#very small bicycle

[bicycled]

This feels too small

[hangingoffence]

why arent bicycles more common in zombie apocalypse scenarios?????

[authorhjk1]

Incantations of the old moon

(Seulgi X Joy X Yeri X Male Reader)

Joy coughs as she blows up dust by moving one of the bigger boxes to the side. The wooden floor creaks where ever she steps as she keeps rummaging around.

"If I had known he was gonna leave me hanging again..."

Joy mumbles as she moves another box to the side.

Her grandparents asked her, if she could clean and reorganize their attic. Joy didn't like the idea at first. But her grandparents are already quite old. She knows they won't be able to do it. At least not alone. And maybe she could find something interesting up here. Maybe a photo book of their childhood, or more pictures of their wedding. She used to love her grandma's stories about how she met her grandpa. And some objects of that time are probably lying around here somewhere.

If only Joy's boyfriend hadn't cancelled a minute before the two of them were supposed to leave. Her grandparents live a couple of hours away and so she had hoped for a nice and relaxing weekend outside of the city, together with her boyfriend. But he only told her he had to head to the company and off he went. And he still didn't send her a text to apologize.

Joy sighs as she picks up a huge and unfortunately heavy frame of a beautiful painting. She carries it across the small room, before leaning it against the wall. The physical exercise eases her mind a little and cools her temper. But her anger hasn't completely vanished yet.

Another huge box, full of books, finds itself dragged across the wooden floor. Once she lined it up next to the other boxes, Joy takes out the book on top. A novel. By the looks of it maybe 20 years old. Not very interesting. She puts it to the side and keeps browsing. But most of the books turn out to be thrillers, fantasy novels and romance books. Some of her grandma's library.

Two more boxes get turned upside down, until Joy finally squats down and opens the last untouched box in the room. This one contains older books. And she gets lucky. The second book bears her grandparent's names on the front page. The young woman slowly goes through the book, a never ending smile playing around her lips. There is her grandfather standing next to a bicycle, raising his hand and smiling at the camera. Another picture shows her grandma on the back of a horse, riding through a huge field. The last page only shows one picture. Their wedding day. The two of them stand side by side. He wears an old fashioned suit, while she wears a beautiful hanbok. Joy carefully caresses the photo, seeing both of their happy smiles.

A sudden wind almost makes her loose her balance. She closes the book and looks at the wide open window. She opened it earlier. Right? Joy doesn't remember, but she probably did. It can't just open itself.

She puts the book aside and checks the box for more hidden treasures. But to her disappointment, the rest of the box is made out of more of her grandma's book collection. Joy is about to give up, when her hands close around the last book lying on the bottom of the box. Its cover seems to be made out of red leather. But time has turned it into a brown tone. There aren't any letters on it, or any decorations. Not even on the back.

Joy slowly opens the book. More dust raises into the air, making her cough again. Her eyes now focus on the front page.

"Incantations of the old moon"

The paper has turned brown and yellow and it feels like it could fall apart any second. The letters almost look like they've been written with pure gold. It seems to reflect the small amount of sunshine that found it's way through the small window above her.

Joy flips the page. On it's back her eyes focus on the big letters which seem to be a name or a title of a chapter.

"Spell of the enkindled flame"

The black ink reminds Joy of a starless, cold night.

"Is this supposed to be a book filled with spells or something?"

Joy chuckles to herself. The text that follows does look like it's a poem or a spell. But the young woman just shakes her head and closes the book.

She starts to put the books she took out back into the the box. Her grandma's books first. Just when she is about to pick up the old mysterious book, another wind blows through the attic. To her surprise, the book opens, the first page turns itself. Joy feels a shiver run down her spine. The wind was a little harder, but is it just a coincidence the book got opened again?

For a moment, Joy stares at the name of the poem or the spell or whatever it is. Then her eyes glide down the page. She notices how the second part seems to be in another language. Latin maybe? She notices the word "et" That is Latin. Or maybe Italian? The page on the right is filled with letters written in the same pitch black ink.

"This spell heightens the caster's labido, increasing physical desire and intensifying arousal."

A laugh escapes Joy's lips. Not just a book of spells, but a book filled with spells for sex? Maybe this is a joke made by her grandma or something. Magic doesn't exist. So spells are useless. Just empty words someone made up. That's probably not even Latin. Just random words strung together.

"Well, I could give it a try. It's not gonna kill me, right?"

A sudden curiosity makes her heart beat a little faster. Surely this isn't real. But she can hear a small part of her brain acknowledging how weird it was that the wind opened the book again. What if it is magic? Maybe she could make her boyfriend do whatever she wants.

Joy chuckles at the thought. Yeah, sure. Why not give it a try?

She clears her throat and focuses back on the page on the left.

"By the ember’s glow and the night’s embrace,

Awaken the fire that passion does trace.

Let the pulse quicken, and the heat rise,

A flame of desire to light the skies."

Joy can feel how her excitement rises. Is that the spell, or just a normal reaction to something mysterious?

Unbeknownst to her, Joy's heartbeat has already picked up a little pace. Her body temperature rises as well. So slightly, it's barely noticeable.

"Per ignem sacrum et noctis umbras;

Crescat ardor, sensus foveat,

Flamma carnis, vires augeat."

That last part was hard to pronounce. And she definitely butchered every single one of those words. But Joy waits, still sitting on the floor in front of the box. She holds her breath. In her head, she counts to ten.

Nothing.

Then she reaches twenty.

Nothing.

Of course nothing happens. Because magic doesn't exist. It's just some useless book.

When she looks down on it again, Joy notices how it's not in her hand anymore. It's lying on the floor. Her eyes slowly wander to her hand. Her breath hitches when she realises she already unbuttoned her jeans.

"What-"

A sudden spike of lust pierces her body. Joy's eyes are wide open. She can literally feel how she is getting wet. Her body's temperature seems to rise and rise. A wave of pleasure builds up inside of her as her hand disappears inside her pants. The other is already pulling at her waistband to give herself more room. A drop of her saliva hits that second hand. She is drooling.

Joy bites her lip. The voice inside of her is almost screaming in panic. What is she supposed to do now? Surely not...

"Oh Lord!"

Joy almost cries out as her fingertips graze her clit. She's never been this sensitive. It almost feels like her own consciousness is being pushed to the back of her mind. A fog of lust takes over her brain.

Before Joy can even look down on herself again, she has already started rubbing herself furiously. Wave after wave of pleasure hits her body like it's a lonely rock in a deep sea. They keep coming, some washing over her, others almost knocking her down. Her breathing is now as fast as if she just ran down three flights of stairs.

"Oh god.... Please make it stop."

She manages to moan out, that last piece of her conscious mind fighting back. But the pleasure only intensifies. Joy can feel how her body is readying itself to climax already. How her abs tighten, how she bucks her hips towards her hand.

Never before did she get so aroused by just rubbing her clit. When she needs to take care of herself, she usually needs three fingers inside of her to make herself orgasm. But now, her body seems to be in overdrive. Every fiber of her entire being is urging her on to cum, working towards her climax.

Joy can already feel how her fingers, which are pulling back the waistband of her jeans, are already starting to hurt. She can't keep this up either way. It's only a matter of seconds now.

The sunlight shines through the small window and onto the woman sitting on the wooden floor. Her moans are filling the small room. Her legs shake when another wave threatens to brake her. Joy's wide open eyes close as she braces herself.

"Ahhhhh!"

Her squeal - light, sharp and rising in pitch - echoes her joy like a playful, excited note. That final wave has completely washed over her, almost drowning her in her own pleasure.

"Oh my god. Oh my god."

Half whisper, half moan. Joy feels how she is ruining her panties. Her juices darken the light fabric, making it heavier. It takes a moment, until her body seems to have completely calmed down. Except for her still quickly paced breathing.

Joy stands in her grandparent's guest room, looking at the book in her hands. Why did she take it with her again? She has the urge to open it again and read the rest of the book. Maybe there are more spells. Maybe there better spells. But she is able to control herself. She tugs it underneath the pillow of her bed.

"Maybe later."

She whispers to herself, before taking off her jeans. It seems like they are still dry, so she only has to change her underwear. Joy grimaces as she pulls her soaked panties off her body. It feels weird. This never happened to her before.

Looking down on herself, Joy feels a slight tingle in her nether regions. Just the mere sight of her own pussy is starting to turn her on again. She decides to focus on her panties. She holds them up, examining them. As her fist closes tightly around them, drops start to fall to the floor.

"Damn, what is wrong with me?"

Joy sighs. Her mind is still having trouble accepting that magic exists. She is still trying to come up with some simple explanation. Maybe she got this horny, because of her recent busy schedule and lack of pleasure? But would that make her this horny?

"Sooyoung! Come down for lunch!"

"In a minute!"

Her grandma's voice reminds her that she is still standing half naked in her room.

Joy joins her grandparents on the couch after lunch. They always watch a program which hosts idols around this time of day, because they don't want to miss the day, when Joy makes her appearance.

But the woman in question is having a hard time keeping it together. There wasn't any particular trigger during lunch, which would explain her aroused state. But her arousal has kept rising, since she.... Well, since she came.

Joy sighs and puts her hands between her ass and the couch, sitting on them. She's afraid another sudden spike of pure lust will catch her off guard. She doesn't even dare to think about what her grandparents would think of her, if she suddenly started to play with herself in front of them.

As the show continues and this week's cast gets introduced, Joy recognizes a familiar face. Her boyfriend. So that's why he couldn't come with her. Someone else probably canceled last minute and he had to fill in. But that still doesn't excuse his lack of explanation, or an apology for canceling on her.

"I remember when two of us were this young."

Her grandma sighs nostalgically, taking her husband's hand.

"You always looked so handsome."

"Me?"

Joy's grandfather laughs.

"Every boy in our town ran after you."

For some reason, those words struck a nerve for Joy. She focuses on the people on TV. Her boyfriend and three male hosts.

"Everyone wants you."

Was that Joy's own voice in her head? It sounded different. As if it's trying manipulate her thoughts.

"You can have them all."

Joy bites her lip. Her arousal reaches another plateau. She can feel how she is getting wetter again. She unconsciously starts to rub her thighs together. Just the idea of sleeping with more than one man suddenly fills her head with lust. Taking not just one cock, but two or three... That suddenly sounds like heaven for Joy. All of the attention on her. She is an object of desire for several guys, almost begging her to let them use her.

As her lust takes over more and more of her body, the initial ideas turn into vivid pictures inside her head. She can almost see how she is kneeling in front of a group of guys, mouth wide open, tongue sticking out, waiting for them all to fuck her face.

As if her body is on autopilot, Joy jumps off the couch.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Just a minute."

Her voice sounds hoarse, even to her own ears. But she quickly heads for the guest room, almost tripping as she takes two steps at once.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Joy strips. Her top quickly falls onto her bed. Her bra follows. Her jeans hit the ground next to her and she kicks her panties into one of the corners of the room.

Barely ten second after she got inside, Joy is kneeling in the middle of the room. She closes her eyes and lets her hands wander all over her body. She starts with her breasts, squeezing and fondling them as if two men were exploring her naked body. Her hands soon glide lower, following the tightness of her midriff. She caresses her own thighs as she imagines herself surrounded by five men. In her mind, Joy eagerly watches them strip, licking her lips when she sees their hard cocks.

The small voice in her mind, telling her this is weird and unnatural has almost been completed drowned out by now. The intensity of her dirty thoughts almost make her feel like it's actually happening.

Joy reaches out with one hand and wraps it around one of the dicks pointing at her. She can almost feel how hard the man is as she begins to stroke his cock. Another man steps forward and Joy gladly opens her mouth. She doesn't even have to put her fingers into her mouth pretending it's a cock. Her vivid imagination is already enough. She can feel how his cock is sliding in and out of her mouth. How his tip grazes the back of her mouth with every thrust.

When another man steps forward, Joy starts to jerk him off as well. Both her hands use the same rhythm and pace, while her excitement grows and grows. She was never a huge fan of someone cuming on her. Even with her boyfriend, Joy prefers for him to cum inside her, when they used protection. But now? Now, Joy can't wait for the five guys to use her face as a canvas. She would ask them, beg them, to paint her face, if it wasn't for the cock inside her mouth.

Joy greedily keeps sucking the man in front of her, while she jerks off the two on her sides. She almost forgot the other two men. They now play with her tits, like she did before. Joy lets out a moan around the cock in her mouth as she feels them pinching her nipples and squeezing her breasts.

If she could see herself like that, Joy would definitely die of shame. Kneeling on the floor in an empty room. Completely naked. Her mouth wide open, her hands on either side over head head, doing corkscrew motions. As her pussy gets wetter and wetter, even without any stimulation, drops of her juices slowly drip onto the carpet.

Inside her head, Joy already has the five guys on the edge of their orgasms. How she got there is a mystery even to herself. But here she is now. Her pussy almost radiating pure lust as she lowers her hands. One reaches for her chest once more, while the other finally drops down to her core.

Joy can feel how close she is. Once more the flat of her hand begins to rub her clit. Within a matter of secondd, her hand is already coated in her slick.

"Yes, cum all over my face."

Joy sighs, before opening her mouth as wide as possible and sticking her tongue out. All five guys are surrounding her, stroking themselves. The first man's load hits her nose, while the rest lands on her tongue. The other two, standing on either side of her, cum all over her cheeks and eyes. Joy's eyelids feel heavy now. Even if she wanted to, it feels like she couldn't open her eyes. The two guys behind her cum as well. All across her face.

Joy feels their warm cum on her skin. She never felt this good. She knows she is mere seconds away herself. Just one last thing to degrade herself even further....

The guy in front of her pushes his cock past her lips.

"Clean it, little whore."

"Fuck!"

Joy orgasms hard as she licks the man's left over cum off his cock.

Her eyes stay closed throughout the entirety of her orgasm. It feels like it takes her a whole hour to work through it. Wave after wave makes her body shake and tremble. Because she was pretending she had someone's dick in her mouth, Joy started drooling all over herself at some point. Her tits are covered in her own spit.

When Joy finally opens her eyes again, it takes some effort. As if the men's imaginary cum has glued her eyes shut. A feeling of disgust and horror washes over Joy as she looks down on herself. Her hand wet with slick. Her tits covered in spit, the carpet underneath stained by a big puddle of her juices.

"What have I done?"

She whispers to herself. This isn't normal. And she feels like a whore and a slut after this. Dirty and used. Filthy. She needs to take a shower. Now. But what if she gets turned on again? Joy shakes her head. She came twice today. Both times harder than all of last month's orgasms combined. Spell or no spell. Her body is drained.

The feeling of failure and shame colours Joy's cheeks red. She slides down along the tiles of the wall of the shower. Her body is completely wet due to the water, but her lower half is now partially covered in slick again. As her breathing calms down, Joy finally makes a decision.

She needs to get rid of that book. She doesn't know how long this spell is gonna last. And she doesn't even want to know what the others do. And she definitely does not want to be tempted to try it again, when she is feeling really low or stressed out. A shudder rushes through her body as she imagines herself breaking down on stage and just mindlessly rubbing her pussy in front of thousands of people.

Suddenly her eyes are wide open.

"No, stop it! Not again!"

Joy quickly tries to think of something else. Maybe something disgusting.

"A camel, fish, vomit..."

She grimaces, but it seems to work. Thinking about random things not related to anything sexual. Maybe this is the way to control the effects of the spell?

It seems like the spell finally wore off. Nothing happened for the rest of the day. Actually, Joy almost forgot that the book is still there, until she lied down on her bed, ready to fall asleep. She can clearly feel it underneath her pillow.

"No, I won't look at it."

She closes her eyes.

But what if it influences her in a another way, when she sleeps with it under her pillow? Her eyes open again and Joy takes out the book. She is just about to put in on the nightstand, when curiosity invades her thoughts once more. What if she just checks out the next spell? She doesn't have to use it. Just look what it does.

"Okay."

Joy sighs in defeat and sits up, leaning up against the wall behind her.

"But only looking. I promise, I won't use it."

She flips through the first pages, passing the first spell that already brought her to her limits. Joy catches a small warning on the bottom left corner.

"Do not use this spell twice a day. Severe loss of self control and random orgasms without stimulation are side affects."

Joy shakes her head in disbelief. Who would try to use a spell like that twice a day? Even now she is consciously pushing back the undying urge to pleasure herself one last time.

When she reaches the next spell in the book, Joy focuses on the right page once more, reading all the instructions.

"The incantation of velvet dreams"

"Casts a spell over sleep, giving the caster or target vivid, sensual dreams that amplify desire upon waking."

"Interesting."

Joy murmurs to herself. Maybe she'd be able to sleep better. She always gets so little sleep because of her schedule. Maybe this will enhance the quality of the little sleep she does have.

She keeps reading, when she realizes that there are more requirements to cast the spell.

"A silver thread:

A thin thread of silver should be tied loosely around the wrist as a symbol of connection to the dream realm.

Silent preparation:

The caster must spend five minutes in complete silence, meditating on their intent, before the spell can take effect. The impact is improved if the caster is dressed in the same way as he or she invisons him or her self during mediation.

Honey:

Place three drops of honey on the tongue before sleep to invoke sweetness in the dream realm."

Joy ponders for a moment. All those things are quite easy to get or do. She glances at the left page with the spell. Should she try it out?

No, she promised herself she wouldn't. Joy knows it's a bad idea and yet she is already thinking about what she'd love to dream tonight. She hesitates.

"Are there any side effects?"

She mumbles to herself, going through the right page again. Nothing. Maybe this spell is safer to use then the first one. After all, she is sleeping anyway.

"Might as well..."

Joy gets out of bed, ready to gather the necessary materials. Silver thread and honey. One in her grandma's sewing box, the other in the kitchen.

Once she is back with both of them, she puts the glass of honey and a spoon onto the nightstand and places the thread next to it.

"Outfit..."

Joy opens the wardrobe, looking through the clothes she took with her. A dress? A short top and skirt? She can feel herself getting turned on again, just thinking about what she could be able to dream off. That's when she remembers her luggage.

Since she thought her boyfriend would come with her, Joy packed something a little extra. Her grandparents go to sleep early and her and her boyfriend's sex life isn't as good as she'd like it to be. Maybe the fresh country air would've helped her out. But now, this has to suffice.

Joy smiles as she takes out the lingerie that was lying on the bottom of her luggage. It's basically a see through red body suit. She quickly puts it on and closes the attached red collar around her neck. With a click, the button is secure. Joy looks down on herself. She can basically see her whole body underneath the thin red fabric, especially her nipples, which look a little darker now. Its neckline doesn't do its name justice at all. The cut down her body ends right underneath her breasts.

"Now the thread..."

Joy can feel the excitement in her body rising as she puts the silver thread around her wrist. Unbeknownst to her, it isn't only her excitement that makes her use the next spell. The first one has already raised her basic sexual appetite. If she keeps this up at this pace, she soon won't be able to climax anymore, without a spell in the book. Too bad the most important instructions and warnings are all listed on the very last page.

The warm rays of the sun hit Joy's face in the morning. She sleeps with a smile playing around her lips. The birds in the garden start to sing, which slowly makes her open her eyes.

"That was good."

She sighs dreamily. She can't remember every detail of her dream, but the most important parts are stuck in her head. Pulling the sheets aside, Joy looks down on herself. She's still wearing that red body suit. And the part that covers her pussy is visibly wet.

But the good thing is, Joy doesn't feel this undying urge to satisfy herself like yesterday. Maybe it has finally worn off. The spell for the dream seems to be the perfect solution. At least for now. She is perfectly relaxed. This is like the best start for a day.

When Joy is finally done with unpacking, she quickly eats dinner, before going to bed. She just got back home to her apartment. On the way, she bought silver threat and a new glass of honey. She is gonna need it.

Now, Joy sits on her bed, eyes closed as she thinks about what she wants to dream tonight. She is wearing the same red bodysuit as last night. The tight fabric stretches over every curve of her body. Only while putting it on a couple of minutes ago, Joy realized how good her butt looked in it. Now her thoughts seem to be related to that. She imagines herself having anal sex for the first time. Someone eating out her ass and then using lube to make it easier for him. It's no one specific, but Joy feels save and cared for as the man lies on his side behind her and starts to push his cock inside her ass.

A huge smile plays around her lips when she opens her eyes again. Joy reaches for the book in front of her and starts to read the spell out loud.

"By the silk of night and the moon’s soft light,

Weave the dreams that dance in the night.

Let the body stir and the senses ignite,

A journey of pleasure through the shadowed flight."

Just like the night before, she feels her eyelids getting heavier. A soothing, warm feeling starts to spread through her body. Not the primal, undying urge to get fucked. But a feeling of completion and easiness.

"Per noctem et lumen lunare;

Somnia sensuales, gaudium efflorescat."

Joy places the book on the nightstand and reaches for the honey. Three drops onto her tongue. She closes her eyes, her head resting on her soft pillow. The honey on her tongue sweetens the process of falling asleep.

As soon as her eyes close, Joy starts to dream. She is inside her own apartment. Wearing that red bodysuit. Why was she dressed like this again? Right, her boyfriend. It's his birthday.

During her five minutes of silence, Joy failed to think of a build up. Her fantasy started out with a man kissing her as he lies her on her bed. Now her subconsciousness is stringing random thoughts together.

She is waiting for her boyfriend, wanting to make his night special. But when the bell rings it's not him, but the delivery guy. Luckily, Joy put on a robe before opening the door. The man looks her up and down, being able to tell how little she must be wearing. Her robe is barely reaching her thighs, her legs and feet completely naked.

"That'd make 20 000 ₩"

Joy reaches for her card and the man takes out the device to scan it with.

"Card declined"

Horror slowly creeps onto Joy's face, when she realizes she won't be able to pay. She doesn't have any cash lying around. She can already sense the man's inappropriate glances.

"I'm sorry. It seems like I can't pay right now."

"I'm sure we can find away."

His smile makes her shudder. But in a good way for some reason. She feels like he would know how to make her feel good. If she just invited another man inside. Just once.....

Joy stirs awake the next morning. Like the night before, she can't remember the whole dream. But this one was definitely better than the first. As she is slowly getting rid of her sleepiness, Joy starts to feel odd. She reaches out to flip the sheets off her and her hand touches wet fabric. Worry creeps up her spine.

"Don't tell me..."

She lifts the covers.

"Oh god...."

Almost the entire bed is wet. Soaked. Drenched with her juices. That explains why her dream was so good. She lifts one of her legs, the sheets stick to it for a while, before they fall back down. The red fabric on her body is glued to her skin. She must've rolled around in her own slick the whole night.

A small price to pay, considering how good the dream was. She can just take a shower.

"And change the sheets...."

Joy sighs, but she doesn't have a choice. As she gets off the bed, she is already thinking about a way to sleep, without drowning herself in her own juices.

"Let's try this again."

Joy stands up and takes her place behind Yeri. She raises her arms as the music starts and the five of them start to practice the dance once again.

Two weeks have gone by since Joy found the book. Her and her boyfriend did talk about her weekend at her grandparent's, but she didn't mention what she found. She could share it with no one, since no one would believe her.

But for two weeks, Joy has been working on her own pleasure by herself. Her and her boyfriend's schedules didn't allow them to see each other often, let alone have sex with each other. So when she did have time, Joy used the spell for her dreams to at least feel good when she woke up in the morning.

But she is starting to feel a rising need for more. She needs to orgasm while she is awake. She needs something to get herself off. She has been going through the book and found a couple of more spells. And when her eyes fall on Seulgi, she is determined to use one of them today.

Joy thought about this for quite a while. Nothing seems to really do it anymore for her. Playing with herself is nice and all and she does climax while doing so, but she is starting to miss something. She is starting to miss someone else's touch.

She has had these dreams about other guys. She does admit that. But she'd never cheat on her boyfriend. How horny or aroused she might be, she'd never do something like that. That's what she told herself.

Now, Joy is thinking about a loophole in some way. Sex with other men is definitely cheating. But what if it's with another woman? There is no dick involved. So technically, she wouldn't have penetrative sex, right? So it would be okay for her and Seulgi to pleasure each other? Just this once?

Joy doesn't even realize how ridiculous that sounds. But the book's influence on her is slowly growing stronger. Her desire for pleasure keeps rising. She doesn't know it, but her body realizes that the book might be able to give her eternal pleasure. Pleasure that is out of this world. And that doesn't mean these simple spells. There must be something else. Something that frees her from earthly boundaries and rules.

And Joy is starting to become so desperate, she's willing to cast a spell on one of her members.

"One last time. We will go home afterwards."

Joy looks at Irene while she speaks

She thought about whom she should choose. Irene was the first who didn't qualify. Or rather, Joy was afraid of what could happen. Irene can be strict. She thought of Yeri and Wendy as well, but the two of them don't seem to be weak minded. And the instructions said, it would be easier on someone who is easier. But that doesn't mean Joy sees Seulgi as dumb or a slut. She is just loving and caring. A person who often can't say no.

And that's why Seulgi finds herself inside Joy's apartment exactly one hour later. The younger woman asked her to come over and hang out. Seulgi didn't have any plans, so she agreed.

But now she feels like something is going on. Joy is acting different. She noticed that during practice already. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else. And she looks like she has that after sex glow. But all the time. And she surely can't be having sex all day.

Pretending to prepare snacks for the two of them, Joy is standing inside her kitchen. She glances at Seulgi, watching her drink the juice she gave her. The younger one told her it's supposed to help for losing weight. But in reality, it was just random juice she had in her fridge. The special ingredient was a strand of Joy's hair. Seulgi had to drink it in order to form the necessary bond between the two of them.

After confirming that Seulgi isn't paying attention to her, Joy starts to read from the book, which is lying on the counter.

"Serpent of secrets, lend me your grace,

Let your kiss awaken, and pleasure embrace.

By the moon’s soft glow and the stars that gleam,

Uncoil the longing that sleeps in the dream."

As she reaches the Latin part of the spell, Joy raises her hand. Now she has to draw a snake in the air. And she does so as she reads the last lines.

"Per lunam et stellas lucentes;

Sensibus favorem, desiderium augeat."

The snake she drew seems to be made of a small cloud. It starts to move towards Seulgi. Joy watches, hoping she did everything right. Doubt is starting to rise inside her as the snake opens her mouth. It's now right behind Seulgi. Joy bites her lip. As soon as the snake touches Seulgi, it disappears. Gone.

Did it work?

Joy hesitates, but then walks over to Seulgi, while holding a plate with grapes and watermelon.

"Thanks."

Seulgi smiles as she reaches for a handful of grapes. Joy sits down next to her.

It seems like the older woman isn't affected at all. She seems to behave normally. Maybe Joy did something wrong? She glances at Seulgi's glass, which is only half empty. Or did she not drink her hair yet?

Joy sighs and sinks back against the backrest of her couch. She should've never even tried this. Seulgi is one of her best friends. The two of them lived together for a long time. How could she just decide to use her, so she can satisfy her own pleasure? The younger woman feels ashamed of herself. The book was fun and all. But now it slowly seems to take over her actions. It has to go. Rather sooner than later.

Joy stands up, determined to get rid of the book immediately. When she walks past Seulgi, a hand suddenly grabs her wrist. She looks down on her friend.

"Unnie..."

Her words get caught in her throat as Joy sees the lust glisten in Seulgi's eyes.

Before she can react, Seulgi has already pulled her onto the couch again. Her lips crash against the younger one's, making her fall onto her back. The moment their lips touch, Joy's lust skyrockets. She loves how Seulgi's lips feel on hers. How her tongue brushes against her own. How her hands hold onto her waist. She needs to have her. Now.

Seulgi is in a state of pure lust, confusion and horror. What the hell is she doing? Why is she kissing her friend? And why can't she stop? Why does it feel so good? Why does it make her pussy wet? Why-

Her own consciousness slowly retreats as arousal takes its place. Seulgi knows it's wrong. She has never thought about Joy this way. She would've never dared to kiss her without consent, even if she wanted to. But her lust driven body seems to have a mind on its own now.

The two women loose themselves far too quickly. While their kiss continues, Seulgi undoes the two buttons on Joy's top, while Joy reaches for the zipper of Seulgi's skirt. The younger one lets out a moan as she feels her friend's leg between her own. It slightly presses itself against her core, stimulating Joy's already sensitive clit.

No words are being spoken as Seulgi pushes Joy's top off her tits, while Joy lets Seulgi's opened skirt glide down the older girl's legs. Their kiss finally breaks, when Seulgi leans down to kiss the younger girl's neck.

"Unnie..."

She sighs and places her hands on the other girls butt cheeks. She starts to knead them as Seulgi's lips travel lower. Soon, they latch onto Joy's right nipple. She arches her back off the couch in response, her body yearning for the other girl's touch. At the same time, her hands have now pulled Seulgi's cheeks apart and two fingers dive towards her core.

The sound that escapes Seulgi's lips is half squeal, half moan. Joy's fingers penetrate her lower lips. Her thumb automatically rests on her asshole due to their position. Only a little bit of pressure makes Seulgi suck harder on Joy's nipples.

The two of them lose track of time as they pleasure each other. After a while, they find themselves in Joy's bed with Joy on the bottom and Seulgi on top, eating each other out.

The younger girl has really gotten a good taste of Seulgi's pussy by now. She can't tell if it's just the spell, but she really seems to enjoy it. If she could, she would feast on Seulgi's pussy the entire night, making her a squealing mess. But Seulgi's tongue works her own pussy too, making Joy almost fall apart every three seconds. Both their bodies are way more sensitive than they usually are. Side effects of the spell.

"Unnie..."

Joy moans, when she feels Seulgi slip two fingers inside her cunt. The older woman's tongue flicks against her clit and the woman on the bottom starts to loose it. Her thighs tremble as Seulgi does her best to push Joy towards her third orgasm of the night. The younger girl is unable to return the favour, moaning out loud and shaking underneath her friend.

"Please, mommy....."

If she wasn't about to climax, Joy would've felt immense shame in that moment. What did she just call Seulgi?

But she can't think about that now. Seulgi adds a third finger, properly stretching out Joy's pussy. Her tongue keeps flicking against her clit, making Joy's hips rise off the bed.

"Mommy!"

Joy crashes down. The shame and pleasure mix together as her orgasm rolls through her. Her body is a mess. Hair glistening with sweat and their combined juices. Her pussy is leaking and her whole body is glazed with a thin layer of sweat.

"I'm sorry, unnie. I-"

Seulgi gets off of her and turns around. She kisses Joy's lips to shut her up.

"Say it again."

"What?"

Joy is confused. It was an embarrassing slip up and she thought Seulgi would be mad or disgusted. But as she watches her climbing on top of Joy, the opposite seems to be the case.

"Tell me what a good girl you are."

The younger woman is shocked by Seulgi's sudden dominant attitude. But she starts to moan when Seulgi begins to ride her. Their two pussies meet whenever Seulgi sinks down. One hand is placed flat on Joy's midriff, while the other applies pressure to both of their clits.

"I don't-"

Joy's reply is cut short by Seulgi pinching Joy's clit. A spike of pain and pleasure rushes through her system.

"Mommy....."

Joy hisses as Seulgi continues to ride her.

"I-I've been a good girl for mommy. Right?"

Seulgi's head rolls back, her mouth open as a moan escapes her lips. Joy instinctively holds onto Seulgi's waist. So this how it feels like when someone rides you? It's the first time Joy experiences this, but she can understand why her boyfriend likes it, whenever she does it. But her thoughts quickly focus back on Seulgi as she quickens her pace.

Although, it's actually more grinding than riding. The friction of their pussies rubbing together makes the two women moan in union. Joy's hands wander towards Seulgi's ass and she squeezes her cheeks, appreciating how firm they are.

"Yes, grope my ass. Bad girl."

Seulgi moans and she reaches for Joy's tits in return. The two of them grind against each other, while their hands play with the other's body. Joy's eyes are glued to Seulgi's abs, which look so damn amazing when they are slightly glistening with sweat.

The younger girl sits up, needing to have a taste. Seulgi lets out an appreciative sigh, when she feels Joy's tongue on her midriff. She feels the saltiness of Seulgi's sweat on her tongue as Joy traces along the lines of the older girl's abs.

"Now you're being a good girl."

Seulgi strokes her hair. She keeps riding Joy, constantly increasing the pleasure they both feel. Soon, their bodies become one. Neither of them can tell where her body ends and the other one's begins.

"Mommy...."

Joy moans again as she feels the pressure and friction at her core becoming too much to handle.

"Yes, baby. Me too...."

The two of them lock eyes. Their dark orbs are glistening with lust. Seulgi tilts her head and captures Joy's lips one last time.

As their bodies shake in union, both girls moan into each other's mouths. Joy can barely feel the pain of Seulgi biting her lip. They fall onto the bed, their bodies working through their orgasms individually.

Shame and embarrassment run through her veins as Joy just lies in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Seulgi is lying next to her. The two of them are still catching their breaths, but they're back to their old selves.

"I'm sorry."

Joy's voice sounds broken.

"This is all my fault."

Seulgi would've shook her head, if she wasn't too tired.

"Why would this be your fault? I started it. I should take responsibility."

"You don't understand."

Joy hesitates. Is she really going to reveal her secret?

"I.... There-There is this book. I-I used it on you."

"What book?"

"A book full with spells. About.... About sex."

She closes her eyes, afraid Seulgi will laugh at her. But the older woman stays silent for a while.

"Magic doesn't exist, Joy."

The younger girl can hear the worry in her voice.

"It does. Why do you think all of this just happened? I-I used a spell."

"A spell? So that I become...."

Seulgi feels her cheeks heating up.

"So that I become turned on?"

"Kinda."

Joy doesn't want explain it further.

"And-And this book. Is it dangerous?"

"I don't think so. As long as you're able to control yourself, it's actually pretty good."

Joy hears how Seulgi turns her head to look at her. She tears her eyes off the ceiling and looks into her friend's eyes.

"Can-Can I see it?"

After taking a proper shower, without another incident, the two women sit side by side on Joy's bed, flipping through the book.

"And you tried all of them?"

Joy shakes her head no.

"A couple."

Joy turns the next page.

"The rapture of flowing rivers"

"I tried that one."

"What happened?"

Seulgi looks at her with genuine curiosity. Joy hesitates, although the two of them just made each other cum and have talked about sex since then.

"You... You squirt a lot."

"Really? I think I've never done that before. What does it feel like?"

"Well,..."

Joy remembers the day she tried out that spell.

"It feels like you need to pee while you climax. It makes your orgasm feel way better. Instead of holding it in, you just have to let it go. Or in this case"

She nods towards the spell.

"You don't have a choice."

"How much did you squirt?"

"I'm not sure. But you probably could've filled a whole bottle after one time."

"Wow."

Seulgi's eyes are wide open in awe as she keeps looking through the book. Eventually she reaches the last spell.

"Spell of summoning: The Incubus rite"

"Have you tried this one?"

"No I haven't. I can't do it alone."

"Why not?"

"Like I showed you earlier, some spells require specific objects or actions. Part of this one is having three different attributes, if you can call them that. You need to have a romantic partner, you need to have had sex within the last couple of days and at the same time you shouldn't have had a lot of sex yet. I feel like the instructions are trying to tell the caster that three people need to perform this spell."

"And what is it good for? Isn't the Incubus something like a Succubus?"

"Yes. The male version. It says this Incubus will fulfill your every desire, once you summon him. The instructions say he has no limits."

"That sounds amazing. Do you have anything that you'd wish for? I'd think most of the other spells got you covered already."

"You think he is like a... Sex genie?"

"If it says, he has no limits, yeah? What else would he do?"

"It doesn't say anything about wishes here."

"Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Joy thinks about Seulgi's question.

"I don't know.... I guess... I guess me and my boyfriend could maybe..... I don't know... Improve something."

Joy feels awkward as she is admitting that her sex life isn't going as well as she'd like.

"I get it. Guys can be disappointing sometimes."

The two of them chuckle.

"What about you?"

Seulgi shrugs her shoulders.

"I've always wanted.... I don't know... A bigger chest? I love to touch them when I'm alone. But guys don't seem to be very interested."

"What are you talking about? You have... A nice chest."

"Well,"

Seulgi blushes a little more.

"I just wish it would be a little bigger. But I definitely don't want a doctor to do something, you know? That feels unnatural."

"And this doesn't?"

Joy raises an eyebrow and points at the book.

The two women laugh at the situation. Neither of them would've ever imagined having this conversation with each other.

"Stop playing with me."

Yeri rolls her eyes at Joy.

"A sex book? Please."

The youngest looks around the practice room.

"Is that some sort of prank? Where is the camera?"

"This isn't a prank, Yeri. Do you think I'd say something like that in front of a camera?"

Yeri sighs. She knows Joy wouldn't. But it still sounds like a joke to her.

"Who would even come up with that? Are you telling me wizards and witches are real?"

"I don't know. I just know it works."

Yeri hesitates. She can tell by looking at Joy's eyes that she does seem genuine. But she just can't understand the words that are coming out of her mouth.

"And the two of you really...."

She looks at Seulgi, who immediately blushes.

"Yes, we did."

Joy takes Yeri's hand.

"At least try it. What's the worst thing that could happen?"

"I still don't believe you. You want me to be there so you can summon some sex demon? Do you even hear yourself?"

"I-"

"Hi guys!"

Wendy greets the three girls as she steps into the practice room, Irene close behind. The girls all look at her with wide open eyes as if she just caught them doing something weird.

"We should get started. Our schedules are all full."

Irene takes the lead and the five of them soon start practice.

Joy feels a burning need inside of her as she continues to dance. She wasn't sure about telling Yeri all of this. But she knows the younger girl doesn't have a lot of experience yet. And now that she did it, her urge to finally do this last spell keeps on eating at her. Her whole body is asking for it. If this could really enhance her sex life with her boyfriend...

Seulgi keeps glancing at Yeri from time to time. Even for her it still feels odd to believe that all of this is true. But it makes sense. What happened that night at Joy's was not within her control. She could feel how something else influenced her actions. How her body was suddenly burning with lust for her friend. How good it felt when they made each other cum...

Yeri feels how the two older women look at her from time to time. She still doesn't believe them. But she can't help but daydream. A book with spells about sex? So far her sexual experiences have been rather disappointing. Not like there were a lot of them anyway. Maybe the book could help her out? Yeri almost has to laugh. Yeah sure. It's gonna make her a guy who knows what to do with her body. Who knows how to make her feel good. Who can be gentle. But also rough if she needs it....

After practice, Yeri has almost forgotten about Joy's and Seulgi's ridiculous idea. The two of them didn't talk about it again. After she got home, Yeri took a shower and put some new clothes on. She was just about to throw her outfit from practice earlier into the washing machine, when a note falls out of her pocket.

Yeri picks it up and reads what is written on it.

"You just need to read it out loud. Have fun."

The text underneath looks like a poem. The ending part seems to be written in Latin.

"Oh please. Very funny Joy."

She noticed it's the older girl's handwriting.

Yeri throws the note into the garbage and gets comfortable on the couch. She ordered something to eat earlier and is now preparing herself for a nice and relaxed night. Herself, food and Netflix. What else would she need to make this day any better?

She already put on something comfortable. Pink, fluffy jeans and a matching short crop top.

Just when she finished putting a blanket on the couch and rearranged the cushions, the doorbell rings.

Yeri's stomach is already calling out for the food as she walks towards the door.

"Thank you. How much is it?"

She smiles at the girl who hands her the tteokbokki.

She pays with her phone and closes the door behind her. After getting a pair of chopsticks and a chocolate bar out of the kitchen, Yeri gets comfortable on the couch. She turns on her TV. She's about to to open the container where the tteokbokki is in, when she sees a note on top of it. The note!

"What the fuck?"

Yeri quickly jumps to her feet and runs over to check the garbage. It's not in there. How the hell did the note move by itself? That's impossible.

She shakes her head and throws it back into the trash. Maybe she didn't throw it away earlier. But now she definitely did.

When Yeri sits back down on the couch, her eyes widen in horror. There is the note. On top of the container.

"What?"

Yeri doesn't know what to do. Is she drunk or drugged or something? Slowly realization hits her. Or is this magic? Did Joy really speak the truth? Is this possible?

With shaking fingers, Yeri picks up the note again. Maybe she should use the spell? If it's real, it might make her night even better. But what if- Joy said it isn't harmful.

Yeri hesitates for a little while, but eventually decides to go for it. Nothing is going to happen anyways.

"Here I go. The enchantment of lingering bliss. Very creative."

Yeri clears her throat and then starts to read.

"By the silken thread of desire’s dance,

I call forth pleasure with each glance.

Let every touch ignite a fire,

But leave the heart in sweet desire."

She pauses for second. Not exactly sure why. Yeri tries to feel something. But it seems like everything is the same.

"Per tactum lenem et ardorem quietum;

Gaudium augeatur, sed solutio vetetur."

Still nothing. At least that's what she thinks. The spell is already affecting her. A specific part of her body has just been disconnected from another one, until the spell wears off. Something deep inside of her.

"With breath held tight and senses keen,

Let longing rise, pure and unseen.

May bliss increase with every trace,

Yet never reach its final place."

Yeri holds her breath. But she still doesn't catch anything odd.

"I knew it."

She mumbles and throws the note onto the coffee table. As she takes the lid off the container, her fingertips suddenly tingle.

"What-"

Before she can even react, Yeri has already unbuttoned her jeans. One hand is diving inside, while the other slips underneath her top. Just moments later, she is already rubbing her clit and pinching her nipples at the same time.

"Oh, gosh."

Yeri's head rolls back. Pleasure overwhelming her, while she is still trying to figure out what happens.

"Oh, please. Just once."

Yeri almost starts crying as she looks at herself through the mirror. She is basically kneeling on the floor in her bedroom, right in front of her mirror. The dildo she owns is deep inside of her as she keeps impaling herself on it. She decided to keep her top on, while her jeans are gone. For some reason it makes her look much hotter. How her tits look so much better than usual. And how it shows off her tight midriff.

"I'm begging you..."

Yeri isn't talking to anyone in particular. Maybe her own body.

"Just this once."

A lonely tear rolls down her cheek.

For the past six hours, Yeri has been trapped at the very edge of the most intense orgasm of her life. Whatever she does, she can't take the next step and finally fall into the sea of pleasure she is longing for so much. Nothing seems to help. She tried so much already. Even put on some porn, while she was masturbating, but even that didn't help. Watching herself riding a cock was her last, desperate attempt for release.

Yeri can feel how she is almost there. How her sensitive walls grip onto the plastic inside of her. How her clit seems to burn as she keeps rubbing it furiously. She leans back, her other hand supporting her, and tries to make her tits look even bigger. Maybe when she looks like a real slutty whore, she might be able to cum. She is ready to degrade herself even further, if she needs to. Whatever it is, she'd do it now.

"What have you done to me, unnie?"

Another tear rolls down her cheek and she watches herself on and on as she keeps riding the dildo.

"I thought you'd never come."

Joy greets Yeri as she enters the room.

The newcomer glares at her.

"Last night was the worst night of my life. "

"Oh, don't exaggerate. But you now admit that magic exists, right? Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Yes, just get it over with. I-I need it."

Her urgent glare tells Joy Yeri still can't orgasm. But it seems like her arousal and lust have died down.

"Okay, we're almost done with preparations."

Yeri looks around the room. The moonlight illuminates the walls, decorated with paintings of flowers and sceneries. Everything looks old. The reason for that is, that three of them are inside an old palace. Joy told her that the spell has to be executed at a specific place. But she didn't say, why she chose this palace. Or how she got a key.

Yeri sees Seulgi building a circle of flowers in the middle of the room. The book is lying at the center of it. Opened. She can see the part where it says all the participants need to be wearing similar, simple clothes. That's why the three of them are wearing their dress from their Chill Kill photoshoot.

"What do we need to do now?"

"Take this."

Joy hands her two red pieces of silk.

"The two of you need to put one of that into your hair. Like a bow. And the other needs to tie your wrists together."

"Why? And what about you?"

"I don't know why. The book says so. But I think it's to show the Incubus that we are not just asking him for something, but that we're also his servants. Kinda like give and take you know? We acknowledge that he is more powerful than us."

"Okay...."

Yeri is still not completely convinced. But the still burning desire to cum is getting stronger again.

"And I have to wear that red bow to, stand in the middle of the circle and cast the spell."

"Alright then. Unnie..."

Yeri calls for Seulgi and does as Joy told her. Seulgi stands outside the circle now, visibly nervous as Joy does the same to Yeri.

With a red bow in her hair as well, Joy steps into the circle of flowers and picks up the book.

"Alright."

She takes a deep breath.

"Here we go."

Both Yeri and Seulgi close their eyes. Not because they need to, but because their nervousness increases with every second.

"By the flames of desire and the shadows that entwine,

I invoke the ancient powers that dwell beyond time.

From the depths of the Abyss and the halls of dark pleasure,

I call upon the spirit of lust, the guardian of hidden treasure.

He who walks in dreams, he who feeds on longing -

I summon thee, Incubus, to this mortal plane!"

Joy's voice is the only sound in the room. Yeri digs a nail into the palm of her hand as she feels the temperature rising a little.

_"Venite, daemon libidinis, ex umbris aeternis;

Per sanguinem et carnem, te constringo, Sathariel.

Per ardorem infernum et lunam crescentem,

Maneas in vinculis mei voti, daemon carnis."

Seulgi raises her head. Now she is hearing more than just Joy's voice. It sounds like distant screams. Very far away. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. What if Joy is literally summoning the devil right now? What if they all go to hell?

"By the blood of passion and the crescent moon's glow,

I bind thee to this circle, spirit from below.

Manifest thy form, and heed my call;

Cross the veil between worlds and let desire enthrall.

I summon thee now, Sathariel, demon of ecstasy and night,

Appear before me and fulfill the pact under this moonlight."

A strong wind sweeps through the open windows and cools down the room again. Everything is silent again. No one is speaking a word. Yeri and Seulgi both hold their breaths.

And Joy?

"In the name of the dark Lord."

You curse and growl as you feel yourself being trapped. A moment ago, you were still at home, sitting on your throne, overlooking your own personal part of hell. Dedicated to people who committed sexual crimes in their lives.

As you now open your eyes, you look down on yourself. You're trapped in human form. How long has it been since the last time? The concept of time is different in hell than on earth.

You examine your hands. Then you reach for your chest. You grope it twice. You've seen bigger, but they feel nice and firm.

Joy feels like someone has taken over her body. It's not the same as with the spells. Before, it always felt like the magic just influenced her actions and she at least had free will to some degree. But now, someone else has taken over her body. Someone dark. She can't do anything. Only see what he sees. Only feel what he feels.

You take in your surroundings. Your eyes, or rather your host's eyes, fall on the two women, who stand with their backs towards you. Just like the ritual says, they both wear red bows and have their wrists loosely tied together.

With a snap of your fingers, the red silk tightens. The women gasp in surprise. You step closer and take a deep breath. They both smell amazing.

"J-Joy?"

Is that your host's name?

"What is your name, woman?"

Yeri shakes as she hears Joy's voice. It is definitely hers. But it sounds a little deeper. More evil.

"S-Seulgi."

Seulgi doesn't dare open her eyes.

"Seulgi."

For some reason the older girl relaxes a little as her name rolls off Joy's tongue.

"Korea it is."

You lean over the other girl.

"And you?"

Yeri jumps as she feels you whispering into her ear.

"Yeri."

Her breathless whisper makes you take a step back.

"Don't be afraid, girls. I don't bite. If you don't want me to."

Seulgi and Yeri exchange a worried glance.

"The two of you need to relax more. It'll be easier for all of us."

"W-Why?"

You chuckle as you place a hand on Seulgi's shoulder.

"Because you summoned me. And while I wander this earth..."

You place a kiss on top of Seulgi's head.

"you belong to me."

"E-Excuse you?"

Yeri finally turns around. She looks at Joy's body. It is hard for her to picture you inside of her.

"Didn't you read the whole book? Once you summon me, there's only one way to make me go back."

"A-And that is?"

"I must feel satisfied."

"You mean as in..."

"Yes, Yeri."

You reach out and place a finger under her chin.

"You must serve me, until you've probably satisfied me. Then, I'll leave."

"And if we don't?"

Yeri watches how an evil grin plays around your lips.

"Let me show you."

You grab her shoulders and turn her around again. Taking both girl's necks into each of your hands, you push them onto their knees. They both gasp in surprise and struggle against your grip. But they don't stand a chance. Pushing forward, you bend them over. After you've flipped up their skirts, you place a hand on each of their butts.

"The two of you definitely have potential. And I bet the third one does as well."

Joy feels ashamed as she can feel herself caressing her member's butts. This is not at all what she had in mind. Why is this person in control of her body?

"I haven't tasted a woman in centuries. I'm almost dying of thirst."

You pull both their panties to the side. Choosing Yeri as the lucky winner, you lean down and place a kiss on one of her cheeks. You spread them apart with one of Joy's hands, exposing the younger girl's holes. At the same time, you place your fingers on Seulgi's folds.

The two girls moan at the exact same moment. Yeri feels your tongue glide along her lips, while Seulgi feels how you push two fingers inside of her.

"Delicious."

You lick your lips and then dive in properly.

The two girls try to resist at first, but it's in vain. They try to fight their rising desires to feel pleasure. Their bodies can naturally tell that you are the gateway to eternal satisfaction. Their minds are still trying to think properly. But you know, they won't last long.

After a long night of edging herself without being able to cum, Yeri is the first who begins to crack. Her abs give up and her face is now on the floor. You keep eating her out, basically devouring that sweet cunt. Your fingers are flicking against her clit in a steady rhythm.

At the same time, Seulgi feels your fingers move in and out of her pussy. When you curl them upwards, she starts to lose it as well.

"Yes. That's good."

She moans. Not as loud as Yeri, but loud enough for you to smirk.

Although the two girls seemed clueless and unwilling at the beginning, they now seem to fully embrace the roles of being your new playthings.

Soon, you have them right where you want them.

"Ask me for it."

"W-What?"

Seulgi is barely able to hold it together.

"Ask for my permission."

"P-Please make me cum."

Yeri is the first to beg.

"I haven't cum in so long. Please."

You stop eating her out and push two fingers inside of her as well.

"Oh, gosh!"

You finger the two of them at the same time, watching how their bodies react. Yeri's tight pussy clenches down on your fingers and Seulgi's legs start to shake.

"Good girls. The more you cum, the stronger I get."

Yeri breaks first. It's probably the hardest she's ever had. After a whole night and a whole day of denial, her body releases all of that built up pleasure. She whines and moans, almost drooling on the floor as her orgasm overwhelms her.

Seulgi is no different. She climaxes a second later.

Both your hands are coated in their juices as you feel a familiar fire burn inside of you. It's still weak, but you know it's only gonna grow stronger.

"You're doing great, girls."

You give both of them appreciative spanks. As you do so, you can feel how Joy's body reacts. You feel what she feels. Her pussy is wet by now. But you still have another surprise in store for her.

"Let's see how long it takes, until you loose the ability to think."

You insert your fingers into their waiting pussies once more. Curling them upwards, you hit their g-spots every single time. The two of them moan and whine in union. You place your thumbs on each of their clits and start to rub them.

"Oh god, yes!"

Yeri almost squeals as you send even more pleasure through her system. You feel how Seulgi starts to move back against your hand, whenever you push your fingers forward.

It doesn't take them as long to cum as the first time. But now, they both climax at the exact same moment. You caught Seulgi's rushed ask for permission, but Yeri's mouth only let out wordless moans.

"You should've asked for permission."

You give Yeri's ass a slap.

"S-Sorry."

"Master."

A harder slap.

"S-Sorry, master."

"You are the bratty one of you three, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, master."

"Better teach you a lesson, before it turns into a bad habit."

You raise your hand for another slap, but the fire inside your rises higher than you expected. Joy's body starts to change as your powers grow.

"Perfect timing."

You snap your fingers and a chair, which was standing in the corner, moves towards you. Sitting down on it, you reach for Yeri and Seulgi. You place Seulgi on your right, head resting on your thigh. And you put Yeri over your left thigh.

As you do all of that, Joy feels how her body changes as well. Something is going on underneath her dress. Her panties suddenly feel smaller. And she isn't really wet anymore. Rather.... Hard.

Realization hits Joy like a truck. She can see how a bulge forms underneath her dress. She has a dick!

You can feel Joy's surprise and horror. It makes you chuckle.

"Come on, Seulgi. Be a good girl and get to work."

You pull Joy's dress up. Seulgi's eyes grow wide as she sees your cock underneath Joy's panties. She needs to use her teeth to pull the panties down. Her hands are still tied behind her back. Carefully, she gives it a kiss. Then another one. And finally, Seulgi opens her mouth and takes the tip inside.

Joy groans inside of you. This the first time she ever felt this kind of pleasure. And it doesn't feel bad at all. Her brain becomes even more messed up as Seulgi continues her blowjob.

But you focus on Yeri now. One spank follows the other. You hit both her cheeks equally often. Each slap makes Yeri gasp and whine. While you enjoy Seulgi's lips around your cock, you don't stop hitting Yeri. Soon, her cheeks start to turn red.

"P-Please, master. I'll be good from now on."

"I don't think you'll be able to do that, honey."

"No, please."

You keep spanking the poor girl as Seulgi keeps sucking you off. She manages to take almost all of you into her mouth, but that means your tip grazes the back of her mouth from time to time, making her gag when that happens.

"You better hurry up, Seulgi. Otherwise, Yeri won't be able to sit tomorrow."

You feel the older girl speeding up.

"Master, I'll be a good girl. I promise."

Another spank shuts her up.

At the same time, Joy feels an unfamiliar pull around her core. Is this how it feels when a guy cums? It's different from her usual orgasms.

You push Seulgi's head down a little further, making her take every single inch, until her lips kiss your base.

The incoming orgasm makes you move your hand from Yeri's ass to her pussy. Once more, you start to finger her. Her cheeks glow red and her pussy already contracts around your fingers.

"P-Please, c-can I cum?"

Seems like she learned her lesson. For now.

"Please, master. I took your spanking so well, didn't I?"

"Cum."

You growl and Yeri shakes and whines on top of your thigh.

At the same time, Seulgi finally manages to make you cum. Or rather manages to make Joy cum. Sperm fills her mouth, threatening to spill out as it doesn't seem to stop. Seulgi hesitates for a second, but then starts to gulp it down.

"Finally."

You groan, feeling how the last of your powers has been restored. You get pushed out of Joy's body. Your host almost falls off the chair as she feels you leave, her orgasm still overwhelming her.

Looking down on yourself, you're curious what the three of them have cooked up. Your human form must be the combination of their ideal men combined. You notice your hard abs and your biceps. When you look at the three of them, you realize they're all staring at your crotch.

You almost laugh, amused by their wide eyes.

Joy, Seulgi and Yeri all have the same thought.

"No way in hell is that gonna fit."

Your cock is the biggest the three of them have ever seen. Joy can't help but compare you with her boyfriend. Just by looking it seems like you're at least three times longer than him. And around two times thicker as well.

As you step closer, you snap your fingers once more. The same red silk that is still wrapped around Seulgi's and Yeri's wrists now winds itself around Joy's hands as well.

Once you reach them, they all examine your cock closer. Seulgi carefully places her own arm next to it for reference. Her eyes seem to fall out of her head when she realizes you're almost as long as her whole arm.

"This is gonna be a long night for you, huh?"

You chuckle as you reach for the bow on Joy's head. She's sitting right in front of you so you move her head towards the tip. She keeps her eyes on it, but almost as if she is in a trance, she parts her lips and you glide into her wet mouth.

When Joy starts to suck you off, her tongue swirling around your tip from time to time, you reach out for the other girls. You pull them in as well, each on one side. The three of them use their mouths to pleasure you, while you just enjoy the show.

Joy keeps on trying to take more and more. You see how her lips stretch over your cock. Your tip hits the back of her mouth and forces her to gag. Yeri and Seulgi both kiss and lick along your length on both sides. Seulgi's eyes are closed and she seems to get really into it. Her kisses become sloppier. Yeri on the other hand still can't seem to wrap her head around how big you are. While she keeps doing her job, you feel her trying to wrap her hands around your cock. It takes both of them to go around just once. You see her gulp, knowing what is eventually going to happen.

"Don't worry."

You play with Yeri's hair.

"I'll take it slow at first."

She looks so pretty when she looks up at you, her lips glued to your cock. You can see the uncertainty in her eyes. But by caressing her cheek, you make a small wave of lust rush through her body. A second later, Yeri starts to get into it just as much as Joy. She now uses her hands to stroke your base, while her lips glide along your shaft.

"Good girl."

Your praise increases Yeri's lust even further. She can feel how much she is slowly getting turned on by pleasuring you. Until now, she was almost afraid you'd fuck her with such a big cock. Now, she can barely wait for it. She wants to at least try it.

"Naughty slut."

Your words are directed at Joy, who is slowly reaching her limit. She is trying to force your cock down her throat, but your tip is almost to big to fit.

"You have to do it slowly. Ease into it."

The longer Joy has your cock in her mouth, the wetter she becomes. Unlike Yeri and Seulgi, her lust has taken over her body for a while now. She is influenced by the book the most. As you slowly guide her head back and forth, you realize that by the end of the night, Joy might loose her free will. If she keeps this up, her urges will take over and she'll become a mindless sex toy for you.

You smile at the thought. It has been a while since your last toy.

You have finally warmed up Joy's throat enough. You push further and now she can take your tip down her throat. Not without gagging, of course. Spit falls onto the floor as she tries to take more than she can handle. You keep pulling her towards you, making Joy impale her throat on your cock.

When you now focus on Seulgi, you are surprised how well she is doing. She looked too shy at first, but it seems the book has already influenced her enough as well. Looking into her soul, you can tell what her fantasies are.

"We will need to prepare you, if you really want to take it."

"Please, master. Whatever you want."

Seems like she learns faster than Yeri. While the two other girls keep servicing your cock, you pick up Seulgi as if she weighs nothing and bend her over the chair. You hike up her skirt and snap your fingers.

A small metal object lies in your hand. You reach down and place it right on Seulgi's asshole.

"Wait! Is that-"

"Yes. Don't worry. It won't hurt."

You play with her cheeks, while you push the butt plug inside. It's not really big, but that will change soon. Seulgi feels how you push it into her tightest hole, making her moan. She always dreamed of doing this, but never tried. Now she regrets it. It feels amazing.

Once the butt plug is inside of her, you reach down and push your fingers into her pussy once more. Seulgi's moans begin to fill the room once more. While Joy and Yeri keep sucking you off, you fuck Seulgi with your fingers. You glance at the two other girls, when you notice a change. Yeri seems to have become greedy. She is now the one who is trying to fit your cock in her mouth, while Joy takes care of the rest of your cock. Which is not an easy task, but you feel her plump lips doing a good job.

"Damn."

Your head rolls back as you enjoy the two girls taking care of your cock. The last time you were summoned, you only had two girls to fuck. But these three looks so gorgeous, you wouldn't mind staying on earth a little longer. You can feel how your desire to finally fuck all of them keeps on growing. You've been playing nice so far. But soon enough, you won't be able to control yourself anymore.

"C-Can I cum, master? Please?"

Seulgi's shiness has now completely vanished as she shamelessly asks you for permission to cum.

"Do it. Be a good little slut."

Seulgi moans and whines as her body shakes and her pussy clenches onto your fingers. It seems like she has grown accustomed to have something inside her ass. You tap on the butt plug and start the progress. From now on, it's going to steadily grow a little bigger inside of Seulgi, until you pull it out. You're curious to what her limit is.

"Get all in a line."

You pick Seulgi off the chair and place her next to Joy, while Yeri kneels on Joy's right side.

Seeing the three of them lined up like that, you can't help but finally go for it. You lift Joy's dress, giving her butt a smack. The cock she got while you were inside of her disappeared as soon as you left. So now, you can enjoy her pussy to the fullest. You place you tip at her dripping wet entrance.

"Take deep breaths. Otherwise it won't fit."

Joy nods hesitantly.

You push inside. Slowly. Joy lets out a drawn out moan, which doesn't seem to end, until you stop moving. You doubt her pussy will be able to take much more than half your cock. But when you do push further inside, Joy feels how you hit her curvix.

Pleasure rushes through her system as you begin to fuck her properly. Every thrust feels so powerful and deep, Joy gets scared for her life, whenever you prepare to thrust inside of her again. Soon, her moans make it impossible for her to close her mouth. She starts to drool onto the floor. The two girls to her sides watch in awe and horror. Yeri can't wait for her turn. Her brain has basically switched off by now. Her gaze is focused on Joy's lips, which seem to be stretched out beyond repair. They tightly grip onto your cock, coating it in her juices.

Meanwhile, Seulgi can feel how the butt plug inside of her steadily grows. It doesn't hurt and is only slightly uncomfortable. But the new sensation feels way better than she thought it would. Then again, the plug is no way near your size. Are you really going to put that in her ass?

Seulgi feels a knot inside her stomach, just thinking about that. You'll probably break her ass. Just like what you're doing with Joy's cunt right now.

"Fuck! Master, please!"

Joy's mind has long given up. She has learned quickly and has turned into your personal pet. She is already addicted to the feeling of your huge cock inside of her. Whatever happens, she can't let you pull out.

"Let me cum, please. I'm a good whore for you, right?"

You spank her again.

"Your not even a whore. It would emply that you're good for something. But the only thing that's useful is your pussy."

"You're right, master. I'm sorry."

Joy's breathing becomes heavier as she tries to fight back her orgasm. She doesn't dare to cum without permission.

"So, what are you again?"

You hear her whimper.

"I'm my masters pet. His cocksleeve."

"That's right."

You thrust into her a little deeper, which makes her go cross-eyed. Her right cheek is pressed to the floor in a puddle of her saliva.

"Do you want to cum? All over my cock?"

"Yes. I need to do that. All over your cock inside of me."

Seulgi and Yeri barely register what is going on. The two of them are almost as far gone as Joy. They look at her pussy with envy as you keep stretching her out with every thrust. You aren't even going that fast or hard. But the pure size of your cock almost makes them cum too.

"I'll only let you cum under one condition. And afterwards, you won't ever need to ask for permission again."

"Yes, master. Please tell me. What do I need to do? I'd do anything."

"Good."

You lick your lips. That evil smile doesn't leave your face.

"Read the last page of the book."

"W-What?"

Joy's mind is barely able to comprehend what you said. After another snap of your fingers, the book lies in front of her, the last page opened. Her fuzzy brain ignores all the warnings on the upper half of the page. When she finally finds the right text, she starts reading it out loud, without knowing what it is.

"By the shadows that bind and the fire that consumes,

I surrender myself unto thee, spirit of endless night.

My mind, my body, my pleasure—each are thine to command.

From this moment to all eternity, I am bound to thy will.

In darkness, I am yours; in light, I remain thine.

Let no force sever this vow, for I am forever yours."

Her vow gets interrupted by her own moans several times, but eventually, Joy finishes it.

You keep fucking her, letting her hang on the edge a little longer. Then you lean down as you feel a new found fire inside of you. There is no going back anymore.

"You're mine now."

You whisper into Joy's ear. And she can't hold it in any longer. She violently orgasms around your cock. Her pussy clenches onto your length with unbelievable force. More drool leaks out of her mouth and weak moans as well.

"That's it. The last part of your journey."

Your ability to cum isn't the same as the human one. You do cum, when you feel enough pleasure, but you can also orgasm on purpose. It doesn't feel as good, a little forced even, but it's part of the ritual.

And so you unload deep inside Joy's twitching body. You paint her pussy, shoot your load into her womb. You're claiming her body, after she has given herself to you. Your newly gained sex slave tries to catch her breath as she feels your warm cum literally flood all of her insides. Her whole body seems to heat up.

"Oh, god!"

Her eyes roll to the back of her head as you start to pull out of her messy pussy. She is so tight that it takes you a good half minute, until your whole cock is free again. You examine your work. Joy's gaped pussy is wide open, an unholy amount of cum leaking out of it.

You can't enjoy the view for too long though. The little brat on Joy's right has already turned around to suck her juices and your cum off your cock. Groaning, you look down on her.

"What a slut you are."

You reach over to spank her ass again. Yeri mewls, but keeps your cock inside her mouth. Her body jerks with every slap. Her cheeks turn red once more. When she finally does stop she looks up at you.

"Please, master. I just need it so bad. I'll be your pet too. Please?"

You shake your head.

"You need to learn some patience. Lie on your back. You take your punishment until I'm done with Seulgi."

Yeri nods, excited, because it seems easy. She lies down and moves her head. She watches you kneel behind Seulgi. The oldest is, just like Joy, bent over, ass up, face on the floor.

The butt plug wasn't a problem at first. But it has now become so big, that Seulgi is slowly losing her mind a little bit. Weak moans escape her lips. And she can't do anything, when she feels you tugging at the end of the metal object. It just makes her roll her eyes as more pleasure rushes through her system.

As you start to pull, the plug becomes smaller again. Once it's out, you look at Seulgi's open hole. Maybe now she'll be able to take at least some of your cock. You align yourself with her puckered ring and slowly push your tip in.

"Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!"

Seulgi cries out. She's never been this stretched out. Not even in her pussy and definitely not her ass. She can't believe she is actually able to take you inside.

"Damned be the prince of darkness."

You curse under your breath. You expected Seulgi to be tight. But even after preparing her, this feels almost lethal. You're actually tempted to cum again already. Just to lube up her ass a little more. The plug produced a lubricant on its own. But it might not be enough now.

You feel how you hit Seulgi's limit deep inside of her. It makes her let out a weak yelp. Because she feels so unbelievably good, you almost forgot Yeri. You look at her now. Because her hands are still tied together, she can only rub her thighs against each other. But just making her watch won't be enough to break her. You snap your fingers.

When Yeri looks up, her eyes widen in fear. Three big red candles float above her body, right underneath the ceiling. They're all lit and soon, Yeri sees the first drop fall. She braces herself for the burning impact, biting her lips and closing her eyes.

"Ahh!"

The first drop hits her midriff. The hot wax burning her skin. Another drop. This one falls on her left cheek. Yeri moans in pain. She thought this would turn out to be horrible. But by the time the third drop lands on her thigh, dangerously close to her pussy, she realizes how good it actually feels. And then she notices that she is completely naked. When did that happen?

You turn your attention back to Seulgi, who is still breathing heavily, trying to get accustomed to your cock as deep inside her ass as possible.

She starts groaning and whining when you begin to move.

"Slowly, please."

She sighs, but you don't listen to her.

"Don't you want to be a good girl? Like Joy?"

Seulgi tries to nod.

"Yes, master. I'd do anything for you too."

"Good. You have to understand that I come first. You're here to serve me. Your pleasure is just a byproduct of that."

"You're right, master. I'm sorry. Use my ass however you like. Just pound me as hard as you want."

You can almost see how Seulgi's brain melts. You fuck her asshole a little faster, stretching her out even more. Glancing to your right, you notice how Joy hasn't moved yet. Her pussy is almost the same shape as before again. She is definitely breathing, so that's a good sign.

Yeri on the other hand, isn't as quiet. The never ending mixture of pain and pleasure makes her slowly lose her mind. Her whole body is glazed with hardening red drops of wax. It won't take long, until the pain completely fades out. Then, the only thing Yeri will be able to feel is pleasure.

"Master, you-you're going to-Oh!"

Seulgi almost orgasms in that very moment. You can tell how very close she is to cuming. You fuck her ass even faster on purpose.

"Master, please? Can you let me cum? I'm begging you..."

You let the book slide in her direction.

"You know the drill."

Without hesitation, Seulgi starts to read. If this is the only way for her to cum right now, she'll gladly walk on that path. No matter what happens afterwards.

"By the shadows that bind and the fire that consumes,

I surrender myself unto thee, spirit of endless night.

My mind, my body, my pleasure—each are thine to command.

From this moment to all eternity, I am bound to thy will.

In darkness, I am yours; in light, I remain thine.

Let no force sever this vow, for I am forever yours."

Once she said that last part, you push yourself even deeper inside of her. Seulgi lets out a cry.

"Cum."

Your order makes her thighs shake. Her pussy clenches around nothing, while her ass clamps down on your cock. That tight ring of muscles almost takes your breath away. You watch how Seulgi squirts onto the floor underneath her. Her gasps show her surprise. That was her first time.

Her brain is completely fried by now. And it only gets worse, when you cum inside of her as well. You breed Seulgi's ass, pushing your cum as deep inside of her as possible. Her tight hole tries to milk you dry.

You stay buried inside your new toy and look over to Yeri again. Her entire midriff is red by now. Some drops hit her tits as well. She isn't moaning or whining anymore. Just lying on her back, looking at you with glassy eyes. Whenever another drop falls, her body just jolts upwards for a second, but nothing else happens. Yeri has become numb. The only thing she can feel now is pleasure. You decide she's had enough punishment.

When you pull out of Seulgi, you watch how your cum leaves her asshole. It's gaping, just like Joy's pussy. You could almost fit your fist in there, if you wanted to. Just like Joy, Seulgi seems to have fallen into a deep slumber as well. Which is normal. The two of them will be back soon enough.

You now have Yeri all to yourself, without any distraction. When you walk towards her, you start to feel weird. This is odd. You thought your human form was the combination of their ideal man, like it always is. But now you start to change. Seems like Yeri has more than just guys with huge cocks in mind.

"U-Unnie?"

Yeri seems to recognize your new form.

"You're such a bad girl, Yeri."

Your voice belongs to a woman. It's cold and laced with disappointment.

"You really do like to be punished, don't you?"

"I-I'm sorry, unnie. Joy made me do it."

You almost have to chuckle as Yeri tries to throw her friend under the bus.

"Don't blame others. Just admit you're a bad girl."

You stand in front of her now. You realize that Yeri really does seem to like pain. You snap your fingers. The red silk around her wrists loosens. It flies into your hand. There, it turns black. Then hard. The end splits into two. Then four. Then eight. Small flames start to ignite on the tails of your wip.

"You know what to do."

Yeri quickly gets on her hands and knees. For some reason she suddenly is soaking wet at the sight of Irene standing in front of her, flaming wip in her hand.

She closes her eyes, bracing herself for the impact. A wosh cuts through the air and a cry follows soon after. Yeri moans as she feels her right butt cheek burn like fire. Another hit makes her other cheek burn as well.

"Please, unnie. Not so hard."

Yeri whines, but you can see how her juices are dripping off her lower lips and onto the floor. You didn't expect her to get so wet by her leader punishing her. But if that's what she desires, if that's what she needs, if that's what makes her submit to pure pleasure, so be it.

As your body is in Irene's form, you keep lashing Yeri, while marveling at how beautiful Irene must be in real life. Too bad she isn't here. She'd really improve the status of your collection. Such a gorgeous woman.

You don't stop lashing Yeri, making her arms and legs shake. Her cheeks are glowing in the darkest red, the imprints of the whip clearly visible. You lost count by now, but you might be at whip stroke number fifty. Or a hundred. You lift the whip again.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!"

You stop, looking down on Yeri.

"G-Give me the book. I'll serve you. I want to. Please, master."

You sigh.

"That's gonna be a problem. In this form, I can't have a cock. And that means, I can't cum inside or on you, claiming you as mine."

"B-But..."

You can tell how close Yeri is to tears. She is now more afraid of not being your slave than she was the first time she met you.

"I could leave this form and take on my own, real form. It might not be for you though."

"No, it's okay master. Whatever you need to do to claim me."

You tilt your head back, closing your eyes. You can basically feel how Irene's form starts to go up in flames. When you step out of the small inferno, a very small part of Yeri's brain hesitates. It's the last part that is still thinking straight. She looks you up and down. Your red skin is marked by tattoo sin a darker red, almost as dark as her own cheeks. You're taller than before and more muscular as well.

When Yeri's gaze reaches your head, she thinks it'd be a turn off. But she's wrong. For some reason, she only becomes even wetter when she sees your horns. Like the ones of a ram, they almost build a circle on either side of your head.

"Get over here."

You growl, your voice way deeper than before.

Yeri follows your order. Scooting closer, she opens her mouth, ready to suck you off. But you have slightly different plans in mind. You grab her head and start to fuck her face. Your cock repeatedly hitting the back of her mouth. Yeri soon starts to gag, drooling all over herself and the floor.

"Damn. Didn't expect your mouth to feel this good."

Yeri is barely able to give you a proud smile.

She just kneels in front of you, hands in her lap. She takes your face fucking like a good girl. She seems to have learned her lesson.

"Pick up the book."

You make it slide across the room, until Yeri feels it hit her knee. She picks it up and you regretfully leave her mouth. You are about to stroke yourself as she starts to read, but Yeri's hand is already on your cock, before you can do so. She jerks you off, while she reads from the book.

"By the shadows that bind and the fire that consumes,

I surrender myself unto thee, spirit of endless night.

My mind, my body, my pleasure—each are thine to command.

From this moment to all eternity, I am bound to thy will.

In darkness, I am yours; in light, I remain thine.

Let no force sever this vow, for I am forever yours."

"Damn."

You groan as Yeri's hand on your spit covered cock proofs too much. Even for you. Your load paints Yeri's whole face, covering it in cum. Her eyes are glued shut, her lips are covered by a heavy layer and her hair didn't get away without a couple of drops either.

You look at her as you relax. All three of them are now under your full control. In your presence, they now turn into obedient sex slaves, whenever you ask them to. They did it of their own free will. More or less.

"Oh, master. You're ruining me."

"That's the point."

Yeri keeps moaning as she looks down on herself. She is lying on her back again, while you fuck her pussy. Her belly is already bulging, after you came inside of her five times in a row. You never pulled out since the first time. Joy and Seulgi are kneeling on both of her sides. They lick and suck on her tits, while you pound her pussy.

"Master, breed me please..."

Yeri whines louder. She looks like she is a couple of months pregnant already anyway. You wonder if you could bulge her belly beyond repair, if you keep going. But you're getting impatient too.

"What a nice little cum dumpster you are."

You groan and fill Yeri with your seed for the sixth time.

When you slowly pull out, the four of you watch closely. As soon as your cock leaves her pussy entirely, all the cum inside of Yeri rushes out. Her messy, gaping, freshly fucked pussy is overflowing with cum. It doesn't seem to stop. Wave after wave leaves her body. The sticky fluid coats the floor between her legs.

You don't even have to say anything afterwards. Joy leans down and starts to lick your cum off the floor. She hums in satisfaction at the taste, her eyes blissfully closed.

"Just like that, Seulgi."

You groan as she keeps moving up and down.

When she finally confessed, you made her wish come true. It's only temporary, but now Seulgi has a bigger chest. Bigger than Joy or Yeri.

You feel her soft tits around your cock as she moves up and down your length. Her hands keep them together and she catches your tip with her mouth, whenever she is on the way down. Joy and Yeri both kneel next to her, waiting for your last orgasm. The sun is slowly coming up and the three of them have to go back to their normal lives. It'd be too suspicious if they all just stayed here until forever.

"M-Master, can you tell me how much you love my tits?"

Seulgi is still a little shy. You chuckle at her eagerness, knowing she always wanted this.

"They feel amazing, Seulgi. So soft and so big. They look perfect."

You feel her speeding up a little at your praise.

"Would you like to cum all over them?"

"Of course. How can I not, when they are so beautiful?"

Seulgi almost experiences a mini orgasm at your words, without any proper stimulation.

The sight of the oldest with her tits around your cock and the other two girls patiently waiting makes you finally reach your climax. You stand up and three girls open their mouths and stick their tongues out.

A moment later, you cum all over their faces. Like before, you cum a lot more than humans. But this time it's a lot, even for you. Their faces are soon completely covered and dripping with cum. If you'd close your eyes and they'd change places, you couldn't tell who is who.

The last two shots are dedicated to Seulgi, painting her tits in a beautiful white. Once you're finally finished, Joy leans over and puts your cock into her mouth. She starts cleaning it off. Meanwhile, the other two girls start to clean her face.

After the three girls look presentable again and are ready to leave, you open the book once more. This new century semes to be way more interesting then the last time you were here. You decide that you'll need to extend your vacation. After all, you are the personification of human pleasure. It'd be a shame if you wouldn't help out some of the humans at least a little bit.

The three girls watch, how you go up in flames and the book falls to the ground, closed. Then it opens on its own. The pages start turn themselves faster and faster. The letters on every page vanish, until the book reaches the last page. The dark ink disappears.

Joy picks up the book. They are their old selves. But slightly different. They remember everything that happened. They know you own them now. And they love it.

New words appear on the page. This time written with red ink.

"See you soon, girls."

----------------------

Hi everyone! Happy Halloween!

This might come out a little late for some people but I hope you can still enjoy it nonetheless.

Since this was originally a request from last year and this year again, I thought I should definitely write it. And I turned it into a Halloween themed fic, which was a rather spontaneous idea.

Have a great day!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nineteen

TW - I cannot stress this enough; Eddie's junk is not of this world

“You want hot chocolate?”

“Hot cho-co-late,” Eddie repeats carefully.

“I’m having one,” and since it’s Christmas, Steve gets out a small pot to make it properly on the stove top.

Steve’s stirring the slowly heating milk when he hears back back door open, and turns to see Eddie looking out, “Stee. Snowing.”

“Is it?” Steve comes out to look, “oh yeah. That’s nice right?”

“Pretty,” Eddie says, sticking his hand out and letting one of the big fat flakes settle on his fingers. Steve has a vivid memory of the last time they were in this doorway, watching the snow together, and just how different things are right now hits him all over again. Eddie sniffs the snowflake before shoving it in his mouth, “cold water.”

“You got it baby, come on, lets have hot chocolates and watch the snow.”

When Steve tells Eddie he can’t wear his hat to bed, Eddie pouts, but he does arrange it carefully on the desk, next to Steve’s flower crown. Steve has to blink back more stupid tears at the sight, and forces himself to take a deep breath and get into bed.

“Eybrows,” Eddie says, tracing them carefully with the point of his claw, “nose,” and then he veers off a little bit, “one mole. Two mole. Three mole.” Steve shivers where Eddie’s claw drags over his throat and then back up, shifting a little in bed, “mouth.”

“What are you doing baby?”

“Gro-seree list. All the things Eddidie likes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters to himself, “how the hell are you so smooth?” He can feel himself blushing a little, which is just ridiculous.

“Not like,” Eddie rubs a knuckle through Steve’s scraggly stubble. He really does need to shave that off; he’s not drowning in a pit of despair any more, there’s no real excuse for the sad facial hair.

“No?”

Eddie shakes his head, rubbing fingertips across the smooth apple of Steve’s cheek, “good,” and then into the stubble, “bad.”

“This is smooth,” Steve tells Eddie, running his fingertips along Eddie’s arm, “this is rough,” he rubs at the stubble on Eddie’s head to demonstrate.

“Rough bad.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll get rid of it in the morning, okay?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Breakfast morning lunch afternoon dinner night bed.”

Steve has to cogitate on that for a second, “yeah, yeah that’s right. Morning is after breakfast and before lunch. Afternoon is after lunch but before dinner.”

Eddie hums, settling down next to Steve in bed, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder, “before Hawkins Indiana, Eddidie in The Upside down.”

“That’s right baby, you got it.”

“After Monday Tuesday.”

“Yup, that’s right,” Steve yawns, “you have a good Christmas?”

“Many good. Christmas Tomorrow?”

Steve chuckles, “Christmas isn’t for a whole year. You remember what a year is?”

“January February March April...”

When Steve wakes up, it’s to the sight of Eddie’s feet right in the air. He’s lying on his back next to Steve, legs held straight up. He’s curling his toes. Sometimes all of them, sometimes just the big ones. His sleep pants have fallen down past his knees, and Steve lies there a while, just watching.

Eddie’s speaking, and Steve thinks it may have woken him despite Eddie’s obvious attempts to be very very quiet; he’s currently counting to ten. And then he says the days of the week, the months, the alphabet. He spells his name. He waves his feet around a little, and then bends his knobbly knees in turn, making circles like he’s riding an imaginary bicycle. He’s singing something to himself. ABBA, Steve finally makes out, it’s a bit mangled, ‘soopa troopa,’ the way Eddie sings it. Just the one line, over and over, ‘light’s are gonna’ blind me, shining like the sun,’ Eddie must have picked it up off the TV or the radio.

Steve must shift, or make a sound, and he gives himself away eventually, Eddie realizing he’s awake, “Stee. Morning. Breakfast food?”

“Morning baby.”

“Stee?”

“Yeah?”

“Eddidie baby, then Stee..?”

“Oh. You want a- hmmm.” Steve thinks, “how about sweetheart?”

Eddie looks terribly affronted, “Stee not food.”

Steve lifts his own leg out from under the covers, wriggling three toes at Eddie, “kind of am.”

Eddie actually makes a noise, so shocked a little puff of air escapes him as he splutters, “no!”

Steve can’t help his laughter, “too soon?”

“All tomorrows too soon!”

“Okay, okay. I won’t joke about it.” Steve thinks again, but most things he comes up with are kind of food adjacent. Joyce has kind of cornered the market on ‘honey.’ “How about love?”

“I love you.”

“I know baby, I love you too. But that’s what you could call me. Love.”

“Stee love.”

They brush their teeth together, elbow to elbow, “we really should shower.” They haven’t washed up since Christmas eve, when Steve dragged Eddie out of the pool. Steve inspects the tub; it’s streaked with disgusting gritty filth on the bottom, and the dirty blanket and clothes are still shoved into the corner of the bathroom where Steve left them.

They might be salvageable on a long enough wash, but Steve wants to get a trash bag rather than put them in his basket, they are really gross. He also hasn’t really done any meaningful amount of cleaning or tidying since the night Eddie bit his toes off...which between the injury and the moping, he felt he had a valid excuse to ignore the state of the house.

Not really now though, “I tell you what, lets have breakfast, and then do a little cleaning and some laundry, and then we shower, sound good?”

“Breakfast good.”

“Okay, I’ll just deal with this a minute,” and Eddie sits on the lid of the toilet, watching avidly as Steve shaves.

“Okay, so this goes in here,” Steve loads the washer, leaving the trash sack of really gross stuff for a separate wash later, “and then we measure the detergent like this.”

“Eddidie can?”

“Sure baby,” Steve tips the power back into the box, giving the scoop to Eddie so he can do it. Eddie carefully pours where Steve points. “Now, this is clothes, so we press this,” he points to the dial, and then the button, “so that gets rid of the dirt, and our clothes will be nice and clean.”

Eddie does it, and then grins big when the machine starts up, “done.”

“Good job, okay, so we give it a while, then we come back and set it drying, okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie waves at the machine, “bye bye dirt.”

“Help?”

“That’s real nice baby yeah, like this,” and Steve demonstrates as he moves along the book cases, around the TV, carefully dusting his mothers ornaments and picture frames, “you got it?”

“Got it.”

Steve leaves him to it, and goes and cleans the kitchen. Jon and Hopper did a great job yesterday, and Steve’s really grateful considering the amount of people who ate here, but there’s still an amount of post Christmas carnage to clear up. He takes the trash bag out since it’s filled with wrapping paper, then comes back and starts emptying the drying rack, getting the kitchen clean.

When he goes back into the lounge, Eddie’s done dusting, and he’s carefully arranging all his new things; he puts his new VHS next to the TV, ready for later.

“You want to vacuum?” Steve asks him.

“Vacuum?”

Steve retrieves it from the utility, plugging it in for Eddie and showing him how it works. “Dry?” Eddie shouts over the noise.

“No,” Steve calls back, immediately understanding the link between the hoover and the hairdryer, “clean!”

Eddie takes the hoover, and once Steve shows him how to move the plug from socket to socket, he does the whole downstairs of the house. After, they sit on the couch for a bit, Eddie’s new legs a little shaky with exertion, “you want to try a coffee?”

“Try a coffee. Want. Please.”

“Okay,” Steve makes them both a mug of coffee, making Eddie’s a little sweeter and milkier then his own, and Eddie drinks the whole thing happily. Steve figures if a beer doesn’t hurt, then a little coffee won’t either.

It turns out twenty minutes later that a bit of coffee can have side effects; they find themselves dealing with Eddie’s first poop.

“Cross the bridge,” Eddie had declared hilariously, after producing what was possibly the most heinous fart Steve had ever heard. Steve scrubs the tub while Eddie sits on the toilet, staying present but trying to give Eddie the illusion of privacy.

“Pee more bad then poop,” Eddie tells him.

“Well, at least this one doesn’t hurt, huh baby?”

“Not hurt. No ow.”

“Pee doesn’t hurt now though, does it? Just that first one?” Steve checks.

“No. No ow pee. Called first?”

“Good. That’s good.” Steve gets the shower head down to rinse away the last of the cleaning product, leaving a shiny white tub behind, “uhm...first is. One. That comes first. Monday comes first, January.”

Eddie hums, frowning like he does when he hasn’t quite grasped it yet. To be fair, Steve knows he can’t always give the best explanation for these things. “Not ow,” Eddie tells him, back onto safer ground.

“So if its not ow, we say it doesn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie parrots back, “no ow. It doesn’t hurt. Okay.”

“That’s right baby.”

Eddie awkwardly wipes and then flushes while Steve gets the water hot for his shower, he waves at the toilet, and says, “bye bye poop,” Steve covering his face with his hand to try and muffle his snort of laughter. Eddie strips off, putting all his things in the hamper, “Stee love in tub?”

“You go first.”

Eddie frowns, “no, together.”

“I…” and Steve can’t, actually, think of a real reason why not, so he gets undressed too.

Steve shampoos and then conditions his hair while Eddie stands under the water, doing little swaps back and forth when Steve needs to rinse. Eddie’s doing a half hearted job, he keeps getting distracted by the feel of the splashing water, watching fascinated as it drips from his fingers, so Steve eventually intervenes. Steve carefully scrubbing Eddie down with the wash cloth; he’s so thin, Steve can almost make out his thigh-bones. His knees, ankles and elbows protrude and Steve could fit his fingers between Eddie’s ribs.

“You hungry? I think there’s left over cobbler in the fridge.”

Eddie nods, “cobbler. Sorry canned filling. Idge cold. Make hot?”

“Yeah I can warm it up for you.”

Once Steve’s done, Eddie limpets himself to Steve. The stubble on his head is starting to turn dark, like Eddie has a five o’clock shadow on his head, and it’s rough on Steve’s shoulder, prickling him. Steve doesn’t mind though. Steve rubs his back, following the knobs of his spine.

“We should get out,” Steve says absently.

“Maybe,” Eddie replies, making Steve snort a laugh, kissing the top of Eddie’s prickly head.

Eddie responds by leaning up to kiss Steve properly, slow and soft, “first?” He asks after.

“First what baby?”

“First kiss today?”

Steve thinks about it, “yeah. Yeap you’re right. First kiss of the day, right there.”

Eddie grins, “first kiss of the day tomorrow?”

“We can do that.”

Eddie suddenly lights up, “license first! Eddidie car after!”

“That’s it baby, exactly right,” Steve tells him, Eddie clearly finally grasping the concept.

“Called before sleep kiss?”

“That would be last. Last kiss of the day.”

“December last? Sunday?”

“Yeah, yeah baby, you got it.”

Eddie nods like there was never any doubt, leaning in to kiss Steve again. Still slow and sweet, a soft touch of lips, Eddie’s arms wrapped around Steve’s middle, holding them close. It takes a minute to register the movement, something pressing against the crease of Steve’s thigh. He leans back a little to look down.

The top of Eddie’s slit has parted; the opening wide enough to permit the...Steve doesn’t even know. It’s worming against Steve’s skin, the flesh the same color as Eddie at the base, but darkening to near black at the rounded head.

It moves freely, probably roughly the same thickness as Steve’s own cock when he’s hard. Steve watches as it moves...like it’s looking for something. It moves like a snake. Like an octopus tentacle. Nudging and casting about across the skin of Steve’s hip; when it wriggles back the other way, finding Steve’s pubic hair, it nuzzles in against it.

“Eddie,” Steve swallows thickly, stunned into a frozen state of fascination, he's pretty sure he hasn't blinked in a minute, his heart thudding loud in his ears, “what-I mean. What is that?”

“Eddidie?” Eddie says, gently reaching between them to touch Steve’s own soft cock.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s hand slides across, touching...himself? Steve guesses?...with his fingers. The...thing seems to wake up again, tangling itself with Eddie’s fingers easily. It’s very...twisty. And bendy. The thing looks like it has a, a kind of grip on Eddie’s fingers, almost.

And then the end starts to open, six petals that slowly start to peel apart, and Steve panics, jerking away, pushing Eddie’s hips away with both hands and holding him there at arms length.

Eddie’s...dick? Seems to startle, zipping back inside him like it was never there. “Holy shit. Holy shit,” Steve breathes, drawing in only slightly panicked breaths. He can feel his heart banging away in his chest, “pants.” He croaks out, desperately, “we should both put on pants.”

Part Twenty One

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 13

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: descriptions of and talk about sa!!

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 13/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

It keeps raining, and two hours later when it’s hitting the roof in a calm rhythm, you enter the garage through the open door. Rock music sounds from a speaker but it’s overshadowed by the powerful hits of Jeongguk’s gloved hands against the sandbag hanging from the mount. He’s foregone a shirt, his sweat-covered muscles glistening.

“You call that ‘taking it easy?’” you call out, notifying him of your presence.

He stops his punches, turning to face you with his hand steadying the bag.

“Huh?” he questions, chest heaving.

“I said: ‘you call that taking it easy?’”

He smiles, very out of breath. “I didn’t say ‘easy,’ just easier than what I’m used to.”

You shake your head, venturing further into the garage and reaching the bike.

“How do you even get on this thing? It’s so tall?” you wonder skeptically out loud as you trace the black leather seat with your fingers. It’s definitely a lot taller and wider than just an ordinary bicycle.

Jeongguk steps away from the sandbag, loosening the gloves with his teeth as he heads your way, heavy breaths echoing. You follow him with your eyes as he approaches, but instead of demonstrating like you thought he would, he stops behind you.

“Here,” he places his hands under your armpits.

“Oh, no, no, no,” you try to protest, but it’s too late, and you’re already being lifted onto the seat like a three-year-old.

You definitely also feel like a three-year-old because you don’t even try to reach for the handlebars, instead holding onto the little hill in front of the seat. It probably goes without saying that your feet don’t wholly touch the ground.

“We could go for a ride someday if you want?”

You turn your head to look at his grinning face.

“Uh... no.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

You see the realization of what he just asked flash across his face, but you know it wasn’t how he meant it.

“You don’t seem to value your life very much, no,” you argue, hinting at how he almost died for you.

His face turns relieved, a small smile decorating his lips. “I do. But sometimes, there might be risks I’m willing to take.”

It’s your turn to not know exactly what to say, so you're quick to ask something else instead. You lean forward, actually managing to grab the handlebars somewhat correctly. “Do I look cool?”

Jeongguk’s smile widens, “Absolutely. Even more so if you had the appropriate gear.”

“So… highway patrol? Car or one of these things?”

“One of these things,” he chuckles. “It was exciting, especially car chases really got your blood pumping. Although I think my mom was in a constant state of a heart attack. And the chases didn’t happen that often; most of the time, it was just writing tickets, and I wanted to make more of a difference.”

“Understandable. Your mom, I mean.”

“Yeah. Also, who told you?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“Jimin. He told me absolutely everything there is to know about you. All your secrets.”

“Nice try; I don’t have any secrets.”

You wonder to yourself how true that really is.

You’ve managed to keep your mind busy and occupied during the day, but when night time rolls around and the rain has only increased, you’re feeling a little anxious.

Standing outside the door to your room and staring at the handle, you don’t notice Jeongguk.

“You know, I don’t mind you sleeping with me.”

You lift your head, meeting his eyes. He’s shirtless again, looking as if he just came from the kitchen. Should you? Last night was very cozy, and if you're being honest with yourself, you liked it a lot. Probably more than you should. You felt… safer.

You hesitate.

“It’s up to you, but I’ll leave the door open.”

He prepares to leave, but you’re quick to make up your mind.

“No, I, um… I’ll just go and change, first?”

Giving you a soft nod, he leaves for his bedroom.

It takes you five minutes to change into a large t-shirt and some shorts and to wash up, and when you enter through the open door, closing it behind you, Jeongguk is folding a pair of pants to hang over a chair. You won’t pretend that you don’t let your eyes quickly skim over his shirtless body as he moves, your heart skipping a beat or maybe two.

“Is that the ring you wore during the mission?” you ask, watching him turn, first to face you and then to look at the object in question on his nightstand.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you keep it?”

He shrugs as he approaches the other side of the bed, the same side he slept on yesterday. “I don’t know. I wore it, then the hospital put it in one of those bags with my other belongings while they took me into surgery. Took the whole bag home, put the ring there. Didn’t wear it because… well, we’re not married, but I didn’t want to get rid of it.”

“Hm, okay,” you accept what sounds like a reasonable explanation.

Jeongguk lifts the duvet, getting into the bed while watching you. “You didn’t keep yours?”

“Don’t know what happened to it, but it was fake and pretty much worthless, so…”

“Ouch,” Jeongguk says, clutching his chest.

“Okay, first of all, you just said we weren’t married. And there was no material worth to it. Second, your heart is on the other side.”

Smoothly–and definitely making you giggle while you follow his lead and get into bed–he switches hands to hold the right side of his chest instead. You guess it’s a learning curve.

“Ouch,” he repeats, “Just tell me if you want a divorce.”

It’s with a big smile that you get comfortable, pulling the white duvet up to your chin as you lay on your side, facing the nightstand.

You feel Jeongguk move around a bit too.

“I think the rain’s gonna let up tomorrow,” he mumbles. “It’s been a while since it was this… persistent.”

“Yeah… Thank you for letting me sleep here. It feels… better to not be alone.”

“It’s no problem; I don’t mind.”

Silence falls after that. You listen to the rhythmic beat of raindrops hitting the roof, trying to slow your breaths and heartbeat enough to fall asleep. Although you don’t feel as anxious anymore, it still doesn’t happen. 

Minute by minute ticks by, and you don’t know if Jeongguk is asleep or not.

“It was raining,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “That night when we followed a suspect into a hotel bar.”

You take a breath, listening to the silence of the room, half expecting Jeongguk to stop you. But he doesn’t; maybe because he’s asleep? So you continue quietly, revisiting a memory.

“He stayed there for quite a few hours, so we did as well. We were hoping he’d lead us to his brother so we could arrest both of them for arms trafficking. Hoseong ordered us beer, more so for appearances, but still, and we talked while we kept an eye on the man and waited for him to leave. I remember that we talked about another case we’d just solved, and Hoseong was going on and on about how smart he thought I was and how glad he was to have me as his partner. I was smiling ear to ear, thinking that I was so incredibly lucky, getting to work with and learn from someone who truly saw me. When the suspect instead got a room there for the night, we did as well, figuring it would be more comfortable than sitting in the car all night.”

It’s still quiet, but it feels cathartic to get it out, regardless if Jeongguk is awake to hear it or not. While you've unfortunately noticed more similarities between him and Hoseong than you'd like--like their dark, expressive eyes--Jeongguk feels... different.

“We were meant to do shifts, always have the door open just a sliver so we’d notice if he left. We took our jackets off and Hoseong placed his stuff on the bedside table. Since it was summer, I was wearing a t-shirt and a skirt with my gun strapped to my thigh under it, and so I put the gun in the pocket of my jacket. When I turned around… he kissed me. I was caught by surprise, but I… I kissed him back at first because… Well, I loved him. But then I tried to step back to tell him that we really shouldn’t, that we needed to be alert and ready to follow if the suspect left. But he didn’t listen.”

You pause, feeling the pain and the fear from that day all over again, your skin turning cold. There’s movement behind you, and an arm is slowly and gently draped across your middle, grasping your freezing hand. It makes you feel something, peering down at his hand and the tattoos covering his skin. He’s very warm, and he feels like he’s… stable. Like he has roots growing into the ground that makes him unshakeable. Meanwhile, you’re a leaf; at the mercy of everyone and everything. Easy to blow away, to rip to shreds, to stomp flat to the sound of your bones crunching.

“He held my jaw so tight, I couldn’t speak, and he told me that I’d been teasing him all day in the skirt and that I should be happy because he knew that I loved him. Said I should just suck it up and put out. He… ” you go quiet, unsure of how many details you’re willing to relive. 

Does Jeongguk need to know every step you were pushed toward the bed, how he threw you onto it and got on top of you while you fought? How he unzipped his pants and how he violated you? He probably doesn’t.

“He used his handcuffs and cuffed my hands around the metal bed frame. I tried to…. He said he’d kill me if I screamed.” You remember his hushed yet furious voice in your ear, remember knowing how it was going to end, how he’d kill you right then and there.

“I don’t know if he did it at first because he enjoyed it or if he realized right away that he would need to get rid of me, but he put both his hands around my neck and squeezed as hard as he could. I pulled my hands so violently that I dislocated a thumb, but… I got one out. So I tried to stop him, but he was too strong, using all his body weight. My nails on his skin didn’t faze him, and I was losing consciousness. At the very last second–while my vision was turning spotty–I managed to grab the gun from his holster. I aimed it for his thigh and pulled the trigger. He let go. Somehow, I managed to get him off me, and… out of me… but I could barely see or breathe, and there was blood everywhere.

“He swore at me, and I think he tried to get up but couldn’t, so he reached for his phone, and I ran for the door as best I could. But what was I supposed to do? Call the cops? What do you think he was doing? I heard him ask our coworkers for help, and I knew. They were coming to help him. So I stood there, in the hall of a shitty hotel, with no car keys, no phone, and nowhere to go, while his back-up was mere minutes away.

“Then, someone down the hall opened their door. It was a young woman, and she peeked out, looked at me where I stood, a shaky, bloody, wheezy mess, and she came and pulled me inside right before the police exited the elevator. I managed to say that we were all law enforcement, but I didn’t need to tell her that they’d kill me off if they found me because we heard Ryung’s voice through the door, telling the rest to find me and make me… pay.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been as scared as I was when they knocked on her door. She gestured for me to get inside the bathroom, and I did, watching as she pulled a bathrobe around her body, turning most of the lights off and opening the door to pretend like she’d just woken up. I heard them ask for me, and I heard her politely tell them that no, she hadn’t seen a woman or noticed any commotion. But I saw how her hand trembled behind the door, and I thought the whole time that they knew and were just waiting to push their way inside to get me. But they didn’t. Instead, they left. Shaken, she sat with me on the bathroom floor as I cried, and she helped me clean up a bit and loaned me some of her clothes before she helped me to the hospital across the city border. I stayed the night to have my injuries tended to and documented and a kit done, and the next day, I went to that city’s station to file a report. A female officer helped me, and she’s the only one I’ve told most of this stuff to. Well, except for you now, but I take it you read the report? And the station… you weren’t working that day, but it was your station, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” comes a strained mumble, and you feel him hug you just a bit tighter.

You stare at the wall, feeling both anxious and numb. “It changes you, having someone do that to you. All my life, I’ve known, theoretically speaking, that there’s a risk. A man, anywho, anywhere, anytime, can decide that I don’t get to live anymore. But to experience it, to see the intentions in his eyes, and how he’s… deciding… and not being able to do anything about it. It changes you. It’s always there, the feeling of helplessness.” “I…” Sounding like he wants to say something but can’t find the words, Jeongguk lets silence fall again. 

“You don’t know what to say, do you?” you smile a sad smile to yourself. “No.” “It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything, I just thought I’d tell you.”

You feel him move closer while also gently pulling you back toward him. You roll back, finding yourself inches away from him where he lies, head supported by his hand and looking down at you. “I’m just… furious, and frustrated, and I wish so badly that I’d been there to help you. If I had just transferred earlier… maybe I could’ve prevented it, or stopped it, or even just caught him and helped you get your justice. Instead, I came along and made it worse.”

You find yourself so lost in him. In the warmth of his body that’s thawing the entirety of yours, and in his kind brown eyes. You can’t believe he’s the same person who took every chance he could to hurt you as recently as a few months ago. He just… looks so sweet.

“You know, you look like a little kid when you’re sleeping” you smile, watching Jeongguk slowly open his eyes, looking a little confused. “You’re also always up before me, so I’ve rarely seen you asleep. I’m not really a morning person.”

The moment he comes to properly, he smiles lazily and rolls his eyes half-heartedly. “I’m not a morning person either, actually,” he explains, his voice lower and raspier than usual.

“Then why are you always awake so early?”

He looks at you as if he’s not sure what to say. “Cause… I have… stuff to do?”

“Okay…”

Jeongguk doesn’t address the suspicion in your voice, instead, he stretches his arms over his head. The duvet moves, exposing his chest and the scar to your eyes.

Letting your fingertip hover just above it, you look back at his still very sleepy face. “Did you really never know about your organs being mirrored?”

“No,” he yawns. 

“But… how? Didn’t you ever have your heart and lungs listened to?”

“I did, but apparently, it’s not too much of a different sound. Sure, my heart beat would have sounded a bit fainter from my left side but it’s such a rare condition that there was no real use investigating further. I had a heart that beat in the right rhythm and no other symptoms so that was enough, I guess,” he shrugs.

“Can I listen?” you bite your lip hopefully.

He raises his eyebrows, “To my heart?”

You nod enthusiastically

“Buy me dinner first, why don’t you?”

Rolling your eyes, you feel warm. You meet his gaze and slowly lower your head to his chest while moving your hair out of your face.

His skin feels nice against the side of your face, his chest moving up and down under you slowly, and you hear it. It’s strong, rhythmic, but…

“Are you sure you’re fine, though?” you ask, turning a little more serious, “It’s beating kinda… fast?”

Surely a fit guy like Jeongguk has a slower resting heart rate? 

“You’re also, you know, listening to my heart,” he says, like it’s supposed to mean something?

Wait. Is he… Is he implying that you listening to his heart is making it race? That can’t be true, can it?

You lift your face off of his chest, and for a moment, you’re just looking at each other softly, curiously. His black hair is a little messy, but he looks so warm, and you–.

His phone rings.

Jeongguk sighs but reaches for it where it lies on his nightstand, his eyes widening when he reads the screen. “Shit, I gotta take this.”

He throws the duvet off of him and gets up as he answers the call, and you see him in just his shorts as he disappears out of the room with the phone to his ear.

Following his lead, you rise from the bed, but instead of going wherever Jeongguk disappeared to, you head into your room to throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. While alone, you take a moment to think about last night. You weren’t actually planning on talking about it. You never have, not in that much detail, although you definitely left some things out. And while it feels… hard, it also feels… better? Or, like you’re at least not too scared of him looking at you weirdly or saying it was your fault. Or even worse, like you opened his eyes how easy it was to render you entirely helpless…

Quietly, you enter the kitchen, spotting Jeongguk standing at the counter with the tray of cupcakes you made together in front of him. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt now.

He places the phone between his raised shoulder and ear as he peels a wrapper off, “can you ask them to mail copies of the documents to the station? And how did it go, did you manage to reach the mechanic?”

You watch him as he listens to whoever’s on the other side, putting half a cupcake in his mouth. “Mhm, no, no, just book whatever time she’s available. We can meet at the station if she wants to come in or I can go to her. Same for the hotel staff.” 

Is he… looking into your case again? Like, thoroughly following up on all leads and with all possible witnesses? You definitely know it’s not because of what you told him last night; he must’ve decided to do it priorly.

His eyes find you as he listens intently to what the voice has to say. You take a few steps, coming to stand next to him, smiling softly at how cute he looks when he’s multitasking. With one hand, he lifts the other end of the cupcake to you. You take it, watching him as he looks off into the distance absentmindedly. “Alright, thank you.”

You pop the piece into your mouth, chewing it while making a note to definitely bake more.

He ends the call and puts the phone down on the counter. “These are actually really good,” he says, putting his frosting-covered fingertip to his mouth.

You smile, admiring him and all he’s done and is doing for you. A little overcome with emotions, you place your hand on his shirt, pulling it down slowly at the collar and him toward you. He looks curious, but you focus on his lips. Biting your own, you try not to let the fear of rejection win, and you stand on your toes, and you kiss him carefully.

It’s brief, and it’s sweet, and you can’t help but smile when your heels touch the floor again.

“Thank you.”

He blinks, looking happy but surprised.

“What?” you chuckle a little nervously when he doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing. I just… wasn’t sure you actually liked me. Like, at all.”

You tilt your head, listening to him as he continues.

“I know that we kissed that time on the hammock, but we probably weren’t on the same page then, were we? Cause I thought we were, that we were alone and that we had something, but you… you played along because there were people watching, right? You were still acting while I wasn’t.”

You haven’t thought a lot about that moment, embarrassed about what happened and how you reacted, but he’s right. You were acting. You weren’t sure he was, but if he really wasn’t… What were his motives that night?

“Yeah, but you kinda literally took a sword to the heart for me later, and you’ve been really, really kind and sweet to me ever since.”

He grabs another cupcake, chewing a piece of it with a look on his face that tells you he’s… planning something. You wait, expecting him to say something but he just smiles and lifts the other piece to your mouth. Before you can even decide whether to take a bite or not, he nudges the cupcake against your mouth, getting streaks of frosting across your lips.

“What the…”

But he grins, puts the cupcake down, and smiles in a way that lets you know this was exactly what he wanted. Putting his fingers under your chin to lift your head, he leans down to kiss you. You hold your breath, feeling his soft lips against yours again.

He tastes of frosting and racing heart beats, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are warmer than usual.

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

And you feel warm, almost ecstatic, but also like you’ve… forgotten something.

The day after, Jeongguk receives a call that has him hurriedly looking through the house for the keys to his bike, rushing off somewhere after telling you that he’ll probably be back in a few hours. ‘A few hours’ is too vague to really tell you anything, and you’re so used to not asking questions that you don’t think to.

While he’s gone, you decide to start the dishwasher, and you’ve come to learn that Jeongguk always has at least one mug in his office that he’ll keep refilling with coffee way too many times without washing.

Approaching the office, you’re not surprised to see the door to it ajar. It’s rarely closed, and it’s almost like it signifies the transparency between you. Jeongguk doesn’t say much about the case, but it’s not because you can’t know; it’s because he knows you don’t want to know. 

Or didn’t want to know. As you’re standing in the quiet room, his blue mug in your hand, you see a disheveled stack of papers. Usually, you would’ve walked past it, or maybe even re-stacked it neatly before walking past it. 

This time, Hoseong’s name catches your eye. Of course, it’s not weird considering it’s Jeongguk’s main case, but you still find yourself staring at the printed letters. 

Three hours after he left, Jeongguk unlocks his front door, opening it and stepping inside. He sighs at how the people he despises most on the planet always just seem to slip out of his grasp. But when inside, he finds himself easily letting go of that thought and instead thinking about something that has him smiling to himself.

With his shoes and jacket off, he begins his search, expecting to find you either in the living room or your bedroom and getting confused when you aren’t. He peers inside the kitchen and even puts his head into his own bedroom, almost starting to get worried when you’re nowhere to be seen.

He’s about to visit the second bathroom when he passes his office, seeing movement from within the small sliver in the doorway.

“There you are,” he comments happily as he opens the door wider, looking around and taking a moment to process what he’s seeing. “I almost thought you’d evaporated.”

You look up from the floor, where you’re sitting with a bunch of papers spread out in front of you, Jeongguk’s empty cup beside you.

“These are the ones you’re observing?” you ask, lifting a paper toward him, a pen wedged between your index and middle finger.

He takes it from you, quickly reading a summary of months of hard work. “Mhm.”

“Okay,” you say, looking at another paper in your hand, twirling the pen absentmindedly in your other, “I think I have some suggestions.”

After spending hours and hours with Jeongguk, having him explain the progress they’ve made and who they’re investigating, you take a step back to look at the post-its on the living room wall. It has all the fugitives’ relatives, their friends, coworkers, neighbors…. everyone. Since neither of the four men have used their card nor phone, they must’ve almost certainly gotten help, but from who?

You sink down onto the soft cushions of Jeongguk’s couch with a tired sigh, reaching for the remote and smiling when there’s a rerun of a zombie movie.

Jeongguk follows your lead, spreading out as well. “You wanna like… hold hands or something? Cause I could do with a good hand-holding.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, feeling your chest warm from the inside. It’s so easy for him to make you all giddy, forgetting about all of your pains and worries. Or almost all of them, at least.

Still, you nod, and your smile grows when he scoots closer to you and takes your hand in his warm one.

Even as he directs his focus toward the TV, you keep yours on him. On his tired yet still bright, dark eyes, his nose, the faint hollowness under his cheekbones, and his mouth. His hair is just calling out for you to run your fingers through, but you stand your ground, settling for getting to hold his hand. 

“What?” he asks, smiling cheekily at you.

“You asked to hold my hand?” you remind, moving his hand between the two of yours, tracing the veins on the back of it.

“Yeah?”

“It’s cute. You buy flowers and hold hands and open doors.”

Surely, a guy like him can’t exist, right?

“I do. Which reminds me, you were just giving my flowers away?”

He looks at you, faking hurt. Slowly, and with your heart beating hard to nourish the butterflies growing in your stomach, you intertwine your fingers with his. “I didn’t know they were from you; there was never a card or anything.”

“Fine.”

Seemingly accepting your short answer, Jeongguk watches the movie with you for a while in silence, your head coming to rest against the top of his arm. You keep his hand between yours, trying to stay cool despite how being this close to him affects you. There are definitely some sort of butterflies.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about as well?” he mumbles quietly after a while.

“No?”

“At the barbeque, the guy that you were talking to? Who was that? And what did he say?”

You search your mind for a second before it comes back to you; the tall, handsome man who approached you. “I don’t know. He said his name was Haneul, but I don’t think he lived there. I think I heard something about someone having their cousin over or something like that, so I think that was him. Don’t think I saw him again.”

“And what did he say to you? You didn’t look…. very happy.”

You recall the way he felt… off and how he wasted absolutely no time, insulting your husband and offering to take his place. You definitely remember the unfunny feeling of actually wanting to have a rude Jeongguk around just to keep Haneul away.

“Uh, he hit on me.”

“Did you say you were married?”

You scoff. “Yeah, but he didn’t seem to mind. Basically accused you of lacking in bed and offering to take your place in secret.”

“What?” Jeongguk asks, sounding surprised. “He didn’t look that ballsy to me?”

“It was before he saw how intimidating you are.”

“I’m glad it seemed like I scared him off then. If he was bothering you?”

“Yeah…”

“So why didn’t you tell me? When I asked about him? I would’ve kept an even closer eye on you.”

That, you don’t have to search your mind for. You remember very clearly how scared you were that Jeongguk would laugh. Or that he wouldn’t even believe you because after all, why would anyone hit on someone like you? Especially a man who looked like Haneul because creep or not, he was handsome. Like so often, you fill with shame. Embarrassment for who you are and how you look. It’s been surprisingly easy to not focus as much on it, but it will always be at the back of your mind, and this is just a painful reminder.

“I… didn’t think you’d believe me.”

He squeezes your hand, and you hear and feel him sigh sadly. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you and for being such an overall disappointment. I want to think that I sensed that you were scared and that’s why I kept an eye on you after and asked you about it. But I couldn’t even tell that you were afraid of me as well, so I don’t know, honestly.”

“It’s fine…”

“No, it’s not. I guess I hope your future real husband will be better than your fake one,” he jokes in an attempt to lift the mood.

“Oh. I’m not… I don’t think the possibilities of me getting married are very big.”

“Oh? Because you don’t like… men?”

You nearly snort. Honestly, yeah, all of your problems and issues could be summarized into that short sentence.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in marrying a woman, but I’m not… I’ve never had a relationship of any kind with a man–that went deeper than acquaintances–which didn't leave me hurt in one way or another. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“I know you said your dad’s an ass, and I know what happened with Hoseong and us guys at the station, but what… If you want to talk about it, what else…?”

“Who else has hurt me, you mean? It’s complicated, I guess.” 

You look down at your intertwined hands, how Jeongguk’s looks so big between yours. 

You sigh at the memory of how… non mind-blowing your relationships have been so far. Most guys you’ve dated haven’t made even the slightest of efforts for your birthday–if they even remembered it–or to plan dates of any kind after the first honeymoon months. You’ve tried, but with many men, it feels more like they want a live-in maid, who provides sex. It's definitely a conscious effort, how you try not to match Jeongguk to what your younger self dreamed of in a man.

“You remember… at the house? When you said you loved your ex, and I laughed because you’re a man and not capable of love?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that sums it up. My dad didn’t care for my mom or me, he only returned when his new, younger girlfriends–whose bodies weren’t ruined by childbearing–grew tired of his disrespectful, old ass. He knew that she still loved him, and he took advantage of that. I guess I was a little weary around men from a young age after that, but still hopeful that there could be good men out there too. Then I started dating and noticed pretty quickly that… I wasn’t really important like I’d hoped. I wanted dates–even just a picnic in the park occasionally–and I guess I took birthday celebrations–of any kind–for granted. One guy got me a bunch of candy he knew I didn’t like, so he could eat it himself, and another guy entirely forgot it was my birthday even though his was ten days before, and I got him a relatively expensive watch he’d been wanting. One guy did take me out to eat at a pretty nice restaurant, but he was also shamelessly checking out the waitress right in front of me. I saw my friends be treated the same way, and we all just… kept trying. One of my friends was in a relationship for four years, and he was a real sweetheart; made time for her, got her flowers, gave her compliments, all that. Then she discovered he’d been cheating since day one. It wasn’t until Hoseong that I truly decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“You shouldn’t give up hope.”

“It’s easy for you to say, Jeongguk. You’re a man. Your fellow men look out for you and women still care for you. And to be honest… like I said, what happened to me… it’s not something you just move past. Wherever I go, I know that practically every man I meet on the street could decide to hurt me just because he wants to. And it would be up to him, the fate of my entire life is in the hands of every random guy I pass. If he wanted to kill me, there isn’t much I could do. Not only do I know that theoretically speaking, most of them are stronger than me and don’t care what happens to me, but I know the feeling of having it happen.”

“I understand,” he assures softly, squeezing your hand, “I didn’t mean it in a ‘get over it’ way, just that I know there are men out there who would treat you like an equal partner and who would like to do those things you described that you used to want.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know, it just isn’t worth the risk for me. Romantic love isn’t everything.”

There is still a trace of pity in the look he gives you when you smile sadly at him.

After brushing your teeth and changing into your sleepwear, you find yourself outside the door to your bedroom. The storm has passed, so you definitely should go back to sleeping in your own room.

As if he could read your mind, Jeongguk, on his way to his bedroom, slows down as he passes you. He turns, looks at you and smiles gently as he continues to back toward his door. “You don’t need an excuse, you know? If you want to sleep in your room, that’s fine, but I can’t say I’m not hoping you’ll sleep with me.”

You lift your eyebrows at him, as if to say ‘oh, really?’ He should definitely stop saying ‘sleep with me.’

He shrugs, “I like having you close.”

For half a second, you shut your eyes, realizing you have no defense against him. So you open them, sighing and dropping your shoulders before following him with some species of critter in your stomach. He chuckles.

<previous | next>

author's note: please let me know if you like it! i feel like this part was really important and it was definitely hard to write because fortunately(!!!) i have not experienced what reader has and while i did my best to portray it how i think someone could react and deal with stuff like this, at the end of the day, i don't actually know and i'd hate if it comes off as wrong or glamorizing in any way. if it does, that is 1000% not my intention. on a lighter note; this is very much a calm before a storm lol

[perfectlyoongi]

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who writes you a song as a marriage proposal. as intelligent as Namjoon could be, when he was nervous it was difficult for him to express himself verbally and he knew perfectly well that in that request he would run over every word and choke on them; that's why Namjoon decided to open his soul in the most natural way for him: the song was small, brief, just a verse and a chorus, but every word was beautiful, peppered with the love he felt, ringing with a melody of hope from an eternal future by your side. “i’m not very good with words, i hope the song is enough for you.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who hires a painter to portray your special day. yes, photographs were beautiful, faster, saving every moment and action they could; but, for Namjoon, there was magic on a canvas, in how each brushstroke was like a fragment of your dreams and hopes, the vivid colors complementing each other and appearing as an omen for your married life. “i think a portrait of us is more intimate. i think it’s with oil paints that you can clearly see our love and happiness.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who writes your initials in the corners of his music sheets. Namjoon felt like it was nonsense, a small, insignificant and quite embarrassing detail, but, in a way, he couldn't stop himself from doing it; like a lucky charm, your initials decorated the various pages with a touch of magic, as if the letters designated for you blessed Namjoon's mind and all his work. “i know it doesn't make much sense, but i feel like it really helps me. at least it always gives me strength when i see your initials in my art.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who gives you a bouquet of flowers every monday, even when he's on tour. Namjoon wanted to make sure you had a good week, he wanted to motivate you to get through five more days of intense work and complex people; so, he came up with a simple solution that, in addition to filling your living room with sweet smells of passion and longing, also brought with it bright colors that painted the gray days that could lie ahead. “i hope you have a good day today. don't forget that the world only makes sense because you are in it. i love you.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who goes on sunset walks with you. if when you were dating the two of you shared the sunrise on a bicycle, now in your marriage your attention has turned to the sunset, as if a natural representation of your love — at sunrise your love was still blooming, but now, already together with promises and vows of eternity, your love was based on a sea of reds and oranges that forever warmed your hearts. “i feel so complete with you. i still can't believe we're actually married. you just make my life better.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who takes you on surprise dates. it wasn't because you were married that Namjoon was going to stop dating you; without telling you, or simply spontaneously, Namjoon would take you to dinners or aquarium, ceramics classes or evening picnics, the possibilities seemed endless and Namjoon swore to you that he would explore each one of them with you. “just because we’re married doesn’t mean the romance is over. i hope you know that i will take you on dates even if we are eighty and use canes.”

HUSBAND!NAMJOON who swore an eternity of love for you. in any adversity, Namjoon promised you that your love would not weaken; in any opportunity, Namjoon promised you that your love would only grow; in any future, Namjoon promised you that your love would never end, for you were chosen by the stars, blessed by the gods — there was nothing that could ruin your love. “the dust of the universe are crumbs of our love that could not fit into our hearts in this life.”

[antikate]

I think I’m still, somehow, after so many years on earth? Just so terribly naive about what people want.

I know what I want, and I think it seems very reasonable and achievable? I want is a safe future for my kids (stable climate, reproductive rights, health care, access to education, safety from violence)

I want to walk my dog and tend to my garden and do my crafts and write my silly little stories. I want friends and book clubs and bicycle paths and movies and a just this small life of connection and joy

And I want this for everyone else too like I want the weird old guy who lives on my street and who apparently hates me to also have access to healthcare when he needs it. I want the immigrant families at my kids’ school to have access to that school and for it to be good!I want libraries and pride parades and community gardens

… and instead what other people really seem to want is to punish other people. They want violence and the bootheel and to rid life of variance and colour. They want repression and domination

Is it because eggs cost more or they saw a trans person once? Is it because there are black people on tv now? I don’t know. I don’t know anything

I want schools and healthcare clinics and busses and parks. I want everyone in the world to go to sleep at night without worrying their children will die in the dark from falling bombs

And more and more I realise that its a fantasy that very few other people actually share

[cherryobx]

turn the radio up - I have so many songs I want to share with you sjsj. but they all seem difficult to write with bc ofc my music taste is basically really emotional songs jsjs. but a classic that i’ll always love is iris by the goo goo dolls !! maybe that could be a cute one with like comfort or something? but idk, you’re the writer hihi. so do with it whatever you want <3

Iris

summary: you go looking for JJ after a big fight with his dad and it ends with a confession of feelings

a/n: it was supposed to be based on that song but i got kinda carried away so this will have to do lol, also, i was too lazy to proofread so let me know if you spot any mistakes

wc: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of JJ's dad (deserves a warning), happy ending tho

“Have you guys seen JJ?” You barge into the chateau where all of your friends are currently watching a movie on John B’s old and kind of broken TV. Well, everyone except one.

“Weren’t you two supposed to go ‘midnight surfing’ together?” Kiara asks from her spot on the floor. Even if she would’ve fit on the couch, she preferred to sit on the floor as she found it more comfortable.

“We were but he never showed up.” Your voice is full of worry. He never just stands you up like this. He’s late all the time but he always shows up eventually. He’d never do this to you intentionally which is why you’re so worried in the first place.

“He probably just fell asleep,” John B butts in, eyes glued to the TV screen in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, go check his place, see if he’s home,” Kie suggests. “Do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Stay and enjoy your movie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You rush out of there as fast as you arrived, grabbing your bicycle and biking towards JJ’s house. 

JJ doesn’t live very far away so you’re there in a couple of minutes. In fact you can reach everywhere in Kildare in a very short amount of time. It’s a small place. 

Leaving your bike in the driveway, you creep up to the window of his bedroom. You didn’t want to take the risk of knocking on the door and running into JJ’s dad. It’s a small risk since he’s away most of the time but it’s a risk you’re not willing to take.

The light in his room is not on but the light from the moon reveals enough, he’s not there. If JJ’s not in his room he’s not home. It’s as simple as that. 

Your worry increases. If he’s not at the chateau and if he’s not at home, where the hell is he? 

You walk back to where you left your bike and start walking away from there, pushing the bike beside you. You need a second to think. Where could he be?Why didn’t he call? Did something happen? With his dad maybe? It’s very possible. JJ’s dad is not known for his kind heart and sweet words. You suspect that might be the cause because nothing else could make JJ miss hanging out with you. Especially without saying anything.

Where would you go if you were JJ?

You walk and ponder for a while. There are not very many places JJ would go in a time like this. Usually he goes to the chateau or your place because they’re more his home than his actual home ever was.

Then it dawns on you. There’s this place that JJ showed you a couple of months ago. He made you swear not to tell anyone. Even made you pinky swear. He said it’s his secret spot, somewhere he goes when he needs a moment alone and space to think. 

It’s a really beautiful place and it became your favourite spot too. It’s not far from the chateau but it’s hidden enough to be private. There’s a big oak tree near a small creek. When it’s sunny, the sun shines through the leaves and makes the water sparkle and it’s magical. Beautiful, really.

You’re sure that’s where he must be. 

Hopping onto your bike you ride there in a record time. You leave your bike at the side of the road and push through the bushes and trees to reach this secret spot of JJ’s. Well, yours too now.

And there he is. JJ’s sitting on the ground, on the green soft moss, his back leaning against the oak tree. His knees are pulled up to his chest and his hands are resting on them. Even if he hears you approaching, he doesn’t turn his head to look. He just keeps looking ahead.

It’s even more magical in the middle of the night than it is during the day.

You sit down beside him carefully so as not to startle him. “Hey,” you say softly.

His face is covered in various cuts and bruises.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is raspy and devoid of all emotion. He still won’t look at you.

“I came looking for you. You didn’t show at the beach. I was worried.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He throws a rock into the creek and the splash of water sounds so loud in the quiet of the night. 

“What? Why?”

He stays quiet. His lips are pulled between his teeth as if to specifically stop himself from speaking.

“JJ, talk to me.” You place your hand on his.

“Got into it with my dad again. It’s nothing. Just go.” He shrugs your hand off, physically pulling away from you. It hurts because JJ never denies physical touch from you. In fact, he craves it. He initiates it most of the time. His hands are always on you no matter what. It’s one of the things you love about him so much. Among many other things.

“You shouldn’t be alone here.”

“I don’t want you here right now,” he bursts out, finally looking at you. His eyes are red and so full of hurt.

You're taken aback by his words, mouth agape at his outburst. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t want you here. So just go home. I don’t care.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Even though his words hurt, you stand your ground and don’t back down. He needs you there. At least, you’d need him in a situation like this, you think.

“Then I’m going.” He stands up and starts to leave. 

You shoot up from the ground and grab his hand to stop him.

“Let go of me.” He stops and stares at your hand gripping his wrist. It must be painful with the way you're digging your nails into his skin but you don’t let go.

“No.”

“Y/N…” he warns, his tone low and angry.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Let the fuck go of me.” He’s actually angry now but doesn’t make a move. You know he doesn’t actually want to go.

You’re desperate now. “Why won’t you talk to me? I’m right here JJ.”

“I want to be alone right now.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes.” 

“You’re a fucking liar.”

He seems genuinely taken aback by that. “Excuse me?”

“You fight with your dad all the time. And I get it, it’s hard and I’m sorry. But you never pull away from me like that. Never. I know you like the back of my hand, JJ. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” he snarls.

“Your problems are my problems, right? Isn’t that what you said to me when I was sick last month and you wouldn’t leave my side? What happened to that, huh?”

There’s a beat of silence where the only things heard are the running water, rustling of leaves and your angry breathing.

He sighs and you feel him relax in your grip but you still won’t let go, scared that he’ll flee as soon as you do. 

“We fought.”

“I know.”

“About you.”

Now you’re genuinely aghast. “What?” You blink in confusion, your grip on his hand loosening.

“He said some stuff I can never say to you and I couldn’t see you after that. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing you after the things he said.”

“What did he say?”

“I won’t tell you.”

“Tell me.”

“No. And don’t fucking argue because I will take those words to grave with me. I’ll make sure of that.”

You nod. Maybe it’s for the best.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Am I okay?” he chuckles dryly. “Never been better. I feel like a fucking loser, a failure with an asshole for a dad. And I’m so fucking alone that it physically hurts in here.” He places his hand right over his heart. 

“You’re none of those things, JJ. Not to anyone, not to me.”

“Who’s the fucking liar now?”

“I’m not fucking lying, JJ!” You force him to look into your eyes. “Your dad might be an asshole, a big one at that, but you’re not a failure or a loser. I don’t know how but didn’t turn out like him. You have a future. He threw it away. And you’re not alone. You have us,” you refer to your friends. “And you have me.”

You place your other hand on his hand that’s still on his chest. “You’ll always have me.”

“Not in the way I want. Not in the way I need.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You know, I’ve never taken anyone here before.” He looks around his secret little getaway. “You’re the first person I’ve shown it to. The only one I thought it was worth showing to.”

Your eyes remain on his face as he talks, taking in his features. 

“I’ve never wanted to take anyone here before. I didn't understand why I wanted to show you this place so badly. Why it mattered to me if you liked it or not? And then I realized I’m in love with you and I’m absolutely fucked.”

I blink slowly, mouth agape, as I try to process his words. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah. And I know it’s stupid and I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because it fucking ruins everything. You’re never gonna wanna speak to me again and things are gonna be so awkward and-”

I interrupt his rambling. “Have you even asked me what I feel?”

“What?”

“You go on this tangent about how your feelings for me are horrible but you don’t even know how I feel. So ask me. Ask me what I feel for you, JJ.”

“What do you feel for me?”

“I feel like I want to hit you, JJ. I’ve been in love with you for like… ever and you didn’t even seem to notice. I’ve made it very clear. Hell, everyone else except you knows that I’m head over heels for your stupid ass.”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Of course I’m fucking serious, JJ. You think I’d tell you this for shits and giggles?”

“You-” he wants to say something but seems to think twice and before you know it his lips are on yours. His hands are on the sides of your face, pulling you close. You melt against his body, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“That was for shits and giggles.” He pulls away, completely out of breath.

“Totally,” you say and pull him back against your lips for another kiss.

“But I mean it, JJ,” you state when you finally separate again.

“What?” 

“I’ll always be here for you. Through the bad and through the good. Always. I promise.”

“So do I.”

“You better,” you jokingly threaten and he laughs at that. 

“Do you wanna go to the chateau? The others are watching a movie right now.”

He denies your offer. “No, I’d rather stay here with you for now. If that’s okay?”

“It can be arranged.” You smile up at him and his face lights up.

“Good.”

join my picnic!

[bradshawsbaby]

Love in the Air

Pairing: Rooster x Female Reader

Summary: You weren't expecting anything interesting or exciting to happen on your flight from Virginia to San Diego. But what happens when you decide to shoot your shot with the handsome stranger sitting in front of you on the plane?

Word Count: 12.5k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to my dear friend, @ryebecca for giving me the idea for this one! I've been mulling it over in my brain for a while now, and the super adorable Netflix movie Love at First Sight gave me some much-needed inspiration to finally see it through to completion. This story exists outside of the Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw Universe, which is sort of a first for me, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Travel anxiety, some very mild angst, discussions of parental death, brief language, lots of fluff.

If you had to rank your preferred modes of transportation, flying would probably be at the bottom of the list, beat only perhaps by public bus or bicycle. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to make it as smooth and easy a journey as possible, your experiences at the airport always turned into one catastrophe after another.

Your flight this morning was supposed to take off at 9:30am, which meant that you had scheduled the start of your day to ensure that you would be at the airport no later than 7:15, accounting for traffic and long lines at check-in and security. That, of course, meant that you had to leave your best friend, Katie’s house in Fredericksburg at 5:45 on the dot in order to make the sixty-one mile trip to Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport, and that was being generous. If the two of you stopped for coffee—which Katie insisted was a must—that alone had the potential to derail your plans, which had you nervously fiddling with the bracelet you never took off, the one your dad had given you as a gift for your high school graduation.

“Relax,” Katie laughed, taking her eyes off the road for only a moment to reach out and squeeze your hands reassuringly, halting your anxious movements. “You’re going to get there with plenty of time to spare. There’s literally no one on earth who’s a more responsible flier than you. Have you ever even come close to missing a flight?”

“No,” you admitted sheepishly, taking a small sip of your hazelnut iced coffee. It did little to calm your nerves, but it was one of the best iced coffees you’d ever tasted.

“Of course you haven’t,” Katie smiled, her eyes back in front of her as she signaled to merge into another lane. “So just take a deep breath and enjoy all this gorgeous fall foliage. I’m going to get you there without incident, I promise.”

Katie knew better than pretty much anyone how much flying tended to stress you out. The two of you had been attached at the hip since the first day of kindergarten. Your friendship had survived all the ups and down of adolescence, boy drama, the separation of going to colleges hundreds of miles apart, heartache, loss, and so much more. She was truly the sister you never had, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life. Even now that you were living in San Diego, and Katie and her husband had moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia for Josh’s job, nothing could keep the two of you apart.

Using a little bit of the vacation time you’d accumulated at work, you’d taken a long weekend to fly out and surprise Katie for her and Josh’s housewarming party. It had been months since you had seen your best friend in person, and the two of you had spent the past few days acting like a couple of high schoolers, staying up all night eating junk food and keeping poor Josh awake with your loud and hysterical fits of laughter.

You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been, all by yourself in San Diego, until you’d witnessed up close how cozy and happy Katie’s life in Virginia was.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of Katie, not by any means. She and Josh had met in college, and you were thrilled that your best friend in the whole world had found her person, the one who was going to be there to hold her hand through life and love her through every up and every down. You had even shed a few happy tears when Katie had confided in you this past weekend that she and Josh were finally trying for a baby.

You weren’t jealous, but you desperately longed for what she had. While Katie and Josh had been happily in love since sophomore year, your love life had been decidedly marked by one failed relationship after another. The most painful of which had been your last boyfriend, Andrew. That breakup had been what had propelled you to accept the job offer that had taken you to San Diego almost a year ago.

“Screw Andrew!” Katie had told you as she’d helped you pack up your entire life into a few suitcases and boxes. “You’re headed to the Hottie Capital of America!”

“I must have missed that moniker on the travel brochures,” you responded dryly, although it was the first time you’d felt the urge to laugh in weeks.

“Um, hello, missy. It’s literally called ‘Fightertown USA,’” Katie said, stopping what she was doing to turn and face you, hands on her hips. “You’re going to end up with some sexy fighter pilot, and I am literally going to wither away with envy,” she giggled, winking at you.

“Yeah, right,” you smiled despite yourself, nudging her playfully.

“It’s true,” Katie sighed, feigning dramatics as she draped a hand across her forehead and swooned onto your bed. “I can see it now. You’re going to make the cutest little Marine or Navy wife.”

And yet, for all of Katie’s confidence, there you were, a whole year later, just as single as you had been when you’d first arrived in Fightertown.

It wasn’t to say you were completely on your own. You’d made some really good friends at work, and you got along with all of your neighbors. You’d even gone on a few dates with some guys from North Island. But none that ever went anywhere.

Spending the weekend with Katie and Josh, being reminded of just how in love the two of them were, made you wonder if it was ever going to be your turn.

“You okay?” Katie asked, breaking your silent reverie as she took the exit leading towards the airport in Charlottesville. It wasn’t necessarily the closest airport, but it was the only one for today that offered the flight you needed to get back home. “You seem so quiet.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you nodded distractedly, smiling as you took another sip of your iced coffee. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

How could you possibly tell your best friend that seeing her happiness caused an ache inside your chest that hurt like nothing else you’d ever known? You couldn’t. It made you feel guilty enough just to admit it to yourself.

“Feeling a little nervous about your flight?” she pressed, reaching for her own iced coffee as the car came to a halt at a red light. “I know it’s long, and you hate connecting flights, but I stuck some Benadryl packets in your bag, if that helps at all. It sucks that you have such a hard time sleeping on planes.”

Smiling, you leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. What had you ever done to deserve such a good friend? And there you were, lamenting about all the things she had that you didn’t.

“You’re the best,” you told her sincerely, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m so glad I was able to get down here this weekend.”

Katie beamed brightly, reaching up to squeeze your hand before placing hers back on the steering wheel. “You’re telling me. It was the best surprise ever. I’m just sad I can’t keep you here longer.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised, trying to mentally calculate when you might be able to get time off from work again.

“Maybe you can come down for Christmas this year?” Katie suggested hopefully, glancing over at you with her big green eyes.

“Maybe,” you nodded, twisting your bracelet once more as you saw the signs for the airport approaching. “Or maybe I can fly you and Josh out to San Diego.”

“Oh, yes! Christmas on the beach? Sounds perfect,” Katie grinned, looking out for the sign for departing flights.

All too soon, Katie was pulling up in front of the Delta terminal where your flight would be taking off in just a few hours.

“See? Only 7:11! I got you here ahead of your insane schedule, even with the stop for coffee,” your best friend teased, a twinkle in her eye as she indicated the time on the dashboard.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, laughing out loud as she swatted your hand jokingly.

The two of you climbed out of the car to grab your luggage from the trunk. You’d done your best to pack lightly, which was never an easy task for you, even just for a weekend trip. But somehow, you’d managed to squeeze everything you needed into a carry-on bag. Well, that and a giant duffel that you were claiming was a purse.

“Ugh, goodbyes make me crazy,” Katie shook her head, clearly trying to hide the tears that were brimming in her eyes, which caused tears to spring to your eyes as the two of you reached for each other.

“I love you so much,” you told her, squeezing her tightly as she rocked you back and forth in her arms. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Text me when you get to your gate,” she said, pulling back and taking your hands in hers. “And let me know if there are any cuties on your flight,” she added with a grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I doubt I’m going to bag any cuties looking like this,” you countered sarcastically, indicating the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt you’d donned that morning, as well as the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous no matter what,” Katie scolded you, swatting you on the butt. “Now get going. We wouldn’t want you being late or anything like that,” she joked.

You laughed as well, though your heart ached a bit as you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and began turning towards the doors of the terminal.

“Love you! Talk to you soon!” Katie called out, waving and blowing kisses.

You threw one more wave your best friend’s way, then disappeared inside the terminal, which was already fairly crowded despite the early hour.

As expected, despite the fact that you’d taken pains to get there early and make sure you were on top of everything, the unlucky cloud that seemed to follow you whenever you flew made its appearance once again.

You of course ended up on the slowest moving line at security, only to be heavily questioned by the TSA agent who seemed to be under the impression that you looked nothing like the photo on your driver’s license. Then, when you finally got to the security scanners, you set off the metal detector and had to be publicly groped by another sour-faced TSA agent. As if that wasn’t bad enough, your suitcase was “randomly selected” for extra testing and security checks.

Katie may have loved to tease you about it, but this was precisely the reason why you always left as early as you did to get to the airport.

By the time you were finally rolling your suitcase towards your gate, you were feeling more frazzled than ever. Naturally, the gate had changed since your boarding pass had been printed, and now you had to trek halfway across the airport to find the new one.

You wondered what it felt like to be one of those lucky travelers whose gate was right at the center of the terminal, right near all the restaurants and shops. It had never been you. Without fail, no matter where or when you were flying, your gate always ended up being at the farthest corner of the terminal.

When you finally arrived, triple checking that the gate number matched your flight information, you let out a heavy sigh as you grabbed an open seat at the end of the row. To your surprise, you found that you were seated right next to an open outlet. You never got that lucky.

Turns out, you really did never get that lucky. When you plugged your phone in, you found that it wasn’t charging. Evidently, the outlet was open because it didn’t actually work.

Muttering under your breath, you unplugged your charger and threw it back into your duffel bag. At least your phone was still on 74%. You’d much prefer to have it fully charged, but this would do until you could charge it on the plane.

Glancing down, you realized that you had missed a text from Katie.

At the gate yet???

Rolling your shoulders back and getting more comfortable in your seat, you opened up the message so that you could send a quick response.

Just got here. You’d think I was on the No Fly List with how long it took me to get here.

Katie must have made good time getting home, because it wasn’t long before your phone was buzzing with another text.

😂😂😂 Get yourself a drink!

Katie, it’s not even 9am…

So? A mimosa then!

You laughed, shaking your head. A mimosa didn’t actually sound like such a bad idea right now. Neither did a large iced coffee. But now that you’d finally made it to your gate, you didn’t feel like dragging all your stuff with you across the terminal once again. And you didn’t feel comfortable leaving your things behind, unattended or even in the care of a stranger. Maybe you’d just order one on the plane.

When your phone buzzed again in your lap, you looked down and saw that it was another text from Katie.

Any cuties to share that mimosa with???

You were about to text her back that right now, the only cuties you could see were an adorable four-year-old and an elderly couple who must have been in their eighties when suddenly, the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in your life appeared, as if out of thin air. You were suddenly glad you didn’t have a mimosa or an iced coffee in hand, for you were certain that you would have spit it out in shock upon seeing this guy.

Jaw hanging open and eyes widening, your brain was too fuzzy from lack of sleep to remind you that it was wholly inappropriate and rude to stare.

He truly had to be the hottest man you had ever seen up close in real life. Tall, with broad, thick shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was a golden brown that looked like it was touched frequently by the sun—as did his skin, which was an amusing combination of both tan and pink, as though he should have applied just a pinch more sunscreen than he had. Most surprising of all was the mustache that made your stomach do a strange little flip. You usually weren’t all that attracted to facial hair of any sort, and most guys couldn’t pull off the mustaches they tried to sport, but this particular mustache was the sexiest thing you had ever seen. And somehow, despite not knowing this man from a hole in the wall, you couldn’t imagine him without it. It was like it was a part of his DNA.

Thankfully, he was still staring down at his boarding pass, so he hadn’t noticed your intense scrutiny. Coming to your senses, you closed your mouth and quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. How mortifying. Imagine if he had looked over and caught you staring at him, gaping like a fish out of water?

Still, despite your self-consciousness at the thought of getting caught, you couldn’t help but steal another glance in his direction, this time out of the corner of your eye. He looked even taller this time around. It probably had something to do with the way he carried himself, an easy confidence pouring off him. This man knew he was hot stuff, of that you were sure. But there was also something unassuming about him, something quiet and almost humble. He was dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and an old UVA T-shirt, nothing fancy or flashy. Somehow, however, he managed to pull it off even better than a three-piece suit.

You were startled out of your observations when your phone buzzed again. It was Katie, emphasizing her last message impatiently.

Do you have some kind of magic powers that I was unaware of to make hotties appear out of nowhere? Right when you texted me, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen walked up to my gate.

‼️‼️ GO TALK TO HIM!!! ‼️‼️

At the mere suggestion of going to talk to that guy, your stomach erupted into butterflies. Looking up once again, you saw that he had evidently confirmed he was at the right gate, and had settled down in a seat a couple rows over, facing away from you. God, even the back of his head was handsome.

Are you crazy? This guy is seriously the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I look like a homeless lady that wandered in off the street. I am NOT talking to him!

Your phone buzzed angrily a moment later.

Will you shut up before I drive back there to hit you upside the head?! YOU are gorgeous!!! Who cares if you have no make-up on and your hair’s in a messy bun? It’s called airplane chic! You’re still completely stunning. He would be LUCKY to have a girl as hot as you want to talk to him!

Chewing your bottom lip, you looked up again, trying not to be obvious as your eyes slowly wandered over the people at your gate, until they landed on him once more. He was on the phone this time, having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. Occasionally, he would turn slightly in your direction and you could catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Damn, this man was seriously perfect from every angle.

“Alright, Mav, I’ll see you when I land,” you heard him say—not that you were trying to eavesdrop—before he hung up the phone and dropped it back onto his lap.

It was then that you noticed his phone was plugged into the outlet next to his seat.

Maybe this could be your opportunity? You could casually walk over and see if there were any other open outlets near his. Perhaps you could even make a joke about how it was just your luck that the outlet near your seat wasn’t working. Maybe he’d laugh and tell you some horror story from his travel experiences and the two of you would end up talking until you exchanged numbers. Maybe there was some tiny, infinitesimal chance that this stunning man would actually be charmed by you and possibly even the teensiest bit interested.

Or maybe you would just remain rooted to your seat, terrified to move as you stared at the back of his head.

You were already anticipating the text from Katie when your phone buzzed once again.

The reason you’re not answering me better be because you’re in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Hottie from your gate!!!

Biting down on your lip, you turned your phone over, not knowing how to tell your best friend that you were too much of a chicken to get out of your seat and approach this guy.

At that moment, however, you were suddenly saved, at least somewhat, when a member of the flight crew announced that they were about to begin boarding. Forgetting about Katie’s texts and the hot guy sitting several feet away from you for a moment, you began gathering together all your belongings, making sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

When your boarding group was called, you did one final sweep around your seat, securing the strap of your duffel bag up on your shoulder and wrapping one hand around the handle of your carry-on before making your way to the line extending from the counter.

As you stepped up behind the elderly couple you’d noticed earlier, your boarding pass slipped out of your hand, floating through the air despite your best attempt to reach for it, and landing somewhere behind you.

Turning to find it, you nearly collided with the tall wall of man behind you, who was bending at the same time to grab it off the floor.

“Oh!” you gasped, startled to find that Mr. Hottie, as Katie had dubbed him, was not only standing behind you in line, but was also holding your boarding pass in his hand, glancing down at it.

“San Diego with a layover in Atlanta, huh?” he grinned, glancing from the boarding pass up to your face. Unsurprisingly, he had a beautiful set of whiskey-colored eyes that made your stomach do the same strange little flip that his mustache had induced. Oh, and up close, the mustache was even sexier.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded dumbly, your tongue suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds as your brain short-circuited and couldn’t come up with a single worthwhile thing to say.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Mr. Hottie went on, holding your boarding pass out to you. “Looks like we’ve got a long day of flying ahead of us.”

Mouth hanging open, you slowly reached out and took the boarding pass from him, trying frantically to think of something—anything—to say. He was flying to San Diego, too? You were on the same exact flight? Including the same layover?

“I—I—”

“Hey, the line's moving!” someone from the back called out, sounding annoyed.

Turning back over your shoulder, you were mortified to see that the elderly couple in front of you had disappeared and you were, in fact, holding up the line.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, ducking your head as you clutched your boarding pass and reached out for your carry-on. “Thanks again for grabbing this for me,” you told Mr. Hottie, waving your boarding pass slightly before turning and practically running towards the counter.

With his long stride, he caught up to you in no time, his smile friendly and warm as the two of you joined the line of people waiting to board the airplane.

“You weren’t holding anyone up,” he whispered down to you, as if it was some special secret the two of you were sharing. “I don’t know what that guy was in such a rush for. To move from that line to this one? We’re all getting out of here at the same time.”

You smiled at his words, feeling comforted by his reassurance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Some people are just always in a hurry.”

The two of you were quiet after that, and you wondered if that would be the end of the conversation. You were casting around for anything else you could talk about when he suddenly asked you, “So are you leaving home or heading home?”

Your heart fluttered at his question. If he didn’t want to keep talking, he wouldn’t have asked that, right?

“Heading home,” you told him, fiddling shyly with your bracelet. You laughed softly. “It’s still kind of weird saying that. I’ve only been in San Diego for about eleven months.”

He raised his eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Yeah? Well, I know I’m a little late, but welcome to Fightertown. I hope it’s been treating you well.”

“Oh, it has been,” you nodded, making sure to pay attention to when the people in front of you began moving forward. “I take it you’re heading home then, too?”

“I am,” he grinned, shouldering the backpack he was carrying with him. “Well, actually, I’m kind of leaving home and heading home,” he amended. At your curious look, he explained, “I’m from Virginia originally, but I live in San Diego now. I guess you could say I’m a transplant, just like you,” he added with a chuckle. “Are you from Virginia, too?”

“New York, actually,” you told him, as the two of you followed the flow of people towards the plane. “But my best friend and her husband moved to Fredericksburg recently, so I was spending the weekend with them.”

“Ah, that’s a nice area,” he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at you with a smile. At your unspoken question, he said, “I was actually down for a reunion weekend at my school. I went to UVA.”

“I gathered,” you replied teasingly, indicating his T-shirt.

Glancing downward, he shook his head and laughed. “Almost forgot I threw this on when I woke up. Trying to get to the airport on time is a real pain, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a laugh, adjusting your hold on your duffel bag. “Flying is definitely one of my least favorite modes of transportation.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said in reply, an amused look on his face.

Before you could ask him what was so funny, however, you were being welcomed aboard the plane by the stewardesses, who were all smiling and indicating that they expected you to keep moving down the aisle.

Your heart dropped slightly at the abrupt end to your conversation. Now the two of you were going to go to your separate seats, and he’d probably forget all about you. It was one thing to make idle conversation with a stranger while on line, but you doubted he had any real interest in continuing the conversation beyond that.

Sighing softly, you rolled your suitcase down the aisle, pausing every now and then as the people in front of you put their bags in the overhead bins and got themselves sorted. When you finally reached Row 22, you stopped and looked back at Mr. Hottie with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, this is me. I’ll just be a minute,” you told him, pushing down the handle of your carry-on.

“No worries, this is me,” he grinned, indicating Row 21. “I even snagged the window seat,” he added with a wink.

Your mouth went dry. He had the window seat of Row 21. You had the window seat of Row 22. He was sitting directly in front of you.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for your carry-on bag and easily hefting it above his head, sliding it into the overhead bin for you. “Do you need me to put this one up there, too?” he asked, pointing towards your duffel bag.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shook your head, holding onto the strap of your bag. “I’m going to keep this one with me. Thanks a lot,” you smiled, not even noticing the line of disgruntled people that was beginning to form behind the two of you.

“No problem,” he smiled, starting to slide into his row with his backpack still on his back. “Have a great flight.”

“You, too,” you replied, a little sadly, as you crawled into your row, doing your best to ignore the annoyed looks some people were throwing your way.

Needless to say, it was just your luck that the impatient man from the boarding line ended up sitting right beside you. You tried to smile at him, but he just grunted and put his headphones on, completely ignoring you.

Fine by you. Pulling your phone out, you found that you had a whole new series of texts from Katie, demanding to know exactly what was happening.

On the plane now. We should be taking off soon. I talked a little bit to Mr. Hottie. Are you happy?

It didn’t take long at all for her to respond. You could imagine that she had been sitting by her phone, waiting eagerly for your message.

Eeeee, yes, very! What did you guys talk about? Are you sitting near each other on the plane? Did you exchange numbers??? Send me a picture!!!

You laughed softly to yourself as you tried your best to answer all the questions your excited friend had asked you.

Just small talk. He’s actually flying home to San Diego, too. He went to UVA and was there for a reunion weekend. We did not exchange numbers and I’m not going to be a creepy stalker and take a picture of him, but he actually is sitting in the seat right in front of me.

OMG, IT’S FATE!!! So he has the same layover and everything??? And he’s FROM San Diego?! Babe, this is the guy for you!!! You’ve got to keep talking to him!

How would you suggest I do that? Just tap him on the shoulder and whisper into his ear the whole time?

It’s only a couple hours to Atlanta, and then you’ll have the layover, and then another four and half hours to San Diego. You could practically be engaged by the time you land! Just slip him a little note or something. Give him your number!

Your stomach was doing somersaults at the mere thought. Between the two of you, Katie had always been the more outgoing one. She would have no problem slipping a note with her phone number on it to a complete stranger, putting herself out there for the possibility of rejection and utter humiliation. You, on the other hand, preferred to play it safe. It was much more comfortable that way. And sure, maybe you’d never met your Josh the way Katie had, but at least you’d never been hurt too badly, right?

Unbidden, you thought of Andrew and felt bile rise in your throat.

Luckily, you were saved from having to answer Katie right away when the cabin crew made the announcement that it was time to shut down all electronics. Switching your phone onto airplane mode, you slipped it into the front pocket of your duffel bag and took a deep breath, buckling your seatbelt and closing your eyes.

Takeoff was your least favorite part of any flight. When you were a little girl, your parents used to make funny faces and sing silly songs to distract you from your terror. Even now as an adult who was flying all on her own, you still tried to remember the sound of their voices as the plane began its ascent.

It didn’t take too long before you were finally cruising at 18,000 feet and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Since you were a Delta SkyMiles member, you got free Wi-Fi on all your flights, so you immediately reached to turn your phone back on to let Katie know you had taken off safely.

As soon as your phone connected with the Wi-Fi, it was instantly flooded with a slew of text messages. A couple were from some of your friends back in San Diego, wishing you a safe and easy flight, but most were from your crazy best friend.

Don’t think you can use being on a plane as an excuse not to answer my texts!

I know you’re a SkyMiles member and you can see these messages!

You better answer me!!!

Shaking your head, you quickly tapped out a quick message in response.

Took off safely. Thinking of watching a movie before we land in Atlanta. You’re crazy and I am not slipping him a note.

Your phone was blessedly quiet for the next several minutes, and part of you hoped that Katie had given up this ridiculous notion. Knowing her as long as you had, however, you should have figured that wouldn’t be the case.

What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t answer you? The two of you never talk again? You’ve never seen this guy before in your life, and the chances are good that you’ll never see him again after this. So if you put yourself out there and it doesn’t work out, who cares? At least you tried. And sure, it might be a little embarrassing at first, but like I said, you’ll never have to see him again. But what if you thought about it the other way around? What if it DOES work out? What if this could be the start of something great? Would you really just want to walk away, wondering what could have been and regretting that you didn’t take a chance? You deserve to be loved so, so, SO much! And I know that you have so much love to give! This guy would be lucky if you chose him. Just give it a try, will you? For me? Please! You can’t see it, but I’m giving my best puppy dog face right now. And sending you all the best vibes! You can do this! I love you! ♥️

You groaned at your best friend’s heartfelt message. How could you possibly say no to that? You knew Katie just wanted the best for you, and she wanted you to be happy. You wanted to be happy, too. What if she was right? What if this was your chance? Would you be a fool to just walk away from it without even trying? Like Katie said, at least if you tried, you could say you’d done all you could. And if it didn’t work, then Mr. Hottie just wasn’t the one for you. No harm, no foul.

You were starting to feel like you might need to make use of the vomit bag tucked securely in the seat pocket in front of you when the stewardess stopped at your row to offer you all snacks and beverages. You gratefully accepted a can of ginger ale and a packet of pretzels, nibbling on them slowly in an attempt to settle your roiling stomach.

You were being an idiot. There was no reason to be so dramatic about all this. You could write a quick note and pass it up to him, then pretend it had never happened. Seriously, what was the worst that was going to happen? He was going to get up and make an announcement over the loudspeaker that the girl sitting in 22A was a pathetic, lonely loser? You doubted that very much.

Before you could lose your nerve, you reached into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulled out the pen you always kept there. Turns out, it really did come in handy. Mercifully, the grumpy man beside you was already snoring, so you could write your note in peace without being worried about him seeing what you were doing.

Hand shaking slightly, you penned a quick letter to the handsome, charming man in 21A.

Hi there. I realized in all our talking that I never caught your name. But it might be good to know, seeing how we’re layover buddies and all. Hope you’re enjoying the flight so far.

You signed your name at the bottom, and then took a deep breath, reading over what you had written on the back of your Delta napkin. It sounded impossibly stupid, but you’d come this far and you weren’t going to turn back now. What was it that people on the internet were always saying? Something about shooting your shot?

Breathing through your nose to avoid getting sick, you reached out a trembling finger and lightly tapped the broad shoulder that you saw peeking out from the seat in front of you. You suddenly realized that he may have been asleep and panicked at the thought of waking him up, but he shifted immediately at your touch and you could tell that he was turning towards you.

Not wanting to meet his eye, you immediately thrust your napkin into the small open space between your seats and the windows, silently praying that he would take it from you instead of laughing in your face.

A second later, you felt his large fingers brush against yours as he took your little note, shifting in his seat once more so that he was facing front again.

What had you just done? Oh, God, there was still another hour left to go on this flight, then a layover, and another four and half hours to San Diego. True, you would never have to see him again after you landed in California, but that was still a lot of time left to have to be in proximity to him if all of this blew up in your face.

You were just about ready to launch yourself out of one of the emergency exits when you suddenly looked up and realized that there was a small white napkin hovering above your head.

Mr. Hottie in 21A was reaching back with your note in hand. Your stomach plummeted and your face and neck grew warm with shame at the thought of him returning the letter you’d written him, until you noticed the red ink on the back of it. 

You’d written your note in black ink.

Slowly reaching out, you took the napkin from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other once more. His were large and warm and calloused and made goosebumps rise on your arm.

Pulse beating rapidly, you turned over the napkin to see the response he had written on the back. His handwriting was a bit messy, more of a scrawl than anything, but it made you smile to look at it.

What was I thinking, not properly introducing myself to my layover buddy? Hope you can forgive me. My name is Bradley. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve got some Wi-Fi on this flight, do you? If you do, feel free to text me. We seem to be dangerously low on napkins.

At the bottom, he’d written his cell phone number.

Pressing a hand over your mouth, it took everything in you to swallow back the squeal of delight that rose up your throat. It worked! Katie’s silly plan had actually worked! Oh, she was going to gloat about this forever when you told her.

Beaming brightly, you pulled out your cell phone. As much as you loved her, Katie could wait right now. You had an extremely gorgeous layover buddy to get in touch with.

Typing his number into your cell phone, you opened up a new message and contemplated what to say for a moment.

Layover buddies who both just so happen to have some inflight Wi-Fi? Clearly it’s meant to be.

You hoped the message came across as cute and flirty instead of desperate and weird as you hit send, anxiously waiting to see if he would reply.

It took only a moment before your phone buzzed, Bradley’s name lighting up your screen.

Layover buddies who both just so happen have some inflight Wi-Fi AND spring for the window seats? Obviously it’s meant to be!

You smiled and were about to think up a reply when another message suddenly came though.

Oh, and to answer your note—I’m enjoying the flight a lot more now.

The butterflies went crazy in your stomach as you wrote back to him.

Me, too. And that’s saying a lot, considering the four-year-old behind me hasn’t stopped kicking my seat since we boarded.

Bradley only took seconds to reply.

Oof, that’s rough. If I could switch seats with you, I would. But I have to admit that I’m very happy that you’re not kicking my seat.

Wouldn’t be too sure about that, you sent back teasingly before lightly nudging his seat with your foot.

Hey! I thought we were friends!

We’ll see 😉

You and Bradley went back and forth like that for the entire remainder of your flight to Atlanta, the banter light and easy as you teased and joked with each other. You even ended up playing a game of 20 Questions, in which you learned, among other things, that Bradley’s favorite color was red, he once broke his arm when he was seven years old, and he absolutely despised peas.

As the captain announced that you would soon begin preparing for your final descent, you shot off a quick message to Katie, who you had woefully neglected during your conversation with Bradley.

I owe you one. The pep talk and the plan actually worked—I’m texting Mr. Hottie as we speak! Update you soon. We’re about to land in Atlanta.

Just as you sent the message off to your friend, another text from Bradley arrived.

Looks like we’re going to have to turn off our phones, layover buddy. I’ll see you when we land. Food? I’m starving.

Grinning, you had to pinch yourself to check that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate dream.

Same. I’ll race you for some french fries.

You’re on.

When the plane finally landed and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, everyone practically jumped out of their seats in a mad dash to see who could be the first to get their belongings out of the overhead bins. Since you and Bradley were in the window seats, you took your time, knowing you weren’t getting off the plane anytime soon.

You were surprised, however, when he suddenly popped his head over the back of his seat, grinning down at you. “Good thing our next flight doesn’t leave for a couple hours yet,” he said, indicating the crowd with a good-natured grin that made your heart melt.

You had almost been starting to think you’d exaggerated just how good-looking he was, but nope. He really was that hot.

“Plenty of time to grab those fries,” you laughed, smiling up at him.

When you and Bradley were finally able to step out into the aisle, he opened the bin above your head and reached for your suitcase.

“Let me take care of this for you,” he said, lowering it to the ground and lifting the handle so that he could wheel it up the aisle.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insisted, not wanting him to think that you expected him to carry your things for you.

“Hey, what are layover buddies for?” he winked, leading the way off the plane.

Once the two of you were standing face to face in the middle of the airport terminal, you began to feel a little shy and self-conscious again. It had been easy to talk to Bradley via text, but now that you were gazing up at his handsome face again, you suddenly found yourself getting just as tongue-tied as before.

Bradley seemed to sense your nerves because he smiled warmly at you, his demeanor just as open and friendly as it had been the entire time you’d known him.

“How about we hunt down those fries?” he suggested, waiting until you smiled and nodded before turning and guiding you towards the main concourse.

The two of you ended up finding a quick and easy little fast food counter, where you ordered a couple burgers, a large order of fries, and some vanilla milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries. As soon as it became clear that Bradley was going to pay for both your meals, you tried to argue and insist on paying your share, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“My mom raised a gentleman, and she would kill me if she thought I was even thinking of letting my layover buddy pay for her lunch,” he told you, winking playfully as he handed his credit card to the employee behind the counter.

You took your suitcase from Bradley as he balanced the tray with your food in his hands, leading you to an empty table towards the end of the concourse.

“Your mom must be very proud of you, I’m sure,” you grinned, reaching eagerly for a fry and popping it into your mouth. “Did you get to see her while you were in Virginia?”

Bradley smiled, though his eyes suddenly looked a little sad. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

Deciding not to press the matter, you instead turned the attention to his college reunion. That led to the two of you happily swapping stories about your time in college, which landed you on the subject of what you do now.

“A naval aviator? Really? And a TOPGUN graduate? That’s very impressive,” you gushed, mentally picturing him in a flight suit. You’d gone on a couple dates with some naval aviators from North Island, but none as handsome or as charming as Bradley. You suddenly groaned and covered your face with your hand when you remembered what you’d said to him right before boarding the plane. “So that’s what you meant when I was saying that flying isn’t my favorite mode of transportation,” you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed.

Bradley threw his head back and laughed at that, looking genuinely amused. “Hey, I get it. Flying isn’t for everybody. Trust me, some days I wish I had just opted for a desk job,” he grinned, his muscles flexing as he stretched in his seat. “But there’s nothing quite like it, when you’re the one doing the flying. Maybe one day I can take you up in the air and change your mind.”

He looked across the table at you and held your gaze, and you felt sure in that moment that you would have promised him anything he asked.

“So what’s your call sign then?” you asked with a smile, resting your cheek in your hand as you looked into his eyes.

“Oh, you know about that, huh?” he chuckled, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Well, uh, they call me Rooster.”

You had a feeling he expected you to laugh—maybe other girls in the past had—but you just grinned brightly in response. “I like it,” you said simply. “It suits you.”

He let out a small breath and smiled in return. “Thank you. My dad’s call sign was Goose. So I guess it runs in the family.”

“Your dad is in the Navy, too?” you asked curiously, lifting your milkshake and taking a sip.

Bradley cleared his throat slightly, looking down at his lap. “He was. He died in a training accident at TOPGUN when I was two.”

You sucked in a breath at your own carelessness and looked across at Bradley with empathy glowing in your eyes. “Oh, Bradley,” you murmured softly, reaching out and resting a hand over his. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied gently, a small smile on his face as he placed his other hand over yours. “But thank you.” He was quiet for a moment before he went on. “It was just me and my mom for a while, back home in Virginia. But she got sick when I was in high school, and she passed away my senior year.”

“Bradley,” you breathed out sadly, your heart breaking for him. You winced when you thought of what he’d said before, about seeing his mom while he was in Virginia.

“She and my dad are buried in my hometown, where I grew up. I go to see them at the cemetery whenever I’m back in town,” he explained, as if reading your thoughts.

“I’m sure that means a lot to them, and that they’re smiling down on you always,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand lightly.

He smiled up at you, the sadness in his expression lifting slightly. “I like to think so. I think they’d like you a lot,” he added, then looked away. He suddenly seemed embarrassed.

The two of you sat back, disentangling your hands as you sat in mildly awkward silence for a moment or two.

“What about your parents?” Bradley asked, clearly looking for a way to change the subject. “Do they still live in New York?”

It was your turn to look sad now. “Well, we actually have a lot in common, Bradley. Only I guess my story is sort of in reverse. My mom passed away when I was six years old. She got in a car accident on her way home from work. And my dad passed when I was a freshman in college. Lung cancer.”

“Shit,” Bradley muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You couldn’t have known. And it feels kind of nice talking about it with someone who I know understands. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, his expression serious as his dark eyes rested on your face. “Yeah, I do.”

You and Bradley sat in companionable silence as you finished your meals, then checked to see how much time you had before your connecting flight.

“I guess we should start making our way over to the gate,” you suggested, glancing at the time on your phone. You had about ten text messages from Katie, but you were too embarrassed to open them anywhere near Bradley.

Bradley nodded in agreement, wordlessly taking the handle of your suitcase and leading you back across the concourse.

“Hey, we got so distracted talking about my job that I never even asked what you do,” he suddenly realized once the two of you were seated at your gate, both your phones charging in a nearby outlet.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear. “Funny enough, I actually work for the Midway Museum,” you told him, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already gazing down at you.

“No way! Guess we’re both stuck aboard aircraft carriers for work then,” he chuckled. “What do you do?”

“Well, my official title is digital content specialist,” you said, biting down on your lower lip. You felt like it always sounded a bit pretentious. “Basically, I help run the museum’s digital accounts—social media, their website, email blasts, things like that. My degree is in marketing and communications, so that’s basically what I do.”

“That’s amazing,” Bradley said, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it. Some guys just pretended to be interested in your job as a pretense for trying to get into your pants, but you could tell that Bradley actually cared about what you had to say. He was actually listening. “Is that what brought you out to San Diego?”

“It is, actually. I had been applying to a few different places, and when I got word from the Midway that they were interested in hiring me, I thought that maybe it was the fresh start I needed,” you confessed.

“Has it been?” Bradley asked quietly.

“I think so,” you nodded slowly, absent-mindedly twisting your bracelet around your wrist. “It’s hard sometimes, being so far away from my best friend, Katie—the one I was visiting. She’s pretty much the only family I’ve got left. But I like the life that I’m building in San Diego.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” Bradley smiled, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat. He looked like he was about to say more when the flight crew called your boarding group.

“Looks like we’re going to be sitting near each other again, 21A,” you teased, glancing down at his boarding pass as the two of you rose and grabbed your phones.

“Glad to hear it, 22A,” he joked in return, holding up his phone and waving it back and forth. “And now my phone is fully charged for our trip back to San Diego, so let the texting commence.”

Giggling, you nodded as the two of you walked down the rampway side by side and made your way onto the plane and to your seats without incident. When you got there, however, you saw that there had been some confusion with a young family that looked to have four children under the age of eight. It seemed as though their tickets had gotten split up so that they weren’t all sitting next to each other, and the mother was frantic.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Bradley asked, quickly taking stock of the situation. When the woman looked up at him, clearly stressed out and worried he was going to yell at her, he smiled comfortingly. “I was just going to say that, if you’d like, you can have my seat. I’d be happy to take yours since it looks like it’s next to my friend here anyway. That way, we can all be comfortable and sit with the people we want to sit with.”

“Oh, thank you!” the young mother exclaimed, looking ready to hug Bradley. “Thank you!”

She and her husband quickly got their children settled, thanking Bradley a few more times for good measure, while he took your carry-on and set it in the overhead bin.

Once you had settled in your window seat, Bradley took the seat beside you, grinning impishly.

“Look at that. Now we don’t even need to waste the Wi-Fi,” he murmured, nudging you playfully.

“Things just have a way of working out for us today, don’t they?” you laughed, settling your duffel bag at your feet. “I’m just going to send a quick message to Katie, to let her know I made it onto my connecting flight,” you told him, reaching for your phone and quickly opening Katie’s messages so that Bradley wouldn’t see them.

“Good idea, I should text Mav,” Bradley said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. At your confused look, he explained, “My godfather. He’s also in the Navy, and he also just so happens to be stationed out in San Diego. He’s going to pick me up at the airport.”

Nodding, you sent a brief text to your best friend, promising you would call her as soon as you got home, then settled in for the flight and tried to get as comfortable as possible.

As soon as you felt the plane jolt to life and begin taxing towards the runway, your chest grew tight and your grip on yours and Bradley’s shared armrest started to turn your knuckles white.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, genuine concern in his voice as he glanced over and noticed how on edge you suddenly appeared. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead on the screen in front of you, which was currently playing some Delta commercial that your brain could scarcely register.

“I think your death grip on our armrest would suggest otherwise,” he pressed gently, his tone remaining light and good-humored. “You trying to take that thing with you?”

Startled, your nervous trance was broken and you glanced down to see what Bradley was talking about. Sure enough, your nails were digging into the armrest so intensely that you wouldn’t have been surprised if they left little crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

Letting out a shaky laugh, you looked up at the man beside you ruefully. “Okay, truth be told, I get a little anxious during takeoff,” you confessed, biting your lip in embarrassment. He would probably think that was silly. He was a fighter pilot, after all. His day job involved flying multi-million dollar aircrafts for the military. And here you were, acting like a scaredy cat over a commercial Delta flight.

Bradley’s eyes crinkled in a way that you found devastatingly charming as he smiled over at you. The look on his face was kind, without a single trace of mocking humor.

“Want to know a secret?” he whispered, leaning in closer to you so that his nose was nearly pressed against your cheek and you could feel his breath on your skin. “So do I.”

“You’re kidding,” you scoffed, shooting him a skeptical look. He was probably just trying to be nice. “But you’re a naval aviator!”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one flying this plane, am I?” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “It’s hard to put the reins in someone else’s hands. So I understand being nervous. Hell, I still get a little nervous sometimes when I’m flying an F-18. Just don’t tell anyone I said that,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Oh, of course not,” you giggled, smiling over at him. Glancing out the window, you realized that his conversation had distracted you so much, you hadn’t even noticed that the plane had finished its approach towards the runway and was officially waiting for takeoff.

Some of your nerves returned, and you gripped the armrest once more, but this time, you felt Bradley’s large, yet gentle fingers close over yours. Surprised, you turned your head sharply and instantly met his gaze. It was direct and disconcertingly open as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he assured you in a low voice, squeezing your fingers comfortingly. “We’re going to be okay.”

“My parents used to sing to me during takeoff,” you found yourself blurting out suddenly, your cheeks growing warm at the admission. “I can remember my mom doing it when I was a little girl, and my dad used to do it for me even when I was in high school,” you explained shyly, lowering your eyes to your lap.

At that moment, your stomach dropped as the plane suddenly began hurtling forward, seeking enough momentum to become airborne.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall the sound of your parents’ voices in order to calm your racing heart. But a new voice suddenly entered the mix as you felt your newfound flying buddy lean across the armrest, his warm body pressing against your side as he sang quietly in your ear.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain…”

Wait a second. You knew that song. Where did you know that song from?

“Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill…”

Yes, you definitely knew that song. It was on one of the records your parents used to play when you were a little girl. Was it Jerry Lee Lewis?

Gasping in recognition, you whisper-sang the next lyric in harmony with Bradley—“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

He laughed in delight when you began singing along, squeezing your hand with an affectionate grin. “And would you look at that,” he said, nodding towards the window. “We’re airborne. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Shocked, you followed his line of vision and were taken aback to see that you were already ascending into the clouds, leaving the city of Atlanta far behind. That had been one of the smoothest takeoff experiences you’d had in—well, you couldn’t even remember how long.

“I barely even noticed!” you exclaimed, focusing your attention back on Bradley. You smiled gratefully, your heart melting at the adorable puppy dog look on his face. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You noticed at that moment that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and your pulse began to quicken, but this time for entirely different reasons.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured in response, his voice low and suddenly husky. It did something to you, that deep, raspy voice of his. “Happy to do it.” He squeezed your hand gently once more, then slowly—almost hesitantly—let it go.

“I haven’t heard that song in the longest time,” you told him, resting back against your seat. “My parents used to listen to it.”

Bradley smiled slightly. “It’s the one song I can actually remember my dad singing. He loved to sing and play the piano. My mom had tons of home videos of him doing it. But that song—that song I can actually remember hearing him sing, you know? I was so young when he—well—I can remember that one. And that’s why it’s my favorite to sing and play.”

“You play the piano, too?” you asked, impressed. “Wow, a man of many talents.” You nudged him playfully, a big smile on your face.

“I’ll have to show you what I can do,” Bradley replied, winking.

Your stomach fluttered at the implication that he might actually want to see you again after today.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, ducking your head shyly. You suddenly felt much more aware of everything around you, particularly every inch of your muscular seatmate. Goodness, he really was huge, wasn’t he? Chewing nervously on your bottom lip, you began fidgeting with your bracelet, tugging at it absent-mindedly.

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” Bradley commented, pointing at it as he watched you twist it back and forth around your wrist. “A gift?” he asked lightly, his tone almost a little too casual.

“Mhm,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you gazed down at it. You could still remember the day you opened it. “My dad bought it for me as a present when I graduated high school. I never take it off.”

“Ah,” Bradley nodded, appearing surprisingly relieved. He was quiet for a moment or two, looking like he was mulling over something. Then he turned towards you and asked, “So, um, is there anybody waiting for you in San Diego? Anyone, uh, special, I mean?” he asked, his cheeks and his ears turning red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt your own skin grow warm in response. Was Bradley asking if you had a boyfriend? And was he embarrassed about it? Just when you thought this man couldn’t possibly charm you any more than he already had.

“Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Flores. She really appreciates it when I walk her dog on the weekends,” you told him, your lips twitching as you tried to maintain a straight face.

Caught off guard by your response, Bradley let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth with one hand as he glanced down at you, eyes twinkling.

“I’m sure Mrs. Flores will be very happy to see you back again,” he nodded, tapping his fingers on his tray table.

The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes until you finally glanced up and said, “I had actually just gotten out of a long-term relationship right before I moved to San Diego. It was kind of the catalyst for why I decided to take the job at the Midway Museum.”

“Oh, really?” Bradley asked, eyebrows shooting up. Then he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s too personal, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sighed, twirling your bracelet a few times as you thought back on your last failed relationship. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it normally did. Maybe time really did heal all wounds. You took a deep breath before you elaborated. “Andrew and I were together for four years. For a long time, I really thought he was the one. Katie was convinced that he was going to propose on our trip to Greece. It was a dream vacation for me. I had the whole thing planned out for months and months. And I really started to let myself believe that it was going to happen.”

Bradley sat quietly, watching you carefully as he attentively took in every word you uttered.

“We were in Athens, and I had the whole day planned—all these tours and museums. But Andrew insisted that he was too tired since we had just traveled from Rhodes, and he begged me to let him stay behind at the hotel. Being the idiot that I am, I thought that maybe he wanted to put the finishing touches on his big proposal. So I went on the tours by myself. But the last tour ended early, so I came back to our hotel room a little sooner than expected.”

Your throat began to tighten as the story continued, the pain of what had happened next eclipsed only by your embarrassment that Bradley would soon know how pitifully your last relationship had ended. Why had you brought all this up?

“I’ll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, I found Andrew in bed with one of the cocktail waitresses from the hotel bar. And to no one’s surprise, there was no ring and he never had any intention of proposing. So I flew home from Greece minus a boyfriend and with very little remaining of my dignity. Leaving everything behind and starting fresh in San Diego seemed like a really good idea, so when the Midway contacted me, I jumped at the offer. And here I am,” you finished with a self-conscious laugh, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly.

Bradley didn’t say anything at first, just continued to stare at you in a way that had you feeling distinctly exposed. Your fingers immediately went to your bracelet once again, nervously fidgeting and waiting for him to say something.

Reaching out, he placed his hand over yours and stilled your movements gently. “First of all,” he began slowly, looking directly into your eyes. It seemed as though he was peering directly into your soul. “Andrew is a complete and total loser. If he didn’t know what he had in you, then he never deserved you to begin with. It’s his loss, and trust me, he’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life if he has even an ounce of sense.” His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, making your legs suddenly feel like Jell-O. “Second of all, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I hope you know that the way that idiot treated you in no way says anything about you. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I can see that that guy never deserved you to begin with.”

Feeling bashful, you lowered your head, trying to escape the intensity of Bradley’s dark eyes. It didn’t matter though—you could still feel his gaze.

“You don’t have to say that,” you murmured, not wanting him to think you had just unloaded all of this on him for sympathy points.

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted, his voice serious. “You’re a special girl, and you deserve to be with someone who treats you that way.”

Someone like you?

The thought sprang unbidden to your mind, causing you to grow flustered. “Th–thank you,” you stammered, worried for half a second that Bradley could actually read your mind.

You were saved from having to make any further comment in that moment when the stewardess suddenly appeared with the food cart, asking you if you wanted any snacks or beverages.

You opted for a Diet Coke and popcorn, while Bradley took a Sprite and a bag of potato chips.

“What do you say? A little toast to my new flight buddy?” Bradley suggested teasingly, holding his can of soda out towards you.

You couldn’t help but smile, lightly tapping your can against his. “Cheers to us,” you laughed, taking a small sip.

“To us,” Bradley grinned. “You know,” he went on, after taking a gulp of his Sprite, “if you ever want to think about getting your pilot’s license, I’d be happy to have you as my wingman—er, woman.”

You laughed aloud at the notion, shaking your head. “Um, did you already forget about how well I handled takeoff? I’m not so sure anyone would trust me behind the controls of a plane.”

“I could teach you,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows until you laughed again. “Or at the very least, take you up for a little joyride. I’d make sure to keep you safe.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to walk through life with this man, to have him be the one you came home to every day.

To have him be the one to make you feel like the most special girl in the world.

“I would like that,” you confessed, pushing your self-consciousness to the side as you looked into his eyes. “I would like that a lot.”

“So would I,” Bradley replied, his expression earnest.

For the next hour or two, you and Bradley shared some of the snacks you’d packed in your duffel bag and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. You had never felt so instantly at ease with someone who had been a complete and total stranger just a few hours earlier. The fact that he had been in San Diego all this time, right under your nose, and that it had taken a flight home all the way from Virginia for you two to actually meet felt like more than just a coincidence. It felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

At some point, you must have finally succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen asleep because when the captain announced that you were making your final descent into San Diego International Airport, you were lifting your head off Bradley’s shoulder and blinking in confusion.

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned, wiping a hand down his face and rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, stretching your arms over your head. “I never sleep on planes.”

“Well you definitely slept on this one. I’d say you were probably out for at least an hour and a half,” he told you, running a hand through his hair, which made his sunkissed curls stand on end. “I nodded out, too. Guess we both needed it, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so,” you nodded, smiling at him.

By the time you finally deplaned—after Bradley, of course, had insisted on taking down your carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin and rolling it through the airport for you—you were growing both eager and anxious with anticipation of what the end of your journey would look like.

You and Bradley technically already had each other’s phone numbers, so should you say something about getting together? Would that seem too brazen? Should you just text him tomorrow and hope that whatever spark had been ignited during your travels today wouldn’t be extinguished by the time you both got home?

All of those thoughts and more were running through your head as you and Bradley took the escalator down to baggage claim and the terminal exit.

“Do you, um, do you have somebody picking you up?” Bradley asked as the two of you stepped off the escalator. He stepped to the side to avoid the flow of the crowd, and you stepped with him. “Mrs. Flores perhaps?” he added with a teasing spark in his eye.

“No,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I was just planning to call an Uber.”

“No need,” he said, his chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Mav and I will give you a ride home. He should actually be here already,” he mumbled, almost to himself, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his messages.

“Oh, you guys don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you going out of your way,” you hurried to tell him, noticing that Bradley still had his hand on the handle of your suitcase.

“Who says it would be going out of our way?” Bradley retorted with that impossibly charming smile of his. “Unless, of course, you’re more comfortable taking an Uber. I don’t want to make you feel like—”

“No, no, you’re not,” you interrupted, wanting to make it clear to him that you appreciated the offer.

Seemingly at an impasse, the two of you just looked at each other and started laughing.

“I would love a ride, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble,” you told him.

“Never,” Bradley insisted. “Besides, you put up with me all day. I owe you.”

“I could say the same thing,” you grinned, reaching into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulling out your cell phone. “In the meantime, I should text Katie and let her know I landed safely and that you haven’t abducted me or anything,” you teased jokingly.

Too late, you realized your mistake.

“Ah, so you told Katie about me, huh?” Bradley smirked, looking just a tad too pleased with himself. “What did you say?”

“Oh, um, nothing, just that I made a friend while traveling,” you stammered in humiliation, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “I’m just, um, I’m going to step over there while you get your bag.”

“Sure, sure,” he laughed, winking at you as he hurried over to the baggage carousel to search for his suitcase.

“Oh my God, how stupid are you?” you muttered to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for your careless words as you sent off a quick message to your best friend to let her know you were alive.

A moment later, she texted you back.

YOU BETTER CALL ME THE MINUTE YOU GET HOME!!! I WANT EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL!!!

Smiling, you dropped your phone back into your bag and looked up to see Bradley walking towards you, his suitcase in hand.

“Ready to head out?” he asked with a smile, watching as you grabbed the handle of your carry-on and did one quick scan to make sure you hadn’t dropped anything.

“Ready,” you nodded, following him outside to where a slew of Ubers and other cars were waiting to pick up their passengers.

“There’s Mav,” Bradley told you, pointing with his free hand towards the end of the pick-up line, where a handsome older man with dark hair and an easy smile was waving at you.

“Your godfather drives a Porsche?” you asked, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head at the sight of the vintage car. It was in pristine condition and you were certain it must have cost a small fortune.

“Technically, it’s his fiancée, Penny’s car, but she lets him drive it when he’s been good,” Bradley joked, resting a gentle hand on your back as he guided you through the crowd.

Bradley was quick to embrace his godfather when the two of you finally reached the Porsche, slapping him on the back before stepping back and holding out a hand to you. “Mav, I’d like you to meet my new travel buddy,” he grinned, introducing you by name.

Mav, as Bradley kept calling him, offered you one of those easy smiles as he held out his hand, which you took with a smile of your own.

“Ah, so this is the girl from the plane I’ve been hearing so much about,” Mav smirked, shooting a pointed look in his godson’s direction.

“Mav!” Bradley hissed through gritted teeth, his complexion instantly turning pink, even in the shade.

“Ah,” you smirked, feeling vindicated from your earlier blunder. “So you told Mav about me, huh?” you asked, nudging his side. “What did you say?” you teased, tossing back his question from before.

“Oh, he said plenty,” Mav jumped in, clearly enjoying watching Bradley squirm as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy. All those Gs he’s always pulling have finally gone to his head,” Bradley protested, although he was smiling as he said it.

“Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this car ride very much,” you giggled, winking at Bradley as you slid into your seat.

“Promise you’ll still like me by the time we get home?” Bradley whispered, leaning in close as he climbed in beside you.

You grinned up at him, thinking about how, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. San Diego suddenly felt much more like home than it ever had.

“Promise.”

[hancyan]

World Downloads(Added information about rabbithole rug).

Hi everyone!　First of all, I must apologize. Regarding my previous post about "Victorian Sunset Valley", I deleted it because there was a problem with the save file. There is no problem with the empty world.

I'm really sorry to all the simmers who downloaded, liked, reblogged and commented.

It seems that the problem can be solved by separating the save files, so I decided to share it again. There are no changes to the empty world, so if you have it, please try again.

❖Empty World There are just a Public Lots, a Farm District, and Goth Manor.The two hilltop mansions don't exist yet. This is Sunset Valley long before Mortimer Goth was born.If there is a historic town you have in mind, you are free to build it here.

※An empty world requires the store item "Artemis Temple Frieze (Muse Luxury)".

❖Save files You can enjoy the Victorian era right away, but there are no film careers, universities, or diving spots. There are a few empty plots, so feel free to add them.

This time, I did not build any houses. I only built some public lots, but I changed the color of the buildings I shared before and placed them. The Equestrian Center of EA is very conspicuous, so I built a small racetrack. There is a fire station of EA next to it, but it does not blend in with the scenery very well, so I am thinking of rebuilding it someday.

The address of @ri-el's Sherlock Holmes residence is 221B Baker Street. I wanted to place this residence on the main street, so I set the lot size specifically. Then I placed the lot built by @nornities to match the cafe next door and the stairs leading to the harbor across the road. The harbor is a bit of a tourist area, with trade ships, sightseeing ships, and passenger ships arriving and departing. Some Sims may come to see the steamships, so I prioritized placing it here. There are also lots of great builds by other creators included. Thank you.

Every house has some sort of vehicle (either a horse-drawn carriage or a historic bicycle), and the sight of so many carriages going around town is truly impressive!

It looks heavy, but if you can play the EA Store worlds then I don't think it will be an issue.

Basically, it is a town for enjoying historical play such as the Victorian or Edwardian, but I think it can also be enjoyed in normal play.

The decoration is minimal, so feel free to edit it however you like and have fun.

Residential 38　Community 40　Empty ８

Please download the carriage from below.

@barnacleboots

Two-Horse Carriage conversion

The new carriage is here too.(I'll advertise it)

@danjaley

Schoolbus Default and Driveable Wagon

Car Default Replacements

❖World (It remains "Sunset Valley Empty" because it has not been renamed.)

❖Save files

❖CC (Please be sure to download the "patterns" in the folder via the launcher.)

❖Store Content (You probably already have many of these. Use only what you don't have.) ⚠ If the store items you own are not reflected, try this.

※Sorry. To ensure a reliable download, they are separated.

Required

Every hilltop amusement park needs a boardwalk rollercoaster.

All EPs except ITF

Requires Sunlit Tides, Monte Vista, Midnight Hollow, Aurora Skies,Dragon Valley, and Roaring Heights.

You need a rabbithole rug.(Bookstore, Theater, Spa, Diner，Business ,Chemistry)If you don't have the same one, replace it with what you have.

Thanks

Thank you for your kind words and advice, and for downloading and playing the town.@samkat10423

Long test play@ayaka-nonno

@nornities was kind enough to answer my beginner's questions.

And, even though you're busy, @yorithesims checked the final folder.

@blamseastore for converting and providing us with store content

CC Credit notation

Mutske, Around the Sims3, LunaSimsLulamai, mammut, armiel, Lisen801, LilyOfTheValley, MARTA'S SIMSBOOK, omedapixel, Cyclonesue, Awesims, Mspoodle, douglasveiga Thank you for the wonderful CC.

And especially a huge thanks to Sookielee at Custom Sims 3 for making the Sunset Valley CAW files available.

Anyway, some simmers, including @enjoji101, were concerned and encouraged me. And they asked me to share this town. I originally created this world for myself, but if there is even one simmer who is interested in this town and wants to play, I would be very honored and grateful. And I would like to make that wish come true. Thank you very much. I love you all.

※If you have any questions, please send me a message. (I would appreciate it if you could speak simple English. )

Have a smashing time! 

@pis3update @sssvitlanz @kpccfinds

[joostsblog]

am i complex to you prt two ~ joost klein fanfic

READ PART ONE HERE // part three here

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader

Description: From first meeting the blonde musician to sharing headphones and very intense eye contact, this was not how you anticipated your evening at your friend's party panning out. 

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Due to high demand here is part two (yes there will be a part three as well, I'm typing it as we speak). If you like it please show your support by reblogging ❣️

I accept Joost requests btw! [do's: female!reader, smut; don'ts: established relationship, toxic relationships]

Warnings: 18+ only, not proofread

As you stepped outside the cool air of the night hit your nostrils. Joost's hand was loosely attached to your hip as you waved over to your parked bike.

"Oh, I didn't come by bike," Joost said.

"Oh," you laughed. "We could try having you ride on my carrier," you suggested. "I'm really not that athletic though, it's ten minutes to my flat."

"We'll try," Joost said as you unlocked your bicycle. After you got on the bike, Joost got on behind you.

"Hold on tight," you said and Joost wrapped his arms around your torso, his chin resting on top of your shoulder. Your stomach fluttered and both you and Joost couldn't contain your grins as you caught the other looking at each other.

"Let's go," you said as you pushed your feet off the ground and started pedalling the bike. "Jesus fucking Christ," you exclaimed laughing as you noticed quickly how hard it was for you to ride the bike with the both of you on it. Between the alcohol in your bloodstream, the nerves and excitement of feeling Joost's body pressed to your back and your poor condition, this was sure to be a failed mission pretty soon.

"So, are gonna make it in ten minutes then?", Joost giggled beside you.

"Oh shut up," you huffed out as you were slowly making progress, the bike riding slalom instead of in a straight line. "You give it a try then," you said.

"Alright, if you insist," Joost shrugged and easily got off the bike as you weren't going that fast anyway. As Joost sat down on the seat you realised that your bike was way too small for the tall man and you giggled at the sight of his overly bent knees. "Now you shut up," Joost laughed and for the first time, you were eye to eye as you stood beside the bike.

You took one step closer to Joost, your upper thigh just barely touching his knee. With your hand, you grabbed Joost's chin and leaned forward to kiss him. His hand let go of the bike handles and they found your hips, bringing you closer to him. You wished you were home already as you were losing yourself in Joost's lips - so soft, so perfect on your lips. Joost let out a frustrated groan between his lips and his grip tightened on your hip.

"Fuck," he mumbled as he broke the kiss. "Now get on with it," he gestured with his head to the bicycle carrier.

This time it was your turn to wrap your arms around Joost's body and you would be lying if you didn't seize the opportunity to subtly feel his abs and stomach through the fabric of his t-shirt as best as you could. As Joost started pedalling you were definitely going faster than before but you were still going excruciatingly slow as you were slowly losing your mind at the thought of finally feeling Joost closer to you when you'll get home.

"Now turn left," you said after you had been on the road for 15 minutes already. "... and here we are," you said when you finally reached the front of your apartment complex.

Quickly you locked your bike up and rushed through the front door of your apartment complex. As you pushed the button for the elevator, Joost was coming up behind you, his hand resting on the side of your waist. The elevator door opened and before you could even register to push the button to your floor you were backed against the wall. Your hands instinctively found the back of Joost's head as your lips crashed into each other again. Lips moving in sync you softly moaned into the kiss and you could feel the arousal in your pants. You pushed your chest towards Joost as he sloppily left kisses down the side of your face until he buried his face in your neck. Your fingers quickly found the button of your floor and the elevator started moving upwards. The tips of Joost's fingers grazed the skin of your exposed stomach after he slowly pushed the hem of your top up. With a soft ping, the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.    

You grabbed Joost's hand and dragged him out of the elevator to the door of your flat. As you were scrambling for your keys in your purse, Joost stood behind you, his front pressed to your back and his hands at your hips. With one hand he carefully pushed your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck. Slowly he pressed one kiss after another to your neck, goosebumps running up your spine as your fingers nervously trembled, still searching for your keys.

"Fuck," you cursed.

"Hm," Joost murmured against your skin.

"I can't find my keys," you mumbled.

"Hm," Joost replied concerned this time.

Hot flashes went through your body, maybe caused by Joost's soft lips against your skin, maybe because the memory from earlier this evening came back to you. You recalled how you proudly dangled your keys in front of Mila's face.

"Look at this!" you had exclaimed as you pointed to the small teddy bear, showing off your new key chain to your friend. As you recalled the memory, you also realised that you never put your keys back into your purse after Mila had inspected the bear.

"I left them at the party," you realised and turned around, the palm of your hand planted on your forehead. Your heart was beating incredibly fast.

"You're joking," Joost said softly laughing.

"I swear I'm not," you said and you could see how Joost was grabbling at the seriousness of the situation. Before he could say anything else you were already dialing Mila's number who picked up immediately.

"(Y/N)!" she exclaimed over the loud sounds of the music.

"Mila, I need you to grab my keys, they should be by the couch at the back of the bar."

"Yeah, sure, did you go home?" she asked.

"Yes."

"But you can't get in?" she asked.

"Yes. I'll have to get back," you sighed.

"You can stay at mine, so you won't have to make the trip again," Mila suggested.

"Thanks, just hold on to my keys for now, I'll text you later, okay? Love you," you said.

"Sure thing! Love you too," Mila replied before you ended the call.

"So?" Joost was leaning against the wall, a concerned look on his face.

"Well, I'll have to get back to get my keys," you groaned. "I'm so sorry, this is not how I envisioned this to go down."

"Me neither," he said and paused for a second before he continued. "You could also stay at my place," Joost suggested.

"Are you sure?" you asked as you didn't want to be a bother. You didn't usually do one night stands so you weren't really familiar with the etiquette. What if he wanted to leave your place after the deed anyway? What if he didn't want you to stay the whole night and wake up next to you in the morning?

"Yeah, of course, I live like ten minutes from here," he reassured you.

"Alright, let's go then," you said and pressed the elevator button again.

Silence ensued between you when you entered the elevator, the key incident apparently sobered the both of you up just a bit. You were still longing for Joost's touch but more than anything you felt awkward and like a burden to him right now.

"Are you okay?" Joost asked you softly as he noticed your change in demeanour.

"Yeah," you mumbled. "I'm sorry, I just feel really stupid," you admitted. Joost's hand softly grazed yours and he looked into your eyes.

"No, really, (Y/N), it's fine," he said. "If anything, this is really funny actually," he tried to lighten the mood and a small grin crept onto your face. "There we are!" Joost said happily, his left hand cupping your cheek softly and for a moment you expected him to plant a quick peck on your lips like a loving boyfriend would, but before anything could happen, the elevator door opened again and Joost dropped his hand from your face.

As you were walking side by side, the night quiet and the stars distantly visible above you, there was a long pondering silence between you.

"You know I don't usually do this," Joost said eventually.

"Taking girls home?" you asked.

"Yeah well yes,-" Joost said. "Or having them take me home," he paused. "I'm not really the player type or whatever."

"Me neither," you admitted and you both looked at each other, grins visible on each other faces. "So this is a new experience for the both of us?"

"I suppose," Joost chuckled.

"How's it going so far?" you asked.

"Well, if everything would've gone right we probably would be doing something different right now," Joost said and the thought of that certain something gave you flashes running up your body. You bit your lip, eyeing Joost up and down as you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. But you knew that it would only mean that you would get to his place even later if you did it right now. So the sexual tension between you two had to persist.

"We're here," Joost announced.

"Oh, finally," you laughed and Joost grinned as he unlocked the front door and held it open for you.

Another excruciatingly long elevator ride where your sides were just barely touching and you two were grinning like two horny teenagers and you finally reached the door to Joost's flat. You nervously fiddled with your fingers as he opened the door and motioned for you to get inside.

"Welcome to my crib," he said and you giggled.

After you stepped inside and turned around Joost had already swiftly closed the door and was standing directly in front of you.

"Hi," you whispered, looking up to him.

"Hi," he said grinning before his lips crashed into yours again.

Soon you were pressed against the wall, Joost's body close to yours and you continued exactly where you left off earlier. You removed Joost's stupid hat and rummaged your hands through his hair which lured a moan from him. Joost softly bit down on your bottom lip which made your back arch. His hands were trailing down your body until they rested on top of your ass, squeezing lightly. Your hands were tugging on Joost's jacket, desperate to finally get his clothes off the man. Without ever breaking the kiss, Joost took off his jacket and discarded it to the side before also removing your jacket. Your hands touched the bare skin on his arms, grabbing at his upper arms as your tongues met in an open-mouthed kiss. Joost hummed into your lips as his fingers slowly felt the soft skin above your ribcage as he sneaked his hands underneath your top, slowly trailing up your body.

"Where's - your - bedroom?" you asked breathily and in between kisses.

Joost moaned against your lips and took your hand into his before he led you down the corridor. Before you could register much of the room you found yourself on top of Joost who was laid on his back on the bed as you were straddling his hips. With your elbows resting beside Joost's head you leaned down to kiss him again. His hands immediately found your hips as you slowly started grinding down into Joost, already feeling his hard groin pressing against your body. You broke the kiss and looked at Joost for a second before you said what you had to say.

"I'm so sorry, I really hate to do this," you started and you could already see the concern and confusion growing on Joost's face. "But I really have to pee," you said with a frown and Joost laughed.

"Yeah, sure, the bathroom is just opposite this one," he said.

"Alright," you said as you got up reluctantly.

"But don't leave me waiting here for too long," Joost said as you looked back at him before leaving his room and you giggled.

You quickly found the bathroom and used the toilet, cursing your bladder for the unfortunate timing. Taking a look in the mirror you fixed your hair and quickly did some sexy poses to boost your confidence.

As you got back into Joost's bedroom just a few minutes later you saw him sprayed out on the bed on his back. He had taken off his pants and was only covered in his t-shirt and boxers, his arms crossed behind his head. As you stepped closer you realised that his eyes were closed and his breathing was steady and slow.

"Joost?" you softly whispered.

No response.

You sat down on the side of the bed and laid your hand on his chest.

"Joost, are you awake?"

No response again.

You let out a soft laugh. You couldn't believe it. After all that went wrong tonight already you finally had made it to Joost's bed and now he was asleep. It was kind of comical actually. You couldn't be mad with the man. It was 4 am already after all and the both of you took a quiet long route home. You grabbed your phone to text Mila.

Did you get my keys? you typed.

Yep, when are you coming? she answered.

It's fine, I'll get them tomorrow. I'm staying at Joost's.

???? Mila replied. Who the fuck is Joost??? she asked in a separate text.

Wait. Joost as in Stuntje's friend?? Mila texted back after a pause.

Yes, you replied.

Stay safe bb, Mila texted.

Dw, he fell asleep already, you typed.

LOL.

You set your phone aside and watched Joost's peaceful face for a minute. It would be very sweet actually if there wasn't this deep arousal in your panties. You sighed as you accepted your fate and went back to the bathroom. Carefully you looked through Joost's bathroom cabinet to find something to get rid of your makeup. Back in his room, you pondered for a second before stripping down to your underwear. You would have taken your clothes off and slept in his bed anyway, right? Without disturbing the sleeping man beside you too much you slipped under the covers. You tucked Joost also in carefully. As you watched his face with his mouth slightly agape, you laughed softly before you turned to the bedside table to turn the light off.

"Goodnight Joost."

Final A/N: I'm such a tease I'm so sorry, there will be a part three very soon! Part three here

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:09」 — k.seungmin

» stray kids menu | seungmin menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ fallen angel!Seungmin × fem!Reader wc: 4.5k summary: His fall from grace had been due to his hard headedness and Seungmin’s status as a fallen one never really crossed his mind. At least until he met Y/N. He’d been dejected and grown disillusioned with life but upon meeting her, he started to see some meaning to life again. To put it simply -- Y/N made him feel alive. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: past bodily harm (seungmin had his wings literally cut off), not-so-high-speed collision of person on a bike with an angel (Y/N runs Seungmin over with a bicycle lol), one baseball reference (cause I couldn't help myself), past crime life/criminal activity (glosses over it but its there); sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i thought about revisiting vampire!Seungmin for kinktober but I changed my mind for fallen angel Seungmin. I like the direction I went with this and I tried to keep the wordy bits down so it wouldn't be too long. So far I've written a total of 45k for kinktober not including this piece so, words are wordin'. anyway, next piece is Yunho which I am very excited for so stick around! thank you for reading. if you liked this, pls consider reblogging so more people will see it and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), impact play (f receiving; spanking, pussy slapping), begging, unprotected sex (use condoms! ):< ), oral (f receiving, m receiving), fingering (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: kitten, baby, angel; his: Minnie, sir), dom!Seungmin, sub!Reader, and that should be everything but if I missed some, let me know! kinks: Impact play + begging dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Oh no. Not until you beg. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Falling from heaven is not as graceful or as ethereal as one might think.

For Seungmin, it was painful, bloody, and nightmarish. The process is one no one could ever fathom. Being cast down from all you’ve known, thrown into a cruel, dark world with nothing and no one. The only thing more painful was having his wings removed. Even now, years since then, he could still feel the burn of the hot steel as it sliced through tendon and flesh.

When he first arrived on Earth, Seungmin had nothing. He had his name and his memories but a drive to survive and so he did, albeit not by the most legitimate of ways and he did fall into the wrong crowd but it was so much easier to climb the social ladder of the underworld than to try things the proper and legal way. After all, he didn’t even have a social security number, a line of credit, or even a last name.

Seungmin realized he was caught in the wrong crowd when the hideout he was in was raided. He barely managed to get away and broke into a convenience store to hide from the cops. He was confronted by the owner and instead of alerting the authorities to his location, the man took him in, giving him a place to live and a job.

It wasn’t much but it was something and it allowed Seungmin to start over. His old crew were all rounded up and seeing as no one knew who Seungmin actually was, they were never able to turn him in. He was safe. For now.

Seungmin ended up taking the last name of the man who took him in, a man who simply went by Mr. Kim, and came to regard him almost as a father figure. Mr. Kim owned a small convenience shop off the beaten path. Seungmin was given a room in the small apartment above the shop where Mr. Kim lived alone. 

His life had gone quiet but a sort of disquiet had settled over him, not knowing where he was going or what he was going to do with his life. He simply was going through the motions of life.

Until he met you.

You had come crashing into his life. Quite literally.

He’d been walking down the sidewalk on a particularly gray and gloomy day, running errands for Mr. Kim, when he heard a high pitched scream. It wasn’t a scream of terror or fear. It was more like a shriek of excitement. It was playful in nature.

Seungmin didn’t have time to even respond when he heard a voice screaming at him to move out of the way. He turned, finding someone on a pink bicycle hurtling towards him. “BRAKES! HIT THE BRAKES!” someone had cried but despite the brakes being squeezed, you still managed to crash into him.

It wasn’t like you were going all that fast, but it was enough to knock the wind out of him as you toppled off the bike onto him, pinning him to the sidewalk as the bike flipped over without your weight on it. You let out a groan, pushing yourself up and glancing towards the mangled heap that was your bike.

Seungmin stared up at you, blinking as he tried to process exactly what just happened.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “I’m so sorry!” You quickly scrambled up, pulling him into a sitting position. You panicked, inspecting him all over, asking a plethora of questions. 

“What hurts?!” Nothing.

“Are you bleeding?” No.

“Did you hit your head?” Yes.

Your introduction to him was as violent as they come but his life completely turned around after meeting you. He finally had someone else to talk to. Someone he could spend time with outside of the convenience store and upon meeting you, Mr. Kim urged him to spend more time with you.

Your friendship grew, blossoming naturally over a short period of time and after knowing you for nearly a year, Seungmin couldn’t imagine his life without you.

You were vibrant, full of life, eccentric, and ecstatic about everything. You never seemed to have a bad day in the entire time Seungmin knew you and he found your optimism a refreshing new outlook that he started to adopt into his own life.

Of course, while you were very bright, bubbly, and vivacious, you were also extremely bratty. Seungmin often had to argue with you about things he thought he’d never have to argue with anyone about. Making sure you took medicine when you were sick was a chore and Seungmin came to realize you were only a brat because it pushed his buttons.

Especially today.

Mr. Kim had given him the day off and so he was at your place, a cute little studio apartment on the 14th floor of your building. It had an exposed brick exterior wall and floor to ceiling windows that spanned almost the entire wall. Outside the window was a fire escape where you had lots of plants as well as smaller potted plants sitting in the window. Your bed was sectioned off with a large cube storage unit and sheer curtains.

The living area was small and cozy with a flat screen television, a cream colored loveseat with lots of blankets and pillows. A coffee table that doubled as a dining table stood between the couch and the media center where you kept your gaming consoles and collection of games and movies.

The kitchen was also small. White cabinets hung on the walls where you kept your dishes. An island with a sink separated the kitchen from the living area and at the bar of the island stood three bar height chairs. Seungmin had arrived early, bringing food and drinks but they had long run out and you were whining at him to get more.

He sat on your couch, feet resting on the coffee table despite your insistence to remove them. You sat on the other cushion, next to him, wrapped up in your favorite blanket. Seungmin had arrived as you were opening your windows, saying it was a nice day out — it wasn’t, it was freezing — and that you and your plants needed the fresh air.

Despite insisting it was a nice day, you had immediately wrapped yourself in your blanket and curled up next to him on the couch, sapping the warmth from his body, not that he exactly minded. You had exhausted your movie library, picking the things you either hadn’t seen in a long time or at all which wasn’t much. 

Streaming services didn’t provide much of a difference in options so for the last hour, you’d been playing games on your phones, showing each other silly videos while enjoying the other’s presence. You’d finally grown bored of your game and were now pestering Seungmin into leaving to go get more snacks and drinks. 

“Why don’t we get food instead?” he asked as his little avatar died on screen and he shut the game off. “I think we need actual food, Y/N,” he added, locking the screen of his phone and turning his head to look at you. The urge to smile came over him because you looked sort of ridiculous wrapped up in your blanket so only your face was showing.

“But I don’t wanna!” you protested. “That means I have to get up.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, throwing his head back against the back of the couch. “You’re so impossible,” he sighed before getting up with a groan. “Come on,” he said, holding his hand out. You shook your head, pulling your blanket tighter around you.

“Yah,” Seungmin said, giving you a playful but stern glare. “Get up,” he said, moving to stand in front of you, towering over your seated form. You shook your head wordlessly, staring up at him. He grabbed your blanket, tugging at it in an attempt to get you to listen. “No!” you squealed as he tried to pull the blanket harder. “You’re gonna rip it!”

Seungmin tugged harder. “Then let go so it doesn’t rip,” he countered. You glared at him. “It’s my blanket!” you reminded him. Seungmin tugged harder and you could have sworn you heard the material start to rip and so you let out a panicked whine and let go, allowing Seungmin to pull the blanket away.

“Alright,” he said, wading up the blanket and throwing it onto your bed. “Let’s go!”

You shivered, your once warm skin now exposed to the cool air filtering in from outside. “It’s cold!” you whined, curling in on yourself. Seungmin rolled his eyes and walked over. “Then get up and get changed,” he said, holding out his hand. You hesitated before taking his hand and then quickly tugging him towards you.

Unprepared, he lost his balance and fell onto the couch on top of you as you giggled, immediately hugging onto him like a koala. “So warm,” you murmured. Seungmin groaned trying to pull away from you but unsuccessfully. It wasn’t like you were all that strong, he just liked to indulge in some skinship with you from time to time.

“Okay,” Seungmin said. “You warm?” he asked. You nodded, smiling contentedly at him. “Good,” he said softly. “Now get up.” He tried again to pull away but you whined, holding onto him tighter so when he tried to get up, you moved with him.

“Y/N,” he scolded. “I’m not going to ask again. Get up.”

You looked up at him and he could see it before you even replied. A defiance in your eyes. 

“Make me.”

He didn’t know if it was because of your continuance to press his buttons mixed with the obvious tension between the two of you, but your resistance and disobedience made something in him snap. He quickly pulled your arms from around his neck, pinning you under him on the couch.

Your giggles died immediately as he leaned over you. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him. This was a side of him you hadn’t seen before nor had he planned on sharing but you really, really liked to push his buttons. 

Seungmin hesitated as he looked down at you, assessing whether or not he’d taken things too far but the look in your eyes, while being one of surprise, was also a look of eagerness and he could tell then that you wanted this as much as he did. 

He leaned in closer, testing your reaction, wondering if he should stop and when your eyes dipped down to look at his lips, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours for the first time. 

Your stomach fluttered as his lips moved against yours. It was entirely new but it felt completely right. Your lips parted at the same time, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You let out a soft moan, muffled by his mouth, as his thigh pressed against your cloth covered crotch.

Seungmin pulled away, lips ghosting over your ear. “Do that again,” he whispered, pressing his thigh against you again. You muffled your moan, biting into your bottom lip. Seungmin scoffed as he reached up, using his thumb to gently pull your lip from between your teeth. “You’re such a brat.”

You opened your mouth to respond and at that exact moment, he grinded his thigh against you, making you whimper. “It’s so much nicer when you listen to me,” he sighed, nuzzling into your neck. He let go of your wrists, moving his hands down to your sides.

“Are you still going to be a brat and fight me or are you gonna let me make you feel good?”

You whined in response as his hands cupped your chest over your shirt. “I take it that’s a yes?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. You nodded eagerly. Seungmin let out a low chuckle, hands sliding down your stomach until he could curl his fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

“Then these need to come off,” he murmured, pulling them down slowly past your thighs as you lifted your hips. He discarded them on the floor behind the couch, eyes drinking in your naked lower half. “Lace?” he asked, looking up from the crimson material to meet your gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown as he moved his hands up your thighs towards your hips. “Be honest,” he said as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Did you wear these for me?” You giggled as his tongue traced a line up your skin. “No,” you giggled. Seungmin pulled away with a slight frown.

“You mean you just wear these for no reason other than to wear them?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded silently, letting out a gasp when Seungmin delivered a sharp smack to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t lie to me,” he snapped.

“You don’t wear anything uncomfortable for long periods of time without a purpose,” he continued. “You told me so yourself.” A small smile spread across your face as you looked up at him, hands still resting by your head where he left them. “You always listen to everything I say?” you asked as his eyes wandered back down to the red material that barely covered anything.

“Yes,” he said simply, moving his hands up your sides, pushing the hem of your shirt up to just under your breast. He met your gaze once more. “Are you wearing a matching set?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious puppy. You giggled, shaking your head. His eyes narrowed. “If you’re lying to me, there will be consequences, you know that, right?” he asked. You nodded. “I know.”

Seungmin held your gaze as he pushed the shirt up over the swell of your breast, exposing the incriminating evidence of your red lace bralette. He made a tsk sound as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the sight of the red contrasting with your skin, your nipples visible through the sheer material. He looked back up to meet your gaze. “You lied to me, again,” he muttered.

You watched with excited eyes as he sat back on his heels, looking down at you. “I told you there would be consequences,” he added. “I know,” you said softly. Seungmin sighed as he shifted on the couch so he was sitting before holding out a hand for you to take. “Are you going to be good and take your punishment or am I going to have to force you?”

You took his hand, allowing him to pull you up and over his lap so you were lying on your stomach. You felt one of his hands move to your ass, fingers skimming over the lace as he inspected the sight. His other arm held you down. One of his fingers slid under the material of your panties, sliding it over to expose your cheek.

“I want you to count,” he said softly as his hand returned to your bare cheek. “How many?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. Seungmin looked up from your ass, meeting your eyes with his. He had a dark look in them, something that both excited and sent a chill down your spine.

“Until I say so.”

By the time Seungmin finally did tell you to stop counting, your ass was sore. The skin burned and your body was aching, as was your cunt. You needed release and you were practically dripping. “Seungmin,” you whined. “I need release.”

Seungmin scoffed, moving his hand to pull your panties aside while he traced your folds with two fingers, spreading them slowly. The cool air against your hot cunt felt both foreign but oddly wonderful. “So needy,” Seungmin murmured, sliding the tips of his fingers between your lips, gathering your wetness before slowly pushing them into your hole.

You let out a pornographic moan, the sound resonating around the apartment. Seungmin felt his cock twitch in his pants, straining against the material of his underwear and aching to be freed. ‘Not yet,’ he told himself. ‘Not until Y/N proves she can behave.’ 

You moaned loudly as he pumped his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt, lightly scissoring them and curling them against your walls. “Seungmin. More,” you gasped, making him chuckle. “More?” he asked. “I have two fingers stuffed in you and that’s not enough?”

You shook your head as he sped up. He delivered a sharp smack to your sore ass. “Words, kitten,” he cooed. “N-no!” you stammered. “No you don’t want to use words?” he asked. “No!” you said quickly. “It’s not enough! I need more!” you clarified. Seungmin shook his head. “Such a greedy little baby.”

He obliged, giving you a third finger, opening you up to take his cock easily but he wasn’t about to give it to you that quickly. Your moans grew in pitch and volume as he fucked you with his fingers. He could feel you start to shake, your walls clenching rhythmically around him. “Don’t you fucking cum yet,” he growled, pulling his fingers from your hole, making you whine in protest.

“But Minnie!” you complained. He nudged you, signaling you to sit up. “Do you want me to fuck you here, on your couch, or over there,” he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards your bed. “Where I’m sure it’s much more comfortable.”

You grumbled softly as he got up, grabbing your hand and all but dragging you over to the bed, stepping up onto the small platform upon which your bed stood.

He turned your back towards the bed, moving his hands to quickly strip you of your shirt and bralette. “Sit,” he instructed but you didn’t listen, instead trying to pull at his clothes. He grabbed your hands, bringing your wrists together to hold with one hand and grabbing your chin with the other.

“If you don’t listen to me, I won’t let you cum at all, understand?” You nodded quickly and as soon as he let go, you sat on the bed, looking up at him. “Good, kitten,” he said, cupping your chin, moving his thumb to brush over your bottom lip. “I need you to do something for me,” he said, moving his hands to undo his buckle. “And then I promise I’ll make you feel really good”

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked on his as he unzipped his pants. “Do me a favor and put that mouth to good use, yeah?” he asked, pushing his jeans down past his hips. Your eyes roamed down his body, taking in the outline of his hard cock behind the dark blue color of his underwear. 

You could see it was straining against the fabric, begging to be freed. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull the front of his boxer briefs down. Seungmin quickly grabbed your hands, stopping you. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, the dominant persona he’d taken on dissipating for a moment as he gave you a look of concern. You nodded, giving him a smile.

“Just nervous,” you whispered. He caressed your cheek gently. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he said softly. “It’s just me.” You nodded, swallowing thickly as you returned your attention to the task before you.

Your fingers snuck under the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in one swift motion and freeing his cock. You stared at it in awe, saliva starting to pool in your mouth at the sight of it bobbing before you. Wrapping your fingers around the base of the shaft, you looked up at Seungmin for confirmation to keep going. He merely nodded, watching as your lips parted and you gave the tip of his cock a kitten lick. He let out a hiss but was unable to catch his breath as you immediately went back in, tongue swirling around his cockhead.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes fluttering shut as your mouth enveloped his cock, taking it as far as you could in one go. “You’ve done this before,” he groaned as you pulled back, cheeks hollowing as you sucked. Seungmin let out a sigh as you took him back into your mouth, the tip of his cock barely brushing the back of your throat.

“Keep going, baby,” he murmured, resting his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer. You gagged as the head of his cock tried to push into your throat. “Shit,” he gasped as he let go and you pulled back, coughing. “Sorry,” he murmured. “We can stop if you’d — oh fuck!”

His words were cut off when you took his cock back into your mouth, keeping your hand firmly wrapped around the base as you started to bob your head, taking everything up until you hand. Seungmin let out a choked moan, throwing his head back as you continued to suck him off, now moving your hand as you pulled back.

You let his cock fall from your mouth, continuing to stroke him quickly. Too quickly. He had to stop you before he came. He didn’t want to cum on your face or chest or in your mouth. “S-st-stop,” he stammered, moving his hand to try and grab yours but missing. “Y/N,” he said, a little more firmly. “Baby, stop.” You finally looked up at him, hand stalling but his cock still firmly in your grasp.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked as he pulled your hand off him and slowly knelt down at the edge of your bed. “No,” he murmured, pulling you into a kiss. “You were perfect. I just wasn’t ready to finish,” he added. “Lay back,” he instructed.

As you laid back against the soft material of your comforter, Seungmin took that opportunity to rid himself of his clothes. You started to scoot back towards the middle of the bed but he stopped you. “Here,” he said softly. “I want your ass hanging over the edge of the bed.”

You pouted at him. “But I’ll fall,” you protested. He shook his head as he knelt down. “Just trust me, angel. Do as I say or am I going to have to punish you again?” You shook your head, moving until your hips were hanging off the edge of the bed. You watched as he slipped your panties off before he shrugged your legs over his shoulders, his hands grabbing your hips and holding them in place as he licked his lips.

“Minnie,” you cooed, reaching down to comb your fingers through his dark hair. He looked up at you, his dark gaze meeting yours and making a fresh wave of arousal course through you. “Can’t you just fuck me?” you asked as sweetly as possible. Seungmin chuckled, shaking his head. “No,” he answered. You frowned at him. “Why not? You’ll find I’m more than ready to take it,” you answered.

Seungmin merely chuckled again. “No,” he answered again. “I want a taste first.” 

The words on the tip of your tongue died as you felt him spread your folds and his tongue run from your hole to your clit. The moment his tongue met the nub, he sucked on it, making your thighs involuntarily try to close around his head but he moved his hands, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold them open and keeping you firmly in place.

You were left to the mercy of his tongue as his mouth ravaged your clit. One of your hands moved to grab the bedding by your head in a tight fist while the other combed through Seungmin’s hair, grabbing a handful of the locks. Each time he flicked his tongue, your body jerked and you cried out. 

“M-Minnie. M’gonna cum!”

Seungmin pulled back and you whined only to receive a slap to your pussy which made you gasp, thighs twitching. “You don’t cum until I say so, understand?” You nodded quickly, your orgasm slowly slipping away. Seungmin’s mouth returned, attacking your clit with quick flicks of his tongue until the sensation started to rise again, tension building in your stomach.

“Minnie, I’m close,” you warned him. “Hold it back,” he retorted. “Don’t make me punish you again.”

You bit your tongue, trying to will away the tension and the building orgasm. “I-I don’t think I can,” you sobbed. Seungmin pulled back, delivering another slap to your sex. “Such an impatient and greedy kitten,” he snapped. “Can’t even wait a minute more.”

“Just fuck me then,” you retorted. Seungmin scoffed, almost mockingly. “Oh no,” he said, landing another slap on your clit. “Not until you beg.” You whimpered. If that was all he needed, you could do that. “You should have just said so,” you gasped. “Please Seungmin. Please give me your cock. I want it. I need it.” 

“You need it, huh?” Seungmin asked, brushing his fingers over your clit languidly. He wasn’t trying to bring you to climax, simply giving you some friction while he listened to you. 

“How bad do you want it?”

“I want it so bad, please,” you sobbed. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do everything you say but please Minnie, please fuck me.” You needed him inside you so bad and you weren’t above begging if that’s what he wanted you to do. “One more time,” he cooed. “What do you want?”

“I want your cock, Seungmin. I want you to fuck me!” you snapped. Seungmin moved quickly, letting your legs fall back as he climbed over you. “Middle of the bed, on your hands and knees, now,” he growled. You scrambled to get up, moving into place and presenting yourself to him. He kneeled behind you, hands grabbing your ass and kneading.

“I’m going to fuck you how I want to,” he started as he leaned over your back, the tip of his cock brushing against the inside of your thigh. “If it’s too much for you, say ‘pitcher’s mound,’ understand?” he asked. You nodded. A smack rang out as he landed a slap to your ass over the same side he’d made sore earlier.

“Words, kitten. We use our words,” he snapped. “Yes, sir!” you gasped out, your backside burning. He gently ran his hand over the spot soothingly. “What do you say if you need me to stop?” he asked, leaning over your back and whispering in your ear. “Pitcher’s mound,” you replied softly. You felt him press a tender kiss to your shoulder. “Good,” he cooed.

You felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance and without any resistance, he pushed into you. Once the head was firmly lodged inside you, he snapped his hips, pulling you back to meet his thrust and filling you with one stroke.

You cried out in both pleasure and pain as he buried his cock to the hilt inside you. Seungmin still, thumbs rubbing circular patterns into your skin as he held your hips. He waited for the spasming of your walls to cease before he pulled back, giving you a shallow thrust which made you moan softly.

“Any pain?” he asked quietly. “No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Good,” Seungmin said simply, tightening his hold on your hips. “Remember your safeword,” he reminded you. 

“Cause I’m not stopping until you’re screaming.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[dycefic]

The Hearthstone God

[The sequel to the God of Prophecy, and the Serpent God of Protection]

---

Fire is out of fashion, in this new age.

Some of my kind have found new homes, new names, in factories or forges, in the hearts of wildfires or crystals or volcanoes.

Most of us are simply forgotten.

I was a fire god, once. A god of gathering, a god of communion, a god of song and story. But there are no hearthstones now. No fires around which families gather to eat and talk and tell stories.

I am lucky. I am tied to a great flat stone near a lake. A lake that has survived all the wild exuberance of men, when they learned to change the world around them. Once, this was a place where travellers stopped to rest. At first they travelled on their feet, or on half-wild horses. Then there were carts, and a road. Much later, cars drove down the road. The road was paved.

But some things do not change. People need clean water to drink, and the spring here is good. They need to rest, when they are weary. And even now, when they come to camp in nylon tents, to fish in the lake, or to hunt the ducks, or drive camper-vans to the flat place, their ancient instincts wake, and they turn to fire once more. They light new fires atop my stone, so flat and safe, from which no log will roll to set the woods afire.

Not so many come now. Camping is less popular these days. But some still come. Some still light their fires, and settle around my stone, and talk, or listen to music, or tell stories. So I survive, just barely, on the edges of belief.

I feel it, when things begin to change. Something is happening. Something is drawing old gods back. Not the great ones, risen beyond mortal understanding, but the oldest gods, the small gods, those who rose when humankind were still learning what they were.

Far to the west of me, a god even more ancient than I wakes, and begins to hunt again. I remember the stories that were once told of that old serpent, and tell them over to myself in the long fireless nights.

A god of prophecy, not of this land, settles south and west, and I remember tales of ancient ravens, their wisdom and their guile and their sharp, sharp eyes. There was a raven clan once, who passed this way in the days of skin garments and stone tools, but I have forgotten their name. I only remember the symbol they wore, the black bird with its spread wings, marked in charcoal or charring on wooden talismans or leather garments.

I wait, to see who will awaken next.

To my great surprise, it is me.

The people who come this time aren’t like the campers. They come at night, a ragged family group with few blood ties between them, with a single tent and few possessions carried on devices I haven’t seen before. Bicycles, they’re called, slung over with bags the way ponies used to be. They come at night, and hide when cars pass on the road.

They light a fire on my stone, with wood scavenged from the forest, and huddle around its warmth. They don’t speak much, not at first, but they say enough. They have no home, I learn. They are travellers of a kind I have not known before, who are allowed to stop nowhere, but have no goal but a place to rest. They are thin, and worn, and so tired. So very tired.

They need a hearth.

I am only a weak shadow of a god, now, who once recorded the songs and stories of a thousand generations in my ancient stone, but I am still a god of fire. Their fire burns slow, their little fuel lasting well. The food they heat over it sustains them better. The water of that spring, my spring, puts a little life back in them. This stone has lain in this place since great monsters walked this world, since before humans spoke words to one another, and I came into being with the first fire that burned on it. I am old, old, and though weak, I am not powerless.

They stay.

I cannot speak to them. I am old, and weak, and they do not believe. But slowly, with the power of the fires they build every night, with the tiny offerings of scraps of food spilled into the flames, with their growing confidence in the safety of this place, I am able to do more. I give them dreams and they find the cave not far away, where they can hide. They dream of fish, and begin to try to catch some. A woman remembers that some of the local plants are safe to eat, when I slowly wake a long-forgotten memory of a camping trip from her childhood.

And then a child, a strange, quiet child who rarely speaks, a child without mother or father, in the care of an older brother who is exhausted to the very edge of death but cannot give up while she needs him… that child begins to hear.

She sits on my stone, sometimes for hours, not moving or speaking. It worries the others, but at least she is quiet, at least she is no trouble, and they are beginning to associate their hearth with safety. So they let her sit.

She is *listening*. She is listening to the sound of the water, to the sounds of the forest, to the wind blowing. And because she is listening, where no-one else has listened for so long, I sing to her. I sing to her the songs of thousands of years. From the wordless music of the earliest people, who sang what was in their hearts without words, to the songs I have learned from the fishermen with their radios and bluetooth speakers.

I do not know if she hears me, for some time. But then, one night, while they sit around their fire and eat food the oldest have almost certainly stolen, she sings one of my songs. “In a cavern… on a canyon… excavating for a mine…” she sings in a small voice. The others are startled, confused, for she has not spoken aloud since some bad thing they do not name happened, but one of the older ones knows the song and sings with her.

I have always liked ‘Clementine’. It’s been popular with campers for a long time.

The next day, while she sits on my stone, she sings along to one of the wordless songs the Raven People whose name I no longer remember once sang. It is a lullaby, a soft croon to soothe an infant, passed from mother to mother, and she seems to take pleasure in it.

She can hear me. She can even answer me, as the voice driven away by pain and fear begins to return. And so I grow stronger still. Strong enough to make the raven sign on the stone, one day, in the ashes of the fire of the night before.

She takes a half burned stick, and draws the sign on the stone. Pleased, I show her another sign, a leaping fish. She draws that too.

Soon, I need not shift the ashes. I can show her the pictures in her mind, and she draws them. She draws the wheel of a cart, and into her heart I whisper the stories the travellers in covered wagons once told over my stone. She draws a fish, and I make her laugh silently with the jests of fishermen who boast of fish who escaped them. She draws a horse, and I tell her about the wild horses who once drank at this lake, about the men and women who captured and tamed them and rode them through the forest when it was far greater than it is now. She draws a long-toothed cat, and I show her the great cat that once slept on my stone, and denned in the cave where her new found family sleep.

One night, when all the others are asleep and my fire has burned down to coals, she creeps back to the stone and looks into the coals. “Who are you?” she asks. “Are you real?”

She is afraid that the voice in her mind is the voice of madness, a lie created by a mind that does not work like other minds, that has endured great hardship. I do not want this child to be afraid. To instill fear runs counter to my very nature, save in whoever might threaten those my hearth protects.

I am a god of the hearth. I am a god of food, and communication, and peace, and safety. I am all the things that fire used to mean, before humans learned again to fear the thing they had tamed. I do not often take a form, for fire is my form, but for her I must try.

There was a wise woman once, who knew me, whose clan visited this lake several times every year. I watched her grow up, and grow old. I watched her learn of the god of the fire stone, and I watched her teach others. She slept beside me as a child, and as a woman. She sang her children to sleep beside me, and her grandchildren, and dozed beside me as an old, old woman. To her, I was represented by a sign of a flame in an oval, a fire and a stone.

I build a likeness of her out of the light of the coals and the shadows of smoke, a child with straight dark hair and a simple tunic, and in lines of light I draw the sign of the fire and the stone on the outlined chest. “I am the fire,” I tell her, “and the stone. I am all the fires that have ever burned here, all the stories told, all the songs sung, all the meals eaten. I am the traveler’s hearth, and the rest for the weary, and this is my place.”

“Piedra de fuego,” she says, tracing the symbol with her finger in the air. “The fire stone.”

“Yes. I am the god of this place.”

She frowns at this. “My brother says that God is in the sky.”

“Many gods are in the sky.” I cannot continue to hold the form of the girl, but the coals shift to make my sign. “I am not. I am here. I have always been here, since the first people built a fire on my stone, and warmed themselves.”

She nods slowly. “You are… a small god,” she says thoughtfully. “A place god. Like in movies.”

“Yes.” I’ve heard of movies, which are a new way of telling old, old stories. “Old places, important places, often have gods. And gods who are forgotten return to their old places and wait, until someone believes again.”

“Will you protect us?” she asks. “When the police come, to tell us to move on?”

“I am not strong,” I tell her sadly. “I cannot make men go away from here, if they are dangerous, or even call game here for you as I once did. But what I can do, I will do.”

She sits watching the coals for a long time, thinking. “Can we make you stronger?”

I think too, and she waits patiently. “You have already made me stronger. You listened. You believed. If you can convince the others to believe, that will make me stronger still.”

She sighed. “They don’t believe in anything, anymore. Not good things.”

It is a sad thing, that she knows that. They’ve been trying to hide it from her. “Then,” I tell her, “that means there is a place in their hearts that is ready for me. I am not hope. I am not a happy ending. I am not a god in the sky. I am a stone, and a fire, and a song. I am *real*. They can believe in what is real.”

The next night, she asks for a story, and one of the adults tells her an old fairy-tale from a country far away.

The next night, again, she asks for a story, and another adult tells a funny story about his childhood.

On the third night, she asks her brother to tell her a story. He tries, but he is so tired - not physically, but emotionally - that he runs out of words. So she lays her hand on his arm and offers to tell him a story, instead.

And she tells them all a story about a stone near a lake, flat and strong, that people wearing uncured skins and carrying flint weapons built a fire on. She tells of centuries passing, of people coming to the lake on their feet, on horses, in carts and wagons, in cars and motor-homes. Of thousands of years of fires, of people gathered around them, of the great continuity of humanity, and the Piedra De Fuego that has lain in this place since time began, listening to the stories and the songs and the voices of people long gone. Somewhere in the stone, she says, laying her hand on it, all those stories are remembered. All those songs are still sung. And it will remember us too.

I don’t know if it will work. But I was right. People need to believe in something. They need something to hold onto, when times are hard, when the ties of community and family are broken and they feel alone. And a stone thousands of years old, and a fire endlessly renewed on that stone, always new… that is real. They touch me, and think of those who came before, of thousands of years of history meeting them in this place, and they feel less alone.

It’s not much, not yet. But it is something. My nature, my existence, as explained to them by my small, strange priestess, is a slender lifeline flung to those who are adrift, a tiny certainty in a world they do not trust. And the more they believe in that lifeline, that certainty, then the more they believe in me. I *am* growing stronger.

When the police come, I will not be able to make them leave… but I think I am strong enough now to hide my people from unkind eyes. And if I can do that, then their faith will grow.

Tonight, three more people come. A mother and two children, weary and beaten down with hardship. My people welcome them, give them fish and greens grown by the lake, speak kindly to them. And when they have eaten, my little priestess sits between the two children and tells them a story of a stone, and a fire, and thousands of years of stories and songs, and she sings a wordless lullaby six thousand years forgotten, but living again in a child who draws the sign of the Raven in the dirt while she sings, and the sign of the fire on the stone.

And I grow a little stronger.

[seat-safety-switch]

A lot of people at Home Depot are getting froggy at my comparison of them to the Third Reich. This is, of course, a media fabrication. The Nazis had easy access to working tools, and lumber that was straight. What I actually called them was “a group of useless, tin-hat fascists that can’t even stock a fucking lightswitch.”

Back when I was a kid, small hardware stores were all over the place. You could get on your bicycle and ride over to the local lumber shop, and a weird old guy would tell you what stuff to buy, occasionally implying that he was your real father. Then you’d ride home, and finish your project, happy in the knowledge that at least you could control the construction of a potato cannon or low-dimensional-stability, non-permitted birdhouse.

At some point, buoyed by the renovation-crazy era of reality television, the big hardware giants started rolling in. They’d buy out or crush all of these little hardware stores. Why would you go to two of them, they’d ask, when you can get all your stuff here, in one trip, for cheaper? This would be a great thing indeed, if I didn’t have to go to three different big-box hardware stores in order to satisfy literally any weekend project shopping list.

At least with Abnormal Ed’s House of an Unusual Amount of Paracord, you’d know what you were getting into, and if you shopped at his place a lot, he’d probably start stocking the stuff you need. With Home Depot, you’re not even a blip on their immense Excel spreadsheet of Raw Data Pure Data Good Data. With an international reach, your insane hyper-local desires (limited to your house) average out to nothing against the demands of everyone else. There’s no way you can potentially influence them to start offering something unprofitable like, say, white spray paint, or hammers that aren’t made of tinfoil, without taking hostages.

What can we do about this? Other than building a time machine and going back to save small hardware stores – which would probably require buying some parts at Home Depot, which means we’d be wasting a beautiful Saturday afternoon driving all over the city just to pick up red and black wire – the only thing we can do is convince them that an even larger, angrier, hardware store is coming to kill them.

I got the idea when I had a bunch of sparrows flying into my kitchen window. You cut out some silhouettes of bigger birds and just paste them on there. They think a bunch of giant crows are hiding behind the window, and steer clear. It took a lot of time to construct an entire elaborate replica of a hardware store megaconsortium in the empty parking lot next to the Home Depot headquarters, and it was very hard to paint the Chinese ideographs for “HILARIOUS FUN DOESN’T STOCK UNPROFITABLE ITEMS RENOVATION DEPOT” while holding on to the 60th storey of a Potemkin building made entirely out of old cardboard boxes, but I managed to pull it off. You could hear the lifetime middle managers shrieking in fear of their new competitors from blocks away, and by the time I got home, the local Home Depot had finally decided to stock both light fixtures and light bulbs.

[shybunnie20]

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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[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter four — gtfo watching madagascar (🎂)

You had high hopes for how this would go, at least.

Sitting in your car and mindlessly driving to the very house you spent a lot of your childhood in was daunting. The familiar road stretched ahead, winding through the streets on your journey like a thin ribbon of what you wanted to know well, but couldn't fully. You couldn't bring yourself to look on the sides of you just yet, not looking for any lack of preparation.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white as you took a sharp breath in. You parked the car, and sat there in the daylight of the hour. Your eyes darkened, moving your head down as you slumped back in your seat. Your shoulders down, and your general disposition horrible.

You didn't want to look up, because it was just how you remembered it. And if you were able to remember that, then by that jurisdiction, there was a 95% chance that this was part of your life that you just dug up again.

You pictured it as clearly as it stood: a quaint, two-story home with the front porch that you had your first kiss on, adorned with hanging baskets of vibrant violets that were picked from the hanging nature of the home. Looking to be inviting, yet intimidating. Tree-lined streets with overgrown lawns, and kids bicycles scattered haphazardly on adjacent driveways, the scent of cut grass filling your sinuses. You found yourself in a both comforting and disconcerting mood.

You sat in your car, staring blankly at the dashboard with the glee you had from cleaning your shop wiped off your face. "You can do this," You exhaled. "You can do this."

The trees, thick with summer foliage and vines draped on the walls, casting dappled shadows on the seemingly new asphalt. You drove through that road for the first time today instead of walking, hoping in your head that the rapid beating of your heart would cease soon. The air was full with the smell of blooming nature.

Gathering your resolve that presented itself in small and opposing glass shards to you, you opened your car door and stepped out. The crunch of gravel on your feet as you hurriedly took the gift of well prepared strawberry pies made small enough to be bite-sized. The sun blazed on you promptly, but nothing could take the chills on your skin.

You walked up the path, the looming front door with its always new paint that seemed to never chip under Ei’s rule was waiting for you. Your eyebrows furrowed in total dread, you bated your breath only for exactly who you figured to open the door once you rang the doorbell.

“(Y/N).” Ei stood there beautifully, but it was still surreal seeing her look the exact same as she did years ago. Her warm, welcoming smile and her eyes twinkling, except this time, it was of nostalgic wonder. “Did you find it okay? I did a lot more work from when you were here last.”

“Yeah, no! It looks…” Your eyes wandered, trying to find the right words to say before giving up. “It looks amazing, Miss Ei. No wonder why I used to really like playing royalty here.”

Ei stepped back promptly. “Come in. You can set your treats on the table.”

“Thank you,” You greeted her politely, walking into the home with the familiar and faint scent of lavender and old wood corrupting your nose. You knew the years have gone by, justice how it hardly looks the same from when you were a kid.

“You’ll find a lot of old items in different places now, my apologies. A lot of my appliances needed updating, so the kitchen is quite different now.” She explained from the main hall, setting up comfortable pillows for you to sit.

“This is really lovely…everything’s exactly in your style.” You marveled to yourself, before snapping out of it and setting the treats on the counter. “I’m sorry, Miss Ei. I didn’t mean to wander.” You laughed nervously.

“My home is your home, to this day.” She still presented you the same adoring smile she did as you sat down. “Yae won’t be here for another hour. In the meantime, I suppose we should discuss what you’re comfortable doing at my wedding.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, Miss Ei. I actually did come here as well to see if you could pull some strings for me too regarding that, but it looks like you were ten steps ahead of me!” You laughed, always seemingly nervous. “I just didn’t want to betray your wishes…you mean a lot to me.”

“As do you, which leads me to believe that…” Ei sighed to herself promptly. “I did get a little carried away in your honor. Being so excited seeing you and reliving what I once knew felt euphoric. But as it turns out…I’m doubtful things are able to be that way at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true, to be at your side at all is a really amazing request considering the circumstances!” You smiled. “Please don’t worry about the outcome, you should feel the most relaxed at your own wedding, okay?”

You tried to ignore the heavy weight crushing you.

The former shook her head. “It is not that I am worried about,” She paused, her tone a bit more sullen than what was normal. “By chance on that day he went to your home, did he say anything he shouldn’t have?”

You blinked, and as soon as you realized what she asked, you stopped moving. Instead of feeling like your limbs were attempting to make up for the lack of brain space you had, you felt like you were struggling to stay afloat. “Uh,” You stammered, feeling your body tremble. “I’m sorry,” You replied carefully before your voice dropped to a low murmur, “Don’t really remember a lot…I don’t think he did, though.”

“Is it truly that?” Ei’s expression softened, but there was something else that you couldn’t quite place before— she looked concerned, perhaps, maybe regret. “It’s very important that you’re honest to me.”

You were unease, but not because of her. There was something you weren’t letting yourself remember, and instead of mulling on it, you forced a smile for Ei. “Everything is okay with me, I promise, Miss Ei. The last thing I want is to burden you both…I plan to make your wedding perfect.”

The mothers nodded slowly, but her eyes lingered on you, as if looking for something else that your face betrayed of you. “I understand,” she replied softly, before sighing with a melancholy undertone. “You are a very selfless person, there is nothing to pinpoint about you that would make you a bad person. It’s unfair how life treats the wise, isn’t it?”

Before you were about to respond, the sound of the front door opening drew the attention of the two of you. You turned, and immediately everything that you ever said was forgotten the minute that the outstanding and intimidating presence of Ei’s very son, Kunikuzushi, was standing there with his suitcase. His presence ever commanding and rough.

“Fuck are they doing here?” He asked, as if you were a speck of dust he had no trouble in not paying mind to.

“They are here to help me plan my wedding. One that you have no interest in helping me in, so I’d suggest you keep your snide comments to yourself.” Ei’s tone was direct, almost like a warning shot to him. She stared at him with much more intensity than she ever would you.

“You have no business inviting non-family to your little event, you’re just interested in pissing me off.” His words dug into you like it was a knife plunging into your core. “I mean, what can they even offer you that isn’t equivalent to a fart in the wind?”

“They are family. It is my wedding, Kunikuzushi, and I may do what I please. I may invite who I please, and if you don’t like who I invite, you are happy to do clean up. Less chances of you ever having to see who you don’t want there, is it?”

“Family to who, a dead mom and probably an even deader brother?” He couldn’t help but chortle, before the sheer velocity of a slipper Ei strikes against the center of his nasion, groaning in pain as he stood there for a long time recovering.

“Go,” Ei’s voice was louder. “I had my doubts that you’d actually be civil, but this is ridiculous. It’d be in your best interest not to come out until the both of us are gone.”

Your heart burned in your chest, a fire that wasn’t to be put out. With each silent and shallow breath you took, the harder it was to grasp. Especially when his piercing eyes took a gander at you, before sizing you up quietly. You refused to look him in the eye, narrowing them down.

He could only scoff and wince from how much pain shot through his face, a small and aggravating smile appeared on his lips. His attention turned back to Ei, “Didn’t know you were interested in inviting the circus to your wedding. I would have brought better farm animals, if that were the case.”

“I’m not interested in your suggestions, you have severely agitated me. Go unpack, and leave us to our conversation.” Ei spat. “You should not even be back right now, it is hours before sunset.”

Your eyes never rang that much, the universe around you blurring and fading as the intense and high-pitched sound began dominating every sense you had. It had you feel like you were submerged in a deep and murky water, a muffled and distant echo of their conversation playing out.

Heartbeat echoing in your ears, a counterpoint to the endlessness of your own ears failing you. You squeezed your eyes in pain, finding solace in at least the darkness, your head wandering with thoughts that you didn't think you'd ever have. Vision wavering, the edges of your sight blurred as the ringing became even more insistent. Your own body was failing you.

Safe to say, you couldn't do this.

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THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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