss, one full of passion, as if he was holding back for so long. You gasp for breath and wrap your arms around him tighter, pulling him closer for more. His hand slowly slid in your shirt groping your breast as you let out a low moan in his mouth. He quickly picked you up, unbuttoning your shirt as he took you to bedroom. He threw you on the bed gently before removing his own shirt. Oh how you missed it, his calloused but gentle hands on your body as he kisses you. He moves to your neck gently nibbling, leaving dark red love bites on your sensitive skin as he removes your bra. You couldn't help but moan as he gently kneads your tit pinching your erect nipple a bit hard as he kisses your collar bone before moving his mouth on your titty. Swirling his tongue on your nipples sucking and nibbling it. He moves downwards kissing your stomach as he proceeds lower. He removes your jeans, seeing the wet pool in your panties.

"Tch are you that desperate for me darling?" He chuckles as he removes your panties before sliding two digits in your wet cunt. " looks like you don't need much prep" He unbuckles his belt removing his trousers and boxers freeing his already hard cock. He strokes his cock a bit before aligning it on your entrance. He rubs his tip on your wet folds making you whimper.

"Mmm Chuuya please I want you!"

He slowly thrusts in you allowing you to adjust a bit before increasing his pace as your moans got louder.

"Ahh hngh~ Chuu.. ahh fast more." He increased his pace at an animalistic pace thrusting deep in your gummy walls. "Chuu mm~ I'm close...ahh please don't stop." He grunts as you clench him a bit harder cumming on his cock. His thrusts get sloppy as he also cums after you. He rubs gently on your sides to help you calm from your high before pulling out. Then he brings out towel from the closet to clean up the mess. Soon after you fell asleep in his arms, as he kissed your forehead smirking.

All because of the emotional distress you forgot the real reason you left him and if you thought that he would just let you go so easily then you were utterly wrong. You never once doubted how all these things happened only after you left him. Afterall he was the one who bribed the professors, threatened your friends to stay away from you, made you lose job and bought that apartment. He doesn't care if it hurts you or not as long as he can have you back.

"Darling if you won't let me lock you up then I'll just have to make sure you come back to me after all I love you so much."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #bsd #yandere chuuya #yandere bungou stray dogs #obsessive yandere #manipulative #manipulative chuuya #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader smut #bsd chuuya #chuuya x you

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cumikering · 9 months ago

Text

Toxic Phillip Graves x reader

3.4k | angst, suggestive The commander with plenty of years ahead of you never saw you like you saw him, not even close

Next to the large window of the coffee shop, you sat with your book. You sipped your latte – the latte your cousin raved about endlessly the past month that tasted closer to milk. She wasn’t a coffee drinker evidently.

“’Scuse me, miss. Would you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up at the owner of the smooth, southern voice. The man wore an easy smile – too easy, like he knew he looked good. Your eyes wandered past him, to the many empty tables before meeting his blue ones again.

“Sorry, I’m Phillip. I couldn’t help noticing your read.” He held out his copy of the exact same book. This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper.

You gave him a polite smile. “Go ahead.”

“Not my usual read, but it resonates with me.” He sat and placed his cup of tea on the table before cracking his book open where his steel bookmark lay. “He shouldn’t have led her on,” he commented.

“But her story wouldn’t have started otherwise.”

He smiled. “That’s true.”

Phillip ordered you another drink as you discussed your common interest in literature. Before you could finish the tea, the alarm on his phone went off.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you, miss, but I’ve got a plane to catch.” He placed his bookmark back in his copy.

It was then that you noticed the scar across his right cheek. As if the cause had the full intention of ripping him off the Earth – like a personal vendetta, but divine intervention let it bolt past, catching the cuff of his ear instead.

“Would it be alright to call you sometime? Maybe we can meet again when I find myself in town.”

You put your number in his phone, not expecting anything to come out of it. Not from a chance meeting with a charming man more than a few years older than you.

But days later, Phillip asked if you’d finished the book. You spoke on the phone for half an hour, listening to his analysis of the characters. He was sharp, brilliant, eloquent. It showed that he was well-read and took pride in it.

He was initially vague about his job, saying he travelled a lot. You didn’t think it mattered at all what he did. He was an online friend who was into the same things as you were. A month later when he told you he was the CEO of a private military company, you weren’t surprised at all. It was plain in the way he carried himself, his poise and decisiveness. The way he filled a room to the brim even when he didn’t try to.

Over the months, he mailed you books to read and discuss once a week. Then twice, and thrice and the calls grew more frequent, longer, later. Quieter, deeper.

He became more than a name on your screen, more than a voice at the other end of the line at nightfall. Your conversations bled into the daylight. You felt less like a secret, more like a part of his life. Like an affirmation that, maybe, you were not the only one in the liminal space.

Thinking of you, sweetheart.

Always love hearing from my woman during the day.

Your man is having some good lunch. Wish you were here to share it with.

You make me feel like I may be close to some, but never close enough.

I’ll show you how much you mean to me when we meet again.

“You promise?” you asked one day.

“I make guarantees,” he affirmed without missing a beat. “I’ll have the last week of this month off. Why don’t you fly here? I’ll take care of your flights and hotel.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve never done this before… Flown to meet anyone.”

“No pressure, darlin’. You mean a lot to me, you know that? Don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.”

You booked your flights and hotel. You weren’t going to be a freeloader even that you knew it would have meant nothing to him judging by the suit he showed up at the airport in. You wanted to cry when you saw him and his boyish smile, carrying a large bouquet of roses and a sign of your name. You ran into his open arms.

“What are you doing dressed up like that?” you asked with a chuckle when you pulled away.

He kissed the top of your head. “Taking my darlin’ out on a dinner date.”

He helped with your suitcase to his grey SUV and waited for you to get ready in your room before taking you to a skyscraping French restaurant. Sat next to the floor-to-ceiling window, you couldn’t take your eyes off the view, the shadows of the city dainty against the gold seeping into deep purple.

“Gorgeous, huh?” He placed his hand on yours, making your turn to him. “I knew you’d like it. We can come back whenever you want.”

“I love it, Phil.” You beamed. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for my darlin’.” He took your hand to his lips before raising his champagne flute. “To us.”

You clinked yours against his.

At your door, he asked if he could kiss you. You nodded, not meeting his blue eyes as you bit down a smile. He called you when he was in bed, and when you both refused to hang up, you wondered what kept you from staying at his instead.

Phillip spent the next two days taking you around the city and walking you to your room at the end of the night with a kiss, which lasted longer each time.

Darling, I need to take care of something on base. Would it be fine if you’re on your own for the day? His text read the next morning.

Instead of brunch with him, you wondered around the city on your own, reveling in the tall buildings and how friendly the people were. With a sweet Southern drawl, the older women called you honey, darling and everything else Phillip had called you. It made you miss him more.

As you enjoyed your dinner, your phone buzzed with his call. It didn’t take him long to pull up at the restaurant and give you a peck in front of his SUV. You’d seen photos of him in his full gear, but seeing him in his combat uniform in real life made your cheeks heat up as you held onto his biceps. With vivid eyes and a smirk like that, he was dangerously handsome.

His touch seared when he pushed you against the wall of his entryway, fingers grasping your jaw, as he licked and nipped.

“You kiss better than last night,” he mumbled against you.

You paused at the comment, but he didn’t relent. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands roamed. He carried you to his kitchen, setting you on the counter, icy against the backs of your thighs.

His mouth trailed down the side of your neck, sucking harder at the base than you’re used to, but it hurt so good. You shuddered as a small gasp escaped you. He pulled away with a satisfied smile before setting you down on your feet, turning to open his French door fridge.

You took in his kitchen, All-black, with spotless marble countertops and seamless cabinets.

“What would you like, darlin’?”

“J- Just water, please.”

You were breathless with your cheeks warm when he led you to his living room which looked equally as lavish with the large TV in front of his plush leather couch. When he pulled you onto his lap, you let out a small squeak, making him chuckle.

“You’re always so adorable.” He kissed your cheek.

He put on some football on as he held you close, his hot, wide palm on your mid-thigh, exposed from him pushing your dress up. Every so often, he’d give it a squeeze as he sipped his beer, making your breath hitch.

“Darlin’, it’s getting late. Let’s get you back.” He patted your thigh. “Unless you want to stay? You can pick any room you want.”

He gave you a quick tour of his place, and you picked the room next to his. He gave you toiletries and his clothes for the night, and told you to come to his room when you were ready for bed. You opened his door to him on his bed in sweats, a book on his lap. He motioned for you to sit next to him, and you did, leaning onto his bare chest. You read with him, his arm around you, thumb rubbing your arm occasionally.

“Phil?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I just- Well-“ Confidence eluded you as fast as it graced and your heart raced. “Nevermind.”

He laid his book down and turned towards you. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

You felt small having to ask, embarrassed that it was even something that bothered you. But when you looked into his eyes, welcoming with that warm smile, you thought maybe it was alright. It was Phillip after all.

“I wanted to know… What are we?”

He kissed your forehead. “Whatever you want us to be. I’d love to be your man if you let me.”

You smiled, relieved as you nodded.

“Anything for my woman.”

Phillip wasn’t in his room when you woke in his bed the following morning. You figured he was in his office, and he was, with the door open.

He looked up from his computer with a smile. He’d put a t-shirt on, his light brown hair tousled now. You noted he didn’t have his usual cup of coffee with him.

“Good morning, darlin’. Sorry I didn’t mean to leave the bed so early, but I’ve got reports to send.”

“That’s okay.”

“I hope you slept well. Feel free to use the kitchen. I’ll join you when I’m done in a bit.”

You went to his kitchen, the counters lustrous in the morning light. Next to the fridge, something glinted. It was a bottle cap of his favourite beer from the night before, a foreign brand you’d never seen. You put the cap into your sweats pocket - a keepsake of your first visit to his. You made coffee for the both of you, and when you were scouring the cabinets for some sugar-

“Sorry, sweetheart, who are you?”

You gasped, turning to the kitchen entrance where the voice came from. It was a middle-aged woman, carrying grocery bags. She blinked, her smile polite but confused.

“Uhh, Phil?” You looked straight at her with wide eyes, at a loss for words.

“What is it, darlin’?” he replied from a distance.

“Phillip Graves?” the woman called out, voice thundering.

In a second, he rounded the corner.

“Mum. Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” He took the bags from her hands, placing them on the counter before giving her a hug. “This, uh- this is a friend.” He gestured to you.

“Hi, Mrs. Graves.”

“Good morning, sugar.” She nodded at you, her eyes warmer as she unpacked the bags. “I stopped by to drop off some fruits. I was at the farmer’s market.” Her eyes flicked to you, a playful smile on her lips. “He never has anything in his house other than beer, does he?”

You let out a small laugh, and he had an amused smile as he shook his head.

“I’m still in the middle of something. I’ll finish up real quick.” He left again.

“He’s married to his job,” she commented as she opened the fridge, stocking it with the colourful produce she brought.

“Um, do you know where the sugar is by any chance?”

She turned to you and glanced at the two mugs on the counter. “If he hasn’t had his coffee yet by now, that’s probably because he’s out of sugar.” She smiled. “And you know how much of a sweet-tooth he is.”

You did.

She continued lining the fridge with apples. “He really does run on coffee. He never learnt to cook, that boy. Lucky he’s got you taking care of him.”

Your heart swelled. Did he tell her about you already?

“All done now,” she said, closing the fridge. “Tell him I say bye, will you?”

“Okay.”

She gave you a squeeze and pinched your cheek. “I’ll see you again soon, sugar.”

You beamed as you walked her to the door. She didn’t hate you, and it made you irrationally happy.

“Phil?” You stood at the door to his office. “Your mom just left, told me to tell you bye.”

He beckoned you to come in, and he pulled you to sit on his lap, his hand squeezing your thigh.

“You know why I said you’re a friend, don’t you? I promise I’ll tell her soon.” He gave you an easy smile. “It’s like introducing vegetables to a kid. You gotta do it in small doses.”

“That’s okay, I understand.“ It didn’t bother you seeing how warm she was towards you. Still, you held on to his words.

“Okay, I’m almost done now. I’ll drive you to your hotel to get ready and we’ll go out for lunch.”

As well as the day went, you went ahead of yourself, like you often did when things felt too good. It dawned on you this was a little dream, a fleeting paradise in your ordinary life. Like a ticking bomb, it was going to detonate into a million pieces, and you’ll wake up with nothing but little mice, a pumpkin, a tattered dress and the sweetest memory.

The demon lingered in the backroom of your mind, pounding relentlessly at the door, begging to be set free. You felt like you’d gone too deep, like you shouldn’t even have started with all this.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm, darlin’?” Phillip asked when you entered his house, tossing his keys into the entryway bowl.

You couldn’t even fake a smile.

“Did I do something to upset you?” He rubbed your arms and led you to the couch.

He turned your body to him, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t drown the riot in your head.

“Please. If it’s my fault, let me fix it.”

“How is this going to work?” Your eyes flicked to his, continuing in a smaller voice. “We don’t live close at all.”

“Got me worried there,” he exhaled, pulling you to his chest. “You can move here, of course.”

“It’s not that easy, is it?”

“I know it’s not. If I’m honest, I don’t have an answer for that yet.” He sighed as he caressed your hair. Silence lingered before he continued, “You know what my drill sergeant used to say? You can’t fly when you keep worrying about falling out of the sky.”

“You told me.” A smile flickered on your lips.

“We’re just a two-hour flight away from each other. As long as you still want this, don’t think too much of what’s going to come. It will work itself out.” He tilted your face to him by the chin. “We’ll work it all out.”

Perhaps he was right. You just needed to focus on what’s right in front of you. When you asked if you could extend your stay for a few more days, he gave you a peck on the lips.

He held you wordlessly for a long time until he got a call for an emergency meeting. He told you not to wait up if he wasn’t done in an hour. You hadn’t planned on staying the night, but you still had your toiletries from the other day. You got ready for bed and rescheduled your return flight, extending the timer on the proverbial bomb, even just for two more days. You wanted to float in this dream a little longer.

It was past 2 in the morning when your door creaked open. You turned, the dim light from the hallway bleeding into the dark.

“Why are you still up?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

He turned the bedside lamp on and sat on the bed, holding your hand.

“I’ve been thinking. You’re really special to me, darlin’. I want to work this out. I promise we’ll find a way, okay?”

You choked out a sob. His words like balm to your burning chest. You sat up and wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re so emotional. It’s adorable.” He let out a small laugh as he stroked your back. “I love you.”

When your tears stopped flowing, he laid you down, caging you between his forearms as he kissed you. Your arm wrapped around his neck, a hand cupping his lightly stubbled jaw. You fell into the kiss, into the sensation of his perfect lips. His hand wandered, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, his lips unrelenting, ever intensifying.

You squirmed under him. “Phil, that’s- you’re being a bit rough.”

He pulled away. “My ex liked it this way.”

You appreciated his passion, but the comment didn’t sit right. He stilled for a second before lying beside you in silence. You didn’t know how long you lay there, but in the dark, your eyes blinked open at the click of the door.

Your heart drained, hollow, hanging by a thread like it was going to float away out of your gaping chest any second. What you thought was going to be a comforting night turned unkind, instead leaving you feeling less than. You let out an uneven breath, pulling the comforter closer around you, willing it to drown the ache.

The next morning, Phillip was quiet, not even meeting your eyes as he told you to get ready. It was jarring, when for days it was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off you, but that day felt like he didn’t even want you anywhere near him.

Perhaps he had a lot in mind, maybe something about his meeting the night before – you knew it happened sometimes, but this time, the stillness made you nervous. Rejected, unwanted, out of place. Something was brutally wrong and it hung heavy in the air, it made you hard to breathe.

He finally broke the silence when he pulled up at the hotel lobby. “This isn’t working out.”

You turned to him, not believing your ears. “What?”

“This is a mistake,” he declared.

“But… Last night, we just- You said you loved me.“

“Why are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not.”

The harsh tone sent chills down your spine. He’d never used that voice on you.

“I thought you liked sex, sweetheart. Why’d you wear those cute outfits otherwise?” His smirk turned to a frown. “Also, you laugh too loud. It’s off putting.”

You froze in your seat, like you wanted to scream but your voice a prisoner in your throat. Your stomach churned, bitter, singeing.

“You didn’t think this was real, did you? Don’t worry, it’s not like I don’t want to see you again. We’ll get coffee when I visit, okay?”

Your lips quivered as you blinked your tears away, but you were not going to let yourself cry.

“Oh, come on! Don’t start crying now. You’re making me look like the bad guy.” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Was he not? When he told you all those things, some of the kindest words anyone had ever said to you. When the gold he gave you was brass at heart.

“Fuck you, Graves.” You got out of the car, slamming the door shut. Your tears stained your cheeks as you walked away.

It was the last time you saw or heard from him until two months later.

Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m attached now. We’re visiting next month. Want to meet up?

You regretted not blocking his number. You wiped away the tear that slipped.

Three years later, the universe sprinkled chaos and stirred its pot. You met another Phillip. Your cousin asked if it was the Graves variety. You said no, with a smile brighter than you ever remembered smiling.

This one held your hand and brought you home to meet his mum. This one didn’t bring up his exes when you didn’t ask. This one laughed harder when you cackled.

This one didn’t have to lie about his intentions, because a few years later, his promise of forever came without you even having to ask.

Thanks @shadofireshinobi for making me write this <3

@tiredmetalenthusiast @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

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ceridescent · 1 year ago

Text

Jealous Freak — F., Amber

Amber Freeman x Female!Reader

Summary: amber freeman has some serious issues, says samantha carpenter, your most loyal friend. but who cares when she's so hot when bothered, with you to take the fall?

Warning/s: top! amber, bottom!reader, heavy use of expletives, degradation kink, praise kink, strap-on usage, choking, pet name use (bunny), hair pulling, vaginal fingering, manhandling, & mentions of blood.

Word Count: 4, 417

Author’s Note: this is my first! evah! scream fan fiction! i’m so excited !!!!! (may or may not have a part two plotted in mind :*).

a loud chuckle erupts from you by your best friend’s comment, the ribbon that tied both you and your woman together; beginning freshman year, two months ago.

you finish putting on your halloween costume, glazed under the vanity lights. taking a look at yourself before applying your makeup, you take pride at how your girlfriend fashionably knows how to navigate these things.

amber didn’t mention anything about dressing up as a bloody bunny, which you are grateful for, not that she gave instructions for you to follow. she only mentioned it once, her desire to design a halloween outfit for you, and you excitedly approved, bouncing up and down her lap as you did so. then, she made you promise not to ask any questions nor clues regarding your costume, as it would spoil the fun.

and now the box sits on top of your mattress, hard and empty.

the post-it note: something cute and small, just like my bunny, along with a smiley face, sticks on the mirror in front of you.

“aah!” your throat scratches at your scream as you are met with a ghoulish-looking mask. “what the hell?!?” you screech turning around, kicking the quiet masked man with your knee.

“ow! baby!” an all too familiar, muffled voice sounds out of the mask, the anguished tone expressing its anguished features.

the man takes it off, revealing

“amber,” you sigh, coming over to her, giving a hug whilst massaging her crotch, the place you hit hard on.

“you almost knocked me out,” she sniffles, making you pull away to look at her glossy eyes. she then smirks.

“nailed it, baby,” huskily, she bites her lower lip, trailing her eyes all over your clad form, lust etched all over her gorgeous face. you hit your playful girlfriend’s shoulder, earning a small groan from her. immediately you rub it to soothe, feeling the soft fabric on your palm, its soothing texture.

“so what do you think about my costume?”

amber twirls around with a beam, showing it off. “huh? what do you think? left you speechless?” she raises her brows to urge you to say something, giggling as you trailed your eyes up and down her ghostface costume.

you take a huge gulp of your saliva, feeling very exposed. “left me screaming…”

“oh definitely!” amber sniggers, “that really was my desired reaction from my baby girl. you just never fail to make me proud,”

you moan as she peppers kisses all over your neck and collarbone, each contact getting louder as her lips trails down your body. “amber,” you mewl, pushing her away. you give her a pointed look. she innocently shrugged. “what? i’m just kissing you there so i won’t smudge my girl’s makeup!”

“how considerate,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes, walking back to the vanity mirror.

“you done?” she asks, plopping down on your mattress beside her gift box. “i think you are,” she sighs, staring at your plump ass whilst you’re bent over the vanity desk, applying lipstick.

“patience, girlfriend, beauty takes time.”

“but you’re already so beautiful,” she half-sighs and half-whines, stomping her doc martens like a bratty child. “i want to kiss you on the lips already!”

“wipe off your drool, get in line. you’re not the first one,” you giggle, finalizing your glam with a lip gloss. tilting your neck to see your girlfriend’s reaction, as expected, with her arms crossed together against her chest. her ghostface mask sits flatly on top of her lap. amber freeman’s the jealous type. overly and overtly. you walk slowly towards her.

shaking her head, she makes an eye-roll before pulling you closer by the waist, rubbing them up and down, tightening her grip as she thumbs the front of your bodysuit. she stands up then, her hands still glued on you, and you can’t help but to look at how tight she clenches you as if you’re her property. until she pulls your chin up to focus on her brown eyes. amber’s lips part, hungry ruby reds taking her time.

you almost drown in them, spiraling into the caramel pools of carnality and admiration. blinking twice, you escape amber’s dilated pupils, only to count the moles on her pale face. you hear a shuffle. “just keep looking at me,” she instructs, mumbling, “just look at me,” her breath ghosting over your cusps, teasingly inching her red plump lips against yours. “is it okay now to mess up my baby bunny’s lips?”

you gasp, feeling her softness bump against your own for a millisecond with a tender gaze, batting her eyelashes at you, entertained by how you will respond to her advances.

“it’s-“

amber opens her mouth with a sigh, the way she comes with your mouth around her clit, chuckling as you stumble back slightly, losing your grip around her padded shoulders. “oh,” she purrs, pulling you back in with the chain she slyly strapped to your collar.

“hmmm,” she hums, admiring her work.

“it was what, bunny?”

you stammer, trying to find the words, clearly struggling to form a coherent thought.

“well whatever that is, it can wait. we’re already five minutes late to the party so we better get movin’!” she exclaims with such eagerness, tugging your leash in the process. you choke the moan that was ready to pop out, grateful to be preserving the amount of dignity you could spare.

amber doesn’t let go of your leash while she takes on the ghostface mask, until she puts you in the passenger seat.

amber’s muffled giggle could be heard before it disappears, a click of a red glowing button placed between her neck and shoulder. she turns at you, eerily slowly, pulling out a fake bloodied knife out of nowhere, creating stabbing motions.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you groan, clenching your thighs. a sudden throb pulsed through you when she did that, piling up to the list of her teasings of the day. “baby,” you whine, “we’re already 10 minutes late. that can wait,” you remind her as you drag your words, the whole time staring at a blank mask stare, unaware if she’s reciprocating. but it’s your girlfriend amber freeman, who loves to make eye contact.

“you don’t treat me like that-“

amber tugs at your leash and you whimper, cowering as the heat between your thighs intensifies. amber has never been this rough.

she huffs, “you’ll be sorry for that,” putting away her props and turning off her voice changer device.

“you got your seatbelt on, baby?” she asks, back in her sweet, loving voice. you smile, caressing the mask, “yes, baby, good to go!”

“oh my fucking god!” you hear sam exclaim, raking her shocked eyes all over you. “you’re a slutty bunny!”

“now, now, sam, don’t eye my girl like that,” amber warns with a scoff, shielding you protectively from the fake lara croft. “hey, i can handle myself, thank you very much,” you complain, pushing amber away. you’re met with a smirking sam, looking at amber with a knowing look.

“then maybe you shouldn’t have chosen that halloween costume for everyone to ogle at her, ms. smart pants,” sam tells amber matter-of-fact, waving to the crowd which definitely eyed you like a fish in an oasis, howling and whistling as they passed you by.

“you’re scorching, ms. croftie! are you out looking for gems?” you ask her flirtatiously, twirling your hair, like girls do when they tease their friends. samantha chuckles and slaps your shoulder playfully, “yes and the bigger the better!” giving you a high-five whilst your girlfriend handles the situation she’d cause with her ghostface costume and her fake bloody knife.

“fuck off!”

“oh, scary,” sam mocked sarcastically, dragging you away from your distressed girlfriend. “that woman could be stupid,” your best friend sings, giving you a drink. “i think she meant well,” you fend, twirling a lock of curled hair as you sip the alcohol. “do i really look like a slut?”

sam rolls her eyes at your innocence with an amused grin. “you’re wearing a damn bodysuit with bunny ears and a bunny tail, y/n. let’s not forget you literally have a collar and leash strapped to your neck.

“you’re dressed as amber’s slutty pet this halloween, god’s sake.”

samantha carpenter nods at your blown away look of wide eyes and an open mouth, her words slowly registering through your pokey brain. she lets a moment of silence encompass the both of you as you look down at your costume. the red on your lips. the fake bunny parts you happily placed on your body to dress the part. the collar that’s tight around your neck — to impress amber — to have the best halloween costume in the party — to make amber proud.

“oh,” you say.

“oh. is that bad?”

your best friend chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. “well…” she checks you out, biting her lower lip in the process. “if amber wasn’t in the picture i for sure-“

“it’s not bad for you, princess. i think. but for amber,” sam sighs, tilting her head to see how her friend is doing with all the oglers. “it’s 50/50.

“she loves to show you off. this is her most elaborate way of parading you to everyone, at the latest. she loves for every single one of us to know that she owns you, like a pet, or something. i bet she got too carried away to forget about all the motherfuckers who want to steal you away from her.”

all that talk with sam had your mind going hazy, if it wasn’t already. you’re not even sure if putting on that costume and staring at yourself the whole time in the mirror looking like an animal was part of amber’s slick foreplay, but now that you’re in here…

another strong pulse digs in between your thighs, pestering the nerves into a blaze. and you don’t even remember if you’ve put on a panty to salvage the bottom of your bodysuit, but that made you throb even further.

“both of you are stupid in ways you complete each other,” she concludes, nodding her head.

“thanks?”

samantha chuckles, checking you out again. “you’re welcome, bunny.”

“no one calls her that but me!” amber yells at sam’s smirking face before she grabs your wrist, pulling you away from the crowd and into the nearest bathroom down the hall.

you jump at the loud noise of the shutting door, everyone’s halloween-prepared faces staring back at you. before you could fully comprehend the circumstance, your girlfriend shoves you against the bathroom door and pins your arms above your head. the hollowed holes stare at you dead in the eyes, you can feel it, amber shooting lasers into yours. she groans as she pulls away.

“baby,” you coo, your voice wavering, “will you take off the mask? i’m getting worried…”

“fuck this,” amber cursed in a muffled growl before unveiling the mask, shoving her lips onto yours, biting it harshly it stings.

you moan at the pain and the pleasure of amber soothing your cut with her lips, gradually getting softer at the moment. she slides her gloved hands around your waist and squeezes it so hard you open your mouth to sigh. taking the opportunity, she slides her tongue in to suck yours.

“yes, baby,” she pushes the words into your mouth, “you’re doing such a good job for me.

“we just got here and i gotta fuck you to let them know who owns you,” she huffs it itritatedly as if she can’t believe it; like things didn’t go as she had planned.

“but you were gonna?” you ask in a whimper, panting. the softness of her full lips feels so addicting you didn’t want to open your eyes.

she slithers her knee against your core, grinding up against it, moaning “oh fuck yeah baby i was gonna,” breaking the kiss for a moment to solely feel your warm pussy. “i was gonna fuck you on the terrace where everyone could see. but that’s too far un-fucking-fortunately.” you both moan, picturing the image inside your dazing heads.

“amber,” you whine, her cursing turning you on more.

“and i need to be inside you baby. i need it so b-bad,” you whimper and nod your head in agreement, amber’s cries setting your mind off completely.

but then you giggle.

“are you wearing any panties?”

“why don’t you come find out, ghostface?”

amber growls and pulls your neck into a fiery kiss, each nip and suck sending you into a spiral of frenzy. amber unbuttons your crotch, pushing her fingers on your clitoris successfully.

“fuck baby!” she moans loudly, closing her eyes. her head falling behind you against the door, her forehead resting against it. “fuck, baby…” she whispers, using her thumb to rub on your clitoris, her middle and ring finger ghosting over your hole. you both hear the slosh of your pussy echoing inside the bathroom.

“you drive me so fucking crazy.”

you can’t even think straight.

your head reels and you haven’t even drank alcohol yet. amber’s scent alone got you fuzzy; however, the way she yelled your name and proudly claimed you in front of everyone, her possessiveness, her jealous intent, her desire to claim, fuck, that just had you dripping in your fucking bodysuit.

“are you ready for me, baby?” she asks in a low tone, saccharine and soft, and before you could respond,

“ah,” you scream, her fingers sliding easily into you. she holds you back, her left hand on your hip to hold you down, shaking her head as she stares at you with blown out eyes.

she bites her lip, breathing heavily with you, the party noises outside blocked out by your moment. “i slid in so easily, baby. i can’t believe i own this slutty pussy,”

“y-you own it,” you muster to say aloud, letting her manhandle around your waist, planting her mark over there as well.

“i do, yeah?” amber’s got that cocky smirk all over her face, the one thing you want make out with. you nod your head, pulling her for a kiss.

“of course i do,” amber grunts, pulling away but not before biting your lip, pumping her fingers into you, her pace getting quicker. “i own the sluttiest pussy in town,” she groans as she watches your pleasure-stricken face, blood oozing out of your busted lip. it takes all her might not to nibble, sucking off all the blood.

amber’s wrists angles diagonally, her tips hitting against your g-spot. you scream high-pitched, caught off guard, falling over the door. she chuckles as she catches your frame, kissing your cheek as reassurance.

your girlfriend’s grunting continues, a series of possessiveness and promises bursting out of her dirty mouth, luring you into your orgasm. you do nothing but moan in heat, nodding your head, and taking every hard pound.

you grip onto her shoulders, the pace and the pounding driving you to the edge.

and then she pulls away. completely.

you fall on your bum and cry her name, watching her figure in a blur. “baby?!” you squeak out, pushing yourself up with your palms to no avail. your weak legs shake. your heart pounds as she goes over to you, her gaze predatory and her movements aggressive.

“come here,” her gentle voice calls in total opposite of her actions as she yanks you by the hair, manhandling you by the chest area, tossing your front against the sink of the bathroom. “see that?”

you see it — the smudged makeup on your flushed face, the few littering marks on the left side of your neck, your disheveled hair, the falling bunny ears. you nod your head, squeezing your thighs together to get some sort of comfort. you’re so empty all of a sudden. “fix your ears for me, bunny.”

you do as told, positioning your bunny ears on the top sides of your crown, making them look untouched. amber hums in approval.

“there we are,” she caresses your cheek with a smile, which soon turns into a smirk, its transition so terrifying. you watch intently with innocence in the mirror, aware of what she’s going to do but still the need of her to do so to confirm it. amber’s soft features turn into a sharp and hollow ghostface mask. suddenly she’s not your girlfriend. and yet with her thumb caressing your side and the rest of her fingers wrapped around you in a possessive hold, you know it's still her.

“now that we’re both in our costumes,” she sighs, her muffled voice turning sinister and rough, “i can get started.”

she pushes her front against your back like she’s burying something in there and you gasp with your head thrown back, feeling amber’s bulge nesting on your ass. “hmmm,” she hums like she’s thinking, “this doesn’t seem right, bunny. do you think it’s correct that i’m not sliding in?” she pants, trying her best to fit it in but “it just won’t budge, bunny,” she tells you.

you shake your head immediately, desperation coating your face. “n-no! n-no! it’s-“ you groan as she begins to hump on you, whatever emotion she’s portraying you cannot see. “please take out your cock!”

“where is my cock?” she teases, rubbing herself against you, positioning it as if her zipper’s unzipped. you whimper, unable to proceed with your girlfriend’s playfulness. “it’s on my ass, please! give-“

“and what’s my name, pretty girl?” you hear the octave drop of amber’s voice, the edges rough and spicy. she’s using her bedroom voice now, you know.

“please am- ah fuck! mmm!”

two deliberate spanks are harshly pressed on the sides of your asscheeks, causing you to bounce due to the constricting space. because your girlfriend is right behind you, she feels you rubbing against her dick.

“what’s my name?” she almost shouts, impatience dripping down her tone.

“ghostface! please- i-“

“please…?”

“please give me your cock, please ghostface. please, ghostface,” you moan, desperate and needy you feel like a flame that’s going to be burnt away. “bounce for me one last time then, bunny, and ghostface will give it to you.”

you nod your head excitedly, bouncing up and down against ghostface’s clad dick, feeling her thrust every up of your ass. you stop when she grips tight against your sides and a “good bunny, so good,” praise leaving her cruel mouth.

you bite your lip to contain your excitement as you hear amber unzipping her blue jeans, letting it pool around her ankles. you whimper and pout when you see her dick standing tall in her hand, nodding your head nonstop when she asks

“do you want this? do you want my dick in your pussy?”

“please, ghostface. i need your cock in my cunt. please fill me up,”

all the while giving your most innocent look, knowing what it does to your girlfriend.

amber snarls and places her left palm against your abdomen to position you — ass up, and then her left hand goes over to your shoulder blades, pushing them down, sheating herself into your pussy hole in one go.

ghostface doesn’t leave any room for adjustments, growling “take it! take it you little cock slut!”, pounding herself in and out of you, your sinful cries combined with your awfully loud pussy taking everything in.

she joins into the music with her modulated sounds, the noises so unfamiliar but you know it's her.

you didn’t know amber was into this type of roleplay, although subtle, but it probably was already a great indication of her obsession over the stab franchise. she would always joke around about being ghostface, and asking if you would consider being an accomplice when she goes into a killing spree.

“yes that’s it, that’s it you fucking slut, take it all in. dirty my cock with your juices,” she husks as you mewl and thrash around your girlfriend, your body pliable and delicate to amber’s liking.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you cuss with your head going downcast, as if you were on the best rollercoaster you’ve ever rided on. “oh my god, fuck-

“fuck!” you scream, your neck being pulled up by the throat, the blank stare of ghostface staring right back at you in the mirror. “don’t fucking look away, bitch! look at me! look at me while i fuck you!”

you cry and nod your head, mascara running down your cheeks as you glance at yourself in the mirror before looking at her. you bite your lip at the debauchery of the situation — a woman with a ghostface mask fucking you in someone else’s bathroom as a party goes on — making your pussy even wetter.

“that’s it, that’s it,” ghostface pants, her head dropping down to watch how her length disappears, your ass blocking the whole view. “take it like that, good bunny. that’s my good bunny,”

goosebumps flare up your skin as you gasp, catching your breath, all the while beginning to feel the rush of your climax. you hold onto her arm to signal her to slow down, “i- slower, ghostface-ah!” but she smacks your ass raw to no avail.

“what do you mean, slower?” amber’s voice returns, muffled and husking. she rams her cock deeper into you, every thrust pronounced and fast. “are you gonna cum, baby doll?”

“mm-! plea-!” she smacks you again, this time on the right side of your breast. “no!” she yells and fucks you harder.

amber yanks your hair back so you're arching even more, the tip of her dick hitting right into your g-spot. “god damn, right there!” you whine, meeting her thrusts in the middle. “you’re such a messy whore!” she takes her clutch away and without her support your face falls onto the sink, almost. thankfully your left arm firmly rests against the marble tile.

“i’ll decide if you get to come!

“fuck you, fuck you, i hate your sexy ass,” she groans, her thrusts getting sloppy, her pace going slow. “please,” you beg, “please let me come around your cock, ghostface,” you added the title for great measure. “please, i’ll even let you fuck me in front of the girls who wants m-“

you gasp and start feeling your blood clog up around your throat, “don’t you fucking dare try to bring the others girls up and manipulate me, you fucking bitch,” her grip vice-like around your neck. “i may be a jealous freak but that doesn’t mean i’m stupid.”

ghostface takes off her mask, revealing her flushed face and her disheveled black hair.

a sigh of relief washes over you, seeing your girlfriend after twenty minutes of being rough fucked.

“but this,” you mewl and roll your head back, thoughts being derailed off your mind, amber’s hold around your neck getting tighter, “this little fucking makes you so fucking stupid. doesn’t it?”

“u-huh. u-huh,” you agree, not really understanding what’s going on now. you’re seeing stars. “i thought so too, bunny.”

and when you thought amber’s going to finally make you come around her cock, she takes off her grip around your neck, turning you into a coughing fit, saliva dripping out of your mouth. “god, fuck. fuck this pussy. so fucking tight!” she curses it into the air whilst she stares at your pretty flushed face, all railed out because of her.

“i hate it when everyone looks at what’s mine. i hate that i can see what they think of you when they see you in these clothes,” amber huffs, biting your neck, leaving marks of purple and blue. you hiss, tilting your head to give her more room, nodding your head impatiently. “i hate when they eye fuck you when i’m around. fuck them, baby. i will fuck you in front of them. i’ll show them who you belong to.” she barks and bites your right shoulder, making you cry out in pain.

“f-fuck! i’m so close, baby, i’m- fuck!

“who do you belong to?” amber yells it in such heavy desperation that you immediately answer, both of your coils about to snap in half.

“you! i belong to ghostface!”

“that’s right-fuck me! fuck- bounce against me!” she prods her hips violently, holding yours with both of her hands, guiding you to meet her in the middle.

“that’s it, bunny! i’m coming! i’m co- come with me!”

screams and whines leave both your mouths as you reach your highs, your bodies shaking as you do so. amber chuckles as your ass automatically presses back against her front when she falls on top of you, her exhausted legs weakening.

“oh, what a good bunny!” she exhales, pushing a strand of hair in the back of your neck, kissing your flushed cheek. you hum feeling her lips’ soft caress, “you did great too,” mumbling.

“i was?” amber’s brown eyes sparkle at the praise, “yes you were. so…so good for me,” helping you turn your body to face her. “be careful,” she says, guiding you to sit on top of the toilet cover. she sits on the floor in front of you, her ghostface mask lying on top of the sink.

“so rough and so perfect at it,” you compliment teasingly, your energy on the low. you bend down, taking her chin to plant a kiss on her saccharine lips. “i love my jealous freak.”

amber hums, returning the kiss, moving her mouth into you steadily with no rush. “mmm, of course you do,”

you both giggle and pull away, deciding to take a five-minute break before going out of the bathroom to get refreshments and eventually party like you were supposed to.

“are you not going to fix your makeup, bunny?” amber asks, looking at you with admiration in her eyes. her ghostface mask wraps tightly around her fingers, draped low to be put on. you shake your head, a grin forming your freshly coated lips.

“and ruin your work? no thanks,” you kiss her on the lips for a brief moment and pull away, fixing your bunny ears for the last time. “let them know who owns me.”

amber liked that very much.

when you finally casted yourselves out of the bathroom, a soft smile coated your dirty face whilst amber held her cocky smirk, her arm wrapped possessively around your waist, the other holding the leash tied around your collar. you were glued to each other the whole night, letting everyone know who you belong to. and of course, what you both did in the bathroom.

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x you #scream v #scream x reader #scream 5 #scream smut #amber freeman smut

1K notes · View notes

fungifanart · 5 months ago

Text

Romantically Bankrupt

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Ruggie Bucchi

CW: Blood/fatal injury, death, heavy angst/whump, hurt/no comfort, angst with a sad ending

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: Happy Pride Month, my fellow queers! Sorry it took me so long to get this done, but I promise it's worth the wait! Also, props to you if you get the reference to a certain other Ruggie fic of mine! ( @lemonchuu / @leichor pspspspspsps) ( And @nemisisnemi pull up a chair)

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Ruggie genuinely can't remember a time when he's felt happier than he does now.

Living comfortably with a stable, high-paying job at the Sunset Savanna palace, thanks to Leona.

Being able to move his grandma into a nicer, safer part of the kingdom and work with government officials to slowly but surely close the gap between the rich and the poor.

And last, but not least: Doing this and so much more with his beloved husband by his side. The man who came to this world with nothing, but still rose from the title of Janitor to the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm and then eventually to the Headmaster of NRC itself.

Y/n.

His handsome, loving Y/n.

The man whom he's sworn his heart and soul to for the rest of their lives.

The man for whom he's used all of his built-up PTO to spend a whole week with starting today, their five year anniversary.

Ruggie flops down into a chair at the kitchen table after finally finishing making his and Y/n's anniversary dinner and waits patiently for his love's return.

Fifteen minutes later, Ruggie's ears perk up at the sound of footsteps approaching and then the front door to his and Y/n's shared living space opening.

"Ruggie, I'm home! Sorry I'm late, I had a phone call that--" Y/n's sentence ends abruptly as Ruggie runs up and surprises him with a tight hug while he's still in the doorway.

"Shihihi! Welcome home!" Ruggie exclaims while nuzzling his face into his husband's neck, "I'll forgive you for being late just this once, seeing as how it's our anniversary! Not to mention how I'd hate for the special dinner I made to go to waste!" He finishes lightheartedly while motioning towards the kitchen.

"Like I'd let that happen! But first, I got something for-" Y/n moves his hand from behind his back only to just realize that it's empty and looks back at Ruggie to see him happily sniffing the bouquet of rhododendrons, begonias and chrysanthemums he'd bought for him.

"Shihihi! You know old habits die hard!" Ruggie quips before placing a tender kiss on his husband's lips, "I love them, dear. Thank you so much."

This tender moment continues in the kitchen where the two men eat their dinner while discussing all manner of things, from how their days were to how their friends are keeping up to how Grim will do as Acting Headmaster while Y/n is away, until the food is finished and they fall into a comfortable silence. A silence which Ruggie breaks upon seeing Y/n begin to fidget nervously.

"Is something wrong, love?" Ruggie asks while placing his hand on the other man's in comfort.

"N-no! It's just that I got some amazing news earlier and it's getting harder and harder to contain myself!" He says with excitement rising up in his voice.

"Well, don't keep me waiting, then! Lay it on me!" Ruggie urges, his curiosity at it's peak.

"Ok ok! So do you remember that phone call I mentioned that made me late?" The other man begins before taking both of Ruggie's hands in his own with a big smile, "It was from the adoption agency! The papers were accepted!! We can adopt a child!!!"

All time seems to stop in the moment it takes Ruggie to process this information before resuming as his face breaks into the biggest smile he's worn all day and he reaches across the table to wrap his husband in a tight hug.

The two remain like this for several minutes, hugging and crying from happiness until they've calmed down enough to separate and look at each other with eyes full of love and adoration.

"I'm so happy that I get to adopt a child with you, Y/n!" Ruggie says elatedly.

"Me too, Ruggie!" The other man responds, "Now, all that's left to do is--"

"W......... ...p..."

Ruggie blinks for a second, unsure of what he'd just heard, "Uh, what was that last part, Y/n?"

"Huh? Well, I was just saying how we need to--"

"W...KE U..."

'There it is again. It sounds far away, but close at the same time...and what is it trying to tell me?' Ruggie thinks as he attempts to clear out his ears with his finger to hear better, "Sorry, my ears are acting weird suddenly, could you say that again?"

The confusion on Y/n's face is quickly accompanied by concern as he reaches forward to check Ruggie for a fever, "Dear, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should--"

"PLEASE, RUGGIE!!! WAKE UP!!!"

The hyena's surroundings begin to melt away into darkness as he hears the voice loud and clear, that of the real Y/n begging him to wake up from this apparent dream, the last thing he sees before doing so being dream Y/n's concerned face dissolving into the darkness.

Ruggie floats in the void of unconsciousness briefly before he feels a pair of hands shaking his shoulders frantically and his eyes flutter open to see the real Y/n's face looking back at him, contorted in desperation that turns into immense relief upon his awakening.

"Ruggie! Oh my god... oh my god. Thank goodness, you're okay!" The Prefect says while pulling the hyena into a tight hug with shaking hands.

"Y-yeah...sorry for worrying you! I'm okay now, though!" Ruggie says while shaking off the drowsiness caused by Malleus's spell and returning his boyfriend's hug.

Ruggie would've preferred that this nice moment go on for a bit longer, but it's instead ruined by the sound of a spell being launched at the two of them and the Prefect instinctively rolling them out of the way.

"Crap, I was so relieved that I almost forgot." The other man says while helping Ruggie stand up and staying close to him protectively, "We managed to severely weaken Malleus in the dream world, but he's not down just yet. Will you help us finish him off?"

And here Ruggie was just getting used to being awake again and suddenly he needs to fight. Typical.

"Shihihi, anything for you, Y/n!" Ruggie says while shaking off the last of the drowsiness, "And besides, I need to pay that guy back for teasing me with something that hasn't happened yet!"

And so, the fight continues as Ruggie and the others lob spell after spell at the weakened fae prince until Malleus's stamina is seeming to reach its limits, which his dormmates and the Prefect use as an opportunity to try to reason with him again.

"MALLEUS-SAMA, PLEASE YOU MUST UNDERSTAND--"

"Malleus, it hurts me too, but this isn't the way to--"

"Malleus, just give it up! This can't go on forever--"

"Lostie, please! This isn't who you are--"

"SILENCE!!!" Malleus yells in one last fit of rage that sends a barrage of thick and sharp thorn vines out in all directions, one of which speeds towards Ruggie faster than he can dodge.

Ruggie closes his eyes and braces for the feeling of the vine tearing into his flesh, when suddenly--

"RUGGIE!!!"

He instead feels a hand pushing him away, hears the Prefect’s voice calling his name in sheer desperation and opens his eyes just in time to see the thorn vine drive itself directly through the other man's stomach as he lets out a blood-curdling scream in pain.

Ruggie's vision turns red at this and the next moments go by in a blur until he comes out of it to the sight of an unconscious and now normal Malleus at his feet.

He has no time to wonder how that happened as he whips his head around to find where his boyfriend is and sees him collapsed on his back in a growing pool of blood with Grim crying his name next to him.

"Y/N!!! No no no no no no--" Ruggie says as he sprints over and slides on his knees to a halt next to him and holds him in his arms, uncaring to how much blood would get on him, "Y/N! Hey!! Talk to me!!! Grim! Go find Professor Crewel or Riddle or someone who can help!"

The direbeast sprints away as the Prefect stirs in Ruggie's arms.

"...*cough* R-Ruggie? You're alright?" He looks at Ruggie with barely focused eyes and coughs up blood on top of the blood already gushing from the gaping hole in his stomach.

"Forget about me! Why'd you do that?!" He practically screams as he shoves his scarf into the wound in a desperate, but vain attempt to stop the bleeding, all survival knowledge having left his brain due to panic.

"S-sorry...*cough* when I saw the vine coming at you, my body moved on its own. I just couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt..." Y/n says with a small, pathetic smile.

"I-- That's-- Y-you shouldn't-- I-I'm not--" Ruggie tries to argue, to say ANYTHING, but, looking at the ever growing pool of blood around them and hearing the sound of the Prefect’s breathing becoming more labored, all words die in his throat and all he can do is look into his love's eyes while tears pool around his own.

Just as the tears begin to fall, the Prefect reaches up his hand to caress the hyena's cheek, which he takes in his own trembling grasp.

He's scared. So scared.

Ruggie's finally found something, someONE, that his childhood self could only dream of finding and now here he is, slowly but surely slipping away.

His spiraling is interrupted by the Prefect’s weakening voice, "R-Ruggie, there's actually-*cough* s-something I need to tell you in case I-*cough* don't make it..." He says as his words grow more forced.

Ruggie's eyes widen, "H-hey! Don't talk like that! Grim's gonna get Professor Crewel here and you'll be patched up in no--"

"Ruggie...please just listen..." The Prefect says in a weak tone that overpowers the rest of Ruggie's sentence, "If I don't make it, I want you-*cough* to go to my room-*huff* at Ramshackle. T-there's *huff* s-something in the very back of the drawer in my desk that I-*cough* want you to have, ok...?"

Ruggie nods nervously as his grip on his boyfriend's hand tightens, "S-sure, but that's only if you don't make it! Which you will! I mean it!" He says, unsure whether he's trying to convince the Prefect or himself.

"Y-yeah...of course..." The other man responds while turning his gaze straight upwards, "Hey...would you mind-*cough* telling me what you dreamt about...?"

Ruggie blushes in embarrassment thinking about it, "Uuhh...w-well...you and me, we were...uh...living together. I was working at the palace and you were the Headmaster here and...we were...really happy. I'd really like it if that could be our reality someday."

The Prefect continues to stare upwards as his eyes glisten with tears, "That-*cough* sounds wonderful...*huff*...I'd like that too." He rasps as Ruggie can see the tears threatening to spill over, "H-hey, Ruggie?"

"Yeah...?" The hyena responds.

"You k-know I love you, r-right?" He says with a weak, but geniune smile causing Ruggie's heart to skip a beat.

"O-of course! I love you too!" Ruggie responds plainly with no hint of sarcasm or false bravado, just the honest truth.

However, this one statement is what makes the Prefect's tears finally spill over, "Th-that-*sniff*-makes me-*cough* so happy to hear. I love you, Ruggie." The next part, he says in a barely audible whisper, "I wish I could’ve...*huff*...shown you how much..."

Time slows down to a crawl in this moment as Ruggie watches the love of his life close his eyes and feels his hand go limp in his grasp, seemingly at peace.

But not Ruggie.

Ruggie is anything but at peace.

All sound is cut off in this moment to the point that he can't even hear his own voice as he desperately calls out Y/n's name and shakes his shoulders, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

He only stops upon being pushed away by someone he vaguely recognizes who tells him something he can't hear before putting their ear to the Prefect’s chest and trying all manner of tactics to resuscitate him.

But it's too late.

Ruggie had already guessed this, but the confirmation saps the color from the world around him as the person and a small animal still work feverishly for several minutes.

But it doesn't work.

The end of those several minutes of fruitless work is marked by the person placing their fur coat on top of the Prefect's body.

Ruggie goes fully numb at this, his brain barely registering anything about the world around him and even his own actions as he only realizes he's started walking away upon seeing the faces of people he's pretty sure he knows as they either are only just waking up or nursing their own injuries.

How lucky they are to walk away with their lives, unlike a certain someone. Unlike the one person who mattered.

Ignoring the questions of his peers, Ruggie exits Diasomnia and continues walking.

To where? He doesn't know or care anymore. It's not like Y/n will be there to greet him after all.

The minutes pass by in a blur as Ruggie walks until he finds himself at the gates to Ramshackle, 'Oh yeah, that thing Y/n wanted me to have.' He thinks numbly to himself before entering his boyfriend's dorm.

Walking into the Lounge, the hyena's mind clears enough to see the faces of the dorm's three ghostly residents in front of him who look ready to fire a barrage of questions, but settle on one upon seeing his expression.

"He didn't make it, did he?" The middle ghost asks, all three of their expressions turning crestfallen as Ruggie nods silently, "That's...unfortunate. He probably already told you about his gift for you, so go on up to his room, lad. We won't keep you."

'Like I needed your permission.' Ruggie thinks bitterly to himself.

Upon reaching the room he's been to countless times at this point, Ruggie hesitates, but pushes forward and opens the door, already regretting it as he's bombarded with Y/n's scent and every memory he's made with him rushes through his head relentlessly.

Fighting back the tears and forcing each foot in front of the other, Ruggie eventually makes it to Y/n's desk and opens the drawer, finding it empty save for a single envelope with his name on it leaning against the very back.

Snatching up the envelope, Ruggie opens it and immediately recognizes his boyfriend's handwriting on the paper contained inside.

"Dear Ruggie,

If you're reading this, then it means I'm no longer alive. With how dangerous things have become, I've suspected my death as a possibility for quite some time now, so I wanted to be prepared for this outcome.

As I'm writing, you're currently out working one of your jobs and I still find myself marveling at how hardworking you are. It's one of the qualities that I love and respect the most about you. Just before you left, you mentioned how you'll need to hit the grind harder than ever to provide for your 'darling future husband.' which you probably meant as a joke, but it still made my heart skip a beat to imagine that kind of future for us.

But...regarding the future, I really need to apologize. It seems like I won't be able to fulfill the promise we made before we officially started dating.

I'm sorry. I really and truly am. I don't know how I died, but I can one hundred percent assure you that it was never my intention to leave you like this, because the time we've spent together, however brief, was easily the happiest I've ever been and I sincerely hope that you can say the same.

You may have already noticed a certain something I've left behind this letter, which I had hoped to give to you in person later down the line, but seeing as how that's no longer possible...

It's probably cruel to ask this of you now, but:

Ruggie Bucchi, I love you with all of my heart,

Will you marry me?

Forever yours,

Y/n"

Shoving his hand back into the drawer, Ruggie pulls out one more thing like the letter said, a very small box that he opens to reveal a circle of metal adorned by an even smaller glittering jewel on the top.

A ring.

An engagement ring.

The Prefect was going to stay and he was going to propose to him.

With this revelation, Ruggie's legs finally give out and he drops to his knees, tears falling freely down his face as he tightly clutches the letter and ring box to his chest.

"Yes, Y/n...I will marry you…”

#why is this mushroom writing fanfics?#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst x male reader #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #ruggie bucci x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie x male reader #twst angst #heavy angst #whump

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natashaslesbian · 1 month ago

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4 Inches Taller | SJ

Summary: Scarlett gushes over you at the Transformers One premier

Request: Scar talks about the readers personally and how much the reader is like them and talks about how she can’t get over that her baby girl is 16 and the reader is like 4in taller than her

Word Count: 904

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Today was the London premier of Transformers One in Leicester Square and you were beyond excited to be attending the event with your mom. When you heard that Scarlett was going to be voicing a transformer you were overjoyed, the movies had been your favourite as a kid. Your mom knew how excited you were and somehow was able to get you a line in the film, it was just a single sentence but you couldn’t believe you were actually going to be in a movie, at least your voice would be. You were fully aware of Scarlett’s job, but to you she was just mom. Your life was completely ordinary so getting to go to work with the blonde was a huge occasion, and now you were getting your makeup done for your first ever premier.

Scarlett was getting some final touches done while you pulled on your dress. It was a matching wine red but only thigh length while your moms hit the floor. “Oh sweetie you look beautiful” Scarlett said as you stepped back into the room. “Thanks mama” you blushed “so do you” you smiled. “Thank you baby, are you about ready to go?” Your mom asked. “I think so” you whispered, suddenly feeling anxious “hey, it’s gonna be a great night ok? We’ll take some pictures then you can head straight inside” Scarlett said, knowing that you were a little nervous about all the press and fans. “Ok let’s do it” you said with a nervous excitement.

The flashing lights were bright as you stepped onto the carpet with your mom, the sun setting slowly behind the photographers wasn’t helping either. You glanced at the life size figures of all the transformers characters, you smiled when you realised Scarlett was even shorter than her statue. The two of you were directed where to stand and began posing for photographs. You felt like a fraud standing in front of all these paps but soon you heard the calling of your name and realised they were asking for pictures of just you! “Go on” your mom encouraged as you stepped back from her. Scarlett couldn’t help but giggle slightly when you instantly hit the over the shoulder pose, one of her go tos!

After the photos were taken, you followed your mom around to the red carpet. It was the most surreal feeling to see so many people yelling for your mom. You glanced her way to make sure she was alright, you knew that deep down these events made her nervous. Scarlett gave a quick wave to the fans before heading over to the press, you stood back as she started her first interview. You took in the atmosphere around you, amazed at how much a movie could mean to people. Scarlett soon finished talking with the reporter and was about to move when the brunette asked “can we have an interview with y/n?” Your moms instincts told her to say no “that’s up to her” she smiled as she looked back at you.

When you noticed your mom’s beckoning eyes you wandered over quickly. “Hi” you murmured towards the reporter “hi it’s nice to meet you, we were just wondering if we could ask you a few questions?” She asked. “You wanna interview me?” You said in surprise. “Only if that’s ok” the lady smiled. You silently asked your mom for her permission but noticed her lack of influence. Since your 16th birthday last month, Scarlett had promised to start letting you make your own choices and be your own person. It seemed that that this decision was up to you. “Yeah, let’s do it” you said with a wide grin. Scarlett continued on as she kept her gaze on you, completely swelling with pride.

Further down the carpet, your mom was on her fourth interview and finally something she truly wanted to talk about came into conversation. “What’s it like having your daughter here with you tonight?” The BBC reporter asked. “It’s amazing to have her here, you know most of her life I’ve always just been mom but now that she’s older she understands what I do a bit more. I knew this movie meant a lot to her so after she did a line in the studio I asked her to come with me and she was so excited!” Scarlett beamed. “Is she interested in going into acting?” The interviewer asked.

Your mom watched out of the corner of her eye as you interacted with the press. “I’m not sure” she said “you know the more she grows the more of me I see in her, I can’t believe she’s 16 now and that she’s like 4 inches taller than me” Scarlett smiled. “I’m not sure if she’ll follow in my footsteps but whatever she does I know she’ll be amazing. She’s so smart and funny and she’s so confident. Sometimes she can be a little bossy, but I have no idea where she gets it from” your mom laughed, knowing that your fiery personality defiantly came from her. “Whatever she does I’ll always be proud of her, acting or not” she finished.

Scarlett looked back to see you laughing completely freely, it was your mom’s greatest gift to have watched you grow into the young woman you were becoming. And she knew that no matter how old you got, you’d always be her little girl.

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A/N: I loved this request and just had to write it about the TO premier because…..I WAS THERE! These are my photos so please give credit if you use them (I’m gatekeeping the rest sorry not sorry)

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @kkreader78o ?/ @hatergirl-69 / @asv-xx ?

#scarlett johansson #scarlett x reader #scarjo #transformers #transformers one

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violetsiren90 · 9 months ago

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All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~7k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; depictions of cancer and its treatment; secondhand embarrassment; awkward situations; soulmate skinship; loss of consciousness; dudes dude-broing a bit lol; mentions of minor character death (in past); cursing; chemo therapy and its symptoms; nausea and vomiting; characters eat meals; Reader is starting to grapple with some difficult feelings; Hybe kinda sorta depicted as being collective assholes in responding to this situation (gonna be a theme, guys)

Author's Note: Here comes part two! I know this is months coming (again), but I've finally found my stride with writing and work. I had this mostly done, and then redid some parts and finished editing, and well...I just hope you all enjoy it! My hope is to post part three in two weeks - I really want to get into a groove with plot progression here!

There is a lot of content in this chapter about medical procedures and treatment. I tried my best to represent these as accurately as possible with what information I could acquire, but if there are any misrepresentations, great or small, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Thank you again to all who have stuck with this story! I continue to be blown away by how much love you have all showered upon it, and I'm so excited to walk the path I intend for these two and have you all along for the ride!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or an ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens To the fall of ancient leafless rain, To feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned." ~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

Namjoon's labs had come back with even more promising numbers. A radiology scan had shown no shrinkage in his tumors, but the doctors commented that these were early days, and that the effects of the bond might even be keeping them from inflaming due to the chemo. You had watched him, smiling as the doctor reviewed the result, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Your soulmate was on the road to recovery.

Nurse Cha quickly checked both of you over before initiating another skinship session.

"I saw you out on the grounds earlier, and for the first time in weeks," she said, shooting Namjoon an approving grin. "Keep that up. He needs sunlight and fresh air," she remarked to you, flustering you even as you nodded in agreement.

Why was she telling you that? Were you his keeper?

Actually, you supposed, in fact, you were.

You peeked back up at him and found him regarding you with a small, amused smile, which disconcerted you further. You shook your head, shooting him an eye-roll as you made your way into the bathroom to disrobe.

After your first few experiences with skinship, you had asked Matt to acquire you some sporty, conservative sports bra and boy-short sets, and you slipped into one, pulling a hospital gown over it. After the way your conversation with Hyung-seo had unfolded you were glad to have them - the practical underwear felt far less intimate and flirty than your typical bras and panties, giving you much more peace of mind.

As you left the bathroom and made your way back to Namjoon's half of the suite, you noticed him sitting on top of the covers, long legs stretched out in front of him, in nothing but a black tee and blue boxers. He had a drip attached to a tube that ran under his shirt. When Nurse Cha glanced up from her touchscreen tablet to see you approaching, she waved her hand for you to come around to the other side of the bed, which had been adjusted to accommodate Namjoon's upright position.

"We’re going to try this sitting up today," she explained as she typed. "He's on a chemo drip right now, and the doctor wants to see if the bond will help ease the nausea and some of the other side effects. I heard you just had a nice lunch, so it would be wonderful if Namjoon could hang onto his."

She shot him a rueful smirk and he let out a chuckle. You smiled in turn and nodded as you slipped off your hospital gown and draped it over the end of the bed. You glanced up at Namjoon who had cast his eyes down at his hands, folded in his lap. The huge apparatus was lower than usual, so you slipped rather easily into it and against Namjoon's side. He raised an arm to drape over your shoulders and you settled against him, pressing your bare leg against his. It was comical how much shorter yours were, but you could only think of that for a fraction of a second as every other thought in your mind melted at the feeling of the man beside you.

Butter. Warm, melted butter. It was as if every single muscle group in your body had suddenly released every bit of tension it had been holding. So many sensations at once, but this was the one you felt like leaning into at the moment. You felt like collapsing against him.

He sighed deeply through his nose. Yeah, you felt that on a spiritual level. Mmh.

Your melty, bond-induced reverie was broken, however, by a dissatisfied noise from Nurse Cha as she stepped toward the bed. You looked up to find her expression matched her tone.

"You're not really getting much contact," she said, scanning her eyes over everywhere you touched...and didn't.

You raised your arms slightly and a bit uselessly. You felt Namjoon lean forward.

"Should I...like..." you looked to her for direction, but she was already in motion.

She grabbed your arm, guiding you off the bed and motioned for Namjoon to scoot back to the middle. She said something to Namjoon in Korean and suddenly he was tugging his shirt over his head. You felt your cheeks getting hot. Social norms had not prepared you for this amount of casual nudity. You stood there, eyes glued to Nurse Cha, hugging your arms over your middle and hoping that Namjoon was playing his usual blessed game of "look anywhere but soulmate". The nurse took your arm again and guided you back toward your previous perch.

"Sit between his legs and lean back against his chest," she instructed, nudging you to join him.

You looked up at Namjoon. His face looked like you felt. And then it was just too much. You were standing in a hospital in South Korea in your underwear being asked to sit in a practically naked celebrity's lap so that he wouldn't die.

You busted out laughing.

Nurse Cha jumped, surprise clear in her features as she regarded you.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, bending over to support yourself against the bed as you continued to chuckle, "This is just..."

You snorted. Mortified but still attempting to swallow your giggles you clapped a hand over your mouth and looked up at Namjoon whose dimples were out and whose shoulders were shaking with his own silent amusement. Nurse Cha's lips curved up a bit to one side, but her narrowed eyes spoke of far less hilarity felt.

"Here's the thing," you said, turning to the nurse while still biting back your laughter, "Namjoon is spoken for, and...well...I have a pretty nice ass."

The nurse's eyes widened.

You were probably being really impolite. That would have been borderline in the States. You weren't sure about here, but you felt like that might have broken some unspoken rules. Or, maybe spoken ones because there were a lot of formalities, you were learning. But you had reached your limit with all this. The awkwardness levels were at maximum, and you were gonna cope the only way you knew how - with humor.

When you hazarded a look at your soulmate, he had drawn his knees up, grabbing them with his hands, his head dropped between them and his shoulders shaking as he badly repressed laughter of his own. You could see those dimples again. They were even deeper than before.

"We need to get maximum skin-to-skin contact during these sessions," Nurse Cha insisted indignantly, clearly a bit flustered.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you offered her a contrite smile as you rocked back on your feet.

"Ah!" Namjoon drew your attention as he pointed behind you. "Throw me that pillow?"

You grabbed the little green cushion from the corner of the couch and tossed it to him. He lowered his legs and placed it over his lap.

"How's that?" he asked with a closed-lip smirk.

You gave him a thumbs up and clambered back onto the bed to situate yourself between his legs. You looked back over at Nurse Cha.

"Better?"

She raised a brow as she handed you a blanket. You thanked her quietly and cleared your throat as you fanned it out over your legs and Namjoon's, tucking it up to your waist. The nurse checked Namjoon's vitals and said that she would return in an hour to take him off the drip.

You sank back tentatively against your soulmate's chest, careful to avoid the little port below his sternum. There it was again. Butter.

Somewhere above and behind you, Namjoon chuckled. You smiled knowingly.

"What?" you asked indignantly.

"Did you see her face when you said that?"

You shrugged against him.

"Hey, it's true!" you insisted.

"Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you," he murmured.

You could hear that he was still smiling, but he sounded serious all the same. You let your head fall back.

"Honestly, I felt bad for you," you huffed in another laugh before sobering. "And, thank you," you turned, casting your eyes up over your shoulder, "For always being so respectful. It's made this a lot easier."

"Oh," Namjoon responded softly, "Of course."

You looked at his arms resting at his sides and thought of what Nurse Cha had said. You slowly picked up his hands in yours, raising them slightly.

"May I put them around me? For more contact," you asked.

You asked it boldly, but you felt shy. You wanted the chemo to work. You wanted it to stop hurting him while it did. When Namjoon let out a low hum of assent you drew his forearms around your waist and laid your own over them.

Your eyes slipped shut. So euphoric but it always made you feel like sleeping. You weren't going to give into the urge, though, not just yet. There were conversations to be had.

"Tell me about Hyung-seo," you prompted softly, shifting against him to get comfortable.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Well," he responded slowly, "what do you want to know?"

"How did you meet her?"

He went quiet again. Then he sighed a small sigh. You wondered what that little breath carried.

"She debuted in 2019. A buddy of mine - Seo Jungkwon, he goes by Tiger JK in the industry - had signed her to his agency. Bangtan was just taking off, things were blowing up. I actually collaborated with him which is when I met her."

He silenced for a moment.

"We had a lot in common - how we approached life and music."

"Had?" you asked, gently.

He heaved another sigh.

"The last few years have been really tough on her. I mean, she hasn't had an easy life to begin with, but..."

He paused, as if deciding whether or not to utter the words he wanted to say next.

"Anyway," he redirected himself, and you wondered what thought he had dismissed, "Preparing for a tour is grueling, and this is her first one. I think the stress is really getting her."

You hummed in acknowledgement. You recognized it in his voice - you should after all, as the same sound had echoed so often in your own - the hollow clemency of lying to yourself on someone else's behalf.

"Well," you offered, "She's lucky to have you supporting her, especially when you're going through such a difficult time yourself."

Namjoon scoffed.

"I mean, yeah, I'm sick, but...I don't know. In a lot of ways my life has been a lot easier these days. A lot simpler."

"Really? In what way?"

He huffed out a wry laugh.

"I have so much time to just do whatever. Read, write...I've been learning a couple of languages. I get to do v-lives with ARMY pretty regularly, as the company allows - Jungkook went kind of crazy with it before enlistment so we have to go through them for access now."

You had no idea what a v-live was, but from what little you had seen of Jungkook, you could imagine it took very little for him to get up to a significant amount of shenanigans. You smirked.

"Did you have so little time for those things before?" you queried.

"No! No way. It was like running non-stop for ten years. During my time in the military, I got a bit of a break and a change, but then I got sick and had to be discharged early, so...well, I didn't even get to experience that like I should have."

You felt your hands tighten in response around his forearms. His life hadn't been cake-walk either, that was clear. You wondered if he knew that, if he acknowledged it.

"Well, I'm glad you have more time for those things. You should keep as much time for them as you can, even when you're better."

He paused for a moment before whispering agreement into your hair. You felt it even though he didn't say it, the caveat - if he got better. He would. You'd never make him a promise you couldn't guarantee, but you could make one to yourself. So you did.

For the rest of the session you talked about Bangtan, and the recent history of the group's situation.

You learned about conscription and that it applied to idols as well. You learned the members had decided to enlist pretty much around the same time so that they could reunite to tour again after being discharged. Namjoon had been released ahead of schedule when he had fallen ill, and at this point most of the members had followed, save Yoongi who was set to be discharged the following week. He fondly reported that they were all anxious to meet you, and that Jungkook and Jimin hadn't stopped pestering him with all manner of questions in your regard since their visit the previous day.

Every time you had heard him speak about his members, the deep brotherly affection that permeated his words was incredibly evident.

You asked him to tell you about each one, and he did.

You blinked your eyes open as you felt Namjoon shift you in his arms. You slowly pulled yourself forward, struggling to focus.

"I...I'm sorry," you murmured, "I fell asleep on you again."

Namjoon chuckled and assured you it was quite alright. As you wearily slipped off the mattress to stand, you suddenly felt the room tilt and your knees buckle. Namjoon's reflexes were quick enough to catch you in his arms. He stood to pull you up and hold you against him.

"You okay?" he asked in concern.

"I...I got dizzy..."

You attempted to put your weight into your legs, but failed, sagging weakly against his broad frame.

Nurse Cha was already in motion.

"Help her to the bed," she ordered, striding across the room.

Namjoon wasted no time in scooping you up in a bridal carry to follow her. You gasped despite yourself, the sudden movement and his strength equally surprising. But every thought was fleeting as you found yourself struggling to maintain a grip on consciousness.

You felt Namjoon lay you gently on the bed as cold, sticky monitors were pressed to your skin; heard him ask the nurse what was the matter, his voice tinged with anxiety.

You heard him say your name.

And then you heard nothing.

You groaned as you came to. Your throat felt like the Sahara and your head was pounding. Pushing yourself to sit up, you became aware of the sound of voices on the other side of the curtain. Carefully drawing your legs to the edge of the bed, you clutched your IV stand as you struggled to your feet.

Pulling back the hanging divider, you were surprised to see Matt occupying the little couch, a cup of coffee on the low table in front of him. Namjoon sat in the opposing chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in rapt attention as the older man spoke. It was dark out.

"Matt," you croaked, shuffling forward.

Namjoon's head whipped around at the sound of your voice and he sprang up, just a moment faster than his guest, striding over to take you by the arm. You faltered just a moment in your steps as his hand cradled your elbow and you felt it - his touch and what it did to you. You wanted to curl into him. You wanted him to hold you.

You gently tugged your arm away.

"You're awake - let me call the nurse," he said, almost to himself as he moved to press the red call button.

You sank down beside Matt.

"What time is it?" you asked in a husky murmur. Your friend checked his watch.

"1:33am."

You frowned, blinking blearily.

"What the heck are you doing here at the hour?"

"Well!" Matt laughed before taking a sip of his coffee, "It's nice to see you too."

"You know what I mean..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"He called me," he said, gesturing with his raised mug toward Namjoon, who had returned to the armchair. "Said you'd had a fainting spell."

Your eyes followed his motion to your soulmate, who was already scanning his over you, brow furrowed and full lips pursed pensively.

"How are you feeling?" Namjoon asked.

You huffed out a mirthless chuckle.

"Like I got hit by a freight train."

The worry lines on his brow deepened.

"Hey, look..." you held up a hand to wave it weakly between both men as they regarded you in apparent concern. "I'm probably just adjusting to the bond or something. Cancer isn't contagious, you know," you ribbed, shooting a tiny smirk at Namjoon who attempted to return the expression though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

The night shift nurse and an aid entered the room to assess you. Namjoon asked to speak with a doctor, and was told that Dr. Na would be checking in first thing in the morning. The nurse had very little else to report other than that your blood work had been sent to the lab and that they would be able to determine more once your results were available. He informed Matt that some charts would likely be available in twenty-four hours, but that your CMP could take up to three days. The aid urged you to try to get some more rest. Before departing, the nurse removed your spent sodium chloride drip and said that a meal would be sent up which you were advised to eat if possible, but to be sure to report any signs of food-rejection should they appear.

Namjoon stood and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at your little portion of the suit.

"They want you to rest, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with me over here snoring? It's keeping you up, right?"

You smirked.

"Well, most of my rest over the last couple of days has been due to a lack of consciousness, but I do have to admit that you woke me up a couple of times last night."

Namjoon groaned discomfitedly.

"It really isn't a big deal!" you reassured him, "I'm a pretty sound sleeper."

"And still I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it..."

"It's not just that, though," he insisted, hands in the pockets of his sweats and head cocked to one side as he continued to consider the small space across from his. "You don't even have a window. If you want privacy, you have to sit behind that curtain in the tiny bed -- I hate it. I've hated it since they were first preparing for you to arrive. I'll make some calls tomorrow. You need your own room," he stated decidedly, returning to the chair across from you.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he fired off a message.

Namjoon did have a point, it was a pretty meager space you currently occupied. But they must have had a reason, you thought, for wanting you to share a room with him. And you didn't want to cause any kind of fuss in the name of personal convenience that might detract from his treatment or recovery.

"Namjoon, it's fine..."

He looked up at you, his brown eyes assured and determined.

"Just let me handle it. I've got you."

A sudden warmth spread through your chest like the rising sun on the frost of your anxieties, his gaze melting away the familiar worry of burdensomeness. You looked away shyly.

"Good man," Matt said to him with a nod, and they shared a look as your soulmate nodded in return that seemed to be one of mutual masculine respect. You wanted to roll your eyes a little bit. You also felt pretty damn grateful.

Matt stood to leave, pressing a kiss on your temple and promised that he'd return in the morning. He paused to shake Namjoon's hand.

"If there are any further developments, don't hesitate to call me," he said, to which the younger man nodded in agreement.

"Or I can call you!" you rasped after him as he raised his hand in one last gesture of farewell while shutting the door.

You huffed.

"Smart guy," Namjoon remarked, sitting back down in his chair. "You know he's read Toegye exhaustively?"

You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking with a wry grin.

"Two peas in a pod. He's probably going to be coming around here nonstop until he leaves just so you two can gab in genius."

Namjoon smiled and touched his fingers absently to his jaw, his eyes trained on the linoleum.

"Are you bothered that I called him?" he asked abruptly, glancing up at you.

"What? No, of course not," you reassured him with a shake of your head. "I just..." You rolled your eyes and smirked. "I'm not used to sitting around while boys decide what's best for me."

"Aaahhh," Namjoon responded with a nod, interlacing his fingers, "Well, you've been looking out for me since you walked through that door back there, and honestly, I could get used to that..." he leaned forward a bit, "But only if I get to return the favor. You said we don't owe each other, but that doesn't mean you get to be the only one doing the giving."

You stared at him. The only one to do the giving. The words jarred something loose inside you. You swallowed the strange feeling that threatened to well into your throat.

Before you could respond, an aid entered with your meal. A tray loaded with dakjuk, rice, and several banchan was placed before you. It smelled fantastic, and you actually felt you could eat. You moved to take the tray to your side of the suite but Namjoon stopped you.

"Hey, wait. I'm hungry. I'll eat with you."

He crossed to the other side of the room to pick up the telephone.

"Go ahead," he said with nod of his head a little grin, "Don't wait on me."

He didn't have to twist your arm. The chicken porridge was steaming and savory, warming you up within just a few bites. A similar tray soon arrived for Namjoon, and you found it did feel far nicer to eat with someone than alone.

Between bites he asked you about Matt.

"He's my dad's best friend. When he died - my dad - Matt and his wife Rebecca helped to take care of us for a while. They've been really good to my family."

Namjoon's face sombered.

"I'm sorry about your father."

You smiled softly at him.

"It was a long time ago, when I was ten. He was a firefighter."

He nodded quietly, giving you the opening to continue. You decided to take it.

"A fire broke out at a high-security prison. The situation got really bad with a lot of people still inside - prisoners. They told the team to stop attempting rescues, that it wasn't worth it, for people like that. But my dad kept going. Alone. He saved seventeen more lives before...well, he couldn't make it out."

When you looked up at Namjoon again his eyes were locked on you, his chopsticks resting idly in his hand.

"Wow," he murmured after a pause. "And you were ten years old? That must have been so hard."

You dragged your spoon through your dakjuk.

"It was. But managing things after he was gone...that was harder, I think."

Namjoon's brow knit in question but he didn't press you further. For the second time that night, you were grateful. Death was easy to explain, other things were much more difficult.

You finished the rest of your meal chatting about Matt, Neo-Confucianism, and unequivocal humanism between mouthfuls of rice and porridge.

The next day, you were moved into your new suite a few doors down. Namjoon had received no resistance from the hospital in procuring you the space, as apparently Hybe's representatives had been the ones to originate the request that you be at the idol's immediate disposal.

Your room mirrored the setup of your soulmate's, being on the same floor but across the hall, and Kang Dae had dropped in with a catalog stating that you could select whatever you wished to make the space more comfortable. You had circled a few things and he had departed to procure them. Matt had brought the bulk of your luggage, which meant a good portion of books, your art supplies, and finally more clothes which you would blessedly now have no worries of mixing up with Namjoon's. You changed into jeans and a comfy Nirvana graphic tee.

You were busy unpacking when a knock came at your door. You called for the person to come in while you continued to stack books onto a small set of shelves. The doctor had cautioned you and Namjoon against further skinship sessions until your blood work had come back, so you were anxious for the results, not wanting him to go through another bout of chemo without the aid of the bond.

When you glanced up expectantly, however, you found your curiosity would have to wait - at least, concerning your charts - as in the entry stood none other than Kim Hyung-seo.

She lingered in the entryway at the mouth of the space, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked much more casual today in a pair of big baggy camouflage cargo pants, a tight black crop top, and chunky white sneakers. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and she had black mask pulled under her chin. She was bare-faced, save for two small red dots under her right eye.

You stood from your crouched position, trying your best to keep the surprise from your face.

"Hi," you greeted her with a small smile, which she returned remorsefully, still hugging herself as she glanced around the room. "Would you like to sit down?" you offered, motioning to the furniture beside you.

She nodded, crossing over to take a seat in the little arm chair. You moved to sit across from her. Your first instinct was to offer her something to drink, only to realize you were in a hospital room with no way to deliver, at which you both laughed awkwardly. After a moment of tense silence, she looked up at you, gnawing her bottom lip.

“I owe you an apology," she sighed.

You gave her an encouraging smile.

"Fuck..." she dropped her head in her hands, and you waited for her to collect herself. Finally, she raises her eyes to yours, interlacing her fingers with their long white nails in her lap.

"What I did...what I said yesterday...I was cunt. I'm sorry."

You let out a little laugh at her choice of words.

"Well, I do accept your apology...but, don't be too hard on yourself. It was a really bizarre and unprecedented situation for all of us. I'm glad we're moving forward, and in a better direction."

You smiled again at her reassuringly.

She nodded, her lips pursed and quivering slightly. You could tell she was blinking back tears.

"Me and Joon...we'd only been engaged for a few weeks before we found out...you know, that he had a match. That it could be his only option to live - bonding. With you. It's just all really fucking scary."

You nodded sympathetically. She released another sigh as she continued.

"He had to decide so fast, they pushed him to just make this huge life commitment as fast as they fucking could and now..." She raised her arms, looking around the room in resign, "Here we are. And we have to figure everything out, and I'm about to leave and..."

"I'm sorry," you murmured sympathetically.

She looked down into her lap, worry still twisting her features.

You wondered why she was leaving, now of all times - when things were the way they were. But that wasn't for you to judge.

"You know," you offered hopefully, "At least he's on the mend. At least you know he'll have someone to look after him."

She hummed. You wondered if it was an agreement as her eyes flitted over your face searchingly. Anxiety from the previous day's encounter began to seep into your chest as you considered if you had chosen your words poorly. You had said what would have comforted you in under the same circumstances. But maybe you were different - too different.

You softened your heart, determined to reserve judgement. Life had given Hyung-seo had her own shoes, and you would do everything you could to understand what it was like to walk in them.

"Can I add you on KakaoTalk?" you asked, realizing you were still clutching a book, and setting it onto the low table to pull your phone from your pocket.

She was chewing on her lip again when you looked up. She stared down at the hardback.

"You read a lot, huh?" she asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

"I do," you answered slowly, wondering where her train of thought was headed.

"All that stuff you said yesterday, you seem, like really in tune with people. And smart. You guys are, like, the same."

She pressed the words out in a strained voice. She looked so small and so sad. Your heart sank for her.

"Namjoon actually said that very thing about you yesterday."

She glanced up at you in surprise and confusion. You smiled.

"He said that when you met he was struck with how much you shared in how you saw the world, and how you approached music."

She regarded you silently as you continued.

"And that's your life right, your great love? Music? What a wonderful thing, to base your life with a partner in a love you share."

She nodded slowly, her eyes watering.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and you nodded in understanding.

You reached out to take her hand and she squeezed yours. After a few moments of silence, she rose and wiped her eyes.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to see Joon again before I go," she explained.

You nodded.

"Thank you for coming to talk to me and for sharing about how this has been for you. I really appreciate it."

She smiled - perhaps genuinely for the first time since you met. It was a lovely smile.

You sighed as she left. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Maybe she would let you in. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.

When several hours had passed with no updates on your lab results, you decided to take a walk down the hall to see how your soulmate was faring. You knocked on his door, but received no answer.

"Namjoon!" you called softly with another rap of your knuckles, but were still met with silence.

Just when you were about to turn and go, the door creaked inward on its hinges, slipping open to reveal your soulmate's tired face.

"I just came to see how you were doing...are you okay?."

You followed him as he slumped back into the suite, but before he could even reach his bed he turned and pushed past you to hurry into the bathroom. It caught you a little off-guard and you stumbled, catching yourself on the opposing wall, but quickly realized the reason for his urgency when sounds of retching followed.

The bathroom door was cracked open and you could see him hunched over the toilet, breathing heavily as his body wracked with each attempt to expel the contents of his stomach. You hesitated a moment, then pushed the door in slowly, coming to kneel beside him and gingerly place a hand on his back.

He raised his head, eyes fluttering when you touched him. You gently pulled your palm up and down his spine, feeling the warm surge of the bond even through his shirt. He reached for a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

"You don't have to do that..." he murmured, resting his forehead on his arm propped on the porcelain rim.

"I know," you answered quietly, continuing to slowly rub his back. "Can I put my hand under your shirt?"

"You're not supposed to be touching me until we know what's going on with you."

You slipped your other hand out to curl your fingers around his exposed bicep below the sleeve of his tee. He sighed, shoulders sagging as the comfort and warmth of the contact soothed his aching body.

"Can I?" you softly persisted, and he nodded his head where it laid against his forearm.

Slipping your hand beneath the baggy cotton you ran your fingers over his soft, taut skin, heart squeezing at the definition of his spine and the ghosts of his ribs.

"Did you do chemo without me?" you asked.

“I've been doing it before you got here, you know,” he retorted weakly.

"How are you supposed to gain weight if it makes you this sick? Please don't do it again without me."

"You passed out, Y/n," he shifted his head to look at you.

"We'll figure that out," you smiled, "But you need to be as agreeable to these treatments as possible, right?"

He nodded.

"Hyung-seo paid me a visit this morning," you remarked after a moment of silence.

"She told me."

"Said she leaves for her tour tomorrow. When does she get back?"

"February."

"Of next year?" You paused to temper your shock, "That's a long time."

"It's a world tour. That's how it goes."

"Wow."

You realized for the hundredth time in as many hours that there was so much about their lifestyle to which you were ignorant. You had so much to learn, but one thing you did know: he needed you right now, so you stayed by his side until the sickness had subsided.

Nurse Cha arrived shortly after to conduct routine checks on Namjoon, and you sat by, thumbing through the latest issue of Batman and Robin which Matt had been kind enough to drop off with your things.

"Your initial blood work came back with some concerns," she said, turning to you and picking up her tablet to access the results. "There are signs that your body's nutrients are being depleted. Since your fainting spells have been occuring during skinship, we ask that you refrain from touching until your CMP comes back."

Namjoon glanced over at you, a chiding expression on his features. You flatly ignored him.

"I need to be able to touch him, especially if he feels ill. He needs to keep down his food, right?"

Nurse Cha hummed, pursing her lips.

"Well, I'm going to run this by Dr. Na, but if absolutely necessary, keep it light and brief. And please be sure to document even the smallest instances of skinship so that we can track the effects."

You agreed readily, and she left to continue her rounds.

Glancing out the window, you noted that the evening was mild, and the gardens were aflutter with birds and awash in soft late-afternoon light. You thought about what the nurse had said before about the fresh air.

"Hey," you remarked, still looking out the window, "We should take a walk - it looks so nice out. You up for it?"

"Great idea," he replied, joining you to look out across the greenery. "I'm definitely feeling up for it." He huffed out a little chuckle.

"What?" you asked suspiciously. You were beginning to recognize his different laughs - this particular chuckle was always at your expense.

"Gonna keep pushing it with the poor nurse, huh?"

You scoffed.

"Well, if I hadn't would you be feeling well enough to go out right now?"

"No."

When you glanced up you found that he was gazing raptly at you, his face filled with unchecked thanksgiving. Your witty response faltered on your tongue.

His touch, you were pretty damn sure that for the rest of his natural life you would never grow used to it...but his eyes? It was almost the same. Was this part of the bond? Or was it just...him? Did everyone feel this way when he held them in those eyes? When he looked at them, really looked...

You couldn't tear your eyes away. You couldn't find words.

When Namjoon's phone suddenly buzzed you thanked almighty Samsung and sagged against the window pane.

"Damn," he muttered.

You looked at him questioningly.

"I have a consultation with my radiation oncologist in ten minutes. Go ahead! I'll meet you down there right after."

He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and changed his slippers out for his shoes.

You returned to your room to grab outerwear as well. The evening was temperate enough to go without, but you were feeling chillier than usual. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Mom flashed across the screen.

Your chest tightened and you silenced the ringer. You'd call her tomorrow, you told yourself. Besides, she had already spoken to Matt.

When you reached the garden, you decided there was someone you should call while you waited. Ambling down a gravel path, you held the phone up to your ear, stuffing your other hand into the pocket of your jean jacket.

"Matt told mom that you passed out - are you okay?" Diana's voice on the other end registered genuine distress.

You rolled your eyes and sighed.

"I'm fine. My body is just adjusting to the bond and probably jet lag and whatnot."

"You better fucking be fine or I'm coming out there to make sure you are."

You laughed.

"To South Korea? On a Wednesday?"

"You know what I mean, god! You're so - hey! How did the fiancee thing go?"

"I knew you'd want an update."

"Spill."

You sighed.

"Uh-oh," she hummed, "That was your, things-are-an-effing-disaster sigh."

"It was no- why do you keep trying to divine my air flow like they're casting-runes or something? Will you just let me tell you?"

"You don't always say."

You huff in exasperation.

"Okay, well, I won't tell you what that sigh is," she mumbles in trepidation, "But I will tell you that I know enough to shut up and let you continue. Go on."

"It didn't go swimmingly."

"Fuck."

"Yeah,” You lifted your fingers to absently stroke at the petal of a rose. “She seemed very frightened by the whole situation, which is completely understandable. But then...she also kind of came at me. She started asking pretty intimate stuff about the bond right off the bat. When I tried to redirect by suggesting we get to know each other better she started saying all this stuff she already knew about me. About Dad and Mom."

"What?!" Diana gasped incredulously.

"It was almost as if...I don't know, I could have been reading her incorrectly, but it was almost seemed as if she was trying to bring things up that might knock me off my footing. Make me...insecure."

You suddenly remembered your conversation with Namjoon the previous night. He hadn’t let on that he had already known your father passed when you were a child...but he had known. Passing out during skinship had gotten in the way of the conversation you had intended to broach with him about knowledge of the other. You had done research before meeting him, but only the basics. You had felt that as much should come from him as possible. Clearly you hadn’t been given that opportunity.

"That bitch," Diana seethed, pulling your mind back into the moment.

"Hey, hey, hey," you cautioned her, "She's in a extremely difficult situation. And that was just my biased impression of her intentions. Don't be too quick to judge her, Di."

Diana hummed discontentedly.

"Also, she came to apologize to me today before she leaves on tour. We made progress, I think."

"Apologizing? Bare minimum," Diana said with an air of dismissal. "What did you say her name was?"

"Kim Hyung-seo. Her stage name is Bibi."

Diana was silent for a moment.

"Found her," she declared.

You smiled to yourself - of course she had found her, the woman was famous. It wasn't as if stalking measures were necessary (though you had no doubt of Diana's abilities should that have been the case).

Diana clicked her tongue in disappointment.

"She's hot."

"She is very pretty," you agreed.

"Yeah, but you're hot too. And, y'kow, you're you. Bet you're smarter..."

"Di," you said, stopping to pinch your brow, "We're not in some kind of competition. We're both just human beings navigating pretty uncharted waters, okay? We both have our strengths and weaknesses. She's going to be part of my life as Namjoon's wife, so not only is building a good relationship with her important to me, I have a responsibility to her as well. We all do. To each other."

Your sister paused on the other end before relenting sullenly.

"Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right - you do need to make nice with her...as long as they're married, that is..."

"DIANA."

"Okay! Geez!" Diana cleared her throat. "How is the soulmate doing?"

"He's getting stronger every day," you answered, happily moving the topic away from Hyung-seo.

"That's great!" she crooned.

"It is."

"Are you smiling? You sound like you're smiling."

"How are you doing, Di? Classes are starting soon."

You smirked as your sister's attention surged in a new direction, and for the next half an hour she regaled you with tales of her new housemates, and the smarmy and unseemly Johnnie (who had come crawling back, as predicted, upon returning to the States).

Upon hanging up with Diana, you checked the time, and discovered that it had been nearly an hour since you left Namjoon. You were starting to feel weak, and a bit cold - hunger, you told yourself - so you decided to return indoors for dinner.

You called Namjoon on the way up to the fifth floor to inform him if your change in plans. He apologized profusely, saying that the doctor had been detained, and asked you to join him for dinner.

Letting yourself into his suite, you shrugged your jacket off as you headed for your usual spot on the couch when, suddenly, you froze.

A man was rising to stand from where he had been seated on the sofa. He was clad in a dark blue button-down with a golden emblem on the shoulder and black slacks. He wore a black cap which bore a similar insignia to the one on his shirt and fit snugly over his short dark hair. He wasn’t as tall as Namjoon, though his shoulders were nearly as wide. His features were soft but arresting, and his deep brown irises, you thought, seemed to hold a bit of everything a pair of eyes could. Your comic book was in his hand.

You crossed the room toward him.

"Hi, I’m sorry, Namjoon will be here soon - oh, I'm his soulmate, Y/n," you stammered, before catching yourself.

The young man's sharp eyes widened, his lips parting as you bowed.

"Je ireum-eun Y/n imnida," you started over in Korean.

He bowed in return, raising his dark brown eyes to you again as he responded in a soft deep voice.

"Annyeonghaseyo, je ireum-eun Min Yoongi imnida."

117 notes · View notes

twohearts-hs · 3 months ago

Text

Always & Forever Seventeen - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 5.1k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, Smut, Arguments & Angst.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

June 2013

Ree stood behind Y/N, hairbrush in hand as she brushed her daughter’s hair. Today was the day…Y/N was graduating. She had her dress picked out, a pink babydoll dress while her mother began to curl her hair. She was going to wear her converses while she walked the stage. It was all perfect.

The sun was shining brightly that day. No cloud in sight. It was all so perfect.

“You’re so pretty,” her mom hummed, kissing her cheek as Y/N went to the closet to pull her dress out. It was beautiful and cost a pretty penny, however it was worth it for today.

Everything was working out. Marshall and Y/N had been so happy. Their relationship had been the best it had ever been. They did not bring up Columbia much as they decided to focus on their relationship and making it worth while. It was good. They were good. However, as the months went by, they knew they were getting closer to Y/N leaving.

Y/N changed when there was a knock on the door. Marshall and his daughters walked in all dolled up themselves. Marshall was “dressed” up in the most Marshall way and the girls all adorned dresses.

“Hey,” she said walking over to them and kissing her boyfriend before hugging the girls.

“Congratulations!” Hailie said. “In four years I will be here too.”

“It will go by so fast, Hay,” she hummed, kissing her cheek.

Marshall pocketed his hands as he looked at his girlfriend. “You look gorgeous,” he stated.

“Doesn’t she?” Ree exclaimed coming out of the bathroom. “She needs to get dressed up more.”

Y/N chuckled. “I don’t really go to that many fancy events,” Y/N explained as she walked off to find her shoes and to put earrings in while walking around the boxes.

She was starting to pack as she was going back to Canada for a few weeks at the end of the month before coming back to finish packing to go to New York City. Marshall was not a fan of her leaving for three weeks before she went to New York, however, he knew he could not even fight it.

It had also been a year since they met. Which ended in a night of celebratory sex that went to the early morning.

“You’re almost done packing,” Alaina said as Y/N emerged.

“Yeah. I am almost done then I will put it in a moving truck and send it to NYC,” Y/N said. “My new apartment is so small though.”

Y/N went to New York City last month with Marshall. He had some work things to do there, and she needed to go apartment shopping, therefore, they went together.

“How small?”

“Like five hundred square feet for a ridiculous amount of money,” she stated as she found her shoes.

“Don’t forget your gown and cap,” Ree said handing it to her. Y/N took it and threw it on before grabbing her handbag. Marshall smiled wide at her.

“You look amazing,” he stated. “You’re graduated.”

Y/N chuckled. “I know,” she said with bewilderment. “I have a useless degree in art history,” she chuckled. “Now I get to figure out what to do with it.”

They chuckled.

“Ok, we are going to be late, and someone needs to walk the stage,” Ree said as she hurried them off to the door.

The University of Michigan campus was beautiful that day. The sun shined bright casting. A golden glow on the gathering crowd. Today was the day that Y/N had been working towards for years – her graduation. She stood in her cap and gown, a mixture of pride and excitement bubbling within her.

In the audience, Ree her mother sat beside Marshall and his daughters. Ree’s eyes were misty with tears, a proud smile on her face as she looked over at her daughter. Marshall, in a rare moment of public appearance, seemed relaxed, his usual guarded demeanour softened by the joy of the occasion. His daughters chatted excitedly, their faces lighting up with anticipation.

As the ceremony began, Y/N’s heart pounded with excitement. She spotted her loved ones in the crowd, giving her the courage she needed to walk across the stage. One by one, the names were called, and degrees were handed out. Finally, it was her turn.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the announcer called.

With a deep breath, she stepped forward, crossing the stage with her head held high. The applause from her family and friends was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. She shook hands with the dean, accepting her degree with a wide smile.

As she walked off the stage, she spotted Dr. Beau, her favourite professor and mentor, waiting for her. He greeted her with a warm hug. “Congratulations, Y/N! You’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Thank you, Dr. Beau,” she replied her voice filled with emotion. “I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

“Nonsense,” he said with a grin. “You have all the talent and determination. Columbia is lucky to have you. I’m excited to see what you’ll achieve there.”

They chatted for a few minutes before Y/N rejoined her family. Ree enveloped her in a tight hug, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You’ve come so far.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Y/N said, her voice choked with emotion. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Marshall stepped forward, a proud smile on his face. “You did it, doll,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

Y/N went on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Thank you, baby,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing another kiss. “I did it!”

He chuckled and nodded. “You sure did. Here comes Columbia,” he whispered against her ear.

Hailie, Alaina and Stevie surrounded her, their excitement infectious. They gave her their congratulations as they hugged one another. Marshall watched, seeing his family and girl all happy. It was good. Life was good.

“Thanks, girls,” she hummed.

They took countless photos, capturing the happiness of the day. Ree insisted on getting a picture of just Y/N and Marshall then one with the whole group. Marshall handed her a bouquet of her favourite flowers. The smiles and laughter filled the air, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

As the ceremony wound down, they decided to head back to Marshall’s for a party. The spacious living room had been transformed into a festive space, complete with decorations, food and a playlist of upbeat music. Marshall even bought champagne for the ceremony.

Meira joined. It was her graduation as well.

Y/N stepped into the house and was greeted by a burst of cheers and applause. Her friends and family had gathered to continue the celebration, and the atmosphere was filled with joy and excitement.

“Meira!” she exclaimed, hugging her best friend and rocking back and forth, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s get this party started.”

Marshall’s daughters mingled with the guests, their laughter echoing through the house. Ree was chatting with some of Y/N’s friends, a glass of wine in her hand and proud smile on her face. Marshall stood by the buffet, looking relaxed and happy as he talked to Dr. Beau, who also joined the celebration.

As Y/N made her way through the crowd, she could not help but feel a sense of overwhelming gratitude. She had come so far, and seeing everyone she loved gathered to celebrate her achievements was a moment she would never forget.

Marshall caught her eye and beckoned her over. “Come here, Y/N,” he said, holding a glass of champagne. “We need to toast to your success.”

Everyone gathered around, raising their glasses in a toast. Marshall cleared his throat, a rare look of emotion in his eyes. “To Y/N,” he began, his voice steady. “You have worked incredibly hard to get to this point, and we are all so proud of you. Your dedication, talent, and spirit are truly inspiring. Here’s to your bright future at Columbia and beyond. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” everyone echoed, clinking their glasses together.

Marshall tilted the glass to her, making her drink. She chugged the whole thing before throwing her head back in laughter. “Come here.” Their lips connected and she smiled rocking them back and forth. “God, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he whispered, kissing her again. “We can get through anything.”

“We can.”

Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes as she raised her glass for him to pour more. “Don’t drink too much. I want you naked in my bed tonight,” he whispered, “ready for me to love you.”

She leaned into him. “What are you going to do?”

“Praise you in every way possible,” he hummed, kissing her cheek.

The party continued with music, dancing, and laughter filling the room. Y/N and Meira caught up, reminiscing about their college days and dreaming about the future. Marshall and Ree shared stores and laughed together, a sense of camaraderie forming between them.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself on the back patio craving a cigarette. She stopped smoking when she found out she was pregnant, but never picked it up again as Marshall said it was gross. However, staring ahead, she sat down and watched the stars with a flute of champagne in front of her. Marshall came out, joining her beside her.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"It is. Almost as pretty as you,” he whispered back, kissing the side of her head.

“Could you believe like a year ago, you ran into me making me smash hundreds of dollars of champagne? Then you walked into the diner.”

“Then you came into my studio…” he responded. “We’re fate, baby,” he cooed.

“What are we going to do about us when I go to Columbia?” Y/N asked.

“What do you want?” he responded, flicking a strand of hair from her face. His tone serious

“Honestly,” she said and looked at him. Then she took a deep breath. What did she want? They had not talked about logistics yet. Just small conversation. She paused for a moment, gathered her thoughts before saying, “I think,” she tried to find the words, “I think we should take a break.”

Did he hear her correctly? A break? Like they end…they end and what?

“What?” he said bewildered.

“I need to focus on my masters. I am going to be travelling and following Dr. Beau’s research. Then Geneva wants me to work at her gallery. I am going to have so many opportunities-“

“You won’t have time for me,” he finished. “I get it.” Marshall was hurt. Hurt did not even define it. He was devastated. “I thought we were going to do long distance?”

“Marshall, we can still talk-“

“But we can sleep with other people. Y/N, the idea of you sleeping with other people-“

“Marshall, what do you want? Do you want to visit me constantly? You have an album coming out and a tour. Then interviews and promotion.” He nodded. She was right. “Marshall, you don’t think you understand how special you are to me. You’re my favourite person. My favourite person to look at, to listen to, to talk to, to be with, you’re my favourite person to miss, to love, to be everything, you’re my everything. I want to give you everything I have. I want to share my life with you. To make more lives with you, cute little babies. I want to make memories with you so I can look back in 50 years and be sure I haven’t missed out on anything because all I wanted is you.”

He nodded.

“Marshall, we’re always and forever, ok?” she said, cupping his cheek.

He shook his head. “No, he said, you and I are always almost. Again, and again. We were always on the verge of always, but we are just almost. Never nothing but something.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I think if you want a break, I want no contact,” he said. “I can’t have you slightly or just a little. I can’t wait for your call or to think what you are doing behind my back. If you want us to end. We end.”

“Then what, Marshall?”

“We see where the future takes us. Y/N you’re right, your career comes first. You’re twenty-two now. You’re so young. I am turning forty-one. My life has hit its peak, its time for you too.”

“I must have loved you in other lives because when I see you it feels like coming home, no one makes me feel more myself than you. When my hand is in yours its familiar and safe, like I’ve known your soul since the beginning of time, through all the lives I’ve lived. Maybe that’s why my love for you is infinite.”

He nodded. “Spend one night with me tonight and I will show you how much I love you, but tomorrow, you walk out my door and we don’t talk again until fate decides. Three times to meet the first round. We will meet again,” he stated, kissing her lips. “I love you, always.”

“Thank you for the love. For the memories. For the lessons in this lifetime, Marshall,” she said. Leaning her head on his shoulder. “You will always have my heart.”

The weight of their conversation settled over them, mingling with the cool night air. Y/N closed her eyes, savouring the feel of Marshall’s presence beside her, the warmth of his shoulder against her cheek. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him, wanting to etch his moment into her memory forever.

“I’ll always be grateful for you, Marshall,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. You’ve taught me so much about love, about strength, about being true to myself.”

Marshall tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. “And you’ve shown me what it means to believe in someone, to fight for love even when it’s hard. You’re going to do an amazing thing, Y/N. I just know it.”

They sat in silence for a while, the sound of the party inside drifting out to them, a distant hum of celebration. Y/N felt a tear slide down her cheek, but she did not wipe it away. It felt right to let it fall, a small token of love and pain entwined in this moment.

“I’ll miss you every day,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I know this is what I need to do. For both of us.”

Marshall nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I will miss you too, more than you can imagine. But I’ll be rooting for you from afar, always.”

They stood up, and Marshall took her hand leading her back inside. The party was still in full swing, laughter and music filling the air. Y/N plastered on a brave smile, determined to enjoy these last few hours with the people she loved.

The night ended and Marshall pulled her aside one last time. “Come with me,” he said, a hint of urgency in his voice.

He led her upstairs to his bedroom, the place where they have shared so many intimate moments. “I want to make this night unforgettable, but first I got you a present,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

Y/N sat on the bed as he came out with a black bag with tissue paper coming out of it. He sat next to her, as he unwrapped it. He took Y/N’s hand and squeezed it.

“It has my initials engraved on it,” he said as he handed her the box.

In cursive the brand Cartier was clear as day. Her hand went over her mouth as she opened the box. A bangle with diamonds but on the inside his initials were engraved. He had to spend over twenty grand on this…she could not believe it. She held it in her hand, feeling the metal and smiling to herself.

“I love it,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him.

“Here,” he said taking it and unclasping it before putting it on her wrist. It matched her skin tone so well, the diamonds shining so bright. “I love you. Forever and always.”

The door closed and Y/N spotted her boyfriend standing with his back to the door. He seemed secretive, standing there with a smirk on his face and his eyes darkening. He pressed his finger to his lip, shushing her.

“It is just you and me,” he whispered sultry. “You and me…and this whole night ahead of us.”

Y/N swallowed hard, sitting in her cotton panties and a tank top, her nipple poking through. “What are you going to do to me, M?” she softly said with a sexy hint.

Marshall pushed away from the door, instantly removing his shirt and throwing it behind him. His hands pressed against her thigh as he leaned down. “I am going to make you forget your name however,” he teased toying with the words. “You will remember mine. It will be the only thing you can remember. My name knowing you’re mine,” he growled, kissing her lips, pressing hard and with might. “Mine and mine only,” he cooed. “To love, to hold,” he teased, “to fuck, adore, destroy, and pain.” Then he pulled away. “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer” he teased.

She instantly knew what he was doing… He was reciting marriage vows. Y/N swallowed hard, cupping his cheek.

“In sickness, in health, in leaving for New York, to loving other men, fucking them too,” he barked now. “Till death do us part.”

Y/N took a deep breath. They were ending. Tonight, they were ending. Tomorrow she would walk out of that door as a single woman. Marshall was reciting his vows to her. She realised. Even if they were slightly his own, she knew what he was saying.

“Vows,” he stated. “Your turn.”

Deep breath…one, two, three. “Marshall-“

“No. Try again.”

“I will be yours. Yours only. To love, to hold, to fuck, de-“

“No. No destroying me or putting me in pain because you’re the selfish bitch who is leaving me.”

What did he wanted her to say? She was awfully confused.

“I’m yours and only yours. To love, to hold, to fuck… To stay loyal to for better and worse. We are in the worst. I am leaving, but-“

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me, whore,” he spoke.

To brought up her past…he brought up their future. She was his and his only. For now and forever. Since that night where he got her pregnant. He was hers forever and she was his forever.

She leaned up and pressed her kiss to his lips, pressing hard with everything she had, cupping his neck and pushing him with force.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Forever and always.”

“Forever and for now.” he responded.

She knew what that meant and all she did was nod. “Thank you for everything you’ve given me.”

Marshall’s eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and desire. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. “You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “I always loved how easily you blush when I tease you.”

Y/N shivered, feeling the heat of his body so close to hers. She tried to hold back a smile but failed as his hands roamed over her body, his touch sending electric shocks through her.

“Marshall, you-“ she began, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips.

“No talking,” he commanded softly. “Tonight, you’re mine to play with.”

She nodded. He stood up, taking her panties and pulling them over slowly and intimately. Throwing them behind him, he grasped her knees, teasingly pulling them apart. Wrapping them around him, his hands moved to her tank top, lifting it slowly, inch by inch before throwing it behind him.

Y/N was naked in front of him and his eyes roamed over her body, remembering every divot, scar, curve and line. Marshall bit his lip before his tongue diverted out and swiped his lips.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “So utterly beautiful.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I want to remember every detail of you tonight.”

Marshall took a step back, his gaze near leaving hers as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He kicked them aside and then reached for her hand, placing it on his hardening cock.

“Do you feel that?” She swallowed. “That is what you fucking do to me? You have complete control over me. Even if I don’t want you too. Everything about you drives me fucking crazy,” he stated. “You make me beg with everything I have.”

“The feeling is mutual-“

“No, because you’re leaving me-“

“Marshall,” she interjected. “You have no idea how upset I am with me leaving, with us ending and going no contact. You’re a big part of who I am.”

“No,” he stated taking her hand and placing it back on her knee. “I am not part of who you are because you are Y/N Y/L/N. You’re a human. You have control over everything in your life.”

“That is not how life works. Marshall, please can we focus on us right now?”

He nodded. She glanced at his shirtless form. Marshall was built. She knew that as he took great care of his body which she admired. He was pure muscle, thick pecs and borderline abs and she took his hip and pulled him closer to her.

Y/N stood up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss her. “I love you.”

He nodded, allowing her to kiss him. “I love you too,” he whispered. “You have so much power over me.”

Y/N nodded, breath catching in her throat. “Let’s focus on tonight.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his eyes locking with hers as his fingers trailed up her hip.

“Always.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice a low growl. “Because tonight, I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. I am going to make you remember everything to do with us.”

Marshall kissed her again, deeply and passionately, his hands exploring every inch of her body. She arched into his touch, moaning softly as he found all her sensitive spots. He took his time, building her arousal slowly, savouring every moment.

He was a tease, she knew that.

However, he pushed her onto the bed and took her legs, spreading them. His hands wrapped under her thighs, lowering himself down. “I love the way you taste,” he whispered. “I could eat you out forever.”

She smirked, knowing exactly that was the truth. The number of times, she laid in this bed and he ate her out for hours. Orgasm after orgasm and soon enough she hit her own personal record.

However, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lower stomach before his tongue diverted out and trailed down her navel to her heat. His mouth attached to her heat, tongue darting out and lapping her wetness. With such dedication, he ate her out with everything in him. His fingers came rimming her entrance which made her moan before entering.

When his fingers entered her, she arched her back, moaning his name while she gripped the sheets. Marshall was skilled in love making, but fucking was his speciality.

However, as he praised her with everything in her, she felt the knot forming in her stomach. Deep and sincere, it was increasing with tension, and she teased up.

“Relax,” he whispered. “You’ll have a better orgasm.”

She nodded, but she could not find her words. However, a tease he was and slowly he pulled away, taking his fingers and replacing them on her clit, rubbing it as he locked their lips. Y/N tasted herself on his lips which earned a smirk.

Y/N rolled them over, so she was on top of him. Marshall sat on the edge of the bed.

“I wanted to give you an orgasm for every month we’d been together,” he whispered against her lips.

“That’s a lot of orgasms.”

“You can take it. You’ve had more.”

Her hands wrapped around his neck, as she pulled away. She could feel him hardening against her, but she was focused on him.

“I wanna cum together.”

“We can’t always get what we want,” he mused back.

She pouted. “Marshall,” she stated.

“Roll over and let me do my work.”

Marshall gave her the exact number of orgasms they had been together. Seven to be exact and yet, now with her on top of him, riding him with everything she got. He filled her completely. They moved together, their bodies fitting perfectly. Every thrust, every touch, every kiss was a testament to their love and desire for each other. Y/N felt herself spiralling higher and higher, lost in the pleasure only Marshall could give her.

As they reached their climax together, Y/N cried out his name, her body shuddering with the intensity of her release. Marshall followed soon after, his own release powerful and overwhelming.

They laid together, bodies entwined, breathing heavily. Marshall brushed a strand of hair from her face, kissing her forehead.

“Always and forever,” he whispered.

Y/N smiled and then smirked. “Round two?”

“God, I love you woman.”

The morning spent rolling around in the sheets for an additional few rounds before they ended up downstairs making breakfast together. The kitchen was filled with giggles and laughter as they made jokes and had fun with one another. After a small food fight, they ate and pretended this was not their last day together. Instead, they watched TV and cuddled talking about their relationship and all the good memories.

Around three o’clock, Y/N decided it was time for her to leave. Both of them did not like the sounds of her words, but they knew it was coming.

Y/N stood by the doorway, her fingers trembling as she tried to keep her composed. Her bag was packed beside her and Marshall still laid in bed, the TV blaring.

“I should leave. I have a lot of packing to do still,” she admitted.

“I know.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were heavy with the same sorrow that was tightening around her heart.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. “I guess this is it then,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt like shards of glass in her throat, cutting her as they came out.

Marshall looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers. He wanted to say so much, but the weight of what was left unsaid hung between them like a fog. He stood up slowly, each movement deliberate, as if trying to memorise every detail of this moment. “Yeah,” he finally replied, his voice thick with emotion. “This is it.”

Y/N could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, not wanting to break down in front of him. She wanted to be strong, for both of them. But as she looked at him, standing there so close yet feeling so far away, the tear she had fought so hard to hold back finally spilt over.

Marshall stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. The warmth of his touch went a shiver through her, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his palm, savouring the feeling one last time.

“Don’t cry, please,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “You’re gonna make this even harder.”

She let out a shaky breath, her hand covering his on her cheek, holding it there as if she could freeze time and stay in this moment forever. But she knew she could not. They both did.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “But we have to, don’t we?”

Marshall nodded, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his own emotions in check. “Yeah, we do,” he said softly. “We need this…time apart. But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss you. Every damn day.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, and she felt like she was being torn into two. But she knew this was the right thing to do, even if it hurt more than she could bear.

She pulled away from his hand, the cold air rushing in where his warmth had been. Taking a step back, she forced herself to smile through the tears, even though it felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done. “Goodbye, Marshall.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with deep, lingering sadness. He wanted to say something, anything that could make this easier, but there were no words. So, he did the only thing he could. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace, holding her as if he’d never let go. A small kiss was pressed on the top of her head.

Y/N buried her face in his chest, the smell of him, the feel of him, everything about him was imprinted in her memory. She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt as she cried silently, her body shaking with the force of her emotions.

After what felt like an eternity, Marshall finally pulled back, his hands still resting on her arms. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment, as if to seal the memory in place.

“Can I least drive you-“

“I think it’ll be better if we just part,” she admitted.

“Ok, let me walk you out then.”

They walked downstairs to the main door and stood there silently, spaces apart and looked at each other which such sorrow.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” he whispered against her skin.

She nodded, unable to speak, her throat too tight with emotion. She wanted to say so much, to tell him how he meant to her, how much she loved him, but the words were stuck in her throat, choked by the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“Bye, Marshall,” she stated. “Take care.” Just when she turned around and grabbed the door, Marshall reached out, grasping her arm and pulling her before smashing his lips against hers.

"Now, you can go,” he stated, pulling away.

And she left. It was over. She was left with a bracelet with his promise. The chapter they shared was closed, and now they had to move on, no matter how much that hurt. She had two years without him…so she promised. -

Three more chapters to go!

Hope you enjoyed!

Let me know your thoughts and opinions!

Much love,

Ava <3

#eminem series #eminem #eminem angst #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers #marshall mathers angst #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers fluff #marshall mathers fanfiction #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady

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wrathofrats · 8 months ago

Text

Over an overture (sexual perversity) part 2!

(Read the first part here or read the entire thing on Ao3!)

Wc: 4.7k

Pebble/alpha/ivy

When pebble gets back from his little encounter, alpha decides he isn’t quite done with him yet. Too bad ivys sitting right there.

Warnings for: humiliation, dubious consent (pebble says no many times, he doesn’t mean it and can leave/safeword whenever, yes there’s aftercare) a bit of degradation, exhibitionism, I made this as bad as possible for pebble if I’m being honest.

Other stuff: pebble is a shithead, alpha is worse, this is a tad gross but don’t read too much into it, stupid love confessions, Ivy secretly is kinda a slut but we won’t mention it, kinda a scent kink? I think? op thinks she’s really funny,

A thanks and special fuck you /aff to @divine-misfortune as usual for editing and helping me brainstorm and stufff

Ok have fun and enjoy <3

Pebble takes a deep breath before he opens the door.

The old doorknob catches, clicking the lock a bit too loudly for Pebble’s hopeful attempt to sneak in without being caught. His pants still feel uncomfortable from where Alpha had left him to sit and stew in his own shame, the promise of “ah, don’t be selfish wildflower, maybe if you do what I told you I’ll give you more later” still ringing through his brain. If any demon below was looking out for him he could rush to his own room to catch his breath before having to swallow his own pride in order to make sure Alpha made good on his stupid promise.

Honestly pebble wasn’t sure why he even bothered with that asshole. His shenanigans usually left him more annoyed and about to kill him than they left him satisfied. The stupid pride that radiated off of him in waves managed to make pebble flustered beyond comprehension.

The door opened with a squeak.

Pebble poked his head through the crack to give a cursory glance of the room before letting go of a deep breath and turning to hastily lock the door behind him.

“I was wondering when you’d come back” Alpha’s annoyingly cocky voice ground against Pebble’s already fraying patience. He’s lucky Pebble didn’t turn around and swing, barely in the mood to tolerate him, let alone his stupid comments. he only reason he didn’t just kick behind him like an irritated horse was the knowledge that he wouldn’t get anything if he acted like that.

“I was wondering when you’d get a better personality,” Pebble mocked, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice.

“Oh don’t be like that…You’ve already been so good for me, why would you ruin it with that smart mouth now?”

“I haven’t been good for you, you fucking low life perverted chimney soot pervert freak. I just had to finish my work. Have you ever even done anything that resembles work around here?” Pebble bites. Alpha has him crowded against the door, the edges of his eyes crinkling into a self satisfied smile that pebble desperately wishes he could slap right off.

“Well I-“ Alpha began.

“Besides being the fucking stick up my ass”

“Thought you loved it when I was up your ass”

Pebble swore up and down that if he were any taller, any bigger, Alpha would've been dead months ago. He's half convinced that if Alpha were six feet under he'd finally live in peace - the fantasy of a world where he didn't have to listen to the absolute insanity that left Alpha's mouth sounded too good to be true. Pebble doesn't waste his breath on answering, unwilling to dignify it. He cockes an eyebrow, glancing down to Alpha's hand splayed on his chest as if to question why he was even still detaining him there.

“I could smell you from behind the door you know” Alpha grinned, with too many teeth down at the little earth ghoul.. Intimidating to anyone who wasn’t Pebble but the humiliating implication behind the words made him blush. “Taking everything in me to not just fuck you here against the wall. Make a spectacle of how good you know how to be”

“Why can’t you just fuck me in a bed like a normal ghoul? My back hurts from earlier” pebble rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. He hoped if he played his cards right Alpha would just drag him upstairs and they could stop whatever this was.

“I just don’t think that would be nearly as fun sprout”

“Why not? Can’t you be a gentleman and let me lay down for once?”

“Because we have an audience, dirt boy” alphas grin grew impossibly wider. That’s when pebble finally noticed that Ivy had been sitting in the living room the entire time, only feet away from them. From what pebble can see he doesn’t give any indication that he’s heard the two, but panic fills pebble nonetheless. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“Alpha don’t you fucking dare” Pebble gasped, wide eyed. To his horror Alpha stepped back and turned his attention towards Ivy.

“Mind if we sit with you mint sprig? Pebble wanted to watch a movie,” he called across the room. Beyond casual.

Pebbles heart melts a bit when Ivy just beams at the simple invitation, yelling back an “of course!” While alpha grabs him by the upper arm. The rough handling is enough to break him from his stupor. He tries to jerk away, to wriggle from his grip, but Alpha only holds him tighter.

“No no no alpha wait no you promised!-“ Pebble quietly pleads with him.

“Listen, do what I say and I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow” alpha muttered back. The words make Pebble’s stomach do flips. They only serve to keep him docile enough to mess with while alpha enacts whatever sick scenario he has running through that tiny brain of his.

Pebble sat at the far end of the couch with his legs curled in on himself in an attempt to hide his no doubt stained pants and annoyingly half hard cock. He subtly placed both hands in his lap while Alpha shot him a knowing, and satisfied look.

“So what did you want to watch, Pebble?” Ivy asked naively, clearly and thankfully not picking up on the tension in the room. He scooted closer, almost touching Pebble’s side while pebble just smiles and tries to give himself a second for his brain to struggle to catch up.

“What?” Pebble started to ask but answered his own question “Oh. I don’t care. Pick whatever you want.” He mumbled less than enthusiastically after a second too long

“You said you wanted to watch something though” Ivy questioned.

“Come on dirt boy, don’t leave the sweet thing waiting, tell us about that movie you wanted to watch.”

Pebble glares at Alpha as he racks his brain for any movie he's ever heard of and tries to ignore the blush on Ivy’s cheeks from yet another one of Alpha’s stupid comments. His thoughts move at the speed of molasses, blood flowing to all the wrong places.

Ivy was too close for comfort and any other time he’d consider it a blessing but it only serves to jumble his thoughts.

“Fuck- uhh, night swim came out a bit ago, we can throw that on or something” Pebble mumbled. It’s the only movie he could think of, remembering the god awful advertisements for it plaguing the tv. He just had to sit through the next two hours without losing it, he tells himself. If he can just sit still and keep his thoughts at bay he can get fucked and go to bed.

“You smell really good by the way” Ivy mumbled, shimmying impossibly closer to pebble. He thinks he can hear him trying to breath in his scent when ivy turned toward him to deliver the comment.

Did he notice? Is he in on it and they’re both fucking with him? Does Ivy even know what’s going on? He prays the answer to all three is no.

The color drained from his face as he hugged his legs closer to himself, squeaking out a thanks before attempting to turn his attention back to the movie and not only ignore how he too can smell the dried cum and arousal on him, but the fact that ivy is fully pressed into his side.

“Oh doesn’t he?” Alpha chimes in, “could practically smell him through the doorway”

Pebble should have known it was pointless to have hoped Alpha wouldn’t catch the offhand comment. He is Alpha at the end of the day. Never one to let anything slide or let Pebble have a goddamn moment of peace.

“Any reason, sprout? New cologne or something?”

“I don’t know. What are you? A cop?” Pebble sneered.

“Just wanted you to know how sweet you smell” Alpha smiled in a way he could only describe as predatory. Pebble was going to kill him actually. The comment went straight to his dick for no real reason and Alpha absolutely knew it. He adjusts himself once again, debating giving up and seeing if Mist felt nice enough to peg him to take the edge off. Moving is hard with their eyes on him, and he knew Alpha would never let him escape out of something like this so easily.

The scent of honey and hemlock coming from Pebble was enough to make Ivy’s mouth water. He smells like rich rain soaked soil, sweet with a bite of musk. Practically catnip to any earth ghoul, and Ivy seemed high off of it. Pebble had never seen him so ballsy. If he wasn’t curled in on himself he was sure Ivy would have been in his lap by now, practically rubbing up against him. The worst part? He wants it, he wants Ivy on him so desperately but not like this.

He doesn’t want him when he’s sitting in his own fucking cum because he was too stupid, horny, and perverted to control himself. Can’t let him find out what happened. It’d give him the impression he was just as bad as Alpha, and he was far from it. He still had some shame, even in his current predicament.

Pebble makes what he’s sure is his hundredth prayer of the day. Begs Satan to make Ivy give him a couple inches of space so he could run to his room and relieve himself of his uncomfortable clothing. Prays he hasn’t stained himself and his hard on would go down so he can escape. He honestly doesn’t care if he got fucked at this point, it was not worth whatever torture this was.

The shit eating grin on Alpha’s face convinced him Satan hadn’t been listening to a single thing he’d asked for. Maybe he deserved it for his church shenanigans. Maybe Satan just hated him.

“Ya know, Papa called me into the chapel earlier, smelled something similar in there if I recall correctly” Alpha speaks up after another minute of silence.

“I don’t know how you can recall anything correctly, you geriatric.”

“I’m just saying, could’ve sworn there was a stain left on the floor.” Alpha shrugged, an innocent look on his face.

Pebble sighed dramatically, “Fuck, I knew it was dementia, I better call Terzo and give him the bad news.”

Alpha rolled his eyes and continued speaking. “You’ve been in there all day, any explanation for the class?”

“That’s where I do chores asshat, maybe you’d know if you ever did any work.”

“Oh the last I heard you weren’t doing work either, sweetheart.”

Pebble froze.

“Shut up” he growled, the immediate anger almost instantly giving him away. Ivy looks too confused for Pebble’s comfort.

“What was he doing?” Ivy pipes up as Pebble attempts to sink further into the couch.

“Well I heard-“

“Alpha I swear to Satan” Pebble growls, nails pricking through the fabric of the arm rest.

“What’s wrong? What were you doing?” Ivy asks again. Pebble’s never once wished harm on him but if he doesn’t sit and be quiet he may have to retract his stupid puppy crush in favor of burning down the building.

“I’m sure Ivy would find the answer real interesting Pebble.”

Every comment eats away at his patience more and more. He fidgets with his hands in his lap, jaw clenched, trying to talk himself down from pouncing.

“Shut up” Pebble growls once again, hoping the final warning would be enough, but with how the day had been going he really should’ve known better.

“You seem really upset for no reason. Unless there’s something you’re not telling us.”

Pebble loses the last strand of his patience as he jumps up from his seat on the couch. “I’m going to fucking kill you” he nearly shouts. His hands come away from his lap as he balls them into fists at his sides, and he realizes way too late that this was all apart of Alpha’s fucked up game.

Alpha’s gaze travels down and back up whereas Ivy might as well be fully staring at his crotch. He's still slightly hard, a small but extremely noticeable stain on his pants where the head of his cock sits.

“Oh…Whats got you like that sprout?” Alpha is physically incapable of shutting the fuck up. His voice is cocky, a bit too giddy when he asks.

“I-“ Pebble stutters, the words die in his throat, no reasonable excuse comes to mind, not that he’s convinced there even is one. He can’t admit the truth. He can’t admit Alpha fucked him against the wall and told him to stay like that. He can’t admit that he fucking listened purely because his horny brain liked being called good boy just a bit too much to be rational. He can’t admit that the only reason that any of that even transpired is because they both got so turned on over Ivy’s innocence that they couldn’t help themselves.

“Cats out of the bag dirt boy, you might as well come clean.”

Pebble looked like a deer in headlights. He physically can’t bring himself to say what happened, he doesn’t even know where to start. Sure it’s not a secret that the ghouls all pass each other around like the sisterhood of the traveling whore but he has more shame than to admit that it was Alpha out of everyone, and that he was talking about Ivy the entire time.

“Are you going to tell him how you let me practically bully you up against the wall? How I got you begging for it, just from a couple of touches?” Alpha stands to loom over Pebble, tip his chin up to force eye contact while Ivy watches the whole thing happen in front of him.

“I- I wasn’t begging. You offered.” Pebble’s voice has a note of uncertainty to it, like he doesn’t believe the words he’s saying, walking straight into one of Alpha’s traps to embarrass him further.

“I'm begging, just make me cum, please!” Alpha’s voice pitches high in a degrading imitation of Pebble, “shut up and put your cock in me Alpha!”

“Have you made your point yet?” Pebble cowered slightly, not daring to look over at the count to where Ivy looks too interested for his own good.

“I haven’t even gotten to the best part! I’m sure Ivy would love to know how you screamed h-“

Before Pebble can even think about it he aims up with his fist, directing it straight for Alpha’s jaw before his wrist is quickly caught. Alpha moves fast, grabbing both hands in one fist and pinning them behind his back. The other hand roughly grips his chin, forcing him to look at Ivy.

“Tell him pebble” Alpha growled low into Pebble’s ear.

He can’t. He can’t make himself. He cant force the words out of his mouth and Ivy won’t stop fucking looking at him likes he’s too interested in this.

“Tell me Pebble,” Ivy says. His voice is still high and innocent like he hasn’t assumed already what the answer is. He can’t be that stupid, Pebble refuses to believe it. But his eyes are wide and sparkle with curiosity and Alpha’s nails dig into his wrists and he can’t help but blurt everything out.

“I- he- I screamed your name when he fucked me” Pebble winced.

“Come on, there’s more” Alpha digs deeper.

“No there isn’t” Pebble grits through the pain in his wrists.

“Not going to tell him how you wanted me to fuck his mouth with my fingers at dinner? How you wished it was you?”

“I didn’t say that alpha!” Pebble wanted desperately to scream, to wave his white flag, the only thing keeping him from completely losing it is how Ivy seems more and more interested by the second. He seems to be enjoying the show, and if Pebble thought to know any better he could swear Ivy has his hands planted over his lap in a similar fashion to the way he did earlier.

“Said you wanted to know how pretty he whines, wanted to be the first to get your cock into the innocent thing right?”

“I never said that!” He protested once again.

The hand on his chin trails down his chest slowly as if Alpha is showing him off. Reaches down to squeeze him through his pants making Pebble gasp and wiggle against his grip.

“You’re hard pumpkin, clearly you were into it if you’re turned on just from me mentioning it again.”

Pebble hides his face in Alpha’s shoulder, unable to look at Ivy any longer. He would probably grind against alphas hand like a mindless whore if was anymore brainless. Alpha keeps squeezing, kneading at him, and he’s still not even looking down. Alpha maintains his eye contact with Ivy as he works him over.

“Want to get off like this in front of him or do you want me to clean you up like I promised” alpha whispered.

“Wait” Ivy finally speaks up for the first time in what felt like hours.

“What’s on your mind mint sprig?”

“Can i?” Ivy asks timidly, playing with his fingers in his lap.

“Oh? You want to clean him up? How sweet. Desperate thing came in his pants like a horny fucking teenager, sure he needs it after waiting so long.”

Ivy nods enthusiastically

“Did you hear that sprout? You ok with finally letting Ivy get that pretty little mouth on you?” Pebble only nods with a small whimper. His head still tucked into Alpha’s shoulder.

Alpha quickly shifts them to sit on the couch to make it easier for him to leverage Pebble. Grabs him by the thigh and places him on his lap, holding his legs open for Ivy to nestle between.

“Come here then sweetheart” Alpha beckons him and points to the ground in front of Pebble “show him how you look on your knees.”

Pebble will have to think longer later about the fact that Ivy doesn’t even hesitate to drop in front of him. On his knees staring up at the two ready to be given instructions and Pebble thinks he could probably cum from the sight alone if he’s not careful.

“Go ahead. Give Pebble what he wants”

They’re both shocked when Ivy immediately dives for the button on Pebble’s pants, unzips and pulls them down along with his underwear to pull his cock out. Ivy stares a bit too long at it while his mouth waters. It sits hard against pebbles stomach, tip flushed a deep red, light shining off of the pre that dribbles down the head.

“Pretty..” he mumbles. Pebble nearly chokes.

From behind him Alpha lets go of the grip on his wrist and moves to pull his pants down even more from how he’s placed on his thighs. He uses a finger to tease his rim, circling the right ring of muscle. Pebble jumps at the sensation, trying to control himself between the two.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Pebble squeaks. Ivy smiles at his panic, gripping his cock in his fist.

“Promised you I’d fuck you didn’t I?” Alpha laughed.

Pebble thinks he may actually explode.

Ivy thumbs over his tip, sticky and sensitive and Pebble’s eyes cross from the sight and sensation of Ivy touching him. He looks too happy with himself, watching Pebble’s cock twitch with a grin, as if he’s proud of himself for getting this kind of reaction.

Two fingers play with his bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. Pebble was far beyond the snarky comments anymore, beyond the talking back, floating in a state of want. He parts his lips without a second thought, Alpha petting over his tongue to gather the saliva.

“Never seen him this quiet, usually I have to fuck the attitude out of him” alpha talks over his shoulder. He reaches back to shove two fingers inside of him, having pebble arch against alphas chest.

“You do this often?” Ivy asks with a voice that is entirely too demure considering Pebble can feel his breath on his dick.

“Well someone’s got to take care of him, can’t let him act the way he does with no punishment. Besides, he’s a fucking size queen when he wants to be.”

Alpha scissors him open, curling his fingers up to make Pebble damn near scream. He can hear them talk about him but he can’t bring himself to respond. Ivy gives a small lick to his head, as if he’s testing the waters, before licking slowly up his shaft.

“Does he ever…” Ivy trails off.

“He’s been itching to fuck you into the mattress for months, rosebud.”

They speak about him like he’s a fucking toy, like he’s some blow up sex doll they’re considering buying. Degrading. It makes his mind feel numb.

“Please…” Ivy begs at the hypothetical situation. Alpha removes his fingers from Pebble, replacing them with the head of his cock.

“I’m sure he could break such a delicate thing as you” alpha slowly lets pebble sink down, well aware of the pace Pebble preferred and giving him time to adjust.

“Need him to break me” Ivy mumbled somewhat dreamily, still mouthing at Pebble’s shaft.

“Oh baby, have you ever had a cock in you?”

“Not a real one” Ivy breathes, practically entranced.

Pebble hates how obediently Ivy responds to him. How he still sounds like it’s a normal conversation they’re having as Pebble writhes between them. He sits firmly on Alpha’s cock, full beyond belief. Pebble always forgets how big he is, how he always needs a couple minutes to breathe through the stretch.

“You have to fuck yourself with your own toys? Oh you poor thing”

Ivy sucks at his tip, swirling his tongue around it to gather the pre that leaks like faucet. He looks up at Alpha and nods.

“Tell our sweet little sapling here how you like to fuck yourself, I’m sure he’s been picturing how you look every night.”

“I.. I uh” Ivy gulped, mouth removed from Pebble but stroking him slowly. Alpha starts to fuck up into him, signaling for him to grind down. “Finger myself, like to take my time, like how it feels to touch myself”

Pebble thinks he may cum just from hearing Ivy speak like this.

“Yeah? Then what do you do?”

“Have a toy i like to get in me, like to feel full” Ivy mumbles as if he’s suddenly embarrassed.

“I'm sure Pebble will have to fix that one day, won’t you sweetheart?” Alpha noses into his hair. Pebble responds with a nod, moaning out something along the lines of a plea. He bounces as much as he can in his position, face screwed up in pleasure. “It’s funny honestly, wouldn’t expect him to be able to ruin you considering how small he is” alpha chuckles earning a half hearted swat from the earth ghoul on top of him. Ivy returns his mouth, taking the first couple inches with ease.

Pebbles hands fly to his hair, cursing loudly as Ivy bobs. “Fuck- fuck, Ivy I’m close you gotta-“ Pebble tried to warn but Ivy doesn’t let up, doesn’t take him out of his mouth, only looks up at him from beneath his eye lashes.

“Cum for him Pebble, you’ve earned it” Alpha whispered

Pebble releases with a shout, spilling down Ivy's throat, hands tangled in his hair. Alpha and Ivy work him through it, grinding and lapping up his release before he can go completely limp.

Ivy backs off as Alpha thrusts a few more times before spilling inside of him, trying his best not to overstimulate the poor thing in doing so. He’s practically boneless in Alpha’s grip, reduced to glassy eyes and broken whimpers every time Alpha moves regardless of his attempts at being careful.

Ivys uses the spare couple of seconds to stroke himself, knowing it won’t take much. Gives himself a couple quick flicks before cumming in his hand with a bitten off moan.

Alpha strokes at Pebble’s hair, monitoring him closely as he comes down from his high. Sweet words whispered into his skin as he tries not to jostle him much.

“You with me sprout?”” Alpha asks, kissing Pebble’s temple. “Take it you enjoyed yourself.”

“Mhm” he nodded, eyes half lidded and vacant. Not completely there. He whines when Alpha finally lifts him off of his cock, cringing at the empty feeling.

“Did so well, told you I’d make good on my promise” Alpha laughs softly. He pulls up Pebble’s pants to give him as much of his dignity back as he could, even if they all desperately need a shower. “Proud of you Pebs.”

“You’re an ass” Pebble mumbles. He sounds tired, hiding his face again in Alpha’s chest while he drifts down from his high.

“You ok too Ivy?” Alpha asks, stroking along Pebble’s skin.

“Yeah of course!” He beams. He sounds a bit too giddy for the situation

It takes Pebble a moment to process the situation before he’s almost flying out of Alpha’s lap

“Fuck! That was weird, that was so weird of me, Ivy I’m so sorry I-“

“You’re ok, I had fun” Ivy laughed.

Pebble moved to sit next to him, giving him a once over and attempting to read his body language for any sign of discomfort. He felt stupid, like he may have fucked everything up. He hopes ivy won’t look at him any differently, hopes he doesn’t think pebble only thinks of him sexually.

“This .. this just isn’t exactly how I wanted this to happen” Pebble mumbled. He had hoped for something a bit more respectful than some half dazed confession on the living room floor covered in cum. It’s not the true picture of romance he wanted, especially not for Ivy.

“How you wanted what to happen?” Ivy asked.

“Well.. I.. I just-“ Pebble stutters. Even if Ivy had his dick in his mouth a couple minutes ago, the idea of admitting he has feelings is beyond his brain power at the moment. “Just thought you deserved more respect than whatever this was. I don’t just look at you like some object, if you can believe that” pebble joked half heartedly.

“Are you sure?” Ivy feigned surprise

“Yes actually. You know this wasn’t just a sexual thing right? That I don’t only like you because I want to fuck you?”

“I understand” Ivy gives him a shy smile, “I wanted this too.”

“You did?”

“Of course, haven’t you seen the way I’ve been looking at you?”

Pebble scrunches his brow in confusion. Had he been this fucking stupid the entire time? He could hear Alpha give a small chuckle behind him and regretfully realizes that he was unfortunately also still in the room.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to fuck this up and having someone fuck me in front of you didn’t seem like the most romantic love confession” Pebble stares at the floor while Ivy giggles in front of him. His cheeks are flushed and rosy, a crinkle in the corner of his eyes. Pebble thinks he’s beyond adorable like this.

“Don’t worry, I got the hint.”

It’s stupid. All of it was honestly so fucking stupid.. Pebble was head over heels and could have just kissed him right there if he wasn’t consciously aware of the horrifically gross feeling of three loads drying on his skin. He’s sure Ivy doesn’t feel much cleaner either. Ivy cradles his hand to his chest in an attempt to not straight up wipe it on the floor like a heathen.

“Can we continue this after we’ve all showered? I feel like a pornstar who just worked overtime.” Pebble asked, wincing at how his sore muscles protested the movement of trying to get up.

Ivy nearly snorted at his joke and Pebble’s heart stuttered.

“Yeah, yeah I’d love to.”

Alpha lounges back against the couch as the two of them depart on shaky legs, Pebble more so than Ivy. He remains despite the sweat, cum and spit on his skin, half convinced that whatever display he'd just watched had made him violently ill.

At least that's what he’s convinced of, refusing to admit to anyone (even himself) that he's happy because Pebble is happy.

#eye twitches #I love writing them so much no one understands #genuinely this fic has been so insanely fun to write #cw humiliation #cw degradation #cw exhibitionism #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #pebble ghoul #ivy ghoul #alpha ghoul

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