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forteafy · 9 months

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A House, A Home | CL16 & CS55

Summary: A loveless marriage usually comes after years, not before. You've always loved him, his best friend has always loved you.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: Hard Angst, Cheating, Mentions of Sex, Death.

Note: This piece has two heavy inspirations. The first is @lxclerc's amazing pieces 'Moth to a Flame' and 'Call out my Name.' They are both incredible pieces and I highly suggest you give them a read. The second is from a TikTok Account called 'ForPercival,' they are currently doing a social media AU which I cannot recommend enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

Charles Leclerc is a husband.

At least, he was your husband on paper. One year ago, a hidden agreement had been put in place between Scuderia Ferrari and the Leclerc Household; their son, the ‘Il Predestinato,’ of the team, (albeit one whom had had the most terrible season,) could continue to drive for the team, so long as he married the daughter of one of their longest-running investors.

That so happened to be you.

You had been against the entire idea since the first day. After being introduced to Ferrari’s driver, you had instantly felt the divide between the two of you. You’d reluctantly shaken his hand and since then, had been thrown through a mixture of fake dates, a fake engagement and the fakest wedding that could possibly be imagined. The ceremony hadn’t even ended with a kiss, per tradition.

It didn’t take long for your walls to crack; living with Charles, seeing him at his highest and lowest points, his most vulnerable behind the four walls of your home had caused your heart to soften. Forget being forced into this marriage, you’d grown to care, to adore the man who’d once burdened you with his presence. You dreamed of the day he would return your affection; how long would it take for you to realise you lived in denial? In your late-night fantasies, lying alone in one of the guest rooms you’d sought refuge in on moving into this house, you’d dreamt of lying in his arms, lazy morning breakfast, slow kisses when he would come back to you. To your home.

A home, however, is where you feel safe, warm, protected. You lived in a house with Charles. The man who would barely glance your way and after three months of your marriage, started coming home, smelling of rich perfume and lipstick marks littering his jawline.

The first anniversary of your marriage should have been special, even if he despised you in every known form to man. You’d woken up in your room, slipped on the silk robe which had been lying on the empty bedside and slipped out of the bedroom. In your heart of hearts, you knew there would be no significance of today; no flowers, no card, not even a simple text from your husband to signify the date in question. The only text you had received that morning, was a stern reminder from your father, that you were due to attend the Monza Grand Prix in less than one week.

A soft sigh emitted itself from your lips; it was a routine you knew all too well. Every few races, the more significant ones; Monaco, Silverstone, Spa-Francorchamps, Monza, you’d play the doting wife; cheering for your husband whilst dressed in soft summer dresses, a forged grin if he managed to battle his way into the points. On those rare days when he would obtain a podium position, he’d greet you on the barriers with a soft kiss. It was all fake; a routine which had been performed so many times. Yet, each time his lips met yours, you could dream he meant something behind the affection.

The train of thought had played through your mind for so long that you were unaware of the tears pooling on your lower lash line. So, what if Charles wasn’t at home for your anniversary? It was your thought for feeling any kind of emotion towards him in the first place. It was a business deal, after all. Did your husband enjoytreating you like this? His disappearance on that morning was a cold reminder that he felt nothing towards you. No sentiment, no adoration.

Despite the tears which had bade your eyes that morning, until the mid-afternoon, you had a productive day. Of course, leaving the house was out of the question; what would the media say if devoted wife of Ferrari’s driver was seen without him, on their wedding anniversary of all days?

Instead, you’d played soft music whilst re-organising your wardrobe, something you’d put off for a while now. Cooking a meal whilst lazily treading around the kitchen, experimenting with the spices that Yuki had gifted to you on your previous visit to a Grand Prix. The meal itself was too big to eat alone. Instead, you boxed up the remainders of what was left in the tray, carefully placing it in the fridge, knowing Charles wouldn’t actually eat it.

Your evening had been…less productive. You’d found solace in a glass of red wine, lounging on the sofa of the main living area; usually, you kept as far away from that zone as possible. Charles would spend his evenings in the couch, eyes flickering between the television and his phone, no doubt sending longing messages to his mistress whilst his wife was in the home.

The third glass had just about been drained. You were adamant upon gaining a fourth, no longer caring of any commitments you had the next day. Instead, you sat up abruptly from the sofa, hearing the gentle click from the front door.

He had come back to the house.

His green eyes barely took a second to meet yours, slipping off his shoes and placing them into the rack situated by the front door. A rustle of his jacket signified his option to stay. You saw him carry the garment over his arm as he trudged into the living area, set to lie in front of the television for some personal relaxation.

With his entry to the room, you suddenly remembered your position. You’d hastily stood up from the couch, collecting the half-finished bottle from the low table, holding the glass to your chest to draw the attention away from your beverage.

Charles said nothing; he’d unlatched the top two buttons from his dress shirt; faint purple marks nestled on the lower joint of his neck; a clear mark that his mistress had previously made, a sinful reminder of his adultery.

“I left you some dinner in the fridge.” You mumbled, voice barely picking up over the sound of the television. “There’s some clean loungewear on the end of your bed, too.” You finish your sentence. Your husband doesn’t even attempt to tell you he’s acknowledged your words, eyes transfixed on whatever news was currently playing on the television.

“Happy Anniversary.” You mumble, feet leading you back to the kitchen, the bottle of wine against your chest now seemingly the only attention you’d ever get.

Charles Leclerc is an actor.

The entire drive to the track had been bade in complete silence; not even the radio had been switched on to drown out the undeniable tension in the car. You had originally tried to make light conversation with the man; he couldn’t even be bothered to make a sound in response to any of your questions.

You couldn’t handle the harsh tone he had snapped at you with the previous time you had been in the car; instead, you watched the rolling hills and glistening sun of Monza. It was always one of the highlights of the year. If not for the racing, you would have come here in your own time, to bask in the sun and to enjoy the secluded section of Italy as an individual.

The incredible views soon began to fade out, instead replaced by expensive cars and adoring fans, leaning over the barriers in an attempt to see their favourite drivers; there was an uproar as your husband drove past the crowds; he was clearly the home favourite, as any member of the Ferrari crew would be in this location. Silently, you slipped on the sunglasses which had been resting in the pouch of your bag, knowing the paparazzi would be blistering your eyesight sooner rather than later.

Charles effortlessly parked his car in the allocated spot. Silently, he switches off the engine, removing the keys and shoving them into his jean pocket. The man doesn’t so much as register your presence as he opens his door, leaving you to venture out of the car yourself. You’d carefully adjusted the flowing fabric of your dress; the patterned fabric flowing gently around your calves.

You looked beautiful. You just wished your husband would care enough to tell you.

Instead, his priority is the cameras leaning over the barriers. He doesn’t even look in your direction, instead firmly grasping your hand in his own; an act the two of you had performed for the crowd oh-so-many times. He waves towards the crowds; neither of you miss the adoring sounds, the coos for many of the fan’s favourite ‘couple.’ To so many, his affection seemed to clear to you, and yours did to him.

Charles didn’t hold your hand with any adoration. His grasp was harsh, palms roughly mashed together, no intent to keep your grip safe against his own. You were certain that if you were to let go, he wouldn’t think to remedy the situation. Your theory is proven when you gently let go, instead keeping in step, just behind his figure; Charles’ hand seems as if it’s gone into idle mode. His eyes, however, stayed alert, vigilant. Silently, the two of you pass through the paddock security, pausing every few moments for Charles to sign a cap, take a photograph with a fan.

It isn’t until you reach the outskirts of the Ferrari Building that you see her. Soft hair around her shoulders, clothing exquisite, her eyes flickering to your husband, offering him a sympathising smile.

He may have been a devoted husband towards the press, to Ferrari, even to the majority of his team. However, the moment that the cameras were turned off, microphones pushed away, he was sneaking to his mistress, one he had shamelessly invited to so many Grand Prix’s over the past nine months. She was what he wanted; a fun and fancy-free lady, rather than the wife whom stood by his side. There’s a glance between the two of them, as if a whole conversation is had in that moment.

You stay silent as you follow Charles into the Ferrari Building. Instantly, you’re overwhelmed by the welcomes that your husband obtains; so many of them pass onto you. Upon the questions of how married life is treating him, he smiles, fakes a laugh as he pulls you into his side, one hand firmly resting upon your waist.

“Married life is perfect.” He insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, one which you falsely giggle about, ignoring the butterflies which were nestling in the pit of your stomach. “It’s even better when she’s standing right here, beside me.”

The entirety of the room buys the staged scene, all except for two people. The first, obviously, is your father. He’s always there, watching that the driver is performing well. He knows of his affair, but in his mind, as long as the affair is kept out of the light, and his marriage was still official, their deal continued. Besides, he would speak to you both sooner rather than later upon extending the family; that would seal both of your fates towards one another. Nobody liked a husband whom left a wife and child.

The second was Carlos Sainz; the second driver for Scuderia Ferrari.

The Spaniard was all too aware of the affair between Charles and his mistress; after qualifying from Baku, Carlos had found his teammate behind the garage, his hands with a firm grip on her waist, their kisses entirely formed of tounge and teeth. The man had furiously ripped Charles from the woman, bellowing in his face about the wife he had, whilst this woman warmed his bed. A deep blush had formed over both of their cheeks, Charles explaining that you were aware of his actions.

Carlos didn’t want to believe it; he’d frantically messaged you that evening, to which you had answered his question, confirming you knew of the affair. That evening, you had revealed everything to him, watching his eyes get glossier as the cruel details were flickered in front of his eyes. It pained him; he’d cared for you since the moment you’d first stepped foot into the paddock alongside your father. His heart shattered upon finding out that you had been betroved to Charles, that he had missed his chance, all that time ago.

He waits; waits until later in the day to approach you. By this point, you had made yourself comfortable in Charles’ driver room. Of course, your husband isn’t actually there. After a brief encounter with most of the members on his team, he’d excused himself. Carlos knew that he had snuck away from the crowds adorned in red to see his mistress, likely stealing kisses and rough fumbles between one another. Whilst that was happening, you, were sat in his drivers’ room, skirts spread across the soft lounger, eyes engrossed in a book which had been enclosed in your bag alongside your sunglasses.

You were the epitome of beauty in Carlos’ eyes. He could have stood at the ajar door to the room, watching you as you engrossed yourself in the story. Instead, he offers a light cough, drawing your attention from the book in your lap. He’s engrossed by your eyes, how the light reflected off them, the glow they offered. Your smile, how you presented your real smile to him so naturally, not the one you forged next to your husband on every single encounter.

“Good morning, Carlos!” You greet him with a bright tone, standing up from your position on the couch. You offer him a hug, feeling his warm arms wrap around your waist, his breath against your face when he kisses your cheek gently. ‘In another life,’ you always tell yourself. One where you were happy, free to marry a man who would return your affection.

“Good morning, Mariposa.” The nickname rolls of his tongue; one he had presented ever since you had once showed up in the paddock, the most beautiful butterfly-imprinted dress flowing in the soft breeze of that Monaco weekend. “You’re hiding out in here today, yes?” He teases. You offer him a small shrug, eyes not able to meet those sweet brown ones of the man stood in front of you.

“Charles is…busy.” You finish the sentence abruptly. Carlos knows not to question further; the two of you have a mutual understanding as to where he would be at this point during the day; wrapped up in the arms of another woman. “He’s probably on his track walk…maybe. I’m just…keeping occupied.” You motion towards the window, looking onto the first straight of the track. “Plus…it looks windy out there.”

“Well…” Carlos invites himself into the room now, looking down at your attire, seeing that your feet were enclosed with the brilliant white trainers you’d left home in that morning. The man shrugs off his own windbreaker, holding it in his arm. “If I give you my jacket, would you like to come on my track walk?” He offers, holding out the garment to you.

You knew you would probably live to regret that moment. However, if you stayed resting in Charles’ driver room much longer, reading the same line of your book whilst your thoughts trailed away to how he would be with his mistress, you would go crazy.

“I’d love to.” You finally respond, slipping your arms through the large sleeves of Carlos’ jacket. Offering you a pat on the shoulder, he motions towards the exit of the driver’s room, determined to keep you on his side whilst walking across the track loved by fans far and wide. He hopes that everybody misses the longing gazes and soft smile on his face every time you make a comment, or your hands brush a little too closely.

Charles Leclerc is a neck kisser.

It’s not as if you would know this. The only kisses you ever had were those for show. Cold, meaningless interactions between somebody who attempted to show unconditional love and one who could dream of being anywhere else in that moment.

You’d carefully unlatched the front door of the house, your wireless earbuds resting comfortably in your ears, unable to hear any other sound apart from the music playing. Slipping off your shoes, hanging up your jacket; your only intention for the afternoon was to go through some of the notes you had made regarding education courses in the area; sitting at home day after day was truly aggravating. You couldn’t pick up yet another hobby. Maybe some form of learning would interest you.

But first, you needed a drink to cool yourself off from the sun. You’d remembered the smoothie packs you made earlier in the week; one of those and going through your notes seemed a perfect plan for the current moment.

The second you rounded the corner into the open-plan kitchen, you wished that you could have taken the scenic route home.

His mistress was sat up on the kitchen island, back straight, legs wrapped around the waist of your husband, her hands grasping at the soft curls atop of his head. Charles’ hands slid across her back, soft grunts coming from his lips, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses along her slender neck. She was loving it, at least, that’s what you could judge from the noises leaving her mouth.

Before either of them could clock your arrival, both too wrapped-up in their embrace, you’d stepped out of the kitchen, hand over your mouth to silence the sobs which were threatening to escape. In a moment, you’re out of the hallway, letting your feet carry you up the carpeted stairs.

The only intention now embedded in your mind was to drink so much you would forget the scene unfolding in front of your eyes.

Charles Leclerc is a slow replier.

The smell of tequila and sweat is strong in the cramped hallway of the club. It was insane to believe that less than three hours ago, you had been cocooned in your king-size duvet, lips slightly parted as you strung a meaningless thread of text messages to one another; you didn’t truly care how one of your friends felt in that moment, the heartbreak shattering in your chest was stronger than any other emotion you could begin to comprehend.

No, your sole reason for texting was to leave this god-forsaken house. You kept telling yourself not to care. Charles’ eyes were all you could think about as you picked out your shortest, slinkiest dress; one which enhanced every curve and dip in the most elegant way. Charles’ dimples were all you could think about when your attention was drawn to outlining your lips with a deep red gloss. Charles’ lips were all you could think about, your foot sliding into the black heeled shoe, your feet finding no solace in being propped up within six inches of their life.

Your friend had messaged you the location of the designated club. How anybody could enjoy one of those places sober was beyond your comprehension. Instead, you had taken the route of every other supposed being in that club; one shot of a suspicious-looking liquid had turned into sixteen – his number, you couldn’t help remembering. That was the reason you had found yourself stood motionlessly in the hallway, trying to navigate yourself back to the bar. At least seventeen wouldn’t have been tied to any other emotion.

The plan, however, was short-lived when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Turning too quickly in your ridiculous heels, you’re met with the figures of Kelly Piquet and Max Verstappen, hands linked together, clearly nowhere near as intoxicated as you were in that moment.

Kelly moves first; you had always enjoyed her presence, spending time with her around the Paddock when you were bade to attend. Penelope was one of the sweetest three-year-olds you had ever come across, always greeting you with a toothy grin and a story of her and ‘Maxie’s’ escapades. When her mother encloses you in a hug, you can feel the tears fall, your drunken façade falling immediately. The woman simply cups your hand in her face, delicately wiping the tears from your lash line, making sure to remove any heavy clumps of mascara. She asks you where Charles is, where your husband is. You can’t make any sound which you believe is cohesive, something about him being back at the house.

Max by now, has his own arm resting around your shoulder. You were Charles’ wife, after all. He knew Charles would do the same for Kelly if she was ever to be found in this state. Something strange stabs at his chest; maybe he was too protective, but he would have never of let Kelly get into this state, at least, not on her own. The driver carefully fumbles in his back pocket, unlocking his own device and filing through his contacts to phone Charles.

The phone goes straight to voicemail, not even a dialling tone. Max tries a second time, a third time. Instead, he leaves messages. How on gods earth did Charles feel relaxed, knowing his wife would be out, probably on some form of alcohol, and not think to check that she would be safe returning home? If only he knew.

The duo moves to a second plan. You needed some fresh air before they could attempt to get you into a car and take you home; standing in the corridor of a nightclub was not an ideal situation, instead moving you to the exit. Your eyes widen, looking up to Max and Kelly as if you had shrunk right down to Penelope’s age, as if they would be the saviours to get you home. By the way Max was holding you by his side and Kelly stroking your hair behind your ears, you may as well been their daughter.

Conversations are had; neither of them is sober enough to drive you home, nor do they think it’s wise to try and sneak you into their hotel room when they had already issues when checking in a little too late. Their prayers are answered when a group of men wander past, one of them stopping to smack Max, his fellow driver on the back. His dark eyes, ones you know so well, widen when he sees your figure, looking so fragile in the light of the early hours in the city.

“Mariposa.” He murmurs, running a hand across your cheek, wanting nothing more than to hold your frame against his chest. Your soft eyes meet his own dark ones, glossed in concern for how on earth you could do this to yourself. The man murmurs something to Max and Kelly, ensuring them that he’d been the sober friend out of his group; promising he would get you home himself. The duo has no reason to not trust him, both of them leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before retiring to their own hotel.

As the couple walk away from the club, you can only feel the warmth of Carlos’ hand, still resting on your face. When he at last turns his attention back to you, he simply wraps a strong arm around your waist, supporting you to stand in those awful, heeled shoes. At the pace you’re walking back towards his car, you would get there just after the sunrise. Instead, he scroops you into his grasp.

The affection, the physical contact is all too much for you. It had been so, so long since anybody had held you, cared for you like this. Your clouded mind, now overwhelmed by warmth and alcohol allowed you to lean your head into Carlos’ sturdy chest. If you were sober, you’d be able to feel the way his heart raced when feeling you rest against him.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Mariposa?” He murmurs, settling you into the passenger seat of his car. He can’t help but remove his own jacket, wrapping the soft fabric around your arms, letting you nuzzle into the scent of his fabric softener and aftershave. Once settling himself into the driving seat, he begins the route back to the house, one hand gently resting atop of your leg, some form of comfort for the world in your mind which seemed to be caving in.

“I’d never do this to you.” He whispers, turning into the driveway that he had become accustomed to since the marriage.

Across the city, Max Verstappen is sound asleep. His phone, plugged in on the dressing table across the room buzzes once, notifying a text from his racing rival.

03:21: Charles Leclerc

Hey, sorry, was busy with something. Is everything good?

Charles Leclerc is a traveller.

You hadn’t expected anything to awaken you after the way your body had reacted to the previous night. A natural awakening, however, would have been a lot nicer than hearing the clicking sound of wheels against flooring. Whatever, whoever was outside of your room most certainly had a death wish to awaken you that morning.

It felt as if pins had been pressed into every square inch of your head, the task of even sitting up and forcing yourself towards the door of your bedroom, still dressed in your slinky garment and…somebody’s jacket? The night for you had truly ended as soon as you had that ninth shot of tequila; you thought you could remember Max and Kelly in the same location at some point, maybe that was your mind playing tricks on you, longing for people who enjoyed your company.

You were pulled back to the present when the figure of your husband appears at your doorway. He’s dressed already; loose hoodie and tracksuit bottoms cover his frame; his hand is clasping tightly onto a suitcase. There wasn’t a Grand Prix this weekend, you were certain. He would have left days ago for that. There was-

“I’m going to stay with…” He pauses, clearly trying to think of the correct way to word the fact he would be staying with his Mistress until further notice. Even in your state, you understand, simply raising your hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t want to hear her name, you didn’t want to know that he would be spending the next nights wrapped in her arms, because for once…you didn’t care.

They say alcohol causes dangerous mistakes, but in this moment, your hangover seemed to be your best friend. Every single time, you would think later, Charles would come back from seeing her, would leave to spend an evening by her side or sneak away during your paddock appearances…and you would be focused, your sole attention being on when he would return. Now? Your sole focus was on throwing up the remains of alcohol in your stomach, placing on a facemask and ordering some kind of comfort food to your home.

You didn’t care about him, not right now. Your actions relay this, simply offering him a nod before speaking, your voice surprisingly clear for how much your throat was weeping for a drink.

“Okay.” You pause. There’s nothing left to say after that. What does he want you to do? Wish him a happy time? Charles looks equally taken aback, usually expecting some kind of warm drabble on how he needed to stay safe. In that moment, he can’t help but…want it.

“I’ll be back on Wednesday to pack for Singapore.” He pauses this time, taking in your appearance, your face so…gentle, soothing. “You’re coming, yes?” He remembers a conversation had many a time; his wife should be there to support him as much as possible, even if he wasn’t a fan of the sly ways he would have to leave her in front of his team members.

He isn’t expecting a shrug of the shoulders, bringing a hand up to rest on the door, clearly ready to close it at any given moment.

“I’m not sure.” You offer him, sighing as you begin to close the door yourself. “My father said that race isn’t a priority.” That was the last sentence you offered him before closing the door. You obviously do not see it, but on the other side of the wall, Charles stands in confusion for a full twenty seconds before snapping back to his reality, his clutch on the suitcase a little tighter as he begins his decent down the stairs, wondering where on earth he had seen that jacket you were wearing before?

Your own priorities that morning was in full swing; you had placed your phone on charge, messages beginning to thread through as you stepped into the shower, the cool water savouring your skin. A fluffy robe is tied around your waist, brushing your hair around your back whilst your attention focused on rehydrating your skin, brushing your teeth and cleaning the dirt from underneath your eyes.

The silence is strong when you walk back into your bedroom. In that moment, you opt for some music whilst changing into some comfortable loungewear, easy to roam around the house in and let your hair dry naturally. Sitting at the end of the bed, you’re able to check notifications, seeing Kelly had sent you a photo of Penelope that morning, smiling for her favourite aunt. You see your most recent text had come through from none other than Charles’ teammate, following one which had been sent early that morning.

03:45: Carlos Sainz

Sweet dreams, Mariposa. Let me know if you need anything please.

11:51: Carlos Sainz

Just seen on Twitter Charles is at the airport, he’s not off to see her, is he?

His message brings so many emotions to you, and also answers the question of who’s jacket you had been wearing that morning. Your heart can’t help but soften, knowing already that Charles is on his way to see...her. You think back to your mindset from earlier, how it was the last thing you wanted to care about. Why on earth would you care about them, when you could be focusing on ordering your favourite food and calling your nail technician to come to the house? That would make you feel better, better than he ever had.

You first drop a message to Carlos in response, wanting to let him know you had woken up from potential alcohol poisoning.

12:25: You

Yeah, he is. Didn’t seem so happy that I couldn’t care less. Thank you for the jacket last night, I hope you had a good evening.

12:28: Carlos Sainz

All the better for seeing you. Hoping the hangover isn’t too bad today.

The messages spring backwards and forwards between the two of you for the afternoon; you’re smiling whilst you go through your favourite meal, the taste of it filling your mouth in the best way possible. There’s still a smile on your face when your nail technician arrives, painting some delicate designs into your fingers and toes, subtly asking who on earth has you smiling that much.

It isn’t until that evening; you’re sat in front of the television, a series you had watched one-too many times playing, your eyes glued to the storyline as if it would change again. The notification on your phone instantly drew your attention away from the screen, looking down to see a text on your screen.

21:03: Carlos Sainz

Why don’t you come and stay in Madrid for a few days? I’m sure we could both do with the company.

Charles Leclerc is a stalker.

Well, maybe stalker was too strong of a word. However, his intentions were identical, having watched your latest Instagram story three- no, four times. Since leaving the home several days earlier, his mind could not stop thinking about the fact you truly could not care less about where he was going. This wasn’t you, was it?

He’d arrived at her house, being temporarily distracted by luring himself into her bedroom, an afternoon of escapades and touches until she had rolled onto her side, telling him she was going to shower, and he would be more than welcome to join her. Instead, he pulled out his phone, seeing if you had done your usual; texting him to check that he had arrived safely, asking when he could be coming back to the house.

There’s no messages, no notifications. Huffing to himself, Charles instead pulls up your Instagram, seeing that you had posted a new story that evening, a suitcase in hand, an emoji of an aircraft and a Spanish flag. You were off somewhere, and hadn’t told him? No, no. You always told him where you were going, you always-

“Are you not joining me, then?” Charles’ mistress’ voice suddenly draws him out of his trance, a towel wrapped around her body, hair around her shoulders. It was nowhere near as soft and as gentle as yours was, he realised in that moment. He eventually nods, pulling himself from his phone and following her into the en-suite.

He’s so…distant for the remainder of his visit. When the two of them go to a secluded spot for lunch, when they go for a drive in a car they had hired for the afternoon. When she’s lazily pressing kisses along his neck, trying to grind into his crotch, desperate for his attention. When she finally falls asleep, Charles pulls out his phone, looking through any of the photos you had posted from that day. The soft sands of the beach, a hugestrawberry ice-cream cone, a mirrored selfie of yourself in the most beautiful sundress, hair curled and clearly ready for an evening in the Spanish sun.

The routine continues, he sees your adventures, day after day. You’re touring small markets, trying local delicacies. One day, you’re simply lounging by a pool for the afternoon, a fat paperback resting on your stomach, clearly engrossed by the story which was resting on your stomach. Each time he sees a post, he can’t help but be drawn to how he wants to know how you’re doing. Maybe that’s why he drops you a text message, trying to gain some sort of traction from how you were doing.

23:54: Charles Leclerc

Are you home? I’ve got a flight tomorrow afternoon.

You don’t respond; now, your phone is at the bottom of your bag, resting on the inside cabin of Carlos’ boat. For your final day in Madrid, he had insisted on taking you for a boat ride. You’d shyly mentioned earlier in that week that Charles had never taken you on his own boat, despite the fact that you were indeed married.

The sun began to set over the rolling waves of the ocean; the boat is gently rocking, the sounds of water lapping over one another was music to your ears. You were sat at the edge of the now stilled boat, contemplating dipping your toes into the water. Your attention is so drawn to the scenery that you don’t hear him step away from the wheel, crouching next to you.

“You could just go in.” He teases, “rather than staring at the water. You know how to swim.” The taunt causes you to roll your eyes, simply looking to the Spaniard on your right-hand side.

“What? And have you speed off without me?” You retaliate, using your shoulder to nudge his body. Carlos clicks his lips together, mumbling something incoherent, before he’s suddenly scooped you up into your arms; despite your sounds of protests, he simply holds you against his chest tighter. His dark eyes flicker between yours and the ocean water below the two of you. Before you can say anything, his feet have made their own choice, jumping off the edge of the boat, both of you tumbling into the sea. Your briefly submerged entirely, before your head pops out of the waves, blindly reaching around until two strong arms encircle your waist.

Both you and Carlos laugh for a moment, in pure awe that you just did that. He moves first, one of his hands releasing from your waist, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. There’s a silence between the two of you, where the only sound emitting from your surroundings is the gentle waves of the sea. In that moment, Carlos Sainz wants nothing more than to lean forward, pressing his lips to your own. They look so…soft. He craves to give them the attention they had been longing for so long. But…you’re married. And even if your marriage is loveless, to a point where your husband is openly in an affair, he would never do that to you. Instead, he settles for resting one hand on your cheek, gently kissing the top of your forehead, murmuring some Spanish wording you would never remember.

If you did understand it, however, you would have known that he said there and then that he would always be devoted to you.

Charles Leclerc is a loud shouter.

His voice seemed to travel for miles, you were almost certain the entirety of the secluded neighbourhood could hear him at this current moment. The man had returned home from his secluded stay with his mistress to an empty house; at that point, you were still in the depths of Madrid, packing up your own suitcase, wishing Carlos luck on the Singapore Grand Prix. You had intended to return to the house after Charles had left himself; the heartbreak of seeing him littered in love-bites, his eyes transfixed to his phone from her messages was too much for you.

However, if you had been at the house when he had arrived home, you would have seen his neck clear, phone shoved into his back pocket as he called out your name, wondering if you had returned home yourself. Charles notices your trainers haven’t been left on the shoe rack; there’s no music to signify your afternoon relaxation. A light knock to the door of your room signifies there’s nobody home. The house feels empty.

Maybe, Charles Leclerc was beginning to understand how you felt.

His first instinct is to message you. Surely, you would have seen his text from his previous message by now; what would it hurt to check in once more. The man feels against his rough jean pocket for the device, swiping away from the multiple notifications from his mistress, instead scrolling to your contact’s name, seeing you hadn’t been active in almost twelve hours. You hadn’t even opened his message.

His thumb hovers above the keyboard, not entirely sure what to say in this situation. Instead, he opts to call your number instead; you had always picked up to him; whenever he needed you to stay away from the house, or to remind you to be ready to leave at a certain time. The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, your voicemail comes through the speaker, signifying him that you were too busy to pick up the telephone.

Charles didn’t grow concerned during the evening; he grew angry. You were his wife. You were supposed to be at the house to greet him, to welcome him with open arms, ask about his day. Even if…even if he had chosen to ignore your welcoming’s and kind heart for over a year. The man found a distraction in going through the information that Scuderia Ferrari had sent him for his journey tomorrow, making sure his passport was in the correct place. He hadn’t needed to pack; you had made sure to do that for him before your own departure, making sure his comfortable clothes were packed and sunglasses safely secured in the pouches of the case.

It was late, late for you when the door finally opened, signalling the arrival of a second being. Charles immediately sits up from his slouched position on the couch, stepping up from the sofa, almost ready to give you a piece of his mind. Upon reaching the hallway, he sees you, slipping off your trainers, leaving the suitcase next to the front door. Even underneath your jumper, he can see your skin is glowing from the Mediterranean sun, yet your eyes are watering, tears leaking from your lower lash line.

“Where on earth have you been?” He snaps, not actually wanting to hear an answer. You open your mouth to respond, but the man cuts you off before you can speak. “I am your husband. You’re supposed to wait for me!” His temper is getting the better of him, green eyes flickering with anger.

At this point, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed from the news you had received on your drive home, and for this man to question your loyalties to your marriage? You can’t help the scoff which falls from your lips, the emotions building a little too much.

“You’re my husband?” You mock in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise my husband was around at long last, not wrapped in the arms of another woman!” Your temper flares, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, grasping the suitcase to take upstairs and repack.

“You didn’t pick up your phone once.” Charles retaliates. Oh, the cheek of-

“Like when you pick up your phone when I call?” The tears are beginning to flow freely now, wanting nothing more than to get upstairs and completely ignore what has been happening. “You don’t Charles. You’ve done nothing to show that you’re my husband in the past twelve months!” You can’t help yourself now. Instead of seeking the new suitcase, you simply turn around on the step of the front door, slipping your trainers back onto your feet.

“Where are you going?” His voice is now laced in concern; you couldn’t leave yet, surely? You’d only just returned; you wouldn’t be safe to drive in this condition. Why on earth did he care now? His question is answered, but not in the way he desired.

“Like you would care.” It’s the last thing you say before the door to the house is slammed shut.

Charles Leclerc is an investigator.

When arriving in the Ferrari Garage of Singapore, there’s already an eerie feeling through the air; there are no smiles, sympathising looks thrown towards the back end of the garage. The driver isn’t stupid, he knows something must be wrong. He’s unsure of who to ask; who would know what is going on?

His original plan was to ask Xavi, maybe during their morning briefing, until he is told that his flight has been delayed and wouldn’t be there until the late afternoon. Eventually, he spots his racing partner, nestled in the corner of the garage, his eyes flickering across his own phone screen, rapidly typing a message to somebody he would rather not admit to.

“Hey.” He speaks softly, not wanting to startle the man. Silently, Carlos looks up from his device, offering his teammate a small nod, not wanting to prolapse the eye contact for too long. Charles can sense he knows what has happened, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why is everybody so…quiet?”

The look on Carlos’ face signifies he’s said something wrong. His eyes darken, shaking his head in disappointment rather than fury. It correlates to the kind of look his father would give him during a long talk, when he had broken something and not admitted to it. The Spaniard isn’t sure he should even tell his teammate what had happened. Instead, he changes his phone application to the Emails App, handing the device over to Charles. His eyes flicker across the screen, taking in the information.

Ferrari’s biggest benefactor, your father, would not be attending the race weekend after the untimely death of his wife. Your mother. It suddenly correlates; how the night before, you had seemed inconsolable, despite the fact you had obviously had an incredible vacation. You’d tried to simply walk away, to let yourself grieve without bothering him. Instead, you had found comfort in Carlos as he had driven you to the airport, whispering sweet words of comfort, promising that everything was going to be okay.

Charles feels his blood run cold, he feels sick. The look on the man stood in front of him tells him enough; he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Murmuring an excuse, he leaves the garage, stepping to the secluded back area, the realisation that he is everything his mother never wanted him to be, hitting hard. He still had the ability to run to her, to ask for her advice. You didn’t have that anymore. You didn’t have anybody, least of all your husband.

The first thing he does in that moment, is pull out his phone, scrolling to the contact of his mistress.

10:09: Charles Leclerc

We need to talk.

Charles Leclerc is a phone call away.

The past day had been filled of tears, clinging to your father, to your younger siblings, to your elder cousins. How on earth your mother had left this world early was beyond you. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. Your mother was the one whom had been your rock for the past miserable year of your marriage. If not for her, you were almost certain that you would have thrown your silvery key to the house down a drain so long ago.

Without her guidance, without her tutoring, you felt like bird trying to fly individually for the first time; surrounded by fears and almost certain you’d fall into compromising position.

You hadn’t rested. Not since you had arrived at the bleak family home. As customed, every curtain was drawn close, doors to each room sealed, no natural light emitting to the large house, making every shadow and crook of the building seem more terrifying. Eventually, your father had retired to his own bedroom, your younger siblings tucked into their beds, butterfly kisses pressed against their foreheads, a silent promise you were only down the hall if they so desired you.

The bedroom you had grown up in remained almost identical to the one you had painted in your mind; pale pink wallpaper, a luxury bed lined with a rosebud-patterned quilt set. The vanity you had last used to get ready on your wedding day remained pristine, the perfumes and scents which had been your favourite still sitting atop of your shelf. And the photographs. A polaroid of your two closest friends from your childhood; one of your sisters on her christening day, the entire family dressed so elegantly; Charles is in that photograph, off to the side alongside his brothers; you had no idea there and then that boy with the ocean eyes would become your estranged husband.

You could have continued going down memory lane, if not from the buzzing which was coming from your bed. The phone you had carelessly thrown atop of the blankets when first entering the room had finally got some service, a thread of text messages and missed phone calls beginning to filter through. Silently, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, eyes flickering across each message. Some are from members of the Ferrari team, others from family members you hadn’t heard from in what felt like centuries.

There’s one. One from the man whom you had spent the previous week with. The one who had consoled you whilst travelling to the family home. Your husband’s teammate.

23:05: Carlos Sainz

Mariposa, please let me know how you are doing. I’m so worried about you. Let me know if you need anything at all.

23:31: You

Thank you, C. I should be heading home tomorrow, with a bit of luck I’ll be able to swing by and say hello.

You hadn’t expected anything else that evening. You were settled, ready to focus on yourself for the remainder of the evening; in your eyes, there was a high likelihood that your siblings would be burrowing into your blankets later. Once dressed in nightwear, the makeup that had stained your cheeks removed, you noticed the soft glow of your phone screen. Another message had just been received, and in your wildest dreams, you could not have imagined whom it was from.

00:24: Charles Leclerc

I heard about your mother this afternoon; I am truly so, so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I mean it.

Your eyes had barely had time to view the message which had just been received, before your phone screen changes, taking the message away from your sight. The message thread is replaced by a photograph of your husband, his name lighting up on you phone screen. You don’t even think; instead, your thumb swipes across the screen, pressing the green button and holding the device to your ear.

“Charles.” You speak one word, hearing your husband visibly relax on the other end of the line. You realise it’s the first time you’ve said anything coherent in hours; the tone of your voices echoes around the room. Did you always sound that sad when you spoke to him?

“Hey.” He isn’t too sure what he wants to say; the lack of conversation between the two of you means he isn’t aware if there are any boundaries, anything you wouldn’t discuss with him. No, he just wanted to speak to you, to check in. In reality, he had realised how lonely the house was as an individual. His mistress was gone from his contacts, not inviting her around to fill the void had made him realise how you had felt for oh-so-long.

“How…” He pauses, not sure on how to finish his question. He doesn’t need to, because despite the lack of understanding of one another, you know he’s trying, trying to make you feel better.

“I’m…yeah.” You can’t find the correct words to say; ‘sad’ is an understatement, ‘fine’ is a rude response. Neither of you can find the words, but in that moment, you crave somebody who isn’t mourning the loss of your mother as heavily as you are.

“We have some new neighbours.” He’s trying to find anything to create some conversation. It’s almost as if he knows the quiet of the room is making you feel uncomfortable. “They left us an invitation to join them for a tennis session- not that I’m any good.” He laughs to himself, remembering the previous time he’d attended a tennis game alongside his fellow drivers; he’d had to step out after a few minutes, completely terrified he would end up breaking his hand.

He doesn’t hear anything from the other side of the line but continues to talk. “Are you…” He catches himself for a moment. “Are you coming back soon?” His voice turns into barely a whisper, as if saying the wrong thing will cause you to hang up immediately. He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, taking a gentle sigh and awaiting your response.

“Yeah.” You pause. Are you doing this? Are you having a conversation with your husband? “I’m going to fly home tomorrow afternoon. I think my father wants space.” Your sentence closes, looking around your room. The silence is deathly; in that moment, you don’t care about everything that’s happened. All you want is for somebody to hold you in their arms and tell you it would be okay.

“I’ll come and get you.” Charles has spoken before his mouth has had time to catch his brain. Your eyebrows quirk in confusion. The only time your estranged husband ever drove you himself was on your endless journeys to races; you would sit silently, curled away from his figure, eyes transfixed as the world passed by around you. The man not only offering but wanting to pick you up from the airport was a new-found curiosity.

“It’s okay.” You don’t let him continue. If previous standings have taught you anything, it’s that behind those mesmerising eyes cannot be trusted. You knew the secrets that lied beyond the ocean settled in his eye. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt you.” Part of your heart is craving to bring up his mistress; how she would probably be warming his bed in the current moment, walking around the house which you ached to find comfort in.

“You wouldn’t.” Charles is quick to respond; in his heart of heart, he knows getting you to trust him again would be a monumental task. He’d do anything to prove he would be the husband who would look after you. Who would love you unconditionally; the husband you deserved.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve landed, okay?” It’s your final compromise. The woman whom you had been twelve months ago would love nothing more than to run into Charles’ arms; whether he cared for you the way you did; you would always desire his attention and affection. You’d had to learn through the months that some of life’s biggest temptations had to remain untouched.

Charles Leclerc is your husband.

Landing back in the country was almost eerie; despite being away for only a miniscule amount of time, you felt changed; changed by the loss of your closest companion, changed by the fact your husband had been the one to call you, and not to throw some crazy request down the telephone line.

Arrivals, as always, were completely smothered; couples reuniting, children screaming at the sudden change of scenery. After obtaining your own bag, your eyes flicker through the never-ending crowds, desperate to find some recognition.

Standing apart from the crowd, looking effortlessly rugged in his athletic shorts and hoodie, hair pushed underneath a snapback. His eyes are trained on you, as if he had sensed your presence into the room in less than a moment. The breath catches in the back of your dried throat, a pair of eyes that you trusted undoubtedly. Stumbling, your feet carry you over to the arms of your favourite Spaniard, your head instantly finding solace in the joint between his shoulder and neck, the cologne you were used to from his attendances around the paddock creating a cloud of comfort.

Carlos’ hands effortlessly lock around your torso, pulling you tighter into his chest, one palm rubbing up and down your back. It was the first time, the first time in a long time that anybody had offered you this sort of affection. Mindlessly, the soft tears begin to pool at the bottom of your lash line. Soft snuffles emitting from your lips cause the man to hush you gently, pulling your face away from his body, cradling your head between his larger hands.

He mumbles something quietly, something about taking you back to the house. If it was him, the man would bundle you into his car and drive to his own home. He’d nestle you under his bedroom blankets, dress you in one of his hoodies. Instead, his rough palm finds your soft fingers, intertwining your hands together. Carlos takes your suitcase in his free hand, guiding you to his car parked outside of the airport.

Not much is said during the shortening journey back to the house; the tears glossing your eyes reflect the streetlights, transfixed on the roads which you had left for a few short days. The tears will continue to fall; her loss had taken a part of you that you would you never thought would return. The man to your right, eyes focused on the road can sense your heartbreak. He doesn’t wait to push you; he had spoken to you shortly after the news had originally broken, in that conversation, you had barely been able to say ten words before your voice cracked. Instead, Carlos rests a warm hand on your leg, a silent promise that he will be there no matter what.

The journey feels too short; eventually the driveway to the house rolls into sight, Carlos slowing down the car. When it comes to a halt, he steps out immediately, obtaining your suitcase from the rear of the car, placing it down on the wheels. By this point, you’d wiggled from the seat, ready to wheel your case into the house. However, before you can move, his arms engulf you once more, clinging so tightly, your feet began to lift from the floor. You had clung back just as tight, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek; a silent ‘Thank you,’ for everything.

The embrace ended, Carlos awaiting until the door had unlocked, nodding when he saw you safely enter the house. The building is practically silent; no television sounds, no gentle music, not even the whirr of Charles’ simulator in his downstairs office. Ears pricked, you could hear the jets of a shower from upstairs, the assumption that he must have been in the shower. Paranoia threads your mind, she wouldn’t be showering alongside, would she?

You don’t let your mind wander; instead, you focus on lugging the suitcase along the staircase, silently glad you had gotten further with it since your trip to Madrid. Beelining towards your room, the suitcase rolls behind you, resting it in the corner of the room, a silent promise you’d wash everything tomorrow. However, a delicate bouquet of soft, pink and fresh flowers decorated the vanity of the room; you knew you hadn’t bought flowers since Madrid, and these…They looked as if they’d been placed mere minutes ago.

Overthinking had always been dangerous; instead, you keep yourself busy, wiggling your skincare bag from the suitcase, padding into your bathroom with that and a fresh set of long pyjamas; the late-night breeze had begun to tickle your skin since removing yourself from Carlos’ warm arms. The relish indulges your body, shampoo trickling through your hair, body wash bubbles tickling your body. You’d stepped out a few moments later, changing into the soft clothing, sitting in front of the mirror, brushing your hair out as carefully as you could have.

Silently, your feet carry you from the en-suite towards the main bedroom. Standing at the head of the doorway, is none other than your husband, hair own hair damp from his shower, dressed in soft tracksuit bottoms and a tight tee-shirt. He’d seen your suitcase nestling in the corner of your bedroom, your phone had rumpled the blankets of your bed. Charles had been the one to hear the shower this time, deciding to wait, just to see your soft eyes.

They’re bloodshot; you look so…frail. The years of heartbreak littered across your face. Charles’ heart practically breaks; before you can say a word, he’s across the room, arms pulling around your torso, pulling your head under his chest. Your instinct tells you to fight it, why on earth would you accept some form of affection from a husband who had openly destined you for so long?

And yet, you subcome to his affection, hesitantly holding your own arms to his chest. His scent, his warmth.You felt as if you were dreaming, eyes wet from the overwhelming care, feeling gentle kisses press to the top of your head.

You don’t remember when Charles scooped you to his chest, tucking you into your fresh blankets before nestling in behind you himself. You remind yourself; this is a one-off. You’re almost certain that by tomorrow, he’ll be back in the arms of his mistress, your moment tonight will be an absent moment to your husband. You’ll take it; if it’s one night in his arms, feeling his breath against the back of your neck, tip of his nose pressing into your back, one hand pressed against your stomach in comfort, you’ll take it.

Some point during the night, your phone buzzes, the sound barely audible on the blankets of your bed. You groan slightly, the bubble of yourself and Charles giving you a true form of sanctuary, a true form of home. Curiosity in the night takes the better of you, lifting the dying device to your eyes, slightly blinded by the glow of the screen.

Despite being wrapped in the arms of your husband; you can feel your blood turn cold when you read the one sentence which had been left for you to find.

01:46: Carlos Sainz

I’m in love with you.

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inkskinned · 1 year

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sometimes i think about the span of human existence and how if you spread your arms out in a long line and said my body is acting as a poem of all the universe's birthdays, the smallest sliver of your furthest nail would be our entire history as humans. and you, doing this, feeling your sternum crack into place because you're-getting-old and all of your bones crunch these days: you are the universe, measuring its own timeline. you're the memory of a starburst saying i gave birth to humans at the tip of my finger.

and i think about how crocodiles have been around for way longer than that fingernail and how sharks have been here forever too and how there are sea cucumbers that understand time like an angel would; their ages so astronomically long that i get dizzy looking down into them. i think about my dog, and how i am so fantastically ancient to him (an impossible number, staggering) and how, at the same time, i can order my life in eras of pets-i-have-loved and how my childhood died when my cat did.

and i wonder if the earth does the same thing, if nature keeps time in epochs. if the tree in the house where i grew up said oh a new family and got upset when one by one we all left for college and left behind our climbing and screaming and birdhouses. that same tree collapsed during a bad storm this winter; heartbroken. the whole inside was a hull, shivering and empty. it missed our roof by a whisper, almost like it held itself together so it couldn't pass a hole into the house it's been looking into for years now. the people who took it away clicked their teeth. it was a hundred years old, at least.

there are things that went extinct in my lifetime. there are memories that don't extend to the tip of the finger. four years ago, for the first time: i saw a bald eagle in the wild. ever since they've been sprouting strangely in my life, their origami frames hunched in a racket of brown feathers. something in the motion of wild animals braced against the new england weather - like we all (all of nature, all of the fingertip) have the same shared hate when it's cold sorrow. like in years and years and years of history we never really evolved a better method than to close your eyes and brace yourself against it.

i saw a butterfly today, staggering drunkenly in the early spring air. it's too early for her other friends. i want to tuck her back into bed and say it's not your time yet! her life like a pinprick in my own. in butterfly school they'd have to stretch out their scales and say - at the end of your furthest wing is where you are in the life of a human. she is in my life, isn't she. something about how my heart seized at the sight of her, so brave and lonely and unfair; and how it snowed yesterday (and will snow again, probably), and how, in spite of that, she was out there and flying.

something about waking up this morning and thinking - i'm too old for this. how my hips and knees and back all make new noises. how the other day at a grocery store i picked up the gloves an older woman had dropped, how she'd laughed and thanked me - i can't bend down like you young folks anymore.

something about the theory that there's been no visible life on other planets because we are too early. that we are the first butterfly of spring. all this bravery. we know it is probably hopeless, and still we go. breathless, the same tactic - we brace against the cold.

#spilled ink #sat down to write about you #wrote about how crocodiles can climb trees oops

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infamous-if · 2 months

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So sorry for the delay! ! My VS Code program wasn't calibrated with CSIDE and in the indentions basically messed up. The prologue coding is so wonky that honestly if I do anything I end up fucking up 2839393 lines of code. If you've been following a while, you're probably well aware of much hatred for the prologue's coding lmao but we live and we learn.

Storyline wise, not much has changed. Scenes are largely the same, since I'm pretty happy with what I wrote a year ago. For this rewrite, I focused mainly on the big things like choices that will impact the rest of the story and O's gender selection. Some new things include:

you can now play with Orion or Oriana Quinn

you can now express if the band went through a musical rebrand after seven and what the old genre was (which will come up later).

you can now choose whether mc "changed" after seven and what change that was (there's 4, technically 2, options and a "default" vague option, im open to more options since I wanted to do this but couldn't really think of any believable ones beyond the four).

new mc personality: attached vs detached. your mc can have an extra attachment to the band for obvious reasons, or can feel the opposite.

coordinating outfits can now be exclusive to the band members. your mc can be the unique unicorn of the group since they're the lead singer (this is definitely not gonna bite them in the ass later)

adding to that, your mc's reason for fame can be due to wanting to keep the band together.

a new flavor text feeling about seven is now added which is basically "idk how I feel" instead of hating or loving them, you can just make it that MC's feelings for them is just a big question mark. REALISM!

stat changes: stern/playful -- same thing as humorous/serious I just wanted words that encompassed a wider range of behavior Leader/follower - whether mc takes on the leader role or not camaraderie - a band stat that measures the trust/morale/closeness of the band

u can probably see where im going with the stats huh....

smaller changes include:

more choices and options

prose changes + dialogue additions and expanded/ added scenes

The beta testers have not touched this yet, as I wanted to bring it out to collect some last suggestions, ideas from Patrons. Of course, as always, if you do catch errors, please let me know.

My main concern for errors: O's pronouns. It was a long process but I may have missed a few pronouns here and there. Please let me know if you catch any <3

PROLOGUE: 93K WORDS (for context, the old prologue and chapter 1 were 92k together. The prologue is a tiny bit inflated but :)))

I will make a post about beta testers soon. I've been quiet on that front because I've been just prioritizing getting this out first.

Now available for Band tier! (6$)

#update #rewrite

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munsonhoneybaby · 9 months

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Sweet Leaf | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: Finally starting to spend time with Eddie outside of your bedroom, everybody seems to know about the two of you but Dustin.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, eddie’s never-ending pet names, frequent drug use (marijuana), smut, lots of high sex in the whole series idk what to tell you lol, tiny bit of dry humping, eddie’s fishnet fetish?, skinny dipping, fingering, p in v (unprotected but he pulls out), sex in an empty parking lot, squirting, pretty heavy subspace, not angst but crying after sex, eddie’s a little fucknasty sometimes but he worships his lady, cheesy ahh ending

A/N: just two emotionally damaged stoners trying to figure out how to love each other, what more can i say? the length of this one just kept getting away from me lol i’ve loved writing this series and even though the main storyline is over i’d love to keep writing about these two if anybody sends in blurb/headcanon requests or anything like that !! i had plenty of little ideas i had to leave out !!

part one | part two | tmic masterlist

Eddie paused in the mirror, fixing the hair laying on his forehead. He fidgeted with his shirt, trying to get it to sit right on his shoulders– it was an old Kill ‘Em All t-shirt he’d cut the sleeves off of ages ago. He huffed and did one more frantic scan of his bedroom, hands fluttering uselessly at his sides as he was sure there had to be something he’d missed. Bed made, laundry done, and messes cleared away, his room looked cleaner than he’d seen it in probably two years. Deciding it wasn’t gonna get any cleaner in the next fifteen minutes, he dashed down the short hallway to double-check that the living room was spotless.

He’d draped the nicest blanket they had over the back of the couch and even specifically bought a few candles to light around the room just for the occasion. A few pre-rolled joints sat out on the coffee table alongside the selection of horror movies that Steve definitely didn’t let him sneak out of Family Video for free; he wanted to give you options, so he settled on The Thing, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining, and The Evil Dead. He would have happily taken you to see a movie, maybe even a drive-in, but you’d said you’d rather it be just the two of you.

Three knocks sounded at the door, making him jump. You were four minutes earlier than he expected. Stepping to the door, he glanced around the room again and blew out a heavy breath before he opened it.

And there you were. Black shorts peeking out under your baggy Dio tee and a bag of snacks in hand from the gas station a couple miles off, you smiled at him. “Hi.”

Eddie couldn’t help his cheesy grin as he replied, “Hey.” Something about you was so enrapturing to him. He could have just stared at you, standing in the afternoon sunlight shining on his doorstep, forever.

“You gonna let me in?”

“Oh! Uh– right.” He moved aside, opening the door wider. “It’s not exactly the Ritz, but uh–”

“Oh, knock it off. I don’t care about that shit.” You looked around, taking in the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls. The warm light outside made the closed mismatched curtains glow. “I think it’s perfect.”

He cleared his throat to overcome the warmth in his chest before he spoke. “I got a few different movies if you wanna pick.”

“Ooh, can we watch The Shining? It’s been a little while since I’ve seen it, it’s one of my favorites.”

“Sure thing,” He nodded. As he turned on the TV and put the tape in the VHS player, you found a seat on the couch and grabbed a joint off the table to light up. While you seemed totally at ease in his trailer, he was as nervous as the first time he met you. First date jitters, he supposed. You looked so comfortable curled up and smoking in the corner of his couch that, as he settled at the opposite end, he couldn’t help but feel like you belonged there.

Your legs stretched into his lap as you scooted down a bit to pass him the joint. He rubbed his free hand back and forth along your calf absentmindedly. “I don’t know how long you were planning on staying– if you wanna stick around after this movie, I could make a frozen pizza and we could watch another or something.”

“Sounds good to me,” You hummed in return.

Forty-five minutes into the movie, the first joint was gone and Eddie was focused intently on the television screen. You started to get fidgety though, foot nudging against his thigh. “What’d you sit so far away for?”

“I dunno, just thought I’d give you your space I guess? I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“C’mere.” Pinching at his shirt, you tugged until he scooted himself to you. Your legs lay completely over his lap as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I don’t need space, I came here to be with you. It’s cute you’re taking this whole ‘first date’ thing so seriously, though.”

His cheeks flushed a little pink and he fiddled with his rings over your lap. “Sorry, I just– I want this to go well.” He laughed nervously as he continued, “I want to keep seeing you outside your bedroom, y’know? I want you to come to my shows, and I wanna take you to the diner, and I wanna kiss you goodbye after Hellfire sessions.”

You gave him a little smile, turning his face toward you to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I wanna do that stuff too, Eds. You know that you mean something to me, right? I just wanna go slow in the Dustin department. He has to be okay with this.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded instantly, “However you wanna go about it. I swear, I’ll even ask the little loudmouth for his blessing when you want me to. I mean, I love that kid too.”

For a split second you just took in his features, and those big, earnest eyes were impossible not to believe. The material of his shirt scrunched between your fingers as you drew his lips to yours again. “Thank you for being there for him. And for me. You don’t know how much it means.”

He brushed a strand of hair back from your face with a little smile. “I think I do, sweetheart.”

“Hey, so where’s your sister?” Mike asked, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “She’s like…always home.”

“I don’t know,” Dustin frowned, “I guess she just told Mom she was going out. Maybe I should call Robin and ask if she’s with her.”

“Dude, she’s an adult,” Lucas shook his head slightly. “She probably doesn’t need you to check in on her, I’m sure she’s fine.”

“But what if she isn’t?” As he continued, he paced the length of the basement, hands gesturing wildly with his words. “And what is she doing? ‘Going out’? What does that mean? Why is she trying to hide where she’s going? What if it’s somewhere sketchy?”

“You need to calm down,” Mike insisted. “It really isn’t that serious, she’s probably with Robin and Steve or something.”

“Right, so I should just call Robin and make sure!”

Lucas still rolled his eyes, but Dustin was already dashing up the stairs to the phone. “Great, now he’s gonna lose it if she’s not with Robin.”

“Where else would she be?”

“Literally anywhere, man. She could be at the record store, or with Nancy, or maybe with...”

“You don’t think she could be with Eddie–” But Mike was cut off by footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“She’s not with Robin, Steve, or Nancy which means I’m out of people to call which means I’m officially concerned. Do you think we should go out and start checking places? I mean, what if she smoked like– like– bad weed or something? I don’t know how that stuff works! Why wouldn’t she tell me where she’s going? She should know I’m worried sick!”

“Oh my god, would you relax? Did you talk to your mom?”

“Well, of course she thinks everything’s fine! She trusts us both implicitly when she obviously shouldn’t!”

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a breath before he looked at him. “I seriously think you’re overreacting. Like Lucas said, she’s an adult; she doesn’t have to tell you everything. She’s allowed to have a life.”

Having returned to his pacing, Dustin halted and looked at him with an offended expression. “Are you trying to say I’m clingy? I’m not clingy!”

“I’m not saying you’re clingy! I’m just saying that you do your own shit, she probably does her own shit too. Maybe she’s taking time to herself or maybe she’s out with a guy or something.”

“There’s no way she’s out with a guy. She would tell me if there was a guy! And where would she even meet a guy? Work? She barely talks to anyone, you guys know that!” Mike and Lucas shared a glance before looking in different directions.

“Look, if she’s not home in an hour we’ll go check a couple places, alright?” Lucas finally sighed.

“An hour? It’s already a quarter after nine!” Then they heard the front door close and Dustin was racing back up the stairs. There you stood, kicking off your shoes beside everyone else’s, a smile on your face that you were trying to bite back. Until your brother and his friends burst out of the basement. “And where on Earth have you been?”

You looked at him questioningly. “Enjoying my day off?”

“By yourself? Until nine-thirty at night?” He placed his hands on his hips, scanning you with a scrutinizing gaze. “What were you doing?”

“What’s with the third degree? I stopped at the bookstore, then I went out in the woods and read for a while. Is that okay, Mom?”

“Don’t condescend to me, you had me worried half to death!”

As you replied, you ruffled his hair. “Aw, well that’s very sweet, Dusty. I’m fine though, you don’t need to wait up for me.”

“See? We told you there was nothing to worry about,” Mike chimed. When he and Lucas gave each other another pointed look, however, he knew they’d both seen the faint hickey peeking out from your shirt collar that Dustin had apparently missed.

“Goodnight, boys. I’ll make you guys some breakfast in the morning, alright?” They all called back their own goodnights as you headed down the hallway to your bedroom and they made their way back into the basement.

Later that night you were dozing off, still dressed and on top of the blankets, when you jolted back to full consciousness at the sound of the phone ringing in the living room. Grumbling a little under your breath, you rubbed your eyes.

You were halfway down the hall when you heard the basement door creak open, and suddenly you were wide awake. At half past midnight, there was no way anyone other than Eddie was calling and there was definitely no way Dustin could answer that call. Increasing your pace to a slightly-panicked speedwalk until you were in the room with him, you just barely made it to the phone before him. You pressed the receiver into your chest to muffle your voice as you practically whispered, “Don’t worry about it, Dusty, it’s for me.”

“Who is it?”

“Nancy, she wanted to talk about what I got from the bookstore but she was busy with Robin and Steve,” You answered easily. He nodded and yawned out another goodnight before booking it back downstairs. Letting out a relieved exhale, you finally raised the phone to your ear. “Sorry, Dustin almost picked up. Everything okay?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. Everything’s fine. I tried not to call, I swear I did, but–” He laughed a little embarrassedly, “Fuck, when can I see you again?”

“Eddie,” You whispered through a little giggle. “You had to call about that now?”

“I mean, I could always come over so we could talk about it in person instead,” He teased.

“I just left your place three hours ago.”

“Should’a just stayed the night, babe,” He sighed regretfully.

Clutching at non-existent pearls, you replied, “Stay the night? On the first date? Eddie Munson, what kind of girl do you take me for?”

“Of course, sweet thing, you’re right. You could never do anything so scandalous as sharing a bed with me before we’re really goin’ steady.” You could picture that smirk on his face as he spoke. “Guess that means we’ve gotta plan a second date, huh?”

“Guess so,” You hummed. “Have anything in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking,” He began slowly. “Maybe you could come to one of our shows? I know that’s not a super great date idea since I’m gonna be on stage pretty much the whole time and everything, but–”

“No, that sounds great,” You interrupted. “When’re you guys playing next?”

“Friday night at eight.”

“Alright, I’ll see you at The Hideout on Friday then.”

“Alright,” He cooed back playfully. “G’night, baby.”

Standing in front of your open closet, you rustled through all your clothes in indecision. “I don’t know what I should wear.” Nancy, Robin, and Steve sat side by side by side on the edge of your bed, peering into the closet from behind you. The latter opened his mouth to share an opinion but held his tongue as your younger brother leaned in your door.

“What’re you doing?”

“Uh– just trying to find something to wear, I’m going out later.” You shrugged off his question and continued shuffling through your hanging shirts.

“Again with this ‘going out’ stuff! With who?”

“Us,” Nancy interjected casually.

“Thought we’d go check out Eddie’s show at The Hideout tonight,” Steve added. “Show him some support since it’s usually just the drunks there.”

Dustin eyed you for a split second but seemed to move on from whatever suspicion he had toward you quickly. “Cool, I’ll let Mike and Lucas know. We were gonna hang at Mike’s, but we can all go to the show together instead.”

“You can’t come, Dusty. That’s not a kid-friendly environment,” You told him apologetically.

“What? Come on! We’re not kids, we’re in high school! We wanna see Eddie perform too, he’s our friend!”

“Oh, so now he’s just your guys’ friend,” Steve chimed. “Before, you were practically begging us to get along.” He stood and crossed the room to ruffle Dustin’s curls. “Seriously, dude, your sister’s right. This place is nothing but adults drinking, I doubt they’d even let you stay if you came in with us.”

“See? Your mother says no,” You confirm. “Sorry, Dustin, really. Maybe we could all do something together as a big group though soon, yeah? All of us and the Hellfire club. We could sit in on a session or take you all to the movies or something, okay?”

He paused, fidgeting with one of the buttons on his undone, patterned overshirt. “That’d actually be pretty cool. You’d do that?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s no problem.” You walked over to give him a side hug before nudging him out the door. “Now beat it, I’ve gotta get ready.” It took another minute or two of brainstorming before you decided to snag Dustin’s Hellfire t-shirt from his laundry basket– thank God you had just done his laundry for him. You thought it’d be the best fan attire since Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly selling merchandise.

Once you were ready to go, Robin called shotgun as the four of you piled into Steve’s car. “Sorry that you guys have to tag along now, but you know how Dustin gets.”

Glancing at you briefly in the rearview mirror, Steve replied, “It’s no big deal. Sorry I told him you were going to see Eddie.”

“It’s fine,” You shook your head. “I wanna lie to him as little as possible anyway, I just haven’t figured out how to bring it up yet.”

“I know he wants you to, but you don’t always have to tell him everything right away,” Robin reminded you. “I mean, what were you gonna tell him– that you were fucking one of his best friends? He doesn’t need to know that. It’s not like you guys are actually together yet–” She was interrupted by a punch in the shoulder from Steve.

He gave her an incredulous look before Nancy took over, reaching over and squeezing your hand. “What she means is, you guys should take your relationship at your own pace and tell Dustin when you think the time is right.”

“Right, that’s exactly what I was gonna say,” Steve added.

Robin rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

“What? I was!”

When you were finally standing in the parking lot of The Hideout, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Robin hooked an arm around your shoulders and started for the door. “Come on,” She drawled. “Let’s catch ‘em before the show starts, you’ll be okay.”

They weren’t hard to find, setting up on stage front and center. You could see Eddie kneeling down to plug in the amp until Gareth lightly hit his arm and pointed in your direction. A grin stretched across his face as his stare dragged over your frame, taking in your fishnets, short skirt, and Hellfire tee. He excused himself to the rest of the guys before jogging over to you. “Hey, I didn’t realize you guys were coming along.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. Dustin found out where I was going and I didn’t want him to get nosy–”

“Are you kidding? This is the most sober people we’ve ever had in an audience, don’t sweat it.” He briefly squeezed your waist then let his hand settle on your back, fingers drumming impatiently. You looked at him questioningly, but he didn’t meet your eyes just yet. “I appreciate you guys coming, I know it’s not really your kinda music.”

Steve waved him off. “Nah, man, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Harrington.” His arm moved from your waist to your shoulders, “I’m gonna steal her from you guys for a couple minutes if you don’t mind. I wanted to show her some of the equipment.” Robin opened her mouth to make a smart remark but was stopped by another punch from Steve.

He guided you to a nook behind one of the walls in the far corner of the bar. Humming lowly, he cupped your face so you’d look at him. “You really dressed for the occasion, pretty girl. You look fucking incredible.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten my exclusive Corroded Coffin t-shirt yet, so I figured this was the next best thing.”

“My apologies, babe, I’ll get right on that.” He dipped his head to press a long, slow kiss to your lips.

“Somebody smoked a joint without me,” You teased.

With a good-natured smile, he rolled his eyes in false exasperation. “Sorry, should’a gotten here earlier. We can smoke all you want after, alright? Pothead.”

“What’s that thing people say?” You asked sarcastically. “I think it was something about a pot, maybe a kettle?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He laughed. A whistle from Gareth called his attention to the stage and he exhaled heavily. “Okay, that’s my cue. Wish me luck?”

“Like you need it,” You pecked his lips. “I’m really excited to hear you play. You guys are gonna do great.” Eddie smiled and stole one last quick kiss before darting back to the stage, leaving you to make your way back to the others.

“We may have taken the liberty of getting you a drink,” Steve said as Robin pushed a glass across the table toward you.

“I would be offended if you hadn’t.” Taking a few swigs, you looked over to where Eddie was finally settling the mic into its stand, his guitar hanging from his shoulder. They didn’t bother with grand introductions given the small crowds that gathered weren’t exactly there to see Corroded Coffin; they simply started into their set.

The boys mostly stuck to covers of semi-popular songs– sticking to their roots with Metallica and Black Sabbath, but appeasing the bar patrons with some Led Zepplin and a grudging Bon Jovi song. A few pieces they’d weaved in were their own and you could tell, but they certainly weren’t out of place. You could see where their inspiration came from.

You caught up with Nancy, Robin, and Steve between songs, but they mostly carried the conversation as you watched Eddie. Anyone really paying attention would be able to see that he was in his element. Sweat matted his bangs to his forehead, fingers moving masterfully over the strings as he powered through Trapped Under Ice with incredible accuracy. While you had heard the dramatic voices he put on during Hellfire, you hadn’t known that he could also mimic James Hetfield and Ozzy very impressively. He wasn’t perfect, but what little he lacked in refinement and precision, he more than made up for with passion.

The middle-aged drunks occasionally gave some muted applause for the songs they recognized, but otherwise ignored the free entertainment. He really was underappreciated here. In front of a real audience, you couldn’t imagine the kind of stage presence he’d have.

Over the next two hours, you worked your way through a couple drinks. You hoped the frequent crossing of your legs could be attributed to the short skirt you were wearing rather than your dwindling patience and self-control as you waited for Eddie to finish his set. When they finally wrapped up their last song, you made your way up to the stage. He was lowering the mic stand when you got to him, holding his gaze as you dropped a twenty in the guitar case in front of him. There were only a few other bills and some loose change inside.

“God, please don’t. Seriously, that’s insulting.”

“Are you kidding? That’s an investment. I expect it back with interest when you guys make it big.” He held a hand out to you as you joined him on the stage. “Really, I thought you were amazing. You’ll see when you get outta this place.”

He just gave you a small smile and brushed his thumb over your cheek, eyes sweeping over your face briefly before he took both your hands. “So I really do wanna hang with you, babe, but I absolutely have to move all our gear first. Is there any way I can convince you to stick around?” His lips dragged over your knuckles, leaving a few kisses as he spoke. “Have a li’l smoke sesh in the back of the van once it’s empty. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Your chest warmed at the attention he was lavishing you with in front of all of his friends– Dustin’s friends– and you tucked your chin a little bashfully. “That’s fine, Eds.”

“Awesome. We’re gonna finish loading the van, then you can ride with me to Gare’s to unload everything there, then I’m all yours. Cool?”

“Sounds good to me, rockstar.”

Holding your face in one hand, he squished your cheeks and shook your head back and forth lightly. “Always makin’ fun ‘a me, aren’t you?” He landed a kiss on your puckered lips and subtly patted your butt. “Go sit with your friends and I’ll let you know when I’m finished, okay? So glad I had my best girl cheerin’ me on tonight.”

As he went back to helping the guys pack up, you went back to Robin, Nancy, and Steve who paused their conversation when you sat down.

“Swooning already?”

“Somebody’s definitely looking a little starstruck,” Robin added. “Ready to ask him to sign your boobs?”

“The way it’s sounding, he might later,” You replied before taking a sip of your drink.

“I’m proud of you,” She nodded and took your hands dramatically over the table. “At least one of us is leading a successful love life. We will live vicariously through you.”

“Well then, let me know when we figure out how to tell our little brother that we’re dating his male mentor.”

“Wait, did Dustin say Eddie was his male mentor?” Steve interjected. “That’s so not true–”

Robin shook her head. “Steve, shut up.” She smacked your hand and nodded behind you just before you felt hands settle on your chair.

“Hey, you guys enjoy the show?” Eddie’s rings clinked against the metal of the chair, his voice not far from your ear making your heart rate pick up.

“Yeah, you guys were great. We’ll have to come again sometime,” Steve replied.

Nancy politely asked, “How long have you been playing, Eddie? Some of those songs seemed pretty complex.”

“I started playing with the guys when I was in eighth grade, but I started teaching myself around sixth. So, I guess about…nine or ten years?” He shrugged, thumbs drumming against the chair.

“You’re really talented,” She commended.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” His hand shifted to your shoulder before he continued on playfully, “Your guys’ friend here gets a backstage pass though, which means she gets to come watch us unload equipment at Gareth’s mom’s house and smoke my weed.” He took your hand as you stepped down from your high-top chair, pushing it in for you and grabbing your purse as you said goodbye. “Thank you guys again for coming. I’ll see you around soon, yeah?”

Steve gave him a one-armed hug as he nodded, “Definitely, man.”

The two of you walked back to the van, hand in hand, your steps echoing in the mostly-empty parking lot. The others were already waiting in Gareth’s garage passing around a joint when you pulled into the driveway. You followed Eddie around to the back of the van as he opened one of the back doors. Gareth got up to open the other one, handing you the joint as he passed you.

“Alright, boys, think we can manage our fastest unload yet?” Eddie asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Yeah. As long as you don’t tweak your fuckin’ back again, old ass,” Jeff scoffed in return.

“Seriously, dude. Lift with your legs,” Gareth chimed.

Eddie made a talking motion with his hand and mumbled mockingly back before grabbing one of Gareth’s drums. “Start moving your shit or I’ll stop discounting your weed.”

“Oh, yes! Forgive me, master!” Gareth snarked, voice quavering with feigned fear.

They all got to work on moving the drum kit out first before moving on to the other equipment. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you took a hit and sat on the edge of one of the chairs they had out. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I mean, there’s a fridge in the corner, you wanna grab a few beers?” Jeff asked, getting a grasp on one side of an amp.

Gripping the other side of the amp, Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Dude, did you seriously just send her on a beer run?”

“It’s literally the other side of the garage. Shut the fuck up and bend your knees.”

You grabbed a beer for everyone– except Eddie, who was stuck with cherry Coke until he was done driving– and passed them out when they were done moving the amps. Then, to kill some of the time, you sat in the van and packed a bowl to smoke with Eddie later. When the equipment left in the back started to dwindle, you, Jeff, and Barry made conversation while Eddie unloaded some of the lighter equipment with Gareth. Keeping his voice low, the drummer suddenly spoke. “You know you have to like– marry her, right?”

“What’re you talking about?” Eddie chuckled, though his face and neck warmed at the mental image.

Gareth jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in your direction. “Dude, she’s over there talking to your nerdy loser bandmates about Judas Priest’s influences on Iron Maiden’s first album. And she’s actually invested. You’re not gonna find another girl like that in Hawkins. Not to mention how you talk about her–”

“Alright, shut it,” He huffed. “Just help me get this shit out, it’s getting late.”

When the last of it was finally tucked away in Gareth’s garage, Eddie checked his watch and sighed. Eleven-thirty. “Damn.” Your conversation with the boys had drifted to your opinions on heavy metal power ballads when his hands settled on your waist. “Sorry that took so long, you ready to get going?”

“Don’t worry about it, Eds. I’ll see you guys later though, alright? We should really head out.” The three of them thanked you for coming and said their goodbyes before settling back into their fold-out chairs, presumably to keep getting fried.

You and Eddie climbed into the van and he started it up before looking over at you. “It’s not the first date anymore. Any chance I can convince you to stay the night?”

“No convincing needed. I didn’t know how late I’d be home so I already asked Nancy to cover for me if Dustin calls.”

“Wait, you really want to?”

“Of course I do. Will Wayne mind me staying there?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t care. He works the night shift and sometimes he works overtime, so he usually isn’t back until six or eight in the morning. And occasionally he’ll even stop for a drink with a couple guys from work and that could take ‘til ten,” He explained with a little crooked smile. “He’d love you, though.”

You noticed him freeze up a little as he registered his own words, so you took one of his hands and laced your fingers through his in your lap. “I’m sure I’d love him, too. He must be a great man if he raised you.”

He squeezed your hand lightly as he relaxed. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” There was a moment of quiet, just the low hum of the radio and the roar of the van until Eddie spoke again. “You wouldn’t wanna go to Lover’s Lake, would you?”

“Sure.” His hand settled on your thigh and your lips curled down as you repressed a little smirk. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

“Hey, I can be romantic,” He defended lightheartedly. “I just prefer places like these when they’re less populated.”

“Why? So you can smoke and have sex in them?” You asked with a joking scoff.

“No, I just like my privacy. It’s more intimate without a bunch of obnoxious people around.” He paused, then conceded. “But yes, I like to have a range of recreational activities to choose from. Is that so bad?”

You shifted your leg so his hand drifted further up your thigh. “You wouldn’t happen to be taking me there to do both, would you, Eds?”

“I’m taking you there to do whatever you wanna do, sweet thing.” His tone remained casual, but his hand slowly crept higher and higher. “We could lay down and look at the stars…Maybe go for a swim…” Goosebumps rose on your skin as his short nails dragged across it, fingers catching on the loops of your fishnets. “What d’you think?”

“We didn’t bring swimsuits,” You remind him.

“So?” He asked as he pulled into the small gravel lot hidden by the trees. Looking over at you with a smirk, he continued, “There’s no one else here.” He got out of the van and came around to open your door as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”

After grabbing a couple of blankets from the back of the van, he took your hand and lead you out away from the trees. You helped him lay out the blankets, crawling onto them and kicking off your shoes. Eddie lay down beside you and you looked over at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been out here at night. It’s really pretty.”

“Can’t believe you think so when you get to look in the mirror every day,” He shot back without effort, giving you that goofy grin of his.

Lightly smacking his arm, you fought back a big smile of your own. “That was terrible, you know that, right? That was actually so bad.” Your combined laughter sounded loud in the near-silent clearing of the lake; your voices were only accompanied by the constant chirping of crickets and the occasional owl’s hoot.

He rolled onto his side, resting his head in his hand as he looked down at you. “You’ve gotta get used to taking my compliments, babe, even the corny ones. ‘Cause soon they’ll be comin’ non-stop.” You simply hummed in response, your hand finding the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to shift over you, arms on either side of you to support himself as his knee braced between your legs. Lips sticky with your lip gloss, his mouth made a path to your neck. “Y’really do look so pretty tonight, baby. Never seen you in a skirt before, I could barely pay attention to our set.”

“I thought you did amazing.” His hot breath on your neck made you squirm, grasping at his shirt as your hips wound against the firmness of his thigh. “Had me wet the whole time.”

“Fuck, wanted to get my hands on you so bad. Just performing had you all soaked for me, huh?” Your skirt rode up toward your waist until Eddie decided it was unnecessary, leaning back to yank it off. “Jesus H. Christ, fucking look at you.” Lying beneath him, fishnets stretched taut over your spread thighs leading up to your Hellfire tee, you were his fucking dream. It wasn’t hard to tell he wasn’t a religious man but, at that moment, he wished he was because he felt like he needed to thank somebody for your existence. It was like every fantasy he’d ever had simply walked out of his head and into his life. “Seriously, I might need to take a minute.”

“Can you help me out of these while you do?” You ask, curling your legs up to your chest.

He guided one of them up to his shoulder, running his hand down your outstretched leg and eyeing the tights before he looked at you. “Am I in trouble if I say no?”

“If you take them off now without ripping them I’ll wear them for you again sometime,” You bargained teasingly.

“I’ll do it if you let me eat you out through them next time.”

You shoved lightly at his chest with your foot, trying not to laugh. “You’re such a freak.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you playfully, but you could see he didn’t take the name to heart coming from you as his hips pressed into your ass. “Careful callin’ me names, babe. I’m starting to like it when you’re mean to me.”

“Pervert.”

He hummed, trailing kisses down the inside of your leg and finally hooking his fingers into the waistband of your fishnets. “Only for you, sweetheart.” His short nails scraped gently along your skin again as he carefully drew the tights down your legs. The second they were off, you sat up to pull him into another hungry kiss.

Deepening it, he started to ease you onto your back again but was shocked when you pulled away. With a coy smile, you asked, “How ‘bout that swim?”

Baffled, he was unable to come up with a response before you were standing and whipping your shirt off. His brain kicked back into gear when you dashed away from him toward the lake. Then he was running after you, fumbling to kick off his shoes and strip in the process. He froze as he watched you take off your bra and jump in wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of panties. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding. Finally kicking off his jeans, Eddie dove in after you.

Attempting to wipe the water from your eyes, you looked around for him in the water. Just as he breached the surface behind you, though, he grabbed your waist and shouted. Your squeal broke into a fit of giggles as he squeezed your sides and pulled you into his chest. “You’re such a dick!”

“That’s what you get for bein’ a tease.” Staying close to shore, the water came nearly to his shoulders. He urged you to wrap your legs around his waist, his hands settling under your butt to hold you comfortably.

Arms settling loosely around his neck, you looked away pointedly, that mischievous little expression finding its way to your face again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, you don’t. ‘Cause the sweet girl I know would never do a thing like that, right?” He asked sarcastically.

You shook your head and answered in a falsely solemn tone. “Never.”

He chuckled softly until you leaned into him, nipples hardened from the chill of the water and pressing into his chest. Faint smiles never left your faces as you shared a few messy kisses. His hand rubbed soothingly up and down your spine while you pushed a strand of wet hair from his face. Swept off his shoulders, his soaked hair allowed you to see his whole face more clearly than ever. He started to feel self-conscious as your eyes drifted slowly over his features, taking him in, your thumb stroking over a spot beneath his ear that gave him chills. “You’re so handsome, Eddie.” He opened his mouth slightly like he was going to respond, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything so you changed the topic for him. “It’s nice here at night, we should come back again sometime when we don’t have any other plans.”

Eyebrows furrowing, he frowned in confusion. “What do you mean ‘other plans’?”

Untangling yourself from him, you faced him and swam backward toward the dock. “Hotboxing the van and having amazing sex, obviously. C’mon.” Climbing out, you held your arm tight over your chest as you snagged your bra off the dock and ran to the blankets still on the ground.

Eddie was close behind, picking up his trail of abandoned clothing. He started to apologize for the lack of towels, but you quickly waved him off and you both dried off as well as you could with one of the blankets. While you wrapped yourself in the dry blanket, he gathered your things with his to carry it all back to the car. “Go ahead and get in the back, I’ll start it up and get the music going.”

Opening one of the back doors, you found that the floor was already covered with other blankets. Climbing inside, you felt the van rumble to life. You could hear Eddie rustling through cassettes in his console as you peeled off your sopping-wet underwear and curled up with the pillows and blankets he’d put back there. The bowl you’d packed in hand, he finally joined you in the back. When he climbed in he paused to fidget with something you couldn’t see and suddenly the back doors were illuminated by little twinkling lights. He swung the door closed and tugged off his boxers before you asked, “When did you have time to do all this?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s all been back here for a little while. I just laid the blankets out in here when I grabbed the other ones to lay down by the lake.” He settled beside you, the top half of his blanket bunched in his lap leaving you free to ogle his tattoos– a favorite pastime of yours. “You want the first hit?”

You shook your head with a small smile, eyes tracing his features like they had in the lake. His hair was still heavy with water, but his forehead was hidden again and his curls were starting to come back. With nothing but moonlight, his eyes had looked black; in the glow of the fairy lights, you could see their warm cocoa-brown color again. His pretty lips formed an O as smoke billowed out of them. Their blushy-pink color nearly matched the flush on his cheeks, which you knew would spread to his neck and chest soon enough. He was beautiful, really.

He offered you the bowl and it stayed quiet, excepting the Master of Reality album playing softly, while you took a few long rips. You passed it back to him and let the silence continue for a moment before you finally said, “I’m gonna tell Dustin.” Unintentionally hitching in a breath, he choked on a throatful of smoke. The resulting coughing fit was so intense it brought tears to his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh as you rubbed his back. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but you still leaned over the console to grab the bottle of water from the cup holder.

Taking a few swigs, he cleared his throat. “Okay, sorry,” He let out a big breath before he looked at you again. “You’re ready to tell him?”

“Yeah.” Too nervous to hold his gaze, you curled into his side. He welcomed you, of course, tucking his blanket around the both of you and kissing the top of your head. “I just feel like things have gotten…real. You try to take care of me in ways no one else has before and everything feels so easy with you– and honestly, both of those things scare the shit out of me ‘cause that usually means everything is absolutely going to go to shit…But you look out for my brother, and I feel like I can trust you, and everything we do together just feels so intimate…” You huffed embarrassedly and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I think Dustin deserves to know that I care about you so much.”

“That we care about each other,” He corrected you. Hand framing your jaw, Eddie made you meet his eyes. “I’m gonna be there with you when you tell him. I don’t want you to do it alone, we should do it together. I still have to get his blessing, right?” He added jokingly. Before you could say anything, he started to ramble a little nervously. “I feel like this is real. I’ve never felt this way about anybody. I’ve never had the chance to have anything serious before, but you…You’re all I think about now. That first day I met you, it was like I had this ‘Where have you been all my life?’ moment and you’re all I’ve wanted since, and I know that sounds really cheesy and dramatic but–”

Your mouth on his cut him off, which seemed to be a habit you were forming. He didn’t mind though, he’d been told to shut up in much less pleasant ways. When you pulled away, it was only enough to murmur, “I know the feeling.” Your nose nudging his was enough for him to keep it going, hand hooking under your knee and drawing you to straddle his lap.

The blanket slumped to your waist leaving your torso bare for his eyes and hands to wander. “You’re just so fuckin’ beautiful. My pretty girl, right, baby?”

Toying with one of his damp curls, you held his gaze as you agreed, “No one else’s.” At your answer, he pulled you in for a much more desperate kiss. His fingers pressed into your back while the others slipped beneath you to find you soaked, your chest flush with his as his tongue passed your lips.

He pressed two fingers into you easily, slowly massaging your g-spot until you were whining into his mouth. “Feels like you might not even need me to stretch you out, sweetheart.” Hips canting forward involuntarily, your clit ground into the thick base of his cock. Finally letting you catch your breath, he withdrew his hand from between you and looked down to watch how your slick spread on his skin as he rutted against you. “Mmm, gonna let me show you how bad I need you?”

You brushed his hair back from his shoulders as you breathily replied, “Condom?”

“Wallet,” He answered. Leaning over his shoulder to grab it off the console put you in the perfect position for Eddie to mouth at your tits, lips wrapping around one nipple while the roughened pads of his fingers found the other. You moaned quietly and tugged at his hair, but grabbed the wallet and rifled through it.

“Eds, there isn’t one in here.”

“Fuck. Glovebox, maybe,” He suggested.

Huffing impatiently, you began to wind your hips against his again. “D’you promise to pull out if I let you fuck me raw?”

He looked up at you with wide eyes. “Really– I mean, are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Need to feel you now, Eddie,” You insisted.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise.” He lovingly pecked your lips before grasping your waist, helping keep you steady as you slowly sank down on him. Fully seated in his lap, a gasp rose in your throat. “There you go,” He murmured comfortingly. “I know, baby, but you’re so good. Can finally feel how wet you really are. Takin’ me so deep.”

Your voice was nothing but a high-pitched, airy sigh. “Feel you everywhere.”

“S’Cause I’m made for you.” Your forehead rested against his as he continued. “I was made to fill you up, pretty girl.” His words provoked a pathetic moan from you, spurring you to lift your hips fractionally just to ease back down again. Supporting yourself with your hands on his shoulders, you tried to start up a steady pace, but your thighs trembled with every motion. The moans and whimpers you let out started to sound quiet and watery and it worried him, but the determined rocking of your hips never ceased. “You doing okay, baby?”

Not lifting your head, you sniffed frustratedly. “Need help, Eddie.”

“Oh, baby, why didn’t you say so?” He cooed sympathetically. “S’okay to need my help, c’mere.”

Arms around your waist, he guided you up and down on his cock at a careful speed until you were grinding down on him again. “Eds please, I need more,” You whimpered. Rolling his hips to meet yours, he didn’t hesitate to tighten his arms around you and quicken his pace. The way he was hitting every possible spot inside you had your eyes squeezing shut to keep them from crossing. Thighs trembling, you shivered as he rubbed and squeezed at them.

Eddie’s shoulders rolled back as he leaned against the console, hands running slowly over your hips and across your stomach to palm at your tits. “Look so pretty on top’a me, sweet girl. Might have to make you ride me more often.” His thrusts into you sped up, the console against his back giving him more leverage. One of your hands rested lightly on his lower abdomen to steady yourself but once his thumb found your clit, you were practically writhing in his lap. He rubbed it in firm, precise circles and felt you squeeze around his cock uncontrollably. “That’s it, baby, come for me. Can’t wait to feel you soak me for the first time.”

Something felt different than usual as that coil wound tighter in your stomach. It was hotter, like flames were crawling across your skin. It felt like your bones shook and your eyes swam with stars as you cried out his name. Your nails dragged down his stomach, those of the other hand doing the same to his thigh, trying to anchor yourself with your head in the clouds.

It wasn’t until the ringing in your ears cleared that you heard Eddie’s feral groans, making you look down. Everything was drenched; your thighs, his cock, his stomach, and his chest glistened wet in the warm lights. The sight made you register the sloshing sounds of your dripping wet pussy as he started to slow his thrusts enough to pull out. Arms enclosing around your waist again, he all but pinned you to his chest as he rutted between your stomachs. Lips molding to yours, he kissed you sloppily before his gaze wandered your body in awe. “Can’t believe you fuckin’ squirted f’me. Fuck–” Cut off by his own moan, his forehead fell to your shoulder as his eyes squeezed shut, his hot spend painting both your skin and his.

After he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, he eased you onto your back, watching the filthy mixture of your come drip down your used cunt. “Eds, what’re you doin’?” You asked timidly as he lowered himself between your thighs, voice coming out in a barely-there squeak.

“Wishin’ I could take a fucking picture, sweetheart. I was gonna clean you up. Want me to use the blanket instead? S’okay if you’re too sensitive, especially after all that.” You nodded and he kissed the side of your knee with a smile as he grabbed the soiled blanket and quickly wiped himself off. Your legs flinched as he patted you dry and his eyes filled with concern as he murmured your name. “Did I hurt you? Did I do too much?”

“No,” You struggled to raise your voice above a mumble. “I’m okay, Eds, I’m jus’ all sensitive.”

“Promise me that’s it?” He asked, running his hands comfortingly over your legs. Pointedly avoiding his gaze, you huffed through your nose and your eyes brimmed with tears. “Baby, c’mon, what is it? What’s the matter?”

You answered him in a whimper, sniffing back tears every few words. “I jus’ made a mess ‘n I’ve never done that before ‘n now everything’s all yucky–”

“Aw, baby,” He chuckled through a sympathetic pout. Lying down and drawing you to his chest, he wiped your tears and kissed your forehead. The two of you curled up under one of the clean blankets. “Nothing’s yucky, sweet girl. Just gotta wash the blankie, no big deal.”

“But ‘m still all sticky,” You pout up at him. “C’n we take a bath when we get home?”

“Home?”

“Your trailer, Eddie,” You whine. “Wanna take a bath.” Lids heavy with exhaustion, your eyes slowly fluttered closed repeatedly before they’d snap open again.

“You’re so sleepy, sweet girl.” He brushed your hair back from your face. “Think you can take a little nap back here while I drive us home?” You nodded dreamily but still clutched at him whenever he tried to get up. “I know, baby, just twenty minutes and we can take a bath. Okay?” When you finally conceded, he tugged on his jeans and made the short drive home.

Once you were bathed and dressed in nothing but a borrowed Metallica t-shirt, he tucked you into his bed before crawling in beside you. You dozed off easily with your head on his chest, but he stayed up just a little while longer. Palm rubbing circles on your back, his lips ghosted over your forehead. “I love you, baby,” He whispered almost silently. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feeling of your heart beating against his side, counting them like a child would sheep until he fell asleep.

The next morning, you woke up first, Eddie’s arms around you and his chest molded to your back. You scoffed and rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help your tiny smirk as you registered the feeling of him squeezing at your tit, his even, heavy breaths against your shoulder telling you he was fast asleep. Slowly rocking your hips back, you bit back a laugh when it made his grasp tighten while he nuzzled into your neck. He rutted against you, half-hearted and arrhythmic in his unconscious state. It wasn’t until you reached back to hold his hip and grind directly against his cock, separated only by his boxers, that he finally grunted himself awake. “Mmm, g’morning t’you too, gorgeous.”

“You’re a perv even in your sleep, you know that, Munson?”

He mouthed at your neck with a sleepy grin, “I could’a told you that. How’d you know I was dreamin’ about you?”

“Well, your right hand was my first clue.” You pointedly ground your hips into his again and looked back over your shoulder at him, “Wanna guess my second?”

“Can’t help but get ideas, babe. You’re sleepin’ in my bed, in my shirt, no panties…” His fingers walked a path down your stomach, stopping just after your belly button. “Promise I kept my hands to myself, though– while I was awake, anyway.”

His hand drifted leisurely between your legs but you groaned. “Eds, what time is it?”

“I don’t know, almost nine? Why?” His lips never left your skin, still working over your neck and shoulder without leaving obvious marks.

“We can’t, we have to go. Dustin’s at Mike’s and I wanna make sure we get back before him. I’ve still gotta make myself decent and figure out what I’m gonna say to him.”

“What we’re gonna say to him,” He corrected. “And can’t you stay indecent a little longer?”

“Wayne’ll be home anytime,” You remind him, “If he’s not already.”

He pouted, “But how often do we get to have great morning sex after a night together like this, baby?”

“Any morning now that I’ll be staying over whenever you want,” You point out.

“Hmm, I s’pose that’s true,” He agreed contently. Stretching out beside you with a loud groan, he pecked your cheek before he got out of bed. Yawning, “I’ll be right back,” he headed for the bathroom.

Rolling over, you buried your face in his pillow and breathed in. Old spice shampoo, weed, and Marlboros filled your nose and it made every muscle in your body relax. Him. You wanted to bottle the scent, soak every pillow and blanket and sweatshirt you owned with it. You’d never have another restless night again. Lifting your head slightly, you left your nose against the fabric but allowed your eyes to flicker around his room.

A bottle of lotion sat on his nightstand, he didn’t seem to bother with tissues though. You weren’t surprised. Handcuffs hung on the wall, also not surprising, but they still made your thighs twitch. There were more band posters than in your room, including a hand-spray-painted one for Corroded Coffin. He had three guitars, his prized possession– his other sweetheart, as well as another black and white electric, and an acoustic painted to say ‘this machine slays dragons’. An amp sat across from the bed and his dressers were strewn with clothes and beer cans. It was easy to imagine him existing in here. Playing guitar in bed in his boxers or planning the party’s next campaign at his desk.

Your eyes snapped to the door when it finally opened again. “Still in bed, huh?” Nodding with a small smile, you watched him rummage through his dresser for today’s band tee. His hand settled on Slayer before he thought of running into your mom, and opted for the much tamer Deep Purple one beneath it. “Well, you should probably put somethin’ else on before I take you home. What you’ve got on might get a little breezy.”

“Bite me,” You yawned, flipping him off as you got up.

“I didn’t think we had time for that,” He replied snarkily. He finished getting dressed as you slipped on your skirt and balled up your fishnets to put in your purse.

When you were both ready– or as ready as you could get for now– you headed for the van. “I’ll make coffee when we get to mine,” You offer. “My mom should be at work, so I’ll make breakfast. Food might help soften the blow.”

“God, you’re acting like we killed his cat or something,” He laughed. “We’re not breaking bad news, babe.”

“It’s still a shock, alright? And Dustin has big feelings, you know that. I just don’t wanna make him feel uncomfortable or lied to. Me and him don’t usually keep secrets, so this is a big deal.”

“I can be tactful, alright? But I’ll let you do most of the talking if that makes you feel better, I know you’re worried about him.” His fingers laced through yours and brought the back of your hand to his lips. “It’s gonna be okay though, sweet girl.”

Pulling into your driveway, you let out a heavy breath before you got out and lead him inside. As you got dressed, you tried to practice what you’d say, rambling your thoughts aloud. He left you to your process, only stepping in for you to bounce thoughts off of or to keep you from getting lost in your concerns. You only paused once you made your way into the kitchen. Putting a pot of coffee on, you asked, “Chocolate chip pancakes okay for breakfast? They’re his favorite. I’ll probably make a little of everything else too; eggs, bacon, sausage, there’s fruit in the fridge.”

Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep the words ‘marry me’ from rolling off his lips. “Sounds incredible, baby. Anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s okay.” Watching you methodically gather everything you needed from the fridge and cabinets, he figured he’d just get in your way if he tried to lend a hand. While you cooked, you mumbled through your prepared speech again, knowing it would never go so smoothly in actual conversation. Thinking about it more, you just hoped Lucas and Mike didn’t come back with him.

By the time he made it home, leaving his bike in the yard, you had made more than enough food and Eddie had already eaten his. Dustin was talking the second the door was open. “What’re you doing here, Eddie? Something going on with Hellfire?”

“Nice to see you too, Henderson.” He retorted, standing and flicking the bill of your brother’s hat into his eyes. “Your sister made you breakfast. I hear chocolate chip pancakes are your favorite.”

He eyed both of you suspiciously as he started toward the kitchen. "Yeah, what's it to you?" Eddie shared a confused look with you, but decided not to say anything. After he’d made his plate and sat down at the table to dig in, Dustin spoke again with a mouthful of food. “So, what’s with the special breakfast? Why’re you guys being weird?”

“We’re not being weird–”

“You’re alone at the house together,” He pointed out, still shoveling food into his face. “That’s weird.”

“It’s not weird– would you just listen? It’s not a big deal, I just wanted to run something by you, alright?” Eddie could tell you were fumbling, forgetting everything you’d planned to say. His hand itched to reach out for yours on the table, but he knew you wanted to get the words out first. “I’ve been–”

“Seeing Eddie?” Dustin interrupted. When the two of you shared a glance and you opened your mouth to question him, he continued. “Mike and Lucas told me last night.”

“How did they–” Eddie began, but Dustin cut him off.

“Apparently, everybody knew but me! All the guys in the band knew! Steve, Nancy, and Robin knew! How could you leave me out of the loop like this? You know I hate not knowing things! I have to know everything!”

“Dusty, calm down,” You said softly. “I wanted to wait until I actually had something to tell you. He’s your friend, I didn’t want to change the way you look at him just to go on a couple dates and decide it wasn’t gonna work.”

Nose wrinkling, he asked, “So, what? You guys are like– boyfriend and girlfriend now or something?”

You snorted and Eddie couldn’t help the small, smug smile creeping across his face. “Yeah, are we boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Back of your hand hitting his stomach, you tried not to laugh as you answered. “Yeah, I guess we are.” Turning back to your brother, you added, “Only if you’re okay with it, though. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel like you can’t trust Eddie anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird, but I guess I don’t care as long as you don’t make out and all that gross shit in front of me. And you’d better treat her right or me, Mike, and Lucas are all leaving Hellfire,” He tagged on pointedly.

“You don’t have to worry about that, you have my word.” He looked like he was about to say more, but opted to stay quiet.

“Okay, well, I think I’ve lost my appetite for now.” Dustin stood from the table, “I’m gonna go back to Mike’s and tell them they were right.”

Rolling your eyes, you started to clean up. “Be safe, I love you.”

“Love you, too!” He shouted back just before he yanked the door shut.

As you started rinsing dishes in the sink, Eddie’s hands found your waist. “I think that went well.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t stay awkward for long,” You sighed lightly. “I guess Lucas and Mike did the hard part for us.”

“Guess so,” He drawled in agreement. “So, what now?”

“Now? Hmm…” Drying off your hands, you turned to loosely wrap your arms around his neck. “I guess now we do whatever we want, no more sneaking around.”

“I hope that’s not gonna suck the fun out of it for you.”

“‘Cause watching you Tetris yourself through my window is such a turn-on,” You scoffed.

He gave you a look of mock offendedness. “Good thing I won’t have to do it anymore, since you clearly don’t appreciate the athletic prowess it takes to climb through that window without waking your mom up.”

Halfheartedly rolling your eyes yet again, you let your fingers dip past the neck of his shirt, fingers grazing along the top of his spine. “How about you roll us a joint and then I’ll show you how much I appreciate your ‘athletic prowess’?”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe,” He sighed theatrically. “But you know it’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Obviously,” Lacing your fingers through his, you dragged him toward your room. “That’s why I offered.”

As the three boys gathered at Mike’s house again, he asked, “Wait, we were right?”

Lucas stood, pointing at him. “I TOLD YOU, MAN!”

Mike tried to argue, “I NEVER SAID–”

“I TOLD YOU!”

“GUYS, SHUT THE HELL UP!” Dustin interjected.

Lucas cleared his throat as the two of them settled back into their seats. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“So, you’re really okay with Eddie dating your sister? I mean, it’s not gonna make Hellfire awkward or anything, is it?” Mike questioned.

“I don’t know, it’s weird. It’ll definitely be nasty seeing them all lovey-dovey or whatever, but they’re still just Eddie and my sister. As long as they don’t act different, I won’t act different.” Turning on the TV, Dustin flopped onto the couch next to Mike. “Besides, I think part of me knew they’d hit it off– I’m like a natural matchmaker. They just have too much in common, ya know?”

part one | part two | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trln @cantreadbutcute @kennedy-brooke @navs-bhat @sluggzillaa @whatwedontdointheshadows @saayanaaa @depressedacidtest @unholyyylita @m-chmcl-rmnc @pullhisteeth @vivalasv3gan @a3trogirl @thesagewitchh @djoseph-quinn @darlingdixon

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#too much in common #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader #stoner!reader #18+ mdni

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joonsmagicshop · 1 month

Text

Stress Relief Series Part 4- KSJ

Summary: A couple weeks ago Taehyung asked a favor. For you to have sex with his bandmates to relieve some tension and stress. How can you say no to that

Paring: Jin/Reader

Rating: 18+/M

Word Count: 6k

Tags: Smut, fingering, eating out, fucking against a mirror, wrap it before you tap it people, spanking, dirty talk, Jin calls her princess.

Authors Note: You can not tell me Seokjin wouldn't love to fuck someone against a mirror so he could look at himself. I rest my case.

In case you missed it

Part 1 (intro)

Part 2

Part 3

Spring had finally decided to make an appearance four days after your steamy night with Jungkook and you were going to take full advantage of the beautiful weather.

Right as the clock struck noon you grabbed your bag and your light pink spring coat making your way out of your stuffy office and crossing the busy street to the park which had many beautiful trees that were just starting to bloom, bringing the promise of longer days and balmy temperatures.

You found yourself smiling as you spotted the perfect bench under a giant oak tree and you snagged it before anyone else could, setting out your lunch and deciding to people-watch instead of scrolling your phone like you usually did during your hour-long lunch.

The park was full of people, mostly kids playing around, some runners and bike riders, and of course, many couples holding hands and taking pictures as the sun beamed down on them.

You smiled at the happy couples feeling joy blooming in your chest.

You had been happy all week which was totally due to the sudden nice weather and definitely not because you had not stopped thinking of that night with Jungkook.

Nope, that wasn't it at all.

You were so lost in your thoughts of that night that you hardly noticed your phone vibrating on your lap.

You scooped it up last minute and saw someone was calling you

more specifically an unknown number was calling you

“Hello?” You answered settling into the bench and throwing your head back to let the rays of sun that were peaking through the branches hit your face.

“Hey Y/N right?” Came a suave male voice you sort of recognized.

“Yes, this is her.” You answer trying to match his suaveness.

“It's Kim Seokjin. How are you?”

You jolt your head up so fast the world spins for a moment.

You really thought you'd be used to this by now but you still felt your heart race in your chest at the prospect that he was reaching out to you.

Tae never said who would contact you when so it was always a surprise.

“I'm good just on my lunch break how about you?” You ask trying to seem as chill as possible.

“Good we are just on a break here and I figured I'd reach out.” He says voice dropping low which has your eyebrow quirking up and arousal flooding your veins.

“Hmm and what did you want to reach out about?” You almost purr which has him softly chuckling on the other line.

“Well as you are very aware we have a tour coming up and there are things I'd like to do before we leave, things that make me feel less stressed you know.” He teases which has your thighs clenching together.

You pushed your hair back from your face and smiled deviously.

“And what would those things be hmm?” You inquire biting at your lips.

“Well, so here's the thing.” He says, his voice no longer an octave lower, and has you sitting up in your seat.

“I have a reservation booked at Lalune tomorrow night and wanted to know if you wanted to go with me. I know one of the chefs and he told me to come anytime but we have our tour coming up so I want to go before I leave. What do you say?”

You are speechless

Lalune was known as one of the top-end restaurants and was rated the best restaurant for the past three years. It was in a fancier part of the city and you had walked by it before. You remembered seeing people sitting at small quaint tables lined with black tablecloths drinking and eating food that was probably half your rent. There was a massive fireplace and a giant chandelier with small crescent moons hanging from it. The place screamed money and you never thought you'd even be allowed to step foot in there.

“I...um? Are you sure?” You ask as you fiddle with your dress pants and top, mentally going through your entire closet to try to remember if you have anything fancy to wear.

“If I wasn't sure I wouldn't ask. Yes, I'm sure. It's always more fun to share a meal with other people. I tried to get Namjoon to come with me but he already has plans...some art thing.” Seokjin explains as you feel your heart hammer in your chest.

“Oh yeah, the new exhibit is supposed to be really cool, about light refraction in art.” You say as you gather your things and head back towards the office.

“Impressive. I'll have to let Namjoon know our girl knows her art.” Seokjin teases as you feel yourself blush.

Our girl

“Anyway please say yes. I'm going to be honest I'm not someone who can just... hook up with someone I don't know. I'd love to take you out to dinner and get to know you better. I don't want you to think I'm using this dinner to get in your pants at all! Like I said earlier it's always fun to eat with company. And if we don't end up hooking up I hope I make a really good friend.” He says which has you smiling as you enter the office.

“Of course, I'll go with you.” You say heading towards the elevator and trying to keep the giddiness in your chest at bay.

“Okay! I'll come pick you up around six! Oh, you're going to love it!” Seokjin says his voice laced with excitement.

You say your goodbyes and hang up and by the time you make it back to your office, you can't stop grinning.

And here you are now.

Standing in front of a mirror wearing a little black dress adorned with gold jewelry. Your hair is pinned up in a half up-do and you are nervously pacing your living room waiting for his car to arrive.

You try your best not to pick at your lips or nails as you wait, instead, you focus on straightening everything out in case he does want to come up after dinner.

Right at six you hear a car outside and race to the window to see a black van with the license plate he texted you earlier.

You hastily grab your bag and your tan pea coat before locking the door to your apartment, your heels click-clacking on the concrete steps as you make your way to the car.

Seokjin is standing outside of it holding the door open and your jaw almost drops.

There is a reason he is called worldwide handsome.

His hair is dark and pushed back from his forehead with a few stay pieces flopping forward giving him an effortlessly disheveled look. He is wearing a black leather jacket with a low-cut black shirt underneath and multiple necklaces. His dress pants are also dark and something about the way he looks makes your heart race fast and your stomach flip in arousal.

“You look beautiful.” He says as a way of greeting you as he helps you into the van and slides in the back seat alongside you.

Before you can comment on how good he looks, the van is already pulling away from the curb and he is talking excitedly about this restaurant and the menu.

You let him chat the whole ride there taking in every word. It was obvious he knew a lot about different foods and different flavor combinations and you soaked it all in as the driver pulled the car in behind the restaurant and Seokjin got out to get your door for you.

A classic gentleman.

“I had the chef get us a private room with a private menu too. I hope you don't mind.” He says as you step out of the vehicle and he takes your hand to lead you to a back door.

He slips his phone out of his jacket and sends a quick text and stares down at you.

“I did mean what I said earlier. You are very beautiful. No wonder Taehyung wouldn't stop talking my ear off until I pushed him to approach you.” He teases which has your jaw-dropping.

“Wait what? I didn't know that.” You respond as the door opens and Seokjin puts a hand on your back to usher you inside.

A waitress takes you down a narrow hallway and soon enough you are in a fairly large room that has the lights dimmed and a couple tables decorated with black tablecloths and small pillar candles that have tiny moons and suns carved into them.

Other couples are sitting at these tables but none of them look up when you and Seokjin get seated at your table.

“This is called the parlor, it's very private and you are only allowed in if you know the chef or the owner.” He explains as he pulls out the chair for you and you graciously sit down.

You stare around the room taking it all in. The fireplace is lit and throwing light around the room which is catching the small stars and moons hanging from the ceiling, their reflections illuminated on the walls.

“This place is amazing. I mean. Wow Seokjin.” You breathe out still taking your time to look around.

He smiles at you in a way that makes you suddenly feel shy.

“Please call me Jin. Seokjin is much too formal.” He says as the waitress from earlier comes back and brings a bottle of wine to the table.

You both drink slowly as you take in the atmosphere and the soft music playing in the background.

“I'm just honored you'd want to take me here. Like genuinely honored.” You say staring at his handsome face and trying not to blush under the low light.

“Well, you are much prettier to look at than Namjoon.” Jin teases as his hand traces the stem of the wine glass and you smirk and shake your head at his boldness.

“So you were there the night Taehyung and I first met?” You ask as your first course gets delivered to the table.

Jin smiles softly and begins to tell the story as you both eat.

Six courses and a bottle of wine later you are feeling full and happy. It turns out you and Jin had a lot to talk about and the conversation and atmosphere were both wonderful.

When the check came Jin slipped his black card to the waitress and smiled softly at you as you finished the last sips of your wine. You wanted to take it easy on the alcohol tonight as you wanted to remember this entire night.

“I'm just going to text the driver to let him know we are finished,” Jin said pulling out his phone and smiling as he typed away.

The parlor slowly started to empty out and after a couple quick messages Jin announced the driver was there and it was time to go.

You stood up and his hand was soft and warm on your back as he directed you out into the hallway and out the back door where the car was already waiting.

Even though spring had arrived the nights were still cool so you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself as Jin rushed forward to open the door for you.

You climbed in with him right behind you and the van made its way back to your apartment.

The drive back was mostly quiet. You watched the city lights from the window as Jin typed on his phone. You weren't offended at all, instead, you were grateful for the silence as you tried to remember every single detail of tonight and commit it to memory.

“Sorry, Namjoon is sending me pictures of the exhibit to show me what I'm missing out on,” Jin said with a laugh as he showed you his phone and the very artsy pictures Namjoon had taken.

“Looks nice.” You say slowly resting your head on his shoulder, feeling sleepy from all the food.

“Better than a dinner date with me?” He teases as he fishes his arm out from your body to wrap it around your shoulders.

“That depends. Would the exhibit have that great toffee dessert we had?” You tease as the car pulls up to your apartment.

Jin laughs at your joke and you slowly remove your head from his shoulder when you feel the car stop.

“I know the exhibit wouldn't but maybe your apartment would? Should I come inside to check?” Jin answers smoothly as your eyes widen and you nod.

He smirks at you.

You both make your way into the apartment and you kick off your shoes as Jin looks around. You let him take his time as you shuck off your coat and begin to walk around turning on lamps to cast the space in a warm cozy glow.

“This space is beautiful! Except there is something wrong with your couch.” He says as he also takes off his shoes and shucks off his jacket.

You stare at the couch seeing absolutely nothing wrong with it.

“What do you mean?” You ask him still staring at the couch confused.

“There's a Tata plush on it.” Jin points out and you bite back a laugh.

The day after Jungkook came over you found a strange white package on your doorstep. You didn't order anything but it had your address on it so you carefully tore it open to see a small Tata plush wrapped in tissue paper and bubble wrap.

You shook your head at Taehyung's antics and grinned when you saw a note fall out.

Just a reminder of who was here first baby girl. Missing you

You texted Taehyung thanking him for the gift and he sent a kissy emoji back. You decided to keep Tata on your couch as decoration from then on.

“Yeah, Tae sent that to me as a kind of joke.” You answer as Jin walks over and he rolls his eyes.

“It should be an RJ plush. So much better you know.” He teases with a tilt of his eyebrow.

You laugh as he pulls you in closer and your breath hitches. He is even more beautiful up close as his warm hands wrap around your middle bringing you flush against his strong chest.

You smile up at him and before you know it he pulls you even closer causing your noses to brush and his lips to meet yours halfway.

You kiss him softly and slowly, letting him take control as he takes his time exploring your mouth. His hands run up and down your back making goosebumps rise on your skin.

He pushes harder against you and you gasp which gives him time to lick at the seam of your mouth. You feel your body tingle with desire when you run your hands up and down his broad shoulders and his hands tangle in your hair.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw and hold it steady as he very slowly tilts your head back so your jaw and neck as exposed to his soft lips.

His kisses are warm against your skin and he sucks light marks into your neck which has you pushing your body into his.

When he sucks harder his name falls from your lips in a drawn-out moan and he pulls away grinning at you.

“I wanted to do that since the moment I first saw you.” He admits as you blush under his gaze.

He confidently grabs your hand and takes you through your apartment until you are both standing in the bathroom.

You can't help but laugh.

“Jin my bedroom is the next door over.” You say as he steps towards you until your body is flush against the bathroom counter.

Jin's eyes are dark and his tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

“I was thinking we could fuck right here. If you'd be up for that.” He responds darkly as you shiver under his gaze and he grabs your arm to spin you around so you are facing your own reflection.

“You mean shower sex?” You almost whisper as you can feel the tension in the room rise. His eyes are dark and staring into yours through the mirror as his hands come up to trace your curves over your dress.

“I mean I want to fuck you against this mirror so you can watch how good I make you cum.” He answers as you shiver and nod.

“Use your words, princess.” He demands as his hand plays with the zipper at the top of your dress. Your eyes are blown wide with lust and you answer him, your eyes never leaving his piercing stare through the mirror.

He chuckles and his hand tugs on the zipper of your dress. He takes his time dragging it down, so slowly you are squirming when he finally gets it zipped down to your hips.

“Step out of it for me princess.” He commands as you comply and kick the fabric out the door.

“God your body is perfect.” He mutters as his hands explore your body. He takes his time with you, hands lightly grazing your skin making goosebumps appear as he unclips your bra and throws it to the floor.

His hands replace the bra as he cups your breasts and lets his thumbs flick over your sensitive nipples and you arch your back into his body as a moan falls from your lips.

“Such a pretty girl.” Jin coos as his hands massage and grope at your breasts. You grip the counter for support and your eyes roll back when he pinches a nipple between two fingers.

“And so responsive too.”

You don't bother to answer instead you let him explore your body. His hands begin to massage the underside of your breasts and soon enough they are moving down to your underwear.

You tilt your head back to rest it on his shoulder and try to keep your eyes open to stare at what is happening through the mirror.

You have never had an out-of-body experience before but you feel like this is as close as you'd ever be to getting on.

“Can I take these off?” He asks motioning to your underwear and you nod frantically.

As he did with your dress he takes his time taking off your underwear, sliding them painfully slowly down your butt and thighs until you can take them off and kick them out of the way.

You are stark naked in front of him and he is grinning at you like he just won the lottery.

“Gotta be honest. I'm really glad Namjoon couldn't attend tonight. This view. Better than any art exhibit.” He says as he places a soft kiss on your shoulder and you melt into his touch.

You whine out his name and his eyes snap to yours in the mirror reflection.

“Didn't I tell you, princess? You have to use your words.” He teases as his hands run up and down your hips and you once again arch back into him, delighted to feel his hard-on pressing against your back.

The feeling of his hard cock trapped in his slacks has you gasping as Jin continues to pepper kisses along your shoulders, his hands still exploring the expanse of your naked body.

“Want to see you too Jin. Wanna see you naked.” You whimper as his lips leave your neck and he grins at you through the reflection.

He takes his time taking off his necklaces and placing them on the counter and when he finally gets his shirt over his head you gasp.

His body is tanned and toned. His shoulders look even broader without a shirt and you can't stop your eyes from wandering down to the very obvious bulge in his pants.

“Pants too. Wanna make you cum.” You plead as you try to spin around to help him take off his belt but he's too strong and keeps you caged against the counter, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he pushes his hard cock into your back, keeping you pinned.

“Let me make you cum first.” He says as his hands start to move towards your core which is soaked with arousal.

You spread your legs to give him better access and he chuckles against the damp skin of your neck.

“I wanna eat you out. Is that okay?” He asks as his hand finally comes to your center and he drags his finger through your arousal.

You throw your head back and whine loudly as Jin's finger comes up to play with your aching clit.

“Please. Fuck. Please Jin.” You beg as he smiles and swipes your arousal on his finger and pops it in his mouth.

You watch him suck his index finger and wink at you and you are pretty sure you have acceded and gone to heaven.

Once he cleans his finger he grabs your hips to angle them backwards and grabs a bath towel to kneel on.

You step back to give him some room to kneel in front of you and grip onto the counter for support.

“I told you I wanted you to watch yourself cum. Your eyes close. I stop.” He says as he presses warm kisses up your thighs and you spread your legs wide.

He doesn't give you a chance to answer as he dives right in and starts to lick at your pussy.

You groan and try your best to keep your eyes open as he licks and sucks at your clit, making pleasure shoot through your veins and your legs shake.

His hands come around to grab at your ass and push your pussy onto his face and you struggle to stay upright when he switches between long strokes and quick ones.

“Eyes open love.” He reminds you before diving right back in.

His hands are kneading your ass and trying to hold you steady as you are a mess of moans above him. Everything feels so sensitive and so good and you know you aren't going to last as long as you would like to.

His tongue circles your clit and your hand reaches down to card though his feather-soft hair. His eyes lock on yours and he dares to wink at you as he eats you out with such precision you are sure your neighbors are going to put in a noise complaint.

You feel the coil of pleasure getting tighter and you try to hold off. You try to savor it as much as possible and not cum on his tongue after only a short while of him eating you out.

But of course, Jin is not having any of that and he pulls his tongue away and quickly replaces it with his long fingers.

One finger enters you and you feel your eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

You snap your eyes open when he delivers a harsh slap to your thigh and you stare down at him in shock.

“I only had one rule princess. Come on now keep those pretty eyes open for me. Watch how good I make you feel.” He demands as you steel yourself and try your best to keep your eyes locked on your reflection.

Something about watching yourself get pleasured is super erotic. You've never watched yourself have sex but seeing your nipples tighten, seeing how your body shakes when he curls a finger deep inside and adds his mouth to your clit which has you moaning and grinding your pussy on his face is super erotic and bringing you close to release.

“Jin. Fuck. Close. So close.” You cry out as your hands tangle in his hair and he adds in another finger and begins to scissor them, stretching you out as his tongue laps at everything your body is giving him.

Your toes curl against the tile floor and you cry out his name as you cum. You arch your pussy into his face and try your best to keep your eyes open as you ride out your high.

One hand is gripping his hair the other is gripping the sink and your legs shake uncontrollably when you realize he is not stopping.

“Jin.” You pant out, voice shaky and fucked out as he removes his hands but is still lapping at your clit at lightning speed.

“Too-mu-much Jin, please. Fuck.” You beg out as you stare at him in awe. He is not stopping and you can already feel the overstimulation take over as your legs shake violently.

You are on fire and you try warning him that it's too much. That you cannot handle another orgasm but the words are punched out of you when another orgasm steamrolls its way through your body.

Your eyes close as you ride his face and he pulls you even closer to him as he laps and sucks at your dripping core, cleaning up all of your desire.

Your hand leaves his hair to grip at the counter for dear life and you slump down pressing your naked torso against it and try your best to calm your breathing.

Your legs are shaky and unstable as Jin gets up from the floor to hold you steady as you come down from your high.

Once you feel stable you open your eyes to peer at him and you whine when you see your arousal coating his plump pink lips. He grins at you and releases your body as he works his belt open and pulls his pants down.

His boxers are dark blue but you can still see a pre-cum stain on the front as he pulls them down and lets his hard cock slap up against his abdomen.

“You gotta. You gotta give me a minute.” You pant out as you watch his hand circle his cock and lazily pump it.

“That was so hot.” He said as he continued to pump his cock and watch you through the mirror.

His hair was sweaty and pushed back, his eyes were wide and dark with arousal and his lips were pink and glossy from your cum.

And his cock

God his cock.

Standing hard and proud in his hand as he jerked himself slowly, thumb flicking over the head to smear pre-cum down the shaft.

He was beautiful.

“Gotta warn a girl before you make her cum twice.” You tease as he comes to stand next to you and you swat his hand away.

You circle his cock with your own hand and copy the movements he was doing earlier.

His dark eyes flutter closed when you rub your thumb over the slit and you squeeze his cock a little harder which has him groaning.

“Keep your eyes open Jin. Don't you wanna see how pretty you look when you cum?” You tease as his eyes open and he glares at you through the mirror.

“Smart mouth huh? I should put it to good use and shut you up.” He utters which has you pumping his cock harder.

“I mean if you want me to suck your cock you could just ask. Use your words.” You mock as he swats your hand away and steps behind you, pressing his hard cock against your ass.

“I'd rather cum in your pussy than cum in your mouth.” He says.

“Then do it.” You goad as you arch back pushing your ass into his cock teasingly.

Just as he is about to reach for his pants you move to the side to slide open the cupboard that is above your toilet. Mostly it has medicine and some everyday makeup products but you also keep condoms in there just in case.

His eyebrows raise in surprise when you hand him the foil packet and he opens it and rolls the condom down his hard cock with ease.

He positions the tip of his cock at your entrance and you whine as he runs it up and down your slit.

“Jin don't tease.” You beg as his free hand comes up to squeeze at your breast again.

He doesn't respond, instead, he continues to tease at your slit with the head of his cock, soaking it in your juices and making you whine and push your hips back, trying to get him to enter you.

“Jin I swear to god.” You threaten as he laughs at your impatience and finally slips himself inside.

The stretch is tight and he takes his time inching into you until his torso is flush against your back and you both are panting hard, staring at your reflections.

“Fuck Jin.” You whine as you bow forward head hanging low as you take deep breaths to try to calm down the sting.

Slowly he brings a hand up to your left shoulder and pushes on it so you are forced to lean back into his body, your head thrown back so it rests on his shoulder as you open your eyes to see him staring at you in absolute awe.

“Relax around me, princess. That's it.” He praises you as he draws patterns on your bare skin and kisses your shoulders.

“God you are so beautiful. Keep those eyes open for me. Want you to see how good you look when you take my cock.” He mutters as you very slowly start to push back on his cock to move him inside of you.

“And you're....fuck... Jin.” You moan out as he starts to shallowly thrust inside of you. His hands come to rest on your hips for support as he takes his time with you, letting you adjust to his cock.

“Handsome? Yeah, I know.” He teases with a sly grin as you roll your eyes at him.

“Is that why you wanted to fuck in front of a mirror. So you could stare at yourself?” You say as you shoot your hips back to keep in time with his shallow thrusts.

“Nah I wanted to stare at you. My reflection is just an added bonus.” He responds as you smack his arm and laugh.

“There you go princess your relaxing against me.” He says as his thrusts start to pick up the pace and you whine and feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your head.

“Jin. Please just fuck me.” You beg out feeling the uncomfortable stretch be replaced by slow delicious pleasure.

He looks at you in the mirror and you nod before he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

You whine out as he starts to build at a steady pace. The sound of slapping skin echoes in the bathroom and you push back in time to meet his thrusts.

“God your pussy is so good.” He grits out as he angles his hips and hits that spot inside of you that has you crying out his name and fluttering your eyes closed at the sensation.

“Eyes open love.” He demands that it takes everything in you to open your eyes and stare at yourself in the mirror.

His cock is fucking into you and hitting your g-spot with every thrust. It's not long before you feel the coil of pleasure starts to build again. Your hand grips the counter and you can see the faint blush on your chest and cheeks as he fucks up into you.

Jin looks so beautiful behind you. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat and his hair is pushed back from his forehead. His lips are bitten in concentration and his hands are holding your hips roughly as he picks the pace.

“Fuck.” You cry out when you feel his free hand come down to smack your ass. He starts to fuck into you harder spurred on by your moans and whines.

“Please Jin fuck.” You cry out not even sure what you are begging for as you feel yourself get closer and closer to the edge.

He must understand because one arm wraps around your chest and pulls you back into him so your bodies are flushed together once more, and the other hand snakes down between your legs to find your clit.

You cry out when he circles your clit with his skilled fingers and you are grateful he is holding you tight against him because you are so sure if you were to stand on your own you would fall to the floor.

“God baby you're squeezing me so tight. Gonna cum soon? Cum around my cock like a good princess?” He asks as you cry out and feel arousal shoot through your body at an alarming pace.

Your body is on fire with need and when he pinches your clit between two deft fingers you lose it. You throw your head back and cry out his name as you cum around his hard cock. You try your best to keep your eyes open and watch as you come undone around him.

Sweet whines and moans fall from your lips as he continues to pump inside you as your walls flutter around his cock and squeeze him.

“C-Close.” He groans out and you can hardly hear him over the blood pounding in your ears he grabs your hips and starts to fuck up into you at a wild pace which has you moaning and whining his name, not long after you feel him twitch inside of you and cum hard inside the condom.

The feeling alone has your toes curling against the floor and you gasping as Jin rides out his high with his face pushed into your back and small pants and whines leaving his plush parted lips.

How long you both stood there you weren't sure, his arms were still wrapped around you holding you upright and the room reeked of sex and desire as you both waited for your breathing to even out.

After a short while he pulled his already softening cock out of you and disposed of the condom in your garbage pail.

You stared at him through the reflection and smiled shyly as you both reached for your clothes.

You dressed in silence letting the euphoria wash over you both and once you were dressed you were walking him to the door.

He put on his shoes and grabbed his coat and you smiled up at him. He pulled you in for a soft and slow kiss which had your heart once again racing.

Gone was the fiery need and desire and instead this kiss was slow and sweet. He took his time exploring your lips as if it was the first time you both were kissing and that thought alone had you smiling against his mouth.

He pulled away and grinned down at you, a cute pink flush covering his cheeks.

“Thank you for dinner.” You said to him softly.

“Thank you for...well thank you. That was...wow.” He replied running a hand through his hair and pressing another kiss to your cheek.

His phone vibrated in his pocket as he pulled away and he smiled at you.

“That's my ride the driver must already be here.” He said softly.

You nodded as he gave you another soft kiss and promised to text you again.

When you woke up the next morning you were convinced the whole thing was a dream, the only proof of it happening was the ache between your legs and the dress that was pooled on your bedroom floor because, after your night with Jin, you were too tired to properly hang it up.

You got ready for work and just as you were about to leave someone knocked on your door.

Confused you answered it to see the mailman standing there with a package for you to sign. It was a box, a large box.

“I didn't order anything?” You said in absolute confusion as the man double-checked the address and handed you the box.

You closed the door and set it down on the counter. You grabbed for the kitchen scissors to open the box and when you did you laughed in surprise.

The box was full, and I mean full of RJ memorabilia.

A note was taped to the top of the box which made you shake your head and grin.

Found something better to replace that tata on your couch. Thank you for last night- Jin.

Tag List

@take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d

@m00njinnie

@minghaosimp

#Kim seokjin #jin #seokjin smut #jin smut #bts smut #jinxreader smut #jin/reader smut #jinxreader #jin/reader

304 notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 5 months

Note

Hey lovely! Hope you’re doing good! I was listening to bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo and thought it would be a good idea for a Spencer fic, was thinking something something with a little angst, smut and possibly a fluffy ending! ♥️

Ps love your writing 🖤

A/N: Most relatable song released this year, if we're being totally honest with ourselves, right 💀 I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: (Munch Spencer Truthers, I'm throwing yourself another bone here), Oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), slight hand job at the end, penetrative sex, cum play, etc. Minors DNI 18+

Your fling with Spencer Reid from the BAU ended abruptly when he fell off the face of the earth.

You weren't sure how someone who had described himself as technophobic had managed to perfect the art of ghosting someone, but boy had he, and you were still a little bit angry about it.

Even angrier when you saw him plastered over the local news out on a case, explaining to the people how fake tips to the FBI hindered cases more than helped them.

You were angry because he looked so good. His hair was shorter, displaying his all too pretty features prominently, and pissing you off to no end as you still felt your heart beat out of your chest until he'd disappeared into a crime scene again.

You brushed it off and berated yourself until the text came.

It wasn't much, just a quick hello, but you waited for a few minutes anyway to see if he'd say anything else.

When he didn't, you grew frustrated and text him a response.

“Who is this?”

It was petty, but four months of radio silence deserved less, in all honesty.

You weren't expecting the phone to vibrate out of your hand as you waited for a response, but it lit up with his call and you scrambled to wait enough time to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It's Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, this is Y/N right?”

“Yes, Spencer, it's me. My number didn't change after four months.”

“Okay, that was deserved.”

“Why are you calling Spencer?”

“Because I'm a burnt out child prodigy who didn't cure schizophrenia by age 25 and my friends missed my birthday. And because I really wanted to see you.”

The line went quiet as you contemplated what the hell you would say to that.

“It would be stupid to ask if you remembered my address, right?”

“Y/N, I remember what you taste like, and I'll never forget it.”

“Good. I'm locking the door in half an hour.” You didn't give him time to respond before exiting the call and running to your bathroom.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea entertaining a fling from months ago on a whim at 7pm on a Wednesday evening, but you had nothing else to be doing with your time.

It wasn't illegal for people to reconnect, and you were not going to mention this to any close or mutual friends of yours, so one conversation (or whatever this was) probably wouldn't have any consequences anyway.

Caution blown to the wind, you replaced your work clothes with a comfortable dress, fixed your hair and poured a glass of wine and waited.

As if on queue, 27 minutes later, Spencer was at your door. Or more accurately in your house.

Your threat to lock the doors had obviously spurred him on, and you heard the door handle twist as he stepped into the space.

“Spencer. How lovely, to what do I owe the honor?”

The adrenaline of making sure the door was unlocked had obviously worn off for him, as you saw him shift awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, sat comfortably on your couch, your skirt just riding high enough to distract.

“I was thinking. Well, I suppose the correct term would be overthinking. Emily had to snap me out of it, because I was kicking myself and doubting myself and worrying so much that we almost lost the unsub…”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve regretted not doing too many things to think coming to beg you to kiss me again is a bad idea. It’s not a bad idea, right?”

“That depends, Spencer.” You replied, setting your glass of wine down and standing up. You took a wobbly step towards him, eager to blame your hesitancy on the wine rather than the things his gaze, his words and his simple presence was doing to your body.

“On if you only want a kiss.” Your hand gingerly slipped up his chest until it was hooked into his hair, exploring the shorter locks as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Or if you aren't satisfied with just that.”

“I can't seem to come up with an answer. Perhaps you should kiss me and it'll jog my memory.”

You finally cracked a smile, and saw his face instantly bloom into ot as well.

“Nu-uh Spencer. I think you have to take that chance this time.”

He hesitated only a second before his hands were cradling your face, tipping your chin up to him as he bent to kiss you. You immediately responded, letting your hands grab fistfuls of his shirt as you pulled each other closer.

It sent you off balance, but you let yourself follow the motion of you tipping backwards, letting him catch you as you began moving in the direction of your bed.

“Not a bad idea,” he mumbled between deep kisses, letting loose a stray moan when your hands trailed down to his belt and below. “Definitely not a bad idea.”

Somehow in the clash of lips and hands, you managed to make it back to your bed, his hands already managing to find themselves under your dress as his lips diverted your attention.

“Four months, Spencer.” You growled the words into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. “Four months without this. I thought I'd go insane.”

You felt him smile as he lifted you, and grinned too as you wrapped your legs around him just as he began climbing onto the bed, softly lowering you down until he was on top of you.

His tongue travelled down your neck, making his way back up towards your ear.

“I did go a bit insane, you know?”

His hands flipped up your skirt as he ground his dick against your crotch, pushing it up further until the bottoms of your breasts were peaking out of the scraps of material as well.

“Let me make it up to you?” It was phrased like a question he didn't care about the answer to, as he pushed off of you and completely rid your body of the material that was hindering it completely.

“That's better.” You swore you heard a sigh of contentment as he held your thighs apart and lowered his head, one kiss at a time, to your neglected pussy.

He hooked a ginger under your panties, and pushed them off to the side, but he'd never been the most patient, and he'd already spread your legs. He'd just work around the impediment, you knew.

And he did, starting with a casual flick of the tongue as he looked up at you from his place at your cunt, smiling at you as he began to feast.

You'd never thought of yourself as a pillow princess before Spencer, enjoying giving love as much as receiving but he gave you the perfect royal treatment, and enjoying it so much it was impossible to deny.

After getting so spoiled, it was a wonder that you even knew how to adapt to life without him, nothing compared to the care and attention he showed you in bed.

Your thoughts blended together as he pressed a finger into you, already sneaked with his spit and your wetness, collected from between his lips and your soaked cunt. His pace was steady, repetitive, and driving you fucking insane.

Never a demanding lover, before you would have simply let him enjoy his time between your legs, enjoying just how much he enjoyed it himself as he lapped up all of your juices.

But four months clean from your addiction to Spencer Reid and you were snapping.

Your hands gripped at his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt than he'd been before, enjoying the muffled moans and the sound of his tongue generously lapping up all you had to offer.

You started humping his mouth, holding his head still as you used him as a tool to get yourself off, finally cumming on his mouth with a shudder and an unfiltered moan.

It would've been embarrassing if it wa anyone else, just how loud you'd been for your ex-boyfriend.

“You taste the same.” He said, wiping the remainders of your cum from his lips as he stroked himself, having loosed his cock from his pants sometime between you moaning like a wanton whore and using his face as a sex toy.

A single glance at him over you pleasuring himself was enough to get you ready for round two.

He had sat up on his knees, head and torso tilted slightly back to give you a better view of his cock being pumped hard and fast.

“Spencer Reid, don't you dare make yourself cum.” You thought the words were joking, light even but even you were shocked by the sheer lust dripping from your throat.

Wrapping your legs around him again, you pulled yourself up into his lap, holding yourself still as you quickly unfastened each of his shirt buttons, pushing it away and chucking it so far that he wouldn't be able to use it to cover up anything else.

It took you a minute more to properly situate yourself, but soon you were sinking down onto his cock and allowing the stretch to rule your mind and movements for a minute.

You gently started riding him, letting each gasp and moan reach your ears and spur you on, not holding back on your side either, telling him just how good it felt to have him in you raw once again.

Your stamina wasn't great though especially after having had one powerful orgasm already, and your movements soon became sloppy.

He kissed you softly on the lips, and you let go of the tension in your body as he pushed you onto your back, made sure you were comfortable, and started beating his cock into you with such a force that you were sure the bed was going to break.

It was this intensity that you craved, this complete change from his insistence on putting you first so to speak, and then using you as a human sexton when it suited him, allowing his cock to push you to your limits and beyond.

It wasn't like you could protest anyway, mouth hanging limply open in a scream of pleasure as sparks shot up your spine.

Entertaining Spencer Reid was never a bad idea. You decided then and there that if he left you again for whatever reason, you'd hunt him to the ends of the earth and beg for another chance at this feeling of pleasure.

You came again, of course, not sure if it was his cock or his exploring hands that was tethering you to the moment as you died a little death.

His own orgasm wasn't far behind your own, but he'd always been a bit messy. You weren't surprised when he gave a small panicked moan, pulling out at the last second as his cum spurted out. You helped him ride it out, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him until his dick was drained, the contents sprayed across your chest and breasts, a single drop even making it to the side of your mouth, but that was quickly lapped up.

His aftercare was almost as good as his foreplay, as he took pains to wash you diligently, even as all you wished to do was sleep well into the night directly after feeling his hot cum pour onto you.

He'd gathered a wash cloth, fresh set of pyjamas and an extra blanket to cocoon you both in before you could even lift a finger, and climbed into bed before you could even think of asking if he was staying the night.

With the satisfaction of multiple orgasms finally catching you, you fell asleep in his arms, a grin plastered on your lips, his hands possessively surrounding you.

Needless to say, when you woke in the morning, he was still there.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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xoxoladyaz · 1 year

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It Hits Different This Time, Part 2

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington

TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse

QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so sorry that the last entry was so angst heavy, I promise this one provides some comfort! Eddie needed to take a big step here and he really, really does. Also, much love to everyone who commented, I've tagged you at the bottom of the post - let me know if anyone else would like to be notified of the next entry!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

It was another five days before Steve heard from Eddie. Another five torturous days of radio silence, only this time, there wasn’t anything online. No new articles were popping up saying he’d been spotted somewhere, no new TikToks of him meeting fans on the street. The rest of the band was MIA too; Steve had thought about sending Jeff a text to check-in but ultimately decided to wait another couple days. Robin had been texting with Chrissy, after all, and if something bad had gone down, she would know.

When Eddie did finally call, it wasn’t from a number that Steve recognized.

“I’m getting a call from Malibu.”

“Holy shit!” Robin sat up on the other end of the couch and shot him a look. “Okay, just breathe dingus, okay? It’s going to be okay, I’ll be here the whole time.” She squeezed his ankle comfortingly. “You can do this.”

Steve accepted the call with shaky hands and brought his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve.”

He shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “Eddie.”

He heard Eddie let out a watery laugh across the line. “Do you, uh, have a minute?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” Steve hummed. He physically couldn’t get an actual word out.

This was it. Eddie was leaving, he’d cheated, it was over –

“I’m in rehab.”

Steve’s eyes shot open. “You’re what?”

Robin started rocking back and forth. “Turn it up!” She hissed, and Steve obliged, turning up his volume so she could just barely hear what was being said. (Was this a private conversation? Yes. Did Eddie know he’d probably immediately tell Robin everything? Also yes.

Was this news big enough to warrant having Robin eavesdrop?

Absolutely yes.)

“Yeah, I’m, uh, at the Promises Treatment Center in Malibu,” Eddie continued. “We got back about five days ago and when I saw your note, I –

“Look, Steve,” Eddie continued, and his voice was choked up, like he himself couldn’t speak, “I fucked up. I’ve fucked everything up. You are – you said in that note that you didn’t want me to give up on my dreams, and you’re right, making it big and getting famous for my music was my dream for literal years. Because I kept thinking “once I get a record out there,” “once I go on tour,” “once I win a Grammy,” “once I get a million dollars,” then I’d finally be happy.

“But it turns out the only thing being famous has done is make me pretty fucking miserable,” Eddie let out a harsh laugh. “But I was so goddamn convinced that this was it, you know, that I’d accomplished my dreams so I must be happy that I started taking whatever I could get my fucking hands on to make me feel that way. The thing is drugs and the alcohol and the parties never made it fucking last. It just made every other second that I was in the public eye that much worse.

“But I’d still made it, you know? I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel this fucking miserable. And everyone back home was so fucking proud and I didn’t want to let them down - ” Eddie paused for a few moments to clear his throat before continuing. “I didn’t want to let you down. Because Eddie “The Freak” Munson didn’t deserve you, but maybe Eddie “The Rock Star” could.”

Steve can feel his own throat closing up and he can barely see Robin’s face, his eyes are watering that bad. “Baby,” he sobbed. “I wish you’d told me.”

“Me too,” Eddie sniffled across the line. “I didn’t though, I just kept self-medicating and ignoring it, because that’s always worked,” he huffed sarcastically. “But then - ” Eddie cut off again, and Steve can hear that he’s trying so hard to hold back his own sobs, “then I came home last week and realized that I’d missed our goddamn anniversary because I was too fucking high and that you were gone and I just – I called Jeff and I told him to get me on a plane out here because you – you, Steve Harrington, you are the best thing in my goddamn life. And the only dream I want to chase now is the one where we get married and adopt some kids and grow old together.”

“Eddie,” Steve sobbed out again, and he heard Eddie start to cry too, and then suddenly they were crying together, even from hundreds of miles away.

“So I’m gonna be here for the next six weeks,” Eddie finally continued, his voice still full of tears. “I’m, uh, meeting with a therapist for a few hours every day and working through my shit. I wanna be a guy who deserves good things, baby. I wanna be a guy who deserves you.”

“What – what about the band?” Steve sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. A handful of Kleenex appeared in front of him. Robin must have gotten up to grab them at some point. He shot her a thankful nod and patted at his eyes; Robin nodded back and did the same, her face flushed that bright shade of red that accompanied her own tears.

“Murray wrote a provision into our contract where if one of us checks into rehab, then the band is instantly put on a two-year, non-negotiable hiatus.”

“But – what about your momentum, the label kept talking about it?”

“The label can go fuck themselves” Eddie practically growled over the phone. “Who do you think hosted the party where I first got my hands on the hardcore stuff anyways?”

“Babe - ”

“Murray said he was going to look into some sort of contract termination so we can sign somewhere else. And even if we didn’t have that thing written into our contract, we probably would have gone on hiatus anyways, or worse. That – the last leg was rough. Gareth was just as fucked up as I was and Jeff was fucking pissed. He kept having to pull Gareth out of orgies and shit while babysitting Phil and I too.”

“Did,” Steve swallowed harshly, “did - ”

“No, baby, never,” Eddie declared quickly. “Even when I couldn’t fucking see straight, you were the only one I wanted to be with. I honestly don’t even know who we were partying with at the end there, the label sent them for some PR shit, I don’t know. It’s just another reason why we want out.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured, “okay. Good. Or, well, not good. You know.”

“Yeah, baby, I do,” Eddie replied softly.

They sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to each other breathe. “I, uh,” Eddie started up again quietly, “I’m wearing the ring.”

“Yeah?” Steve found himself smiling despite the fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice was just as choked up as before. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Eddie - ”

“Look, I know, I know I hurt you so, so badly and I’m never going to fucking forgive myself for what I did, but I – you’re everything I want, baby. If I had to give up Corroded Coffin tomorrow for you, I would do it in a heartbeat. And I – I know I can’t expect for you to just, like, forgive me after the shit I pulled, but – will you be there, when I get out? Can I – I want to come home to you,” Eddie finished, and Steve could hear that he was crying again.

Steve looked over at Robin, who was wiping more tears out of her own eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments.

It might be crazy, but I think I want to say yes.

I don't blame you. I mean, this is one hell of an apology, especially from Mr. “I’ll Never Need to Go to Rehab Ever.”

Yeah. And I love him.

And you love him.

“I’ll be there,” Steve murmured reassuringly, and Eddie burst into a new wave of muffled sobs on the other end of the phone. “Just do what you need to do and come home when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting for home.”

“At home?” Eddie’s voice broke on a whimper.

“At home. I’ll even clean the bathrooms and everything,” Steve joked, and Eddie let out a loud laugh despite the quiet sobs Steve could still hear.

“Really? You’ll be there?”

“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll be there. We can get through this.”

“Together.”

“Together. Because I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie let out an incredulous laugh again, “I love you so fucking much, baby. I’m going to marry the fuck out of you someday.”

“Save the sweet talk for when you get home, okay?” Steve could feel his heart settling in his chest, and whatever tears he’d had left to cry were all gone now. There was just the twinge of missing Eddie, but that would go away soon enough. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie’s answer was soft now. “So I, uh, get a couple hours to call people every day from one of the site’s phones. Can I keep calling you?”

“Please,” Steve heard Eddie exhale in relief. “Every day sounds perfect.”

“Good, good. I’ll have to, uh, use some of my time to talk to Wayne, but the rest of it is yours, baby. And Gareth, Jeff threw him into a different center too. His check-in was much less voluntary though.”

“Shit,” Steve winced. “Is there anything Robin or I can do to help?”

“Take Jeff and Chrissy out to a nice dinner and use the Amex,” Eddie snorted, causing Steve to laugh.

“Consider it done.”

“Good." Steve heard the sound of another voice behind Eddie. Eddie replied something Steve couldn't understand, but it was in the affirmative. "Doc says my time is up for today. My, uh, talk with Wayne took up a lot of time,” Eddie returned, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “But I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll see you in six weeks.”

“Yes you will.” Steve shut his eyes and imagined Eddie was standing right in front of him. Eddie with his riotous curls and holey graphic tees and tight jeans. Eddie with his rings on his fingers, with Steve’s ring on his finger. Eddie, standing across from him and smiling at him with that twinkle in his eye that had first caught Steve’s attention all those years ago.

“I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Tags List: @gregre369 @starman-jpg @skoomy-doompy @thequeenrainacorn @sleepyboosstuff @strawberrykore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @amoris-no-smut-allowed @steve-the-hairrington @iknewyouweremuggle @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sunfloweringstories @loverkasp @hyperfixationgoddess @steddie-as-they-go @zerokrox-blog @messrs-weasley @thelittleclare @lovelyscot

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #robin buckley #platonic stobin #rock star Eddie munson #sweetheart steve harrington

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ch3rrytales · 1 year

Text

i couldn’t be more in love - steve harrington

a/n: hi! here’s a lil angsty steve one shot for y’all (unedited) this is my first time writing steve so please be gentle with me. requests are currently open. thanks for reading and as always all support and criticism is extremely appreciated! hope you enjoy, lots of love - florie <3

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s fears of not being good enough for you cause him to end your four year relationship and leave you heartbroken. even though he tries his best to move on and let you go, his undeniable need to protect you results with you in his bed at the end of a night out.

word count: 7.8k

warning(s): cursing, crying, drinking, mention of weed, parental pressure, throwing up, angst, mentions of insecurity about self worth, smut, no use of y/n, steve and reader are 19/20.

“Ignore it.” Robin said, pushing an overflowing red solo cup into your hand, lukewarm beer sloshing over the rim to drip down your arm.

You shot her a glare and huffed, “I’m trying to.”

She stepped in front of you, blocking your line of vision to who you had been staring daggers at in the corner of the room.

Steve Harrington. Your ex-boyfriend. Your twin flame. Your soulmate. The love of your life.

And her. His new fling.

They had been going at it for the past 5 minutes, they hadn’t even stopped to catch their breath.

You could remember when you and Steve were like that, attached at the hip, disgustingly affectionate.

You weren’t even sure when you had stopped being like that. All you knew was that three weeks ago he had sat you down, taken your hands in his own, eyes glossy, and said the words you had hoped you would never have to hear from his mouth.

“I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

The second he said it you felt something inside of you drop, trickle all the way down to the tips of your toes and onto the floor, it’s absence leaving your whole body cold. When you and Steve started dating, a comfort that you had never been familiar with before found a home in you and put you at ease for the first time in your life. When you were with him your head and heart were so full of love that any familial or personal pressures that typically plagued you were forced out, there was no more room for them. Your parents overbearing wishes and your perpetual fear of failure were overpowered by his sheer admiration of you, it had always been said that you were destined for greatness in all your endeavors, but Steve never really wanted greatness, he only wanted you. Until he didn’t.

Now you watched them and fought to ignore the pain stabbing into your heart. While his hands roamed over her body you thought back to a better time, a sweeter time.

- - -

Steve slung his arm around your shoulders as you walked past a group of football players who were passing around a poorly made bong on the front porch. They shouted various greetings to your socially esteemed boyfriend who returned their welcome with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

You tilted your head to speak into his ear as you passed through the front door.

“Whose house is this again?”

“You remember Jimmy? I introduced you two at my house last week.”

“Right.” you remembered, one of Steve’s teammates from basketball. “And you’re sure it’s okay that I came, you know without an invitation?”

Steve’s lips twisted up into a lazy smirk and he couldn’t help himself from pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“You’re my plus one, baby. Course it’s okay.”

As you made your way through the party you tried not to feel intimidated by the amount of people flocking to your boyfriend, guys pulling him into half assed hugs, and girls pressing into him, their glossed lips wrapping around sultry hellos.

Steve didn’t seem to pay it any mind, he kept his arm wrapped tightly around your waist ushering you through the crowd until you had reached the drink table in the center of the kitchen. He lifted you up so you sat in front of him atop the counter and shuffled his way between your thighs.

“Whaddya drinking?” he crooned, smooth as always.

“Dunno.” you mumbled, lost in the way his eyes burned into you.

“You want something sweet, honey?” he teased, his hands finding a home just above your knees.

You nodded dumbly as his fingertips traveled up and dipped just under the hem of your skirt.

“Me too.” he agreed and laughed softly, motioning to his lips with the point of his finger. “Lay it on me.”

You pecked him once leaving your cheeks warm and he hummed contently against you before pulling away.

“Alright, now that we’ve got that sorted. How bout a shirley temple?”

He started pouring soda and grenadine into a cup of ice, dumping in two shots of vodka to finish it off while you watched, your feet lazily swinging from where they hung above the ground.

“Cherry on top?” he asked, pulling a jar of maraschino cherries from the door of the fridge.

“Please.” you replied, sticky sweet.

“Well fuck.” he scoffed, twisting the lid off. “I’d cut my right arm off if you asked like that, honey.”

- - -

You were slowly nursing your second drink of the night and had no desire for a third. In all honesty what you really wanted to do was walk home and hide in your bed but you knew that wouldn’t be happening, Robin wouldn’t allow it.

She had practically dragged you from your tear soaked sheets and forced you into the little red skirt and matching cropped angora sweater you had bought impulsively as a post breakup gift for yourself.

“You really need to get out.” she said while you begrudgingly swiped mascara through your lashes, just a few hours earlier.

“I’m not ready yet, Robs.” you complained, turning in your vanity chair to face her. “What if he’s there? What if he’s with that girl?”

“That girl” being Donna, a stunning hair stylist who worked at the salon across from Family Video. Robin had been keeping you filled in on their budding romance since it began, how she had come in one Tuesday and slid a gum wrapper scribbled with her number across the counter with her perfectly polished nails while Steve was helping her checkout. He had taken her out that weekend and they had been seeing each other casually since.

Robin threw a fashion magazine she was flipping through on your bed to the floor, “Who cares? You know I love you and I wouldn’t want to say anything to upset you while you’re-” she paused to grimace at the pile of soggy tissues covering your nightstand. “...fragile. But, obviously he’s moved on and it’s killing me to see you still stuck on him when you’re so clearly out of his league.”

You stared at her blankly, “I’m out of his league?”

“Duh! This is Steve Harrington we’re talking about, I once watched him have a 20 minute “lightsaber duel” with Henderson using a mop.”

You scrunched your nose trying to hide the fact that you found that incredibly endearing and not at all dorky before you responded, “Yet he’s the one who dumped me.”

She sighed in full dramatics flinging her head off the end of your bed so she was staring at you upside down, “Exactly! What kind of a dingus would do that?”

You frowned at yourself in the mirror before powdering your nose for the third time, “Someone who’s moving on to better things.”

“I call bullshit.” she declared. “How does it get better than you? Once you get yourself all pretty and a couple of drinks in your system you’ll forget who Steve Harrington even is.”

“Doubtful.” you retorted.

Robin came behind you, her expression pitiful as it reflected in your mirror. “But, would it kill you to try?” she asked hopefully.

You shrugged and swiped a cherry scented gloss across your lips, “It might.” you said honestly. “But, I guess I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Robin beamed at you through the mirror and smacked a kiss to the top of your head before practically skipping to the other side of your bedroom.

“Well, then hurry.” she said, pulling her pin-covered denim jacket over her shoulders. “We leave in 10.”

Now that you were at the party, staring at the person you loved more than anything in the world with his tongue down another girl's throat, you realized you did have something to lose, the contents of your stomach.

You turned to Robin, who was beside you eyeing a girl who had come into Family Video last week in search of any Molly Ringwald movie she could get her hands on.

“I think I’m gonna yack.” you whispered.

“What?” she questioned. “You’ve hardly had anything to drink.”

“It’s not the alcohol making me queasy.” you replied, gesturing to Steve and Donna pressed against the wall opposite to you.

“I thought I told you to ignore him?” she said, still slightly distracted.

“Easier said than done.”

She took a moment to look at you, her best friend. It honestly hurt her to see you so down on yourself. All she wanted was for you to have a good time after weeks of sobbing in her arms and isolating yourself in your room. She looked around the room until her gaze fell upon a beefy blonde eyeing you from the beer pong table.

“You wanna play a game of pong?” she said, gesturing to the table.

“Not really.” you replied, your eyes unmoving from Steve’s back.

“Too bad.” she decided, tugging you behind her.

“Robinnn” you complained, following her.

When the two of you reached the table the blonde in question sauntered over to you, drinking you in with his stare.

“You girls up for a game?” he shouted over the music.

You shook your head timidly while Robin replied, “Absolutely.”

The boy pulled you into his side with an arm around your back and spoke into your ear, “You’re on my team, babe.”

You looked helplessly to Robin who only nodded and mouthed to you, “Go for it.”

“You got a partner?” he asked her. She looked around and shrugged.

You turned your focus to reorganizing the scattered cups on the table into a pyramid, your head shooting up when your new partner’s voice cut through the room.

“Harrington!” he called. “Come play, we need another person.”

Robin’s eyes widened as she tried to assess what the quickest escape for you would be.

But Steve was faster, approaching the table with Donna under his arm still unaware of your presence.

He saw Robin first, her face red and eyes locked on yours. Then he focused his attention on the man beside you who once again pulled you close and then spoke, “It’s you and her against me and this pretty thing.”

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

As quickly as he was there he was gone.

You were seconds away from crumpling to the ground when Robin pulled you from the man’s arms.

“Fuck,” she said, her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he was coming over here.”

You shook your head, dismissing her apologies. “It’s not your fault, I just-” your voice cracked and you looked at her wordlessly. “He didn’t even acknowledge me.”

She frowned and pulled you into a hug, “He’s a massive idiot.”

“Are we still playing?” The blonde asked, dumbfounded.

“Sorry, but fuck off.” Robin replied, before walking towards the kitchen, arms still wrapped around you. “We’re taking shots. Lots of them.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Robin pulled a bottle of vodka from the many assorted liquors lined up on the table in front of you.

“Y’know how they say the best way to get over someone is to get under them?” she asked, already pouring the shots.

You nodded weakly.

She shoved the tiny glass into your hand, “That’s a lie.” she declared. “The best way to get over someone is to get absolutely shit faced.”

You recalled Steve’s expression when he saw you, it was cold, not exactly unbothered but withdrawn. You recalled her hands on him, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, and her words affecting him.

You slung the glass back, the liquid bringing a welcome burn to the back of your throat. Then you took another. Then another. Then another.

Within the hour you were somewhat distracted from your heartache. You and Robin were squished together on a couch with Nancy and Jonathan, all giggling drunkenly in response to the story Jonathan was sharing of an encounter he had with an inebriated pizza delivery boy the week prior.

You had lost count of your drinks and your head was feeling increasingly heavy to hold up, making your neck ache. You didn’t really mind the pain, in fact you welcomed it, this pain was much easier to manage then the dull throbbing kind that had been tormenting your heart. Your head fell back against the cushion behind you and you felt as if the world was spinning off its axis beneath you. Your elbow dug into Robin’s side making her groan in annoyance. The lights in the room started to overwhelm you and a wave of nausea washed over you.

“Robin,” you mumbled, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hm?” she hummed in response, her head lolling to the side.

“M’gonna be sick.”

“Now?”

You swallowed thickly and shakily rose to your feet. “Right now.” you confirmed. You started pushing past people in pursuit of the bathroom, you could hear Robin behind you faintly.

“Coming,” she said. “Slow down, I'm right behind you.”

You ran up the stairs, as fast as you could in your current state, hands clawing the railing for balance. You stumbled through the hallway, checking behind you when you had reached what you hoped to be the bathroom door only to realize you had lost Robin along the way.

Your clammy hands turned around the knob and your body fell limp against the door as it swung open, fluorescent light invading your eyes. You dropped to your knees and shoved the door shut behind you, too nauseous to attempt locking it. Your hands shook as they gripped the toilet pushing up the seat before heaving roughly into the bowl.

Your eyes squinted shut as your head pounded, the music playing from downstairs was slightly shaking the foundation of the house and you were suddenly longing to be carried away and tucked into your bed.

You thought of Steve, not whoever it was you encountered downstairs. But your Steve, the one who would give you piggyback rides from the bar to where his car was parked blocks away when your feet hurt. The one who sat criss-cross applesauce on Nancy Wheeler’s bathroom floor with you in his lap, peppering your shoulders with kisses when you got too drunk last New Year’s Eve.

You brought the back of your hand to your mouth wiping roughly, your cheeks were wet with tears. You must’ve been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes, thoughts lingering on the past. When had you even started crying? You tore at the toilet paper roll beside you and balled up a sizable portion, you wiped at your eyes furiously, disregarding the mascara that was surely staining your face.

What a mess.

You shuddered at the thought of Steve seeing you like this, messy and broken and crumpled on the floor. You wondered what he would think, if he would feel sorry or just sorry for you.

As if the universe were playing some sort of cruel joke on you, while the thought floated around your head you heard the door unlatch and when you reluctantly followed the sound you saw him standing above you like some sort of awful miracle.

He looked shocked first, not expecting anyone to be in the room, but then the guilt washed over his face and you knew he had realized what he really walked into.

“Fuck, hon-.” he stuttered, his hands reaching out instinctively.

The half murmured term of endearment felt like a punch in the gut and you physically winced as he approached you.

His eyes filled with hurt at the way you reacted to his entrance, he used to scoop you up in his arms and quiet any of your pain with nothing but his presence and whispered words of comfort.

“Go,” you pleaded, your voice scratchy and raw.

“I can’t just leave you lik-” he sighed, and looked at you helplessly, as if saying what do you expect me to do. As if leaving you heartbroken and soiled on the bathroom tiles would be physically impossible for him, like he wasn’t the reason behind it.

“Are you okay?”

You sniffled and stared at the floor, “Please go.”

Steve squatted beside you and hesitantly reached out. He swallowed hard when you flinched under his touch as he pushed the hair out of your eyes, ensuring it was only mascara marring your pretty face and you weren’t physically harmed.

You refused to meet his eyes and when he tried to pull you off the ground, tugging gently on your hands, you shook your head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you protested.

“Taking you home, c’mon.”

“No,” you argued. “Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

“You’re drunk. I’m not-”

“I’m stone cold sober.” he informed, bringing his finger to his nose and then extending out as if he were doing a field test.

You finally locked eyes with him, and the unshed tears that sat brimming on your waterline seemed to drown him.

“I can’t, Steve.” you cried. “I can’t be in a car with you and…her.”

His shoulders fell a little and his expression softened ten fold.

“She’s not- I wouldn’t put you through that.” he said, as if it were obvious. “That’s why I’m not drinking,” he explained. “I already took her home, she’s babysitting her little brother tomorrow morning. She couldn’t stay late.”

You scoffed wetly, “How responsible of her.”

“Be nice.” he warned and you wanted to punch his perfect face.

“I’m not nice.” you slurred, under your breath.

“Bullshit,” he replied. “If someone hit you with their car you’d be the one to apologize.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t buy it.” he dismissed “Can you walk?”

“M’fine.” you clipped, rising to your feet while trying to ignore the feeling of the ground swaying under your feet and the pit of nausea still living in your stomach. “Gonna walk home.” you decided, pushing past him to get out of the tiny restroom.

He caught your forearm in the hallway, steadying your wobbly walk. “Yeah right. I’m taking you home. C’mon, I’m parked out front.”

You tried to tear yourself out of his grip, blaming the fluttery feeling in your stomach on your overindulgence.

“I don’t want your help. Okay?” you barked.

He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed, discouraged. “Look, I know you must hate me right now and I understand…” he paused and his expression remorseful. For a second you caught a glimpse of the man you loved, the man you still love. “Three weeks doesn’t erase four years. Please, let me take you home.”

Your will to fight him dwindled fast and you had to actively restrain yourself from embracing him and burying your face in his chest.

“Robin-” you started. “I can’t just leave her here.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly, still in complete awe of the way you cared for those lucky enough to be loved by you. “Go wait by the door, I’ll make sure she has a way home.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

“Of course.” He said, the second half of the sentence dying on his tongue. Anything for you.

You slowly made your way to the door and leaned against the wall, forcing air into your nose and out of your mouth in heavy puffs. You could feel your nerves buzzing beneath your skin at the prospect of being in a confined space with the person who dizzied you most in the world.

When Steve returned your eyes had drifted shut and your hands rested on your temples.

“Nancy and Jonathan are gonna give her a ride, they’re leaving in about an hour.” he informed. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly in response, “Thanks again.”

He hummed and opened the door for you, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your lower back and guide you out of the house.

When you got to his car he opened the passenger door, helping you in and leaning across you before you had a chance to shut it to secure your seat belt into place. Your whole body tensed when his fingers brushed against your hip and he muttered an apology.

He joined you in the car and switched on the radio before pulling away from the party in the direction of your house. Neither of you spoke as you exited the neighborhood so you laid your head against the window and watched the trees under the dim street lights as you passed by.

He turned a corner and you pressed your fingers into the leather seat beneath you to fight the unrest in your stomach that arose from the car’s motion.

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

Steve’s fingers tightened around the wheel and his eyes flicked to the side to see you looking at him timidly.

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

He couldn’t tell you the real reason behind his return, that he had been in agony imagining you at the party saddled up with some former jock, no one there to supervise your open drinks, or to ensure you had a safe way to get home.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He realized leaving again before the party was over contradicted his lie and cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You felt the sadness that had been lingering in you all night slowly turn to anger.

“Of course I’m not.” you clipped, facing out the window again.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was probably a stupid thing to say considering…” he trailed off, biting his lip so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he were to draw blood.

“Considering you dumped me and got a new girlfriend within a few weeks?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” His heart hurt at the idea that anyone but you could hold that title.

He turned into your neighborhood and you had never been more thankful to see your house in the distance, that is until you realized all the lights were still on. Your parents were still up. Fuck.

To anyone else this may not have been a big deal, you were legally an adult but that never seemed to matter to your parents who were as strict as nuns when it came to drinking.

Steve seemed to notice the lights as well because his car came to a stop a few meters before your driveway.

“Well shit.” he remarked

“I can’t go in.” you said. You knew you must’ve looked quite disheveled, most likely smelled of alcohol and while you felt much more sober since emptying your stomach you knew there would still be a sway in your walk and a slight slur to your voice.

“You can stay at mine tonight,” he offered.

You laughed in amusement and anger. “I don’t think so. I can go to Robin’s.”

“She’s staying at Nancy and Jonathan’s and they won’t even be there for another 45 minutes at least. You can sleep in the guest room.”

He put the car in drive again and started towards his place before you could argue anymore.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, nothing but the quiet hum of the radio and the drum of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When he pulled into his garage you got out before he had the chance to do anything annoying and chivalrous like open your door or help you exit the vehicle.

You stepped inside the house that may as well have been haunted, every nook and cranny linked to some fond memory you shared with your ex boyfriend. The kitchen where he had miserably failed at cooking you an anniversary dinner, the shower where he carded his fingers through your sud soaked hair, the bed where you had lost your virginity and he held you in his arms till the morning came. Every part of this house was woven into your love story and you felt suffocated within its walls.

He threw his keys onto the kitchen table and kicked his shoes into the corner as you stood frozen in front of him taking in your surroundings as if for the last time.

“You can shower if you want,” he offered. “There’s some towels in the guest bathroom.”

“Okay.” you replied coolly.

“Just stay there a sec, I’ll go grab you some clothes.”

Your eyes were glued to a slightly faded polaroid of the two of you stuck to the fridge with a Hawkins High Basketball magnet. The fridge was barren otherwise, Steve’s parents not the type to decorate with school pictures or family memorabilia. The photo had been taken the night Steve told you he loved you and the night you returned the sentiment. In the picture your cheeks were pressed together, spread taut with matching smiles. You had been so happy that night, quite opposite to how you were feeling now.

Steve startled you from your thoughts with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he followed your line of sight to the photo and spoke, “One of my favorites. You looked breathtak-”

“Steve,” you cut off coarsely. “Just stop it.”

“Sorry, I just…it doesn’t matter. Here,” he said, handing you a stack of folded clothes that you recognized as your own. “I didn’t think you’d wanna wear anything of mine and I remembered I had these in the back of my dresser.”

You accepted them with no word of thanks and tried to convince yourself that he was right, that you hadn’t wanted him to hand you a pair of boxers and one of his sweaters still lingering with his cologne.

Once you reached the bathroom you stripped yourself of your uncomfortable party attire and turned on the hot water. You stood under the sweltering stream and welcomed the burn, letting all the rage you felt for Steve bubble up and swarm your head for the entire duration of your shower.

When you finished you hastily pulled on your clothes, your skin was now scorched and your anger hot and irrational. You stormed towards his room and swung the door open with not so much as a knock. There he sat in the dark, only the moon providing any illumination. His body stretched across his bed on top of the covers, head tilted to the ceiling with nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants resting lowly on his hips.

“I hope you know,” you started, startling him with a finger pointed lethally in his direction. “I’m not going to go around thinking you’re some great guy just because you took pity and helped me tonight.”

Steve could only flick his eyes in your direction briefly, too emotionally exhausted from the night to even sit up. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Oh, of course not.” your voice dripped with sarcasm.”King Steve is just such a gentleman he couldn’t have it any other way. Don’t act like tonight was motivated by anything other than guilt.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“You brought that beautiful girl and you just carried on with her like I wasn’t even there. Then when it broke me you just had to come along and pick up the pieces.”

“I’m tired.” he muttered, your name following the statement almost inaudibly. He was tired of fighting with you, tired of seeing the way your eyes burnt into him no longer with lust but something even stronger, hurt.

“You don’t think I’m tired? You don’t think I wouldn’t give anything to close my eyes and not see her hands all over you?”

“Fine, I regret it. I should’ve thrown away her number the second she gave it to me. I should’ve never brought her to the party. Is that what you want to hear?

“No!” you cried. “It’s you who shouldn’t have come to the party and you shouldn’t have come back after you left. You could’ve just let me have this one night, I needed it.”

“I don’t regret that. I had to go to the party, you know that.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

His eyes softened, “It has everything to do with you.”

Suddenly you saw the events of the night under a completely different lens.

- - -

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

“Looks like she moved on after all.” Donna had purred in his ear.

He looked at you cozied up to someone new and saw nothing but red. He had to get out of there fast.

“Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

He searched the party desperately, only able to catch his breath when he saw Robin laid across the couch, mouth hung open, Nancy and Jonathan not far by. He forced through the crowd till he reached her and felt his heart rate skyrocket when you were nowhere to be seen. He shook her shoulder till she roused enough to open her eyes a sliver.

“Where is she?” he asked, voice urgent. “Where, Robin? Is she okay?”

Robin grumbled and rolled over but not before muttering two words, “Sick. Upstairs.”

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He had never once stayed after a party to clean, not even for his closest friends, and certainly not for some former football player he had interacted with maybe 4 times in his life who still found spitballs to be the height of comedy at the ripe age of 21.

- - -

“You were looking for me.” you realized.

Steve met your eyes and exhaled heavily, “Aren’t I always?”

You held eye contact and despite the dimness of the room he could see your chest heaving up and down with troubled breaths. You turned to leave and Steve fell back against his pillows, scrubbing his hand roughly against his face.

Just as you were about to cross the threshold into the hallway you spun on your heel and faced him again.

“Steve, I-I’m sorry okay? I don’t know why I can’t be civil with you. I feel like my whole life has been flipped upside down over the past few weeks. And I know I can’t blame you for falling out of love with me… I just can’t- I’m not ready to see you fully over us-” your voice cracked painfully in the back of your throat.

“Baby…” he sighed sadly, sitting up in his bed.

You felt tears spring to your eyes, bringing your hands to your face and then dropping them shakily. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you sorrowfully as your body finally gave out, succumbing to the tears. Before you could stop yourself your legs carried you towards his bed, falling forward on top of him and wrapping yourself around his body.

“Please- I just, I need to-”

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence but Steve always had a knack for reading your mind and he knew exactly what you meant. You needed to feel him, to hold him again, breathe in his scent, run your fingertips over his skin. He knew because the feeling was all too familiar, he felt it before he shut his eyes every night, before the sun rose through his curtains in the morning, and every moment in between.

Wordlessly he closed his arms around you and your nose pressed into his bare collarbone. His hands traveled up, threading into your hair, cradling your head against him.

“Breathe,” he cooed. With his chin tucked into your neck you could feel the wet lick of his lips when he spoke.

“I’m not fully over us,” he admitted. “Not even close.” He laughed, humorlessly, nudging his nose under your ear, “You’re honestly doing my head in.”

You let your eyes fall shut, wanting to take in every bit of this moment, unsure if you would ever experience anything like it again.

“I really miss you.” you whispered into the diminutive space between you.

A pained noise slipped out from Steve at your confession. He wished you could see the bigger picture he had sketched up in his mind, how in a few years he would be a blip in your memory, a single dim star amongst the blinding constellation of your future accomplishments.

Steve may have been considered slightly ditzy around town but he had never been stupid, he knew you were too good for him, he always knew. From that very first kiss in his BMW four years ago when the two of you were only 16 he knew that the way you felt for him would be temporary. The admiration in your eyes would fade and the curtain would fall. He wasn’t King Steve like he had been in high school, he was just Steve, plain unpromising Steve.

You had always been gifted, you were going places, you had aspirations. The only aspirations Steve could ever remember having were in regards to you, taking care of you, loving you, putting a ring on your finger, making you his wife, and eventually building a family with you. A loving happy family, nothing like the kind he had grown up with.

He wanted the best for you, and as much as it fucking devastated him he wasn’t sure that meant him anymore.

But his resolve was growing thinner, wearing down with each exhale that passed your lips to tickle his skin.

“I miss you too, honey. So much.”

“But, Donna-”

“Isn’t looking for anything serious.” he finished for you. “She’s good company but she's not you. No one is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“Why not?” you pleaded against him.

“It’s better this way. I promise, it will be.”

You nuzzled further into him, “How?” Your lips ghosted his clavicles and he trembled. “How could it be better than this?”

His leg slotted between your thighs, pressing you into him. You jumped at the feeling, a symphonic sigh exiting you against your will.

“Shit- sorry.”

You panted and shook your head. “No, don’t be. It’s good.”

He readjusted in an attempt to put some space between you, feeling himself getting sucked into your hazy arousal rapidly. You felt the familiar outline of his excitement against the side of your legs and he hissed.

“This would be real fuckin’ selfish of me.” he struggled to say while you chased his lips, yours already pouted in anticipation. He caught your face and held it in place in front of his own, searching for any lingering signs of intoxication, “You’ll never forgive me tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you said honestly. The shower and time passed had sobered you up fine.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll hate me for leading you on.”

“Are you?”

Steve pondered your question and tried not to let his face show how unsure he was of the answer. Could he really stay away from you? Would either of you ever be able to fully move on from your paramount love?

You read him like a book and grazed his chest with the tips of your fingers, bringing him back to you.

“Even if you are, I couldn’t hate you.”

He swiped his thumb across your eyebrow and watched your eyelids flutter in response. “I hate myself for hurting you.”

You leaned forward until your noses bumped and spoke into his mouth, “Then make up for it.”

Finally, Steve closed the space between you with a hungry kiss. His lips were warm and chapped against yours, his teeth scraping against the suppleness of your bottom one to pull your mouth open and allow him to show you just how sorry he was.

For the first time in weeks you felt your lungs fill with no resistance and strain against your ribcage with a welcome sort of discomfort, like an overfilled balloon you were seconds away from popping and Steve knew it.

His hips rutted against yours and one of his hands slowly traveled down from the velvet of your cheek to palm roughly at your breast. The feeling made your breath catch in your throat, coaxing a high pitched squeak out of you and Steve smiled against your lips, his teeth knocking yours.

“Feels good?” he asked.

“Mhm.” you hummed as he turned his attention to your neck, nipping and kissing the dewy surface. “Always does. You always do.”

His responsive whimper is slightly muffled by your skin but you bathe in it.

“You too.” he reciprocated. “I won’t last long if you keep talking like that, you’ll knock my fucking lights out.”

“Sorry,” you said sweetly, leaving him bewildered at how you could be so sensual and so adorable at the same time.

You sat up, straddling him. Your hands traveled south to breach the barrier of his waistband and wrap your hand around him.

He sucked in a pained breath and tugged the shirt barring his view over your head. “M’hurtin, honey. Lemme feel you.” he pleaded.

You pulled the shorts you wore down your legs leaving you bare and Steve took in the sight as if for the first time.

His hands caressed your stomach, sliding downwards until they rested firmly on your hips which twitched in anticipation.

“Somehow I forgot how perfect you are.” he revealed, his words drenched in sincerity. “No one is this perfect,” he pinched your heated skin once and you whined. “You’re a fucking novelty.”

You stared down at him and wondered if he had ever really looked at himself in the mirror. You scraped your nails lightly down his chest, “You are.”

He coughed and denied it with the shake of his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips for a loving kiss. “I’m nothing compared to you, baby.”

Desperate to get on with it you raised yourself above him hovering whilst lining him up to you. Steve watched your face as you nudged his tip against your clit, your eyebrows pulled together and mouth falling into a gaping “O” shape.

You shimmied forward a little bit and slowly started to sink onto him, pausing as soon as the tip was in. You winced at the stretch and were reminded that it had been a while since you had taken him at all, let alone like this.

“You okay?” he asked, holding you firmly in place to be sure you didn’t slip any further before you were ready.

You nodded, but stayed still. “Hurts a lil s’all.”

Steve kicked himself when he realized he had done nothing to get you ready for him. “I’m sorry, honey. I should’ve prepped you a bit. Hop off a sec.”

“No,” you protested, letting yourself drop another inch or so. “I didn’t want you to. I jus’ want you inside.” you whined as you sunk all the way down, ignoring the burn in your stomach.

Steve cursed to the ceiling as you fluttered around him and he forced himself not to lift his hips and grind even further into you.

He clenched his teeth as he spoke, “Is it painful?”

“It’s perfect.” you answered in more of a sigh than anything else.

“Yeah?” he said, reaching forward to circle your clit with the gentle movement of his thumb.

When you moaned and rolled your hips forward he praised you in a rambled jumble of words.

“Fuck. Holy fuck, baby. You're so good, so so good for me. Shit. Warm and fucking tight. God, am I making you feel good? C’mon talk to me, lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You nodded, brain fading into a lust filled frenzy. “Feels unreal, Stevie.”

You tried to raise yourself with shaky legs but he stopped you with a firm grasp.

“Wha-”

“You think I’m gonna let you do any of the work tonight? It’s not happening, baby. I’m making it up to you, remember? Lemme make you feel good, hm?”

He lifted you with hardly any effort and then pulled you down again, the drag of him against your walls pulling a series of sweet moans from you.

Repeatedly, he bounced you against him, encouraging you with candied praises every time your face pinched in pleasure or you clenched around him, dizzying his head.

After a few blissful moments you felt a wave of pleasure rush to you like the tide to a shore and you panted out a warning.

“Stevie- I’m gonna,”

“You gonna cum for me, honey? C’mon give it to me. I’m right there with you, sweet girl.”

You shook and cried out as your release drowned you, sweeping Steve into the current right alongside you.

You collapsed forward in exhaustion and he held you against his sweat slick body, peppering gentle kisses across your forehead.

“You here w’me?” he whispered.

“Yes.” you replied, voice light. You pulled yourself off of him and tried not to think about the loss, tried not to think about what would happen now.

Rolling over next to him you shivered at the cold air on your bare skin and he wordlessly tucked you under his arm and rubbed his hands up and down on your arm, sparking a friction fueled warmth.

He watched you carefully unable to decipher the thoughts behind your head for what seemed like the first time ever.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You swallowed and tilted your head up to look at him. “What happens next.” you admitted.

He nodded in understanding. “What do you want to happen?”

“Steve.” you chided. “You know what I want.”

“Honey…”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” he said shocked.

“Then what’s exactly the issue with us being together?”

“It’s complicated. It’s not about me not loving you or not wanting to be with you.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, sitting up and pulling your previously discarded shirt over your head.

He ran his hands through his sweat damp hair in exasperation. “We don’t make sense anymore,” he admitted.

You bit your lip to hide your hurt and spoke timidly, “Why not?”

“Our lives are gonna go down really different paths and I don’t want to be the douchebag high school sweetheart that holds you back from everything you’re capable of. I’m gonna end up here, working some mundane job, having a few kids and accomplishing nothing special. And that’s fine, I’m content with that but that’s not you.

You frowned at him.

“You’re meant for something bigger. Everyone knows it. I won’t give you some simple life when you deserve a grand one.”

You felt white hot anger seeping through your skin and pushed yourself off the bed bitterly. Without saying a word in response you started searching the room for your shorts, feet stomping with every step.

“What are you doing?” he asked, anxiety clear in his voice.

“I’m leaving.” you said.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care.” you hissed. “You really think you’re helping me by making decisions for me? Do I not get any say in what I want?”

“Of course you do, that’s what this is about. One day you’re gonna want more than I can offer you. I'm just trying to make it easier for you.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “You really have no idea what I want then.”

“So tell me.”

“Steve.” you said, shimmying your shorts back up your legs. “I want you. No ifs ands or buts. Have I not made that crystal clear the entire time we’ve been together?”

“You have but-”

“No, I’m not done. You’re right, I don’t want a simple life. I want to settle down here, in the town we fell in love. I want to marry you and have kids with you. I want to make dinner with you every night and after we eat I want to wash the dishes while you dry. I want to take your clothes out of the dryer and fold them while they’re still warm. I want to kiss you every night before I go to bed and roll over next to you every morning. I want us. A life where we end up together couldn’t be simple because it’s us together, and I love you so much more than any other possible outcome.”

He stared at you bewildered. “You do?”

“Yes! I’ve been in absolute hell these last few weeks over this?”

You approached him and took his hands in yours.

“Look,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry that people in your life have made you believe that you aren’t the talented, smart, capable and loving man that I know you are but none of them matter when it comes to our relationship. That’s just us, me and you. And I know,” you pressed a hand to your heart. “There’s no one in the world who could give me a better life, or love me better than you. I love you, Steve.”

He looked up at you, half sorrowfully half hopefully, “Does this mean we’re back together?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been miserable without you.” he replied.

“And who’s fault is that?” you laughed, the mood in the room beginning to mellow out into the typically comforting setting you were accustomed to when you were with Steve.

“I’m sorry I ended us and that I tried to make your choices for you.” he said. “I promise I won’t do it again. Oh, and I love you, like more than anything else in the world and I’m fucking devastated that I made you think I didn’t.”

“I love you too.” you echoed, melting into his arms once again not planning on letting go anytime soon.

He pressed his nose into your hair and smiled, lopsided. “I’ve got a lot of making up to do, y’know.”

“Good thing you have the rest of our lives.”

He tugged you onto the bed making you break into a fit of giggles as he pressed sloppy kisses over your entire face.

“I think I’ll start right now.”

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut

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mccardswife · 4 months

Text

You are enough

heyy! this is my first one shot so it is not the best but feel free to give any tips!

arsenal wfc x teen!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, bruise, angst, sh, a few cuss words, suicidal thoughts, protective awfc and fluff in the end. Please remind me if I have forgotten some! (don't read if you get triggered)

(not proofread so if any mistakes give me a heads up)

word count: 2144

enjoy!

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Being a 16 year old professional football player is not the easiest thing in the world. Yes, you do what you love everyday but it has its up and downs. I signed for arsenal 3 months ago but I had no idea it would be that difficult. I don't feel like I belong here, all the girls on the team are truly amazing don't get me wrong, but it is so hard living up to the standards. Especially when I am me, just me and only me. I don't feel enough

After my alarm went signaling me to get ready for another day of training, the thought of going to training today dreaded me, and it has for weeks. Silence, I lay in my bed in silence just thinking of all the bad things that can happen today. If you are wondering where my parents are, the truth is. I live alone, yes, alone as a 16 year old in England. My parents has never supported me playing footy, not even when I was little. They wanted me to have a career that was meant for "girls" and not "boys", but that sounded bizarre. Football is for everyone, but they don't seem get that into their head. My parents kicked me out when they found out I signed for Arsenal, we lived in London, but since I got kicked out I had to get an apartment for myself. It was pretty hard but my best friend helped me and I am so grateful thankful for her. I have not told the team about me living alone for 6 months, they would go all protective and wanting to know why but I can't tell them, not yet. I don't want to be judged. Saying to the girls that I got kicked out of home, even thinking about it makes me feel so embarrassed and ashamed of myself.

I lay in bed, in pain. Physically and emotionally. Last night, after I was out grocery shopping I took the metro home as always, when a man probably doubled my age walked over to me. I then realized that it was my father, he dragged me into a corner and asked me if I still was into all that "football shit". I got furious and started whisper shout at him, turned out that was not the best idea. He started going about me being a disgrace to the family, not only the family but the world, that no one is ever going to love me for playing football, and then he punched me right in my cheek. I felt thrilling pain in my face, but he grabbed my wrists hard and said in my face "You useless bitch, no one cares about you and never will".

That sentence goes through my mind over and over again. I was almost impossible to fall asleep last night, because of the pain I was in both physically and emotionally. What my father told me, got to my head and I was thinking. Maybe he was right, I am a disgrace, no one will ever love me, maybe if it would be better if I just disappeared.

Well, well. Got to get up for training and stop thinking. Seriously y/n, get your shit together...

I walked downstairs to the bathroom and got dressed and tried to cover the bruise on my cheek that now has gotten all blue, yellow and purple. It was really painful and very difficult but totally worth it when I was done and I literally could not see a damn thing. Then I did the same to the bruises on my wrists and after I tried to cover up the dark bags under my eyes but that was a bit more of a job.

Suddenly I got the urge, the painful urge. I took the hidden blade from the mirror cabinet and drawed lines on my right arm. One, two, three, four.

Then I looked at the clock. Shit, I thought. The training starts in two hours and we have breakfast together in the dining room an hour before. The metro usually took 30 minutes, I packed my bag in a hurry and left.

When I walked in to the facility I heard two voices yelling my name behind me. Lotte and Alessia walked quickly over to me. "You excited for training?" Alessia asked you. "Yes totally" I said in a lie, I think they saw that I lied because it did not look like they believed me at all. "What about you Less and Lotte?" you said to try getting the attention away from you. It seemed that it worked because they said in sync "Yes". Less and Lotte looked at each other and we giggled.

When we walked in to the dining room, everyone was there. I tried to brush off all the looks I got. Why does everyone look so suspicious today...

"Come here Y/n, sit with us", Leah said after I served myself food. Leah sat with Katie, Kim, Lia, Caitlin, Steph, Beth, Viv and Kyra. I walked nervously over to them and sat down in the seat beside Beth. They started talking and I just sat there quietly eating my food being in my thoughts until Viv said "Y/n, you've been quiet, are you good". They looked at me concerned, "Me? Yes of course Im good, just sat thinking about the upcoming training today". I lied straight through my teeth. "Okay, if you're sure. but you can talk to us though", Caitlin said. I just said a quietly thank you, and then we walked to the locker room and got ready for training.

We started doing some light jog then got into some training drills. I was already sweating, it was surprisingly very sunny outside today and I wore a long sleeve training jersey because of my scars. "Aren't you hot in that", said Jen to me. I just simply shrugged her off saying no.

I was so exhausted, my body is so tired and I really want to lay down. When we had water break I just laid down on the grass. Sweating, I rubbed my face because I was so tired.

Beth and Viv walked over worriedly, they have become my unofficial parents after my transfer to Arsenal. They looked shocked when they saw me. "What" I said in a panicked voice. "Why do you have a big black bruise on your cheek?" Beth said, "And on your wrists?" Viv said. "Is something going on at home?" Viv asked with a knowing look. "No, no of course not, why would you assume that".

After training everyone looked worried and concerned, my passes and shots got sloppier and sloppier, I was hurting more and more. When I was about to leave, Kim, Katie, Leah and Jen cornered me. With Beth and Viv looking guilty behind. They brought me into a private room and they started telling me what Beth and Viv told me. Then all of a sudden Kim said "You know, all the team has been worried and concerned for a while, I can't remember how many times the girls have repeatedly come and talked to me". I looked at her ashamed. "Why do you have bruised?" Katie asked, "I just fell" I said, the lie obvious.

I started scratching because my scars got really itchy, I really wanted to just disappear right there and then. Then Leah grabbed my right wrist softly and pulled up my sleeve, the last thing before I broke down was gasps from the girls. I started trying to make up excuses but none of them were having it, "come with us" said Beth, "We will bring you to the medical room and then we want you to tell us everything". I desperately did not want to but I knew it was no chance of me getting out of this.

When we got to the medical room they put me on one of the beds. My scars were infected, that is why they itched so damn much. Jen was cleaning up my bruises while Kim cleaned up my scars. I know the people who worked here could do it but I did not want them right now, it is bad enough that now the whole team knows.

Leah then said in her stern but soft captain voice "Now tell us everything". I tried to tell her that it was nothing. What Katie said broke me "Please babe, we only want to help you. We know it has been hard for you but please". Then I broke down again, full on shaking and crying. Desperately gasping for air.

I started telling them everything, how my parents are and that they has never supported me once for the choices I have made, that I don't feel like I belong here because I am only me... When I spit out the truth about me living alone for 3 months because my parents kicked me out and that they were abusing me for years before, I saw tears in all of the girls faces. It was a heartbreaking sight. I told them how I ran into my father last night and what he did and said to me and I started sobbing again and saying silently to myself "It is true, what he said. I am a reckless disgrace full kid".

"You are enough y/nn, I promise you babe" Viv said. All of the others agree but I could not help believing my fathers words. "Actually me and Beth have been thinking for a while, we have a spare room and big enough place for 3, and you are like our kid. I am being for real, we love you as our own family. All the team does, but we wondered if you wanted to come live with us?" Viv asked me. I was hesitant and I think Beth saw that because she said "We are not taking no for an answer". I felt a smile creep up on my face and as desperate I was trying to hide it all the others saw and started smiling too. I said to Meadema, "thank you moms". I realized what I said "shit fuck, sorry I did not mean to".

"Y/nn it is okay, you have no idea how glad that made us, you are like our kid" Beth and Viv said.

After a while of me telling them about my thoughts, how I have been feeling for the last weeks, they decided to get me into therapy. We have a therapist at the facility so we agreed to be going to her twice a week. "I am grateful for all of you, I really am but I just feel like a bother" I said quietly.

"No babe stop" Jen said, Katie walked over to me, she took her hands on my head and said "You are enough, a hundred times enough". "You are like a younger sister to me, it breaks me to see you like this, not only me but all of us. We and all the team loves you. You are the baby of the team."

"We will always protect you, and we will get your so called parents locked up." Kim said to me. "Not Viv and Beth but the other parents" Jen said in a playful tone.

"That I understand" I said with a smile of my face.

Leah asked me if she could tell the other girls and the Gaffer, she needed to anyway but it was nice she asked me. I said yes then she walked outside.

A few minutes later they all came in. Kyra, being kind of like my annoying twin ran over to me and hanged on for me for dear life in a bear hug. I started explaining to them a bit more, and reassured them that it was not their fault but my manipulative parents.

I also said that I called Viv and Beth mum and that I am moving in with them and Lessi and Laura said at the same time "about damn time". All the team broke out in laughter.

"I am sorry for not telling you but I feel a thousand times better now after telling you, I have been scared and not felt at home here for a while but telling you and knowing that I can count on you girls will help me. The whole team is kind of like my family I never got and I can't ask for more than that. I am so grateful for all of you, and I love you"

"We love you too y/nn", Leah said with the softest most heartwarming smile ever. "You are our family, blood or not you will always be family" Kim said reassuring.

"Always," Katie said

"And you are enough" the team said lovingly.

397 notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 7 months

Text

The Doll House - A Geto Suguru x Reader Fanfic Part 1

You sell yourself to a brothel to feed your family and Geto Suguru is in charge of training you to be the perfect submissive sex doll.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Geto’s. I’m not sure how many parts it will have. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Dubcon. Submission. Extreme humiliation. Voyeurism. Light degradation. Masturbation. Oral sex. Deep throating. Lots of stuff! Divider by @benkeibear!

Your nerves are on fire. Your heart feels like it might burst at any moment. You never dreamed you would end up in a situation like this, but here you are: standing in the welcome room of the Doll House, being appraised by a woman with long silver hair pulled into a braid. She circles you, holding a folded paper fan in one hand, her eyes sharp.

“I think we can make something pleasing of you,” she says, red lips curling into a smile.

You exhale. Not sure whether you’re relieved or not. You came here to essentially sell yourself to the Doll House. Your parents died six months ago, leaving you and your four siblings saddled with debt and struggling to survive. As the only adult left in the family, you’ve been working various jobs to try to keep your younger siblings fed, but debt collectors are harassing them. You have to do something.

The woman with silver hair returns with a thick envelope. When you open it, your eyes bulge. You’ve never seen so much money in your life! You count it as quickly as possible, growing more shocked by the second.

“Do we have a deal?” the woman asks.

You look up at her. “I’m worth this much?”

“Oh darling, I’ll get twice as much for you after you’ve been properly trained!”

“Can you make sure this money pays off my parents’ debts? And the rest goes to my siblings?”

The woman nods. “Of course.”

“Alright. It’s a deal,” you say. She steps out of the room and returns with a contract for you to sign. You take the time to read over it carefully.

It’s a ten year contract, during which time you’ll essentially belong to the Doll House and then whoever they sell your contract to. No one is allowed to do permanent physical harm to you or prevent you from having contact with your loved ones. You have the right to terminate the contract at any time, though you’ll face dire financial consequences if you do so.

Ten years. It’s a long time, but it’s worth it to pull your family out of poverty. You sign the contract, the silver haired woman takes it, and hands the envelope to another employee. “See that all her family’s debts are settled, and use the rest to set up a monthly stipend for her siblings.”

The employee nods and leaves. The woman leads you deeper into the Doll House, then stops in a large circular room with plush red carpets and velvet-lined furniture. There are fancy polished lamps hanging on the wall, and a heavy perfumed smell in the air.

“Wait here,” she says. “I’ll see which trainer is available.”

You stand there nervously, alone, after she disappears down a dark hallway. There’s no turning back now. If you break the contract, it would put your siblings in even worse debt.

But now your mind is focused solely on your trainer. Who is he? Will he be kind or cruel? What sort of fetish will they shove you into? These thoughts plague you as you fidget with the end of the thin belt around your dress. You’re worried the trainer might be some disgusting brute who never showers. Or just as bad, someone incredibly handsome who will end up seeing you in terribly embarrassing situations.

You hope he’ll just be an average man.

“Hello, miss,” a honeyed voice says behind you.

You turn around quickly to see a stunningly beautiful man with long black hair. He’s dressed casually in dark, loose-fitting clothes and his eyes are narrowed by a smile that curves his lips in a way that makes your heart beat a little faster.

Is he a customer? You glance around, looking for the silver haired woman who went to fetch your trainer. She’s the one he needs to talk to.

“Um, sorry, I just got here. I can’t help you, but the owner should be back any minute,” you say, returning his smile. You can’t help thinking that if customers look like him, this might not be so bad after all.

“You’re new?” he asks.

You nod, feeling a little embarrassed for this gorgeous guy to know you’re here to sell yourself. “I’m just trying to take care of my family,” you say.

His smile fades as he fold his arms over his chest. “Aren’t you afraid? I’ve heard they do some pretty extreme stuff here.”

You glance around to make sure the owner isn’t nearby. “Between you and me, I’m terrified! The scariest part is the trainer. I mean, some strange man is going to have complete control over me? What if he’s just a big pervert?”

The customer laughs, his dark eyes twinkling. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think anyone who works here is going to be a pervert!”

You laugh too. “I guess you’re right. Well, I just hope he’s not too rough on me. I’m a very sensitive person.”

He tilts his head forward, one long strand of bangs falling over his eye. “Are you now?”

You feel a sudden chill. You almost forgot this guy is here to buy a doll. Who knows what depraved things he’s into? You let out a small nervous giggle. “Uh, just keep that to yourself if you don’t mind. My trainer might use it against me.”

He smiles warmly, holding a long finger to his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”

Just then you hear high heeled footsteps coming down the hall. It’s the owner! You turn to face her, dreading to see what sort of man she’s bringing with her, what sort of man will be doing whatever he wants with your body for the next few weeks.

But she’s alone. Could she not find an available trainer?

“Oh, Geto, there you are,” she says, looking behind you. “I see you’ve already met your new doll.”

Your blood freezes in your veins. You slowly turn around and look at the ridiculously handsome man you thought was a customer. He flashes you a wide grin. You reflexively back away from him. “You’re my trainer?!”

“That’s me,” he says. “You can call me Master Suguru.”

Oh no. This is the worst possible outcome. You just blabbed all your fears and weaknesses to him. Not to mention the fact that this man, this beautiful man, was going to see you naked, was going to witness your clumsy attempts to be sexy. How humiliating! Your face was burning already.

He steps around you and heads down the hall. “Follow me and we’ll get started,” he says, looking at you over his shoulder.

You’ve only been here a short while and it’s already turned into a nightmare. The training is going to start now? You haven’t even had a chance to unpack you belongings or see your new room. You reach down to get your small suitcase, but your trainer calls out, “Leave your things. You won’t be needing them anytime soon.”

With a sigh of resignation, you walk down the hall after him, a huge knot in your stomach.

He leads you to what appears to be a luxurious bedroom. More of the plush carpets and high end furniture. There’s an ornate bed in the center of the room. Oh God, is he going to fuck you right now? You’re not prepared!

“This is my private room,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We’ll do much of your training here, but sometimes we’ll use other areas of the house. During your training, you’ll be with me twenty-four hours a day. You’ll eat with me, sleep with me, bathe with me…”

Your face must have twisted in horror at that last comment, because he laughs at your reaction. “You’ll get used to it,” he says. “By the way, I’m guessing you’re curious what my specialty is. Right?”

You nod, too nervous to speak.

“Submission. Humiliation. Degradation.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. “S-so… basically… you’re going to be really mean to me?”

He smiles as he stands up and steps closer to you. “It’s more than that. I’ll train you to enjoy it, to find pleasure in giving yourself to your owner, in being insulted and berated and humiliated.” He’s so close now that you can smell his scent, like sandalwood and citrus. He reaches up one hand and touches your face. “But yes, I’m going to be really, really mean to you.”

You shudder at his words, at his closeness, at his soft fingers on your cheek. Then he steps away suddenly and sits back down on the bed, casually. “I don’t use physical force generally. I don’t hit or shove or fully restrain. I dislike using violence in my training. I have other ways of disciplining you.”

He pauses to watch your reaction, then he goes on, his sensual voice seeming to go lower. “You will obey my every command. You will do anything I tell you to do, no matter how unpleasant it is. Failure to do so would be a breach of your contract. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer out, looking down.

“That’s ‘Yes, Master Suguru,’” he says.

“Yes… Master Suguru.”

“Great!” he says, clapping his hands together once, startling you with the sound. “Now let’s do a little test run to see how well you follow orders. Take off your clothes.”

“R-right now?” you ask, your face positively on fire. He says nothing but narrows his eyes, giving you a warning look. There’s something scary about it. “I mean… yes, Master Suguru.”

He smiles then, still sitting on his bed as if the two of you are having a normal conversation.

You untie the belt around your dress and drop it to the floor. Then you step out of your shoes. You pause for a moment, not sure if you should unzip your dress on the side or simply pull it over your head. You decide to unzip, thinking it will slow this process down by even a few precious seconds. Suguru offers no commentary as you slide the dress down your hips and let it pool around your ankles. He just watches.

Left in only bra and panties, you look to his face, as if silently asking if this is enough. He still says nothing, only stares at you expectantly. His silence is nerve wracking, his eyes on you almost unbearable. You unhook your bra and pull it off, resisting the urge to cover yourself with an arm. Then you take a deep breath before pushing your panties down to the floor, stepping out of both them and the dress.

Once fully stripped, you keep your eyes on the floor, your hands stiffly at your sides.

“Look at me,” he says, and you force your eyes up to his face. His gaze is burning holes into your body. At least that’s what it feels like.

“Alright,” he says in a pleasant tone, “now lie down on the floor, with your feet pointing toward me.”

You blink in confusion. Is he going to take you on the floor? When there’s a perfectly nice bed right there? But you don’t hesitate for long. You carefully get down on the carpet, trying to be as modest as possible, and then lie down as he instructed.

“Spread your legs. Draw your knees up toward your shoulders.”

Well, so much for maintaining your modesty. You knew it was a futile effort anyway. You follow his orders, feeling like your whole body is on fire with shame. He’s looking at you. He’s looking at your most private parts.

“Now pleasure yourself,” you hear him say.

You raise your head up from the carpet to look at him, praying that he’s only joking, but he’s not laughing. “I can’t!” you say, unable to conceal the terror in your voice. This is too much. You can’t possibly do something so embarrassing in front of this man!

He stands up from the bed and steps over to you, looming over your naked, spread open form. “Oh? Already refusing orders? We can do this in the main hall if you prefer. The other trainers would probably enjoy the show.”

“No, please!”

He kneels down in front of you, practically between your legs. “Or, you can just get up and walk out. No one is forcing you to do this. You came here of your own free will, didn’t you?”

You close your eyes, tears leaking out. He’s right. You came here on your own. No one brought you here. No one even suggested it. The whole thing was your idea. You knew things like this would happen, and you came anyway. An image of your siblings flashes in your mind, and you know you have to do whatever it takes to keep them happy and healthy.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, using one hand to wipe your tears. You wait a moment for him to back away, but to your horror he remains where he is, inches away from you, with a clear and perfect view of your pussy as you reach one shaky hand down to lightly rub yourself.

Your eyes close as you sniffle, trying to keep yourself from crying. You slip one finger into your folds, trying to focus on the feeling and forget that you have an audience. You’re dry, because of course you are. Lying there holding back your tears is not the least bit arousing.

“Look at me,” you hear him say, and you almost sob. You open your eyes to find him hovering over you, his silky hair spilling over his shoulders, his eyes moving from your hand between your thighs to your face, his luscious lips curled into a predatory smile.

Oh God. He’s so gorgeous. It’s entirely unfair.

You feel the first drops of wetness as your fingers glide over your skin, spreading it around, glossing it over your clit.

“There you go,” he says, his voice low. “Finally getting wet. What did it for you? The fact that I’m watching?”

You don’t say anything, just keep stroking your clit with your finger, your breaths coming quicker. You’d rather look anywhere else in the world, but he ordered you to look at him, so you’re forced to look him in the eyes as he watches you touch yourself. You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, but your fingers are becoming slicker the more you think about it.��

“You’re gushing now,” he says, leaning so close. “Does it feel that good, being watched? I can see everything you’re doing, every little movement of your fingers, the way your clit twitches… it’s obscene.”

His words are getting to you. You’re so slippery that you can feel your arousal wetting the carpet beneath you.

“I bet you do this all the time at home,” he says. “Do you?”

“S-sometimes…” you manage to say, struggling to focus on anything besides the pleasure.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself at home?”

“Ahhh…. being touched… by someone else…”

“Touched by who? A boyfriend?” he asks.

“I… don’t have a… ahhhhhh!!” The moan escapes you before you can finish.

“No boyfriend,” he confirms. “What about an ex boyfriend?”

“N-never… had one…”

He seems surprised by that. “Really? Then… are you a virgin?”

You hesitate. You planned on keeping that fact to yourself for as long as possible. You’ve heard horror stories about trainers intentionally being rough on virgins.

“Answer,” he says in a commanding voice.

“Yes,” you finally say, holding back another moan.

He grins, his eyes shining. “What a slutty little virgin, moaning and dripping all over my carpet, getting off on a stranger watching you rub your clit.”

Your back arches involuntarily, your hips nearly bucking off the floor. He’s so, so close to you. Why won’t he just touch you himself? But he just watches, sometimes looking you in the eyes when you moan, making this as embarrassing as possible.

You’re close, your legs trembling, your stokes becoming faster, the humiliating wet sounds getting louder. He notices, saying, “Ask for permission before you cum.”

You don’t waste any time. “M-may I please… ahh… cum… Master Suguru?”

He waits for a moment, watching your face while smiling serenely. Then, when it feels like you’re about to explode, he says, “You may cum.”

It feels like the orgasm slammed into your body. You’ve never felt anything so intense before! You’ve masturbated before, when you could find some private moments, but it always seemed like an underwhelming experience. This… this was incredible.

When you finished convulsing on the floor, you collapsed back into the carpet, your legs splayed apart on either side of Suguru. You panted, closing your eyes and just wanting to sleep. After a few seconds, you realized he’s never moved, so you look back up at him.

He’s just staring! It’s unnerving. You use what little strength you have to start to scoot back so you can at least close your legs, but he suddenly stands up before you can move. He returns to the bed and sits down again.

“Crawl over to me,” he says.

You roll over to your stomach and then get to your knees. Your legs feel weak, almost like they don’t belong to you, but he gave you an order. Feeling low and foolish, you crawl on hands and knees over to him, your thighs sticky with your cum.

Once you’re right in front of him, he reaches out and lightly strokes your hair. “Ready to meet your true master?”

You look at him curiously. “Huh? But I thought you were-“

Your voice cuts off as you see him reach into his pants and pull out an imposingly large cock. It’s both thicker and longer than you imagined, standing tall and proud in his lap, fully erect. He slides one of his hands over it.

“This is your true master. For the next few weeks, your life is going to revolve around my cock, around pleasuring it. When it’s not in one of your holes, you should be begging me to put it in one. When you sleep, you should be dreaming about it. Until your training is complete, my cock is your whole world. Understand?”

You’re sitting on your knees in front of him, your “true master” practically in your face. “Yes, Master Suguru,” you say, then you pause and look up at his face. “Uh, do I have to call it Master Cock or something?”

He blinks down at you, then suddenly bursts into laughter. “No, no, that’s not necessary,” he says, patting your head and then wiping at the corner of his eyes. “But you can go ahead and try sucking me off.”

You look from his face to his dick, then back again. “Okay. I mean, Yes, Master Suguru.”

He smiles then, seemingly pleased that you’re getting better at addressing him properly.

You scoot closer to him and reach out with one hand, loosely gripping the hard fleshy rod with your fingers. It feels strange in your hand, a slight twitch to it that reminds you of a small animal. You move your hand up and down the length, wondering if you’re supposed to do it fast or slow, if your grip is too hard or too loose. Your eyes keep flicking up to his face to check his response, but his expression remains only a mild smile.

After getting a feel for it, you lean your face forward and give the tip of it a tentative lick, then another. You look up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants you to do.

He sighs. “You’ve never pleasured a man before, have you?”

You shake your head.

“I can tell,” he says, and your face burns again. He didn’t have to say it like that. “Since this is your first ever blowjob, I’ll teach you how to do it. I expect you to please me from now on.”

You nod, embarrassed but relieved to be told what he wants.

“Lick the underside of it, from base to tip,” he says, “then take it into your mouth. Use your saliva to make it wet.”

You follow his directions as best you can, running your tongue up the length of it, slowly, then taking the whole thing as far into your mouth as you can. It quickly hits the back of your throat, so you pull back just a little, enough that you can move your tongue around it, glazing it with your spit.

“That’s good,” he says, resting one hand on your head, long fingers threading into your hair. “Don’t neglect the balls,” he adds.

You reach one hand up to lightly squeeze them as your tongue swirls around his shaft, making it slick.

“Use your lips.”

You tighten your lips around him, moving your head up and down, slobber and precum spreading all over your mouth and chin. You want to wipe your mouth, but you realize this is part of it. Making a mess on your face is probably the point.

“Your tongue is slacking off,” he says, and the disappointed tone of his voice somehow hurts. You don’t even know why you want to please him so badly, but you do. So you pull him out of your mouth and run your tongue up and down the length before digging it gently into the tip, getting the whole thing soaked with your saliva and then wrapping your lips around it again. You take him so deep this time that it triggers your gag reflex, and you hear a slight catch to his breath. He likes that!

Feeling a little more bold, you press down further, letting him fill your throat, but when you panic because your breath is cut off, you feel his hand on your head press down even further. Tears spring to your eyes as you try to jerk back, but his grip is firm. “Relax your throat,” he says, “and don’t stop moving your tongue. Yes, that’s it. You’re doing good.”

You try to relax, to trust that he won’t kill you while he’s fucking your throat. You ignore the burning feeling, the soreness settling into your jaw, and keep licking, keep sucking with your lips. You have to please him!

Just when you feel like you might black out, he pulls your head back, his cock popping out of your mouth. You gasp for air as he strokes your head.

“Now be a good girl and ask for my cum,” he says, moving his hand up and down his drenched cock.

You look up at him with teary eyes and red face, still trying to catch your breath. “May I please have your cum… Master Suguru?”

“Stick out your tongue.”

You open your trembling lips and extend your tongue as far as you can. Seconds later, warm ropes of your trainer’s cum shoot out, most of it landing directly on your tongue, some of it landing on your cheeks and chin, some even going further into your mouth.

His hand is still stroking your hair sweetly as he smiles down at you. “Savor it. Don’t spill any.”

You pull your tongue back in, swirling the cum around to coat the inside of your mouth, then open your lips so he can see. “Good, good,” he says, “My slutty little virgin knows how to treat her master’s cum. That’s really good. Now swallow it.”

Gulping it down, you feel a tingling sensation throughout your whole body from his praise. You want more of it.

He grabs a tissue from his nightstand and uses it to wipe off your face, then stands up. “Let’s clean up,” he says cheerfully, walking toward a door in the back corner of the room. You climb to your feet and follow after him, finding yourself in a large bathroom. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the shower. There’s no curtain, no door. It’s simply an open stall. There’s even a chair positioned across from it, for someone to sit in and watch.

Suguru takes the chair, looking comfortable as he gestures toward the shower. “Go ahead. There’s plenty of soap and shampoo. I put a new loofah out for you.”

You stare at the open shower, then back at him. “You’re just… going to watch?”

His dark eyes peer at you. “Unless you want me to help you.”

“No, that’s okay!” you say quickly, stepping into the shower and turning the water on. You yelp when the cold water hits your skin, and you hear him chuckle. Once you get the water just right, you grab the soap and begin bathing, just trying to get this done as fast as possible.

Suguru’s voice echoes in the room. “Interesting. Most women start by washing their hair,” he says, obviously just trying to keep you aware that he’s watching. “But you’re starting with your tits. Hmm.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “Do you have to narrate this?”

He laughs heartily for a few moments, then stands up all at once and walks over to the shower, stopping just outside the water’s reach. “You’re funny. But starting tomorrow, I won’t allow any back talking,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Understand?”

You shiver despite the heat of the water. “Yes, Master Suguru.”

The smile returns to his face. “Good, now face me while you shower.”

You grimace as he returns to the chair. He’s really not going to let you keep even a shred of dignity, is he? But you hurry through the process and feel a hundred percent better when he hands you a towel to dry off with. It’s not big enough to wrap around your body, but you can cover some of yourself while using it. When finished, you look at him and ask, “What do I wear?”

“Hmm? Oh, you wear nothing.”

“Huh?!”

He looks as if your reaction confuses him. “Why would you need clothes? You’d just be taking them off all the time. So during your training, you won’t be wearing any.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. “But… what about when I have to leave this room?”

“You’ll be leaving it in the morning. We’ll have breakfast in the main hall. What about it?”

You stare at him, horror-striken. “I can’t wear anything even then? But the other trainers…”

He laughs. “Oh don’t worry about them. They see naked women all the time, most of them with bodies much better than yours. They’ll hardly notice you.”

You hold the towel up in front of you, suddenly feeling self conscious. “Please don’t make me do that,” you whisper, tears in your eyes again.

“No one is making you do anything,” he says. “Break the contract if you want.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Then do as you’re told. And drop the towel, you’re already dry.”

“Tell me about it,” you mutter under your breath, flinging the towel onto the floor.

He looks at you sharply, eyes narrowed to slits.

“Y-you said I can’t talk back starting tomorrow!” you say defensively.

After a pause, he laughs again. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well, I’ll let your bad behavior slide just for tonight. Now about your dryness problem…”

You tense up, wondering what he’s planning to do to you now, but he doesn’t approach you. Instead he pulls his black shirt over his head, revealing a toned, muscular torso. He reaches up and unties his hair from its half-up style, letting it flow freely around his shoulders. Then he shoves his pants down, stripping completely.

Your mouth falls open as you watch him step into the shower. How can a human being be so beautiful? How was it possible?

You’re not so dry anymore.

He points to the chair and says, “Sit. Don’t look away.”

Look away? You don’t think you could pry your eyes off him with a crowbar. Every move he makes is sensual. Washing his hair, soaping up his chest, even cleaning his ass looks sexy. It just wasn’t fair. How were you supposed to handle this? How were you supposed to humiliate yourself in front of this perfect specimen over and over again?

When he’s finished drying off, he pulls on some cozy looking clothes, very similar to what he had on earlier. Long sleeved black top that fits him loosely and similarly fitting black pants. He looks warm and comfortable, and you can’t help feeling cold and even more exposed, even though the room is decently warm.

He goes over to the closet and pulls out a thin blanket, reaching it to you. “You’ll be sleeping on the floor, beside my bed. Don’t make that face, this is part of your training. You’re submitting to me completely, right?”

You look at the blanket in your arms, then the floor. The carpet is thick and soft, so it could definitely be worse, but compared to Suguru’s fancy bed, the floor looks dismal.

You sigh and walk over to the side of the bed, then lie down and spread the blanket over yourself, thankful to finally be able to cover up.

Suguru stands over you, staring down with a blank expression. “What is it?” you ask nervously, wondering if he has some nefarious plan in mind. In all honesty, you’re surprised he hasn’t fucked you yet. A tiny, buried part of you finds that just a little disappointing.

He looks away from your face, rubbing the back of his hair. “Just for tonight, and only tonight, you can sleep in the bed with me.”

You sit up, holding the blanket to your chest. “Really?”

He hesitates, then nods. Sensing this is a one time opportunity, you get to your feet, leaving the blanket behind, and crawl under the covers of his bed. It’s so soft! And warm! You snuggle in, hugging a pillow to your face. You feel the bed shift as Suguru climbs in, but you’re fast asleep before he even reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp.

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto smut #suguru x reader #Geto #jjk geto #Geto Suguru smut #Geto Suguru x you

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ilovelovewithallmyheart · 28 days

Text

Your clan of jujutsu sorcerors weren’t in the top three, but they weren’t far behind. They were in the top four.

In prestigious jujutsu clans, the matter of carrying the bloodline was of great importance. Your older sister, powerful, beautiful and amazingly kind was constantly getting marriage proposals left and right.

It was the night of a great banquet celebrating your older sisters 30th birthday. She was already running 40 minutes late…

Suddenly the lights dimmed and the projector started lowering itself out of nowhere. A video flashed into life-

“Hey guys. You must be wondering where I am right now. As you are watching this, I will be on a one way trip to America.”

Your older sister sat in front of the camera, confessional youtube video style.

Loud gasps resounded across the hall. You felt your stomach churn, the dinner you had earlier threatening to make a reappearance.

“Don’t bother looking for me.”

She crossed her arms. “I decided to leave for the better. After all, It was hard on me and my wife to live so far apart from eachother.”

An outrage spread all around you. “What is the meaning of this?” Your father roared.

You had no idea when your sister got married. But go her.

“To my younger sister…goodbye and good luck.”

The video dimmed, leaving the dinner hall in darkness and utter chaos.

Good luck? What could she mean by that-

It suddenly dawned on you.

Without your older sister, you were now the first candidate for marriage.

“You are seriously strange if you think for one moment that I’ll agree to marry Zenin Naoya. He literally handed me a terms and conditions folder of everything I can and can’t do if we get married!” Arguing with your father felt like arguing with a brick wall.

“He is in line to be the next head of-“ A knock on the door stopped your father from another one of his rants. You sighed in relief. “Don’t allow in any late comers. Meeting time ended two minutes ago.” Your father ordered.

For the past six, that’s right, six hours of the day, you and your father met with suitors who were asking you for your hand in marriage.

The guard at the door looked increasingly nauseous. “Sir-“

The door suddenly blasted open, splinters of wood flying everywhere. Your father ducked and you felt existensial dread. You knew who was behind that door.

“My dear, sorry I’m late.” Casually stepping around the carnage as if it was nothing, Gojo Satoru sauntered in with all his 6’3 might.

You felt a migraine coming in.

Ever since the first year of highschool, Gojo Satoru had been hopelessly besotted with you. He’s asked for your hand in marriage four different times. With four. Different. Rings.

“What is this Gojo.” You stared blankly at the ROCK sitting on a thick band of gold. You and Gojo just finished up a mission together, and, covered in a curse’s guts, he dropped to one knee and brought out a ring. “You declined the last three times so I figured you wanted a bigger diamond.”

That same man was now standing around your ruined meeting room with a sheepish smile on his face. “I-I actually didn’t get you a ring this time.” He had the audacity to look shy. “I hope you forgive me…”

“You don’t need to get me a diamond abomination to propose. I’ll reject you, ring or no ring.” You replied with a lethal smile. “Why are you here Satoru.” You wanted this man out.

“Why else would I be here? I’m asking if I can be your husband.” His face wasn’t playful anymore. He was dead serious.

You were about to reject him for the fifth time, but then your eyes landed on Naoya’s thick terms and conditions booklet, then you remembered the multitude of old, decaying men that were basically salivating while looking at you, and sighed.

“Fine.”

“YES. There’ll be donkeys and-“

“We’re having a small wedding ceremony.”

He frowned. Obviously, he had planned out the entire wedding ceremony out meticulously, donkeys and all.

“We can work on it.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo oneshot

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beatrixstonehill2 · 3 months

Text

"Hey, Daddy, just a heads up, but mom wanted to know if you were interested in joining our little bet...." Amanda said.

"Oh, what's that, darling?"

"Welllll.... my friends convinced my to take Femruptarin, as you guys can probably tell...."

"Of course, sweetie, you just gave birth a few months ago."

"So, I told mom that my friends are placing bets on when I'll pop! Mom thought the idea was super cute so she asked to join. The winner gets all my savings from my OnlyFans, just as long as you promise if anyone films me popping that you upload it to my OF! You can keep the money it makes, naturally." Amanda giggled.

"Of course! That money could help me with building a new deck, and then some, I'd imagine."

"Ohhh yeah. You bet, Daddy! I make a whole lot flaunting this pregnant body of mine, these huge breasts I've developed from constantly being pregnant since forever ago! And playing with myself all day long......"

"The house will feel quiet without all the little chimes from your stream donations and you moaning like a proper porn star as you masturbate four hours on end for all those fans of yours. It will be kind of nice not needing to clean off all those tarps you line your floor with to catch your orgasms. Never seen a girl squirt so much in my life, over and over, you absolutely drench your room, and yourself...."

Amanda giggled. "What can I say? I'm a very talented girl, Daddy... So! Any estimation how long I'll last?"

"That womb of yours is like Fort Knox, you carried octuplets to ten months a couple years ago. I say you'll make it to nine months!"

"Daddy, are you crazy? I've got like thirty kids in my womb, I'm only two and a half months or so along....."

"I meant what I said. Your belly'll have no trouble getting twice the size of a yoga ball before you finally burst! I have faith in you, darling. If you're good at one thing.... other than coming like a geyser a dozen times in a row, it's carrying a school bus of kids in that womb of yours."

"OK, I'll mark you down for nine months on the dot! Mom only guessed seven and a half..... My oh-so-supportive brother only guessed six."

"He's out of his mind as usual! I know you're gonna last at least to eight months, you'll see. Mark my words!"

"I hope you're right." Amanda rubbed her belly. "I wouldn't want to disappoint Erica...."

"That sister of yours is already obsessed with pushing out as many kids as she can. She really looks up to you, you know?"

"And she looks amazing carrying quints! Can't believe she's already nineteen.... Time flies...."

"But you're twenty-five so you might as well blow up like a big balloon?"

"Exactly! I think this is the perfect send off for me, I love breeding and pumping out dozens of kids, but I just love putting on a show, knowing as many people as possible are getting their rocks off to me."

"That's my girl. And wow, think this is the longest I've seen you go without making that pussy cum like a fire hydrant in years. I better not keep you much longer, wouldn't want you to have an accident--I see you rubbing those chubby thighs together, baby!"

"Is it that obvious? Mmmm, well how about you join me? My fans love it when you guys join in, especially you, daddy. Who doesn't love seeing a hugely pregnant girl with giant udders like these getting fucked by her daddy? Plus, all those donations we make together might just go to you anyway...."

"You know, you've got a point, darling."

#bursting kink #belly burst #inflation kink #popping kink #preggophilia #breeding k1nk #pregnant nsft

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letstrip13 · 11 days

Note

can you plz make a Chris fanfic similar to the "teach me" fanfic of matt? Except the reader likes Chris and was actually experienced and just wants to fck him? 🙏🏻🙏🏻 If you're comfortable ofc

🎱 - liar, liar

reader x chris

summary: you and chris remember an old pact from high school. what happens when you lie to him for your own pleasure?

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving

word count: 1,844

author's note: i added those cute lil pictures to all my fics and i love how they turned out!! you can look at them on my masterlist if you want :)

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you and your three best friends walk through the front door of their LA house. you'd known each other since middle school, meeting nick in math class then being introduced to chris and matt soon after. you turned twenty just a few weeks ago. since the triplets had been too caught up in their work to visit you in boston at the time, they cleared their schedules and flew you out to have their own celebration with you. you had arrived this morning and they had taken you anywhere you wanted to go during the day before giving you presents and taking you out to dinner and a movie.

you ended off the night by filming a car video with them. it's the first time you've appeared on their channel. it was something along the lines of, “best friend of triplets answers questions about being the best friend of triplets.” they'd already done similar videos with their parents and their older brother, justin. you're understandably a bit worried about the fans, you've seen the way they are. but you know that you're just best friends with the triplets, nothing more.

well, maybe just a little more when it came to chris. you couldn't help it. he was by far the hottest guy you know. and that damn smile. he flashes you one of those signature, charming smiles as he leads you to his bedroom after you both say goodnight to his brothers.

he lets you change in his bathroom while he does so in his room. you change into sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, take your makeup off, and brush your teeth. he catches your eye as you switch, you getting into his bed while he goes into his bathroom, and you notice he's only wearing boxers and a white t-shirt.

you get comfortable in his bed, leaning against the headboard and pulling the blankets up to cover your legs. his door is semi-open and you can see him standing at the sink, brushing his teeth. “forgetting something?” you tease, referring to his lack of pants. “nope,” chris responds, mumbling due to the toothpaste filling his mouth. he spits loudly and rinses his mouth before washing his face and joining you in bed.

neither of you are tired yet, the excitement of getting to hang out after so long keeping you awake and giving you a little buzz of energy. you spend what feels like hours reminiscing on all the fun memories you had in high school. after talking about a particularly funny time in senior year, leaving you both in a fit of giggles, he speaks up. “hey, remember that pact we made?” he asks between laughs.

it takes you a moment to figure out what he meant. he was referring to a pact you made probably around four or five years ago now: if one or both of you were still virgins by the time you're twenty, you'd sleep together. your laughs slow to a stop. was he going somewhere with this? “yeah, i do.” “well..?” he asks.

you didn't think he'd take it seriously at all, it was just a dumb thing you made up in high school. but chris is the type of guy to keep his word no matter what and you know exactly what he's implying.

chris isn't a virgin, he's told you about the few hookups he's had. but he doesn't know that you've had a few as well. whether or not you two follow through with this pact is completely reliant on your answer. you've always wanted to sleep with him anyways, so what's the harm in a little lie?

“yes, i'm still a virgin.” a smile lights up his face at your words. “do you actually want to go through with this?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. you respond by kissing him which he's a little caught off guard by. considering you'd supposedly never done this before, wouldn't you be more unsure, or even shy? he didn't pay any mind to it, eagerly deepening the kiss and putting his hands up your shirt.

you pull away briefly to remove each other's shirts before chris pulls you in, immediately connecting his lips to yours. his fingers find their way to your nipples, eliciting whimpers from you as he pulls and teases them. you move your hand down to the bulge in his boxers, feeling his cock growing harder as you palm him through the fabric.

he lets out a soft groan, pulling away. “get on your knees for me, sweetheart.” he stands up as you get on your knees in front of him. you tug his boxers down, his hard cock springing up and hitting his lower stomach. precum leaks from the tip and you teasingly lick it off while you look up at him through your lashes. he makes a noise that sounds something like a combination of a sigh of pleasure and a whimper. you swirl your tongue around the tip before wrapping your lips around it. he shifts his hips forward, causing you to take him deeper in your mouth.

he grabs your hair, forming a makeshift ponytail to hold it out of the way for you as you work more of his shaft into your mouth. you move your mouth as far down as you can go before bringing it back up so your lips are wrapped around the tip before going back down again. you repeat this action, starting out slow but getting faster after a bit. you stroke the few inches at the base that you can't fit in your mouth.

your skills impressed yet confused chris; you claimed to be a virgin yet it was clear that you had experience. the thought didn't linger for very long at all, disappearing as quickly as it came. “fuck, you're taking me so well,” he praises you with a moan, throwing his head back in pleasure.

you slowly pull away letting his cock out of your mouth with a soft pop. his eyebrows furrow in disappointment but the look quickly fades when you stand up in front of him and take off the clothes remaining on your lower half.

you sit on the bed, your head against the pillows. chris gets on too, hovering over you as he presses a heated kiss to your lips. he slowly trails one of his hands down, ghosting his thumb over your clit. your hips buck up slightly, craving more of his touch. he pulls away, kissing down your neck as he pushes one finger into you. he sucks light marks into your skin as he pumps in and out, soon adding a second finger while his thumb rubs circles on your clit, leaving you moaning under him.

he pulls his fingers out slowly and brings his hands down to your hips to flip you over. now you're on your hands and knees, facing the headboard while he's on his knees behind you. he teasingly rubs his cock against your entrance but you don't want to wait around for that. you need to feel him inside you. “chris, please. no teasing.” you arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. “can't wait to feel you.”

he moves one hand up to your waist as he uses the other to guide his cock into you, causing you both to moan at the feeling. he starts thrusting at an agonizingly slow pace but he's still hitting all the right spots. “f-faster please,” you whine.

he complies and speeds up his movement while bringing his hands down to your ass, loving the way it feels against his palms as he kneads it. “i fucking love your ass,” he moans out as he gives it a slap, causing you to whimper at the painful sensation. “i always have.” he gently rubs his palm over the area, soothing the pain he caused you.

your moans have grown louder as that familiar feeling starts to build up, you're getting close. chris grabs both your arms and holds your wrists together behind your back with one of his hands. he gently pushes the back of your head down so your face is buried in his pillows, muffling your cries of pleasure. he lets go of your wrists and moves his hands back to your hips, holding you steady as you arch your back.

“i-i'm close,” you moan, muffled by the pillows. chris gets more aggressive with his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips which you're sure will leave little bruises. your eyes roll back as he hits spots so deep, so perfectly, in a way you never thought was possible. it only takes a single minute for you to be crying out into the pillow, your legs shaking as you cum on his cock.

his orgasm follows closely behind yours. “fuck-” he groans, pulling out and shooting his warm, sticky load all over your ass and lower back. he grabs a t-shirt and cleans you up. you turn over and get out of bed, both of you getting dressed. he holds out his hand for you to take, which you do. “come on, let's go upstairs. i'll get you water and something to eat.” “okay, thank you.”

you follow him out of his room and upstairs to the kitchen, being careful not to wake anyone. you lean on the counter and you feel a small twinge of guilt gnawing at you for lying to chris. he hands you a bottle of water from the fridge. you open it and take a sip. “chris, i have to tell you something..” he looks away from the cabinet he was searching in for snacks. “yeah, what's up?”

you take a deep breath, nervous for what his reaction might be. he wasn't the type to get angry with you much but you worried you had crossed a line. “i lied to you. i wasn't actually a virgin. i just said that so you'd fuck me because i knew you wouldn't otherwise.” you look down, avoiding his gaze and preparing yourself for him to get angry.

but it never comes. instead he just laughs. you look up at him, your expression laced with confusion. “i know. you're a terrible liar.” “what?” you ask, partly out of confusion from his response and partly because he called you a terrible liar. it couldn't have been that unbelievable. “oh come on. if you say you're a virgin, at least pretend you don't know how to suck a dick.” this leaves you speechless and all that leaves your lips is a laugh.

he turns back around to look for snacks. “want some animal crackers?” he asks, offering you the open box. “sure,” you reach into the box and grab a few. you eat one before breaking the silence. “you're the best i've ever had, you know.” “of course i am. it's me,” he replies in a teasing tone with that charming smile of his. you roll your eyes and throw an animal cracker at him. of course he was.

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author's note part 2: actually go look, you won't regret it. it won't take long and it's definitely worth it cause they're really cute. idk why i didn't add them sooner

author's note part 3: you should totally go look. please?

author's note part 4: can you tell i want everyone to see them? have i convinced you yet? okay i'll stop now thanks for reading!!

୨୧⋆｡˚ tags: @chrissturniolosbitch @christhopersturniolo @mattscurlygirly @fratbrochrisgf @d3axplr @junnniiieee07 @rubyjaneaxx @leakedsturns @remussbitch @ccolleenn @sturnpooks @ribread03 joinnnn <3

#chris x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo fic

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pavardscherie · 1 year

Text

― what i deserve ;; pablo gavi & pedri gonzalez ;; part one

⤷ pairing: pablo gavi x f!reader ;; pedri gonzalez x f!reader ⤷ summary: your relationship with gavi ended after he cheated on you. time has passed, pedri always checked up on you with small messages until he invited you to one of the home games. somewhere between losing your heart to pedri; gavi still attempts to get you back. ⤷ warnings: curse words ;; injuries ;; mentions of blood ;; hand around throat ;; explicit sex scenes ;; asshole!gavi ;; cheating ;; violence in fights ;; spanking ;; dom & sub ;; dirty talk ;; teasing ;; very deep feelings & conversations ;; slight triangle thing but not most of the time ;; second chances kinda ;; friends to lovers ;; not proofread & probably horrible written kiss scenes lol ⤷ izzy's notes: first part here we go! it took me so long tbh, but like, i swear i got distracted by pedri (& reading other's imagines about pedri lol). tell me what you think if you want!

Seven Months passed. Multiple calls turned into none. Messages vanished from your lockscreen, and for the first time, when you stared down at your phone, it seemed more like a blessing than torture. The reminders of an unhealthy relationship rested in the back of your mind, stopping the painful memories of being cheated on to resurface.

It’s been almost a month since you found yourself, enjoying casual football games again. Raised by a very determined father, who cheered from the couch or in the middle of the fans for his favorite club, he passed his knowledge to you before he became the beautiful picture in the settling sun.

Avoiding Camp Nou to increase the distance between you and your former boyfriend, the stadium pulled you back one day. It all started with a call, you never expected to receive. On the other side of the line, waited a nervous Pedri with an invitation to one of his home games. After the awful break up with Gavi, the friendship between you and his best friend crumbled quickly.

At least, once in a while, you received a short text message, asking about your well-being but after answering, you never received another. The game of two messages in a month lasted until the surprising call reached you and suddenly, Pedri found himself in your inbox almost each day.

And somehow, even after declining his invitation multiple times in a row, you ended up in the secluded section of the stands, reserved for family members and people close to the players. It was new to you to be treated like a special addition in someone’s life as Gavi never offered you such a seat.

Your little flag draped over the bouncing legs, the anxiety had you trembling. An empty stomach caused your chest to tighten, as your eyes skimmed across the still empty pitch. It would be the first time of seeing Gavi again, after checking his latest social media posts once in a while. Snapchat let you in on the multiple parties he visited over the past months; in each picture another girl with high hopes of feeling his undivided love wrapped around his biceps. It was pathetic in many ways, especially that you still shed a tear while staring at the photo, and compared yourself to the different types of women.

Gavi never really had a particular type. He just enjoyed the thought of having too many gush about him.

Loud music boomed through the stadium, the announcer’s voice mixed with the beat as he welcomed the fans of both teams. After a quick speech about the upcoming match, the team was shown on the large four screen on each side of Camp Nou.

Fans shouted the last names of the players, some louder and some swallowed by the warm air of the early summer day until two faces appeared. Number Thirty, Gavi. His face appeared on the screen, the pillow-like lips without a curl and the arms crossed. He still looked like the guy, you met over a year ago.

Yet, the fans were equally excited when Pedri’s number was shown. Black hair carefully brushed down, the ends of his strands scattered across the forehead and the arms crossed like Gavi had before.

Eyes glued to the screen in front of you, you paid no attention to the players, running onto the pitch in their pre-match jackets and warming up for exhausting ninety minutes without additional time. Discomfort replaced the emptiness, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to stand up, and run out of Camp Nou — away from the upcoming confrontation, and seeing Gavi question Pedri’s intentions.

Nervously, your trembling fingers brushed the loose strands of hair out of the face, attempting to forget about the little voice in the back of your head — shouting at you to run as fast as you could. You were close to the field, almost too close for your liking as it seemed so easy to notice your attendance.

Maybe it was a mistake to show up; even after Pedri’s words turned into a sweet begging. You should have declined his attempts, should have watched the match from home and switching channels quickly when Gavi appeared on the screen. Same routine as the past year.

“I thought you would dodge.” A familiar, gentle voice demanded your attention, the source standing right in front of the stands. Your head snapped around, almost quick enough to tear a muscle, as you were faced with Pedri. A ball tightly in one hand, his lips curled into a sweet smile. Black strands styled upwards on the front, dressed in the Barcelona kit and a pre-match jacket, his eyes glued on you.

“I accepted; how could I dodge then?” Your elbow propped up on your knee to stop the nervous bouncing of your leg, you placed your chin in your palm. “I’m not that mean.” Emphasizing the the second to last word, Pedri’s head dipped down, and chuckled mildly.

“I can’t judge that, it’s been a while.” The ball rolled out of his grip and bounced on the grass until being trapped underneath the studs of his football shoes. “I didn’t tell him, you’re here. He doesn’t really deserve to know about your presence.”

Pedri was Gavi’s best friend, they shared secrets with each other and even trained out of the club together. Through your relationship, you became close friends with Pedri as well. And you were thankful for it, as he forced Gavi into telling you how he messed up that one night. If it wasn’t for Pedri, you still would be trapped in a very toxic relationship with a man, who used your trust for nightly adventures.

“Thank you.” You mouthed, this time letting the small smile tugging on the corners of your mouth break through. “Score a goal for me, yeah?”

Pedri raised a bushy eyebrow, surprised by what you demanded from him after losing contact for way too long. Yet, nothing has changed, you were still irresistible in each possible way for him. Turning away from you to dribble towards the teammates, Pedri glanced over his shoulder for a second time and raised his hand to show you a simple thumbs up. Enough of an answer for the question, as the midfielder found his way to his partner in crime on and off the pitch.

The game was in the hands of Barcelona, holding the ball in their possession the longest, and playing in the half of the enemy team. Close to scoring the lead goal, they stood in the twenty-ninth minute when a particular, harsh foul coaxed a gasp out of your mouth. A frustrated defensive player from Villareal decided to slide-tackle Pedri, the studs on his shoes hitting the ankle of the midfielder with full force instead of the rolling ball.

With a loud scream, filled with pain, Pedri fell to the ground, clutching his ankle between both hands. Pain twisted in his expression, and you jumped up from the seat, throwing your hands in the air. Camp Nou was filled with Barcelona supporters who booed and shouted insults through the stands.

Pedri was the last friend you had left, the last person that actually attempted to ask about your well-being even if he never answered another message until writing again. Seeing him, crumbled, laying on the ground, triggered the bubbled-up anger inside of you.

"Idiots!" You suddenly shouted; the insult rolled off your tongue quicker than you were able to process in your head. The medical team hurried across the field, pushing the Barcelona players out of the way to take a closer look at the ankle. While your eyes glistened with worry, they drifted from the ground to another person, ruffling the hands nervously through the hair and staring down at his best friend. Gavi.

Delicate palms pressed against the cold, silver bars which were used as a railing, you stared at the horrific incident, and how the medical's started to help Pedri off the field. But the midfielder's mind changed with the first steps, shaking his head and hands to explain that he belonged on the pitch; and wanted to stay. The referee behind them, blew his whistle, pointing his fingers annoyed at the watch around his wrist. Waving him off, Pedri hobbled off the field and the game continued quickly. At least three minutes have passed, if not longer, and it would be added at the end of the first half.

Still leaning across the railing, you tried to steal a glance at the coaching bench to see if Pedri was truly doing better, or playing the tough guy while his ankle swelled in a deep navy blue and wine purple. The medical team focused completely on the midfielder, inspecting how harsh the contact was and how strong the pain was. Losing Pedri in the midfield position would be a devastating start into the game.

The match continued, with Barcelona forced to play with one man less; and the opponents immediately tried to use the fact to their advantage. You couldn’t find a second to glance away from the painful twist on Pedri’s face. Eyes squeezed close, the bottom lip assaulted by his teeth as the medic’s pressed their fingers deeply against different spot around his ankle.

Minutes passed, and Xavi decided a substitute for the struggling Pedri was needed on the pitch. Displeased by the quick exchange, he rolled his eyes but swallowed the unattractive curse words which wanted to escape his mouth. Cheerful sounds rang in your ears, the fans around you jumping to their feet with the arms stretched into the warm spring air. Lewandowski once again scored a goal for Barcelona; with an assist from none other than number thirty. Gavi, who ran over to the much taller man, jumping straight on his back for a piggyback ride.

Pedri clapped his hands from the sideline, still seated in the grass while a bandage was wrapped around the swollen ankle; a thick pack of ice hidden between the layers. While the team hugged, and congratulated Robert for another perfect lead goal, Gavi jogged along the sideline towards his best friend for their very own celebration. Head tilted to the side, acknowledging the different aged females that screamed his name in a high-pitched, loud voice, with a wave and a smile.

But the curve of his mouth dropped, when his gaze drifted through the front row of the stands, bathing in the applause; and suddenly, drawn in by your presence.

A black, woolen jacket over the shoulders, the sleeves in your delicate palms. Underneath the thin material of a cardigan was a tight-cropped shirt, showing a small line of exposed skin until the charcoal-colored cargo pants perfected the chosen outfit. Hair, partly in a messy bun, the loose strands falling freely over your shoulders.

An appearance that reminded him of the first nights, you spent together. You were never a person for the tight dresses, or the overusing of makeup, and the confessions immediately drew Gavi in. But this time, your worried gaze wasn’t focused on him, you were staring at the injured man next to the coach’s bench. Concern twisted your features, eyebrows pulled down in a frown when Pedri winced as the ice bag was pressed tighter against the purple marks.

You visited Camp Nou for Pedri; for Gavi’s best friend. Unfortunately, the thought of seeing his mate touch you, kiss you, or even more, bothered him. A sudden wave of jealousy overcame Pablo, turning away from the sidelines as the referee blew the whistle for the third time, and already rummaged through the little pocket on the front of his polo shirt.

Trembling fingers brushed through the damp, chestnut strands as Gavi received the first booking of the night. And all he had left as an answer, was a subtle shrug of his shoulders instead of throwing a fit. He did not understand the sudden, unknown pinches in his heavy-breathing chest, or the reason behind the drifting gaze of his eyes to see if you were still in the stands and not already by Pedri's side.

A trail of thoughts, seeing you with his best friend entangled, bothered his mind and increased the difficulty of focusing solely on the last minutes of the first half. In seconds, he remembered the scent you carried around like a shield of protection, a fruity mixture of raspberries and vanilla. It was never a perfume like he assumed in the beginning, it was just a tube of shower gel. Those memories never bothered his concentration before, all it needed to remind him, was a glance at your face.

The referee blew the whistle once more, ending the first half of the match with a leading goal for Barcelona. And it did not take you longer than a minute to find a way out of the stands and to the catacombs. Your face was a familiar one, the security guards were still the same from the time you were by Gavi's side. An advantage for you, as they casually nodded their heads and let you through to the entrance of the tunnels. Brushing the thin strands out of the face while jogging down the corridor, the hem of your sleeves tightly between the delicate palm and soft fingertips.

Anxiety burst through your body in irregular waves when you reached the entrance to the pitch. Greeted by multiple familiar faces, your unfocused gaze drifted through the crowd, trying to find the injured midfielder. "How ironic." The rough voice twisted your stomach, the all-too-familiar melody, you once loved to listen to for more than six months. Stopping in your tracks, like the soles of your shoes were rooted to the tiled floor, you swallowed the breath you held without notice. Before you had a chance to find Pedri, and assure yourself that the concern was deeply unnecessary, Gavi found your worked-up self. „Can‘t stay away from me, huh?“

Arrogance infiltrated Pablo‘s voice, showing off the admiration he received over the past months as a shield and a new part of his personality. Confidence always lingered in his body, but the way he spoke, wasn’t similar to what you remembered. Teeth gritted, the anger bubbled in the pit of your stomachs. Anger twisted your insides, tainted your gentle heart and attempted to push you into a blinded rage. Accusing him of what he has done, how easily he played with your heart and tossed you away, but the worse part was the way, he tore your soul apart with his lies and words. Delicate fingers clenched into tight fists, the manicured nail dug into the sensitive skin of your palms.

Little needles pierced your heart, and the pain tightened your chest. You wanted to scream at him, make a fool out of yourself in the middle of the faces, you became all too familiar with. Turning around to face the arrogant curve of his mouth, Gavi stood against the wall. Studs against the stones, arms crossed over the Barcelona Jersey with the number thirty and his name. Chestnut strands in a devilish mess, thick hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead but the curl of his lips, the smugness written in the corners was the only part of him, you were able to focus on. It did not matter how attractive he was in any situation, the actions he did turned him into an ugly person for you. "Hermanito, she's not here for you. I invited her to the game." Pedri's gentle voice echoed through the corridor, capturing the attention of the two ex-lovers. Gavi rolled his eyes, tilting the head to the side while yours snapped in the direction of the entrance to the pitch at the first tone.

One arm draped over the shoulders of a medic, Pedri was carried inside on one foot. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, he was still in pain, but he did not intend to show an ounce of it. Pedri's gaze drifted away from the glimpse of annoyance in Gavi's expression, and to your face. Gentle features twisted by emotions, anger, and confusion, but also concern overshadowed the pureness.

„Are you okay?“ Carefully, you took a step towards the injured player, who assured the medic‘s that he was fine enough to walk further on his own. „That looked harsh, is it broken? I hope not.“ You rambled on between questions and expressing your concern as the distance closed between the two of you, and Pedri stepped into your little personal bubble.

Gavi‘s existence was not acknowledged by you anymore, the groan that slipped past his lips swallowed by the thick air in the catacombs. "No, it's swollen but it's nothing too serious. I'm benched for the rest of the game though."

"At least, it's nothing too bad! I almost jumped off the stands after hearing your scream." The words she attempted to hold inside, spilled out of her mouth, and admitted the intense moments of concern she went through. "Don't worry, again." Pedri chuckled, waving the worry away with his hand. "But it's flattering to know that you declined my invitation way too many times, just to sit in the stands weeks later and jump out of your seat because I got tackled.” While Pedri did not leave a second to spare to share a flirtatious comment with you, Gavi swallowed the heavy mixture of breath and oxygen. A lump in the throat, the need to leave the hallways indescribable but his hooded eyes were glued to the scene. Curiosity forced him to stay in his place, curiosity about how far the encounter would evolve.

„Well..“ You trailed off, swaying from your weight from the left to the right while deciding what words to say. „You’re my friend.“ A gentle smile plastered over your face as the answer slipped out so easily. But what you didn’t see, was the little flinch in Pedri‘s proud posture, the way he almost considered taking a step back and leaving your personal bubble again after hearing the word friend. For him, you were always irresistible, he never understood how his best friend chose hundreds of others when the perfect example of a caring girlfriend was right in front of him.

But the scene, the awkwardness that unfolded between the two of you caused a loud laugh to slip out of Gavi‘s mouth. Suddenly, he was relieved that he stayed to witness how you called him a friend with such ease. “All that work for being pushed into the friend zone again.“ He clapped his hands together, pushing himself off the wall to walk towards the changing rooms. „Maybe, she‘s still too much into me, hermanito.“ Pablo disappeared, including himself in the round of multiple conversations between his teammates. Thoughts vanished when you confessed Pedri was just another friend; leaving you alone with him in the corridor suddenly did not bother Gavi anymore. Satisfied by your words, satisfied to see that you just could not move on from what he gave you, plastered a wide smirk across his face. At least Pablo told himself that you weren’t able to leave him in the past to smooth his growing ego. Glimpses of confidence and pride written over the curl of his mouth.

"Maybe, you can watch the second half from the stands with me?" You fiddled with the ties on your cargo pants, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. Gavi's words triggered another wave of pure anger, and it was difficult to decide if calling Pedri a friend was the wrong or a good choice. "Just you know, if your coach allows it." Shrugging the shoulders, asking such a question felt oddly weird. And waiting for an answer gave rise to your nervousness.

"I have to change first, then there shouldn't be a reason not to be able to." Asking for his company in the stands, with the almost invisible watermelon-pink tint across the span of your cheeks, allowed another spark of hope to ignite in Pedri's stomach.

Taking a liking to his best mate's ex-girlfriend wasn't the greatest move, but Pablo knew the best, that Pedri fancied you for much longer than he actually said. With a quick nod, the injured midfielder stumbled into the changing room and immediately received a warm welcome, and questions about his foot from his teammates. Except for his best friend, Gavi stayed in the corner of the room, drowning a bottle of water while his intense glare never left Pedri's smiling face. And the number thirty of the Barcelona Football Club was the first to leave the locker room again, leaving behind a confused Balde, and stumbling straight into your gaze again.

Somehow, his features moved on their own. Furrowed brows relaxed, and the corners of his mouth lifted, much to your dismay. “You could have done anything.” Gavi pointed a single finger at you, closing the distance with slow steps. The woolen cardigan suddenly felt too warm, too tight wrapped around your numb limbs at the sight. For months, you avoided social media, the news and even football as a whole to not come in contact with regret. Remorse for not answering his incoming text messages about spending time together again, the multiple question marks that filled your inbox and even worse, the filthy words he sent without hesitation, which your body accepted and reacted to way too quickly. “And yet, you chose my best friend as a reasonable excuse to watch me again.”

Shaking your head to answer his words without having to use your trembling voice, defending the leftovers of your pride, you failed ultimately when Gavi caged you between his sweaty body and the cold brick wall. Calloused palm placed beside your head, he used his free one to let his warm fingertips dance over the span of your cheeks. “Still so beautiful, even after I ruined you so many times.” The whispers triggered the memories, the moments you locked away in your mind — yet, not deeply enough for Gavi to easily access them.

Nights, you spent at his newly bought house. Wrapped tightly in the comfort of the black blanket, his naked chest pressed against your bare, arched back. Rough fingertips dug into the sensitive skin around your throat, pressing your windpipe barely together. It was never meant to hurt you, the ecstasy was his greatest reason. His hips snapped against your ass, diving deeper into the warmth of your walls. Moans filled the in darkness drowned bedroom, the dim light of the moon illuminating the side of your face. Lids fluttered close, just like those nights when Gavi was in the mood to ruin you.

But he chuckled, nonchalantly and pulled your mind out of the daydream that played like a movie in front of your closed eyes. Forcing the lids open, your pupils dilated in slight shock. Months of preparation weren’t enough to decline Gavi any access to your mind. But what was worse was the rapid pace of your heartbeat or the painful hammering against your rib cage that he was able to feel. The hand on your cheek started to travel south, fingertips caressed along your jaw, over the side of your throat, and towards your chest. Palm softly pressed against the material of your shirt, fitting perfectly between your breasts, his lips curled upwards in satisfaction when your heart boomed against his sprawled-out hand. „Still the same reaction and yet, you think Pedri could offer you what I‘ve given you.“ Head tilted to your height, just a couple of centimeters smaller than him, his warm breath fanned over your glossy lips

"Tell me that you're still mine, carino." Gavi muttered into the thin air that was caught between your mouth and his. Shaking your head with the last bit of willpower, and the unsettling feeling of shame in the pit of your stomach as he played his little mind games with you, your lips brushed over his repeatedly but never closed the gap. „You ruined me one too many times, darling.“ You hissed, wiggling yourself out of his trap and stepping to the side as the door to the locker room opened, and multiple players walked outside. It was the last piece of self-confidence that slipped out of your mouth and defended your honor. Mistakes were made, repeated way too often and kept as long-term secrets throughout the relationships. Gavi's disrespect to you as a woman was enough to turn him into an unattractive person. Yet, you questioned yourself if the sentence you spoke, wasn't too harsh.

Suddenly, your shoes became an interesting view to avoid Gavi's lingering gaze and the quick glances of the passing players. But Pedri's appearance went by unnoticed, his white sneakers the first thing you see. Taking in his body, the left hem of his cargo pants settled underneath his knee to decrease the pressure on the swollen ankle, the charcoal color an extravagant sight on his tanned skin. Paired with a hoodie, he adjusted the pieces of clothing to the warm weather, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A small black bag underneath his arm, keeping the most important essentials like his phone, and money inside of it. "You look a little flushed." Pedri used one of his hands to show with his long fingers the strawberry red tint across your cheeks, on his own face. Unfortunately, his words did not help to calm down your irregular breathing, or the intense pounding in your chest.

Any second longer at Camp Nou spread the discomfort in your body, shifting the weight from your left foot to the right to overshadow how much you trembled from the minutes with Gavi alone. Telling Pedri about his best friends' assault on his former lover would be absurd, after all, he was just a piece between Pablo and you. A friend for the two of you, but quietly cheering for your side. Clothes, way too tightly wrapped around your heavy limbs. Pedri's gentle face, radiating too much for your comfort.

"I think, I might just skip." You muttered, tilting the head to the side to avoid witnessing how the disappointment and the surprise twisted Pedri's features. Guilt bubbled in the pit of your stomach, inviting the midfielder first and then immediately taking back your words, and wanting to leave the stadium. Just in the span of five minutes, the glimpse of hope in Pedri's body vanished. Your sudden confession was a surprise to him, already attempting to find the mistakes he made that caused any discomfort to your figure. But the search never found a reasonable result. "Oh, I can sit at the coach's bench if you don't want to watch the game with me, it's fine." Pedri suggested immediately, trying to take the blame for the ways she felt without knowing what kind of emotions mixed in the pit of her stomach. "What?" You reacted quickly, the question tumbling out of your mouth as your eyebrows rose in confusion. Just for a simple second, you were clueless why he offered such a proposition but it hit you quickly.

"You said, you want to skip." Pedri's calloused palm placed over his neck, the fingertips scratching over the small hair and tanned skin. "I guess, you meant watching the game with me."

"Oh my gosh." You facepalmed yourself, letting your soft hand caress over you face. Strawberry red tint spread further across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, showcasing a sign of shame. "I didn't mean watching the game together, it was more about the entire second half. I think I will skip the rest of the game, I don't really feel prepared enough to watch Pablo longer than needed after his rude interruption." Palm pressed to your flushed cheek, your tried to hide the hues of bright crimson red tainting your smooth skin.

“Oh.” Pedri chuckled, a very calm and light-hearted sound as the relief washed over him. “Understood. He can be a real pain in the ass.” Since Gavi transferred to Barcelona Football Club underaged, and him and Pedri became best mates. Driving as the passenger of the midfielder’s forest green mini became a ritual, the fans always knowing if they saw Pedri’s car, Gavi wouldn’t be way too far. “I really hope you don’t mind. Maybe next time, the circumstances are better.” You almost apologized for looking after yourself once again, offering Pedri a gentle smile as you turned around to leave the cursed corridors of Camp Nou.

“I can drive you home.” Pedri was quick with his suggestion, taking a step forward to wrap his long fingers around your wrist and stop the distance from growing. The little contact; just the way his warm fingertips carefully pressed against your pulsating veins, caused another blush to creep its way across the span of your cheeks and increase the heat that already put your body on flames.

Like the watermelon pink attempted to tell you that the ignited fire wasn't a usual feeling. Admiration resurfaced, the slight crush you had on the midfielder before Gavi asked you out prominent in the way your face twisted. Letting the sensation linger, the warmth spread over your skin, you tried to tug your arm away from his embrace. Instead of another attempt to convince you of his offer, Pedri's finger loosened, your limb slipping out of his grip and out of reach, without taking a step forward. "Only if you feel comfortable enough to share a car with me." Pedro added to his suggestion, witnessing how your body language changed. Muscles tensed with his touch, your voice barely audible as your heavy breaths overshadowed the words. And for merely a moment, Pedri questioned the way he almost tried to persuade you into spending time with him — even if it was just a lame car ride.

Delicate and soft palms wiped over your face, probably ruining the layers of make up you covered your blemished skin with. Choosing Pedri’s company could be a chance to feel a moment of mild comfort again. After all, he cared enough for your well-being to ask many, many times. Even when you decided not to answer the first text messages because you thought Gavi would be the reason behind the sudden interest. But it wasn’t, it has never been. “Sure, it’s better than being alone right now.” You accepted with hesitation as your mind traveled through the worst-case scenarios. While you walked through the corridors towards the parking lot where the signature green mini waited, you heard how the fans chanted Gavi’s name like a beautiful melody as another goal extended the lead. Another ball hitting the back of the net, another time number thirty scored for Barcelona.

Bathing in the applause, the attention and how needy the girls at the front of the stands tried to reach out, Gavi smiled at the cameras. The curl of his mouth plastered across his face, the burst of happiness faded when the drifting gaze of his deep hazelnut orbs didn’t find your face in the crowd. Empty seats in the secluded section, his head snapped to the coach’s bench to find Pedri. But his best mate was missing too.

Unfortunately, the realization and the negative thoughts forced Gavi into a wave of blinded rage. He knew immediately, he would leave the pitch with another booking — just no one knew if it would be a simple yellow as usual, or a deeply crimson red one.

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