#like i understand needing to get away from shitty parents

[myname-isnia]

How do I politely tell my friend to fuck off

#she’s been getting on my nerves for months I can’t do this anymore #I thought I was doing a nice thing #letting her play video games on my laptop when she stays over #bc her parents are over controlling and won’t let her #but now all she ever does is play when she comes over #and doesn’t pay any attention to me #what’s the point of coming over if you’re gonna ignore your friend #to the point that I fucked off to the kitchen for like two hours and she did. not. notice #like i understand needing to get away from shitty parents #god knows I did that too #but when I went over to my friend’s house we played video games TOGETHER #AND WE TALKED AND WENT ON WALKS AND HAD FUN #TOGETHER #I DIDN’T GO OVER SAYING WELP THANKS FOR THE COMPUTER PISS OFF I’M GONNA PLAY NOW #WE HAD MINECRAFT WORLDS AND JUST DANCE COMPETITIONS AND SIMSELVES #I hate being mean but honestly I’m this close to snapping #this close to just deleting that fucking game

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

#sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fic #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you

[melancholyhigh]

SUNRISE.

ft. brother's best friend!leon x reader

synopsis. even though leon's supposed to be having a sleepover with your brother, he can't help but miss you, sneaking behind your brother's back to fulfil his desires.

content. 2.4k words. smut. subby!leon, handjob, fingering, quiet & sneaky sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), come eating, praise kink.

note. i'm finally active and the first thing i do is write for sub leon. old habits die hard.

masterlist. i love reblogs & validation !!

You stare blankly at your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. It’s currently 5 AM, and you’ve spent the entire night twisting and turning, trying to succumb to the sweet escape of slumber.

You believe it’s your body betraying you. Your brain understands his presence near you, but not close enough. It yearns for him and his touch, unable to function without it. He’s in the room across from yours, lying on the grimy couch in your brother’s room as he peacefully sleeps.

Your eyes begin to droop, and you allow yourself to give into the sense of vulnerability. Breaths coming out evenly, your chest rising and falling in sync. 

All sense of tranquillity disappears at the firm knock on your door. What could your parents possibly want?

You let out a groan in frustration. In all honesty, you’re about to burst into tears. The comforting rest you’ve been anticipating since Monday swept away because you couldn’t handle your feelings correctly, up late at night just thinking about what could’ve been.

The quicker you get it over with, the faster you’ll be able to get some sleep. You highly doubt that, though.

A few minutes pass, and you rip the smothering blanket off you, shuffling to the door. Gripping the cool metal of the doorknob, you stall before turning it.

The door opens to reveal him. Leon. The source of your nighttime dilemmas. His lips curved into a shy smile, and his eyelids drooped with similar exhaustion to yours. Your anger and frustration dissipate when you meet his tired gaze. It’s astonishing how much control he has over your emotions, over you.

“Can I come in?” he asks sheepishly, his voice hoarse from sleep. You stumble to the side, silently allowing him to enter the confines of your room. It’s second nature to him when he falls not so gracefully onto your bed, snuggling your sheets.

Closing the door, you lock it before joining him on your bed. It wasn’t unusual for Leon to find comfort in your twin-sized bed despite barely being able to fit in it with you, his limbs dangling off the ledge. It was odd of him to entertain the idea while your brother was nearby. 

He’s the cautious one despite asking you out first. He’s reluctant to face the consequences of your brother finding him intertwined with you in your sheets. You’re not mad at him for keeping your relationship private, but it’s not like you hate the idea of him showing you off or you, him.

You don’t care if your brother finds out. He’d get over it, but your brother’s a bitch when he wants to be. Though you’ve dealt with him for most of your life, it would be nothing new.

So, it confuses you why he’d want to doze off on your bed, risking facing your brother, and your silence doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I couldn’t sleep without you,” Leon mentions, words slurring from his drowsiness. If you were unable to sleep before, now you’re wide awake. He could’ve lied, saying that shitty recliner your brother got on a ‘deal’ was terrible support for his back. But no, he needed you just as much as you needed him. 

“I missed you too,” you reply, nose almost touching his as you rest your head on his pillow. Every moment shared between you two, you can’t help but admire him. He’s so pretty, even like this. Blonde hair draped messily onto your pillow, his cheeks rosy, and his half-lidded eyes shine brighter than any of the stars you’ve gazed at.

A grin graces his usual pouty lips. Leaning over, he presses his mouth to yours — it’s less lust and more intimate, reminding you of the first kiss you shared. You had never been more grateful for your dumbass brother getting locked in the theatre’s bathroom stall.

Your mom had forced you to pick up your little brother and his friend from the movie theatre, and you hadn’t anticipated his cute friend, whom you may have liked, sitting in the passenger seat as you both waited begrudgingly for your brother.

You had seen him around, playing fighter games with your brother on his PS1 in the living room. He was your favourite of his friends. Not only was he handsome, but he was also a good influence on your troublesome brother. And you may have developed a teensy crush on him. You didn’t take it seriously because you’re his best friend’s sibling — why would he even consider you an option?

Until that evening when he proved you wrong, your brother was gone for 20 minutes, and you had no other option but to talk to the boy. He was a bit awkward, you were too, but you both began talking and surprisingly hit it off. 

After mindless chatter, he confessed, which confused you til no end. He really wanted you? Your silence startled the poor boy, ultimately leading you to return his feelings with a simple kiss to end the night.

But it's different now as you entangle your fingers into his hair, tugging softly, a soft whimper falls from his parted lips — why was everything about him so pretty?

“Don’t be so loud, baby. Do you want him to hear you?” you whispered teasingly against his lips. His warm hands trail under your sleep shirt and grip your hips roughly.

“Fuck off,” he huffs quietly. The walls are thin, incredibly so. You’ve heard the movies Leon and your brother were watching during the night, and you’re sure they’ve heard you listening to music, so it was plausible that he might hear Leon’s moans and whines, but your brother slept like a rock.

And, even though the prospect of people knowing how good you please Leon was hot. The mortification of your brother, let alone your mother catching you, certainly was not.

Taking your hand in his, he guides it to his crotch, his erection straining his plaid pyjama pants. He lets you feel how badly he wants you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and leaving kisses down the column of your throat. 

The sun slips into your room through the gap in your curtains, and you ponder how long you’ve been making out to get him so aroused. 

“Let me feel you, baby,” Leon breathed into the crook of your neck. Your hand slips into his pants, fingers teasing the head of his sensitive cock, stringy precum sticking to them. Your own arousal pools in your underwear, clinging to your drenched cunt. 

Deft fingers encircle his shaft, lazily stroking the base of his dick. Between shared kisses, Leon sneaks his hand into your shorts and underwear, rubbing your needy clit, and a sharp whimper falls from your lips. He tantalizingly glides his fingers through your slicked folds, teasing your sensitive nub with each pass of his digits.

The movements of your hand on his cock become messy and frantic, precum continuing to spill onto the material of his pants with each buck of his hip. 

You’re not faring better when he plunges his fingers into your tight hole, thrusting, resulting in your cunt producing slick and embarrassing noises. Your combined gasps and whines fill the room despite being quelled by each other’s lips. 

You melt away in each other's arms, forgetting about the conflict that would arise if anyone found you and him in such a predicament.

Drawing away from your swollen lips, Leon stills his fingers in your pussy, pulling them out, and you cease your hand on his dick. He groans at the loss of pleasure from your hands and the slick accumulated on his digits, unaware he made you so wet for him. 

“Can I cum inside you, angel?” he whispers breathlessly into your ear. He’s thoroughly lost in pleasure, uncaring if your brother finds him knuckles deep into your cunt. His cheeks are flushed pink, the blush leading to his chest under his black graphic tee. Chest heaving up and down with each breath as he admires your equally fucked out expression.  

“Mhm, okay,” you hummed, and Leon shifted his back flat on the mattress, allowing you to straddle him with shaky thighs when you rid yourself of your shorts and underwear. Leon’s palms instinctively went to your waist, gripping the flesh as he stabilised you, your ass sitting flushed to his clad thighs.

His shirt rides up, exposing his v-line dipping into his pants. Gasping softly when the fabric of his pants grazed his sensitive head, your hands eagerly dragged them down, revealing his pretty dick, flushed red to the tip oozing with precum. 

Hovering over him, you guide his cock through your glistening folds with your hand's help. You collectively groan when you slide down his cock, taking every inch of him into your tight hole. As you adjust to his size and girth, you lean down, kissing him as he encircles his arms around your waist.

You rock your hips gently, and Leon groans into your parted lips. He trails his lips to your collarbone, biting on the exposed flesh. A sudden moan escapes you when he thrusts his hips upwards into your pussy. His needy and feverish behaviour reminds you of your first time together. 

The squeaky opening of the door opposing your room results in you halting your movement on top of Leon, and he whines in protest. You clasp your hand over his mouth, glaring at him. With the tightening hold of your waist and the muffled moans, Leon is acting careless. He doesn’t give a fuck about your brother right now, too focused on the constricting grasp your velvety walls have on his throbbing cock.

The footsteps pad down the hallway, and you assume your brother is making his way down the stairs. 

“Be a good boy f’me, Leon,” you whisper, moving your hand away from his face. You don’t know what overcame him for him to be acting so recklessly. Cupping his blotchy red cheeks, you note how dazed he looks, his blue irises hidden in his dilated pupils.

“Ah, don’t stop fucking me,” he breathed in response, his hips continuing to rut into your warm cunt. The intimacy of it all makes it even more challenging to delay his release, you moving up and down his cock, riding him slowly and passionately in the morning, beams of sun sprinkling into the room, setting the euphoric scene. 

It almost makes him forget the absurdity of it. Letting his best friend’s sibling fuck him into an incoherent mess at 6 in the morning, yet he regrets nothing. He can’t help but grip your soft thighs encompassing him as he thrusts half-haphazardly into your hole, dripping down and sticking to his skin. 

He spills into you with a soft moan, staining your walls with his cum at the combination of your teasing words and soft lips on his.

“Good boy, Leon. You did so good,” you coo at him, and Leon whimpers at your praises and your tightening cunt around his overstimulated cock.

Slipping his softening dick out your hole, you collapse next to him, chest heaving as his cum trickles out of you, staining your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut, and drowsiness finally takes over your overworked body. 

Though, next to you, Leon brews in self-thought. He came after you did all the work, leaving you high and dry. What kind of boyfriend was he?

“You didn’t cum.”

“S’fine, Leon. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you grumbled, blinking your eyes open to glimpse at him. He’s pouting, and despite how endearing you found it when he couldn’t control himself around you, cumming prematurely like some bumbling virgin (he was), Leon still feels like a selfish lover.

“I can still make you cum. Please? You deserve it.” Before you can disagree with him, your brother is awake downstairs, probably looking for him — Leon quickly situates himself between your thighs, eager to satisfy you.

“Y- Yeah, okay, sure,” you stammered, because how could you deny your pretty boy, peering up at you through his long lashes between your thighs?

Spreading your thighs open, hooking them over his shoulders, Leon admires his cum leaking out your hole, stretched out due to his fat cock. You feel bashful as he marvels at your stuffed cunt, moaning in surprise when a glob of his spit falls onto your messy folds mixing with his release.

Hungrily he laps at your cunt, his skilful tongue nudging your overly responsive clit. Leon loves to make you cum with his mouth. He loves to make you feel good, and it’s dirty the way he grinds his once again hardening cock against your sheets, chasing the friction while he messily eats you out, your cunt dripping with arousal mixing with his cum.

You entangle your fingers into his hair, shoving his pretty face further into your cunt, your back arching. Biting your lip, you nearly draw blood, trying to conceal your groans.

He enjoys your pussy like it’s the main course after an appetiser, tasting his salty cum and your contrasting sweet juices as he delves his tongue into your hole. His fingers rub your throbbing clit, and your thighs shake around his head. Leon’s muffled moans and whines reverberate throughout your body, adding heat to the coiling in your tummy. 

“Am I doin’ a good job?” he questions, desperate to be good enough for you before he returns to your cunt, dragging his tongue flat against you.

“You’re amazing, baby. ‘M so close.” His nails dig into the fat of your thighs, leaving indents. You roughly pull at his hair as you climax, your body trembling when Leon moans into you. 

He continues to sloppily make out with your pussy even after your high. When he pulls away from you, a gloss of your combined cum stains his plush lips. He kisses you softly, allowing you to taste both him and you on his lips. 

He helps you into your shorts, pulling his pants up, attempting to look presentable, which is unlikely with the dried cum that stains the fabric of his PJs. He lays in your bed with you, cosying up to you with him in your arms, face in your chest. Caught up in his fantasies, he fails to face reality.

“I think you should leave. My brother might be looking for you,” you mumbled into his hair. Leon huffs in annoyance before untwining with your limbs. He wants to ask since when do you care so much about such trivial things, but he complies. He knows you’re just looking out for him.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #re4 smut #re4 #✩‧₊˚ fics

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 1

Tommy Shelby x reader

Series Master list

✨So first part is finally here!! Please be aware this part is set to happen in different days therefore you’ll see a little divider in the middle… and also! There’s violence. Please note I’m trying to follow the ideas/education from back in the day so it won’t necessary fit for today’s way of seeing things.

Word count: 2,977

Waving her sister goodbye, Y/N headed outside. But to her surprise she found Scott stopping his vehicle.

“Hello sweetheart.” He greeted her with a quick kiss on her lips, she stepped back immediately in case her mother was watching behind the curtains.

“Scott, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“We’ll I lied and said I felt sick to get out earlier.”

This wasn’t something he’d do, but she listened to his explanation.

“I wanted to see you.”

Y/N looked over her shoulder, her parents were strict.

“You know you’re only invited for lunch and tea on Sundays.”

“I know, I know.” He moved back retrieving something from the car. “Got you these.”

“I love them, thank you.” Y/N pressed the bouquet of flowers against her chest, the fresh aroma invading her, a smile growing in her lips.

“Why don’t you go back inside and put them in water? Then meet me at the bakery around the corner.”

“Where are we going?”

Scott gave her a wide smile that took her breath away. “It’s a surprise, you’ll like it.”

Butterflies got spread all over her stomach, the expectation building. She hurried to the unexpected date.

“Listen, I want to apologize for acting shitty the other day.” Scott announced. “Can you forgive me love?”

Y/N nodded eagerly, pleased by his change of heart.

“It’s alright, just be careful next time.” Y/N suggested as he drove.

“Careful?”

“You shouldn’t have talked Tommy that way.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “There you go again, defending him. This why we fight.”

“No, Scott I don’t want a war between you two all the time, he didn’t like the way you talked to me.”

“Why does he always sticks his bloody nose in our business?”

“It’s not like that.”

“He’s always standing in the middle, I’m sick of getting orders from him, he leaves me the worst jobs just to please himself, he’s got people to do those things. I thought they wanted me to do other things, not to clean horses shit.”

“Scott I can’t interfere in your role among the gang, he already has done more than enough.”

“There it is, you’re defending him instead of being on my side…”

Y/N realized how unintentionally she always put Tommy on a pedestal, her boyfriend was right, feeling like he was belittled. She knew Tommy didn’t like him, and there was a possibility that she wasn’t impartial.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She finally gave in, not wanting to spend their time together fighting.

“That’s my girl.” He stopped the car on the sideway and began to shower her face with soft kisses.

”Do you need anything else?” Lizzie walked around the desk, resting against the bookshelf.

“What happened with the contracts you couldn’t find?” Tommy asked leaning back on his chair.

“Arthur took them by mistake.”

“Keep those locked.” He pointed a finger at her.

“Are you going to Karl’s birthday party?” She tried batting her eyelashes at him, but Tommy wasn’t looking at her.

“Yes, in a minute.”

Lizzie looked down at him again, hoping he’d ask her to join him.

“Heard Ada bought a huge cake.”

Tommy took his briefcase and hummed nonchalantly.

“I wrapped you a present for Karl, take it before you leave.”

She didn’t get a response.

Giving up to her wishes to be invited with the Shelby family, Lizzie shook her head. Collecting the remains of her dignity from the floor.

Tommy followed her with his eyes as she stomped her foot on her way out but dismissed it a few seconds later, not understanding her attitude.

The office was quiet when he crossed it, everyone had headed home already and his family were already in Polly’s house.

This was the first time he left considerably early in a long time. The need to release some stress made him reach for a cigarette. He had a dozen of things to do, a trip to London in the upcoming days, visit one of the fabrics… before he realized, Tommy parked outside Polly’s property.

Karl’s celebration was a rare family gathering. For his brothers birthdays they’d usually went to camp close to the river and drink all night. He wasn’t used to paper decorations and chocolate cake.

A small figure crashed against his legs. “Oh oh.”

Looking down, he found one of John’s kids. Was this Kate? Or Barbara?

“Careful.”

“There you are.” John appeared with a sandwich in his hand. “Go with your siblings.” He instructed his daughter.

“John.” Tommy called him mysteriously, with his hand motioning his brother to step closer. “Wipe your fucking mouth, you’ve got chocolate all over it.”

Stepping into the living room, he joined his family.

“Uncle Tommy!” Karl ran towards him with his arms open.

Tommy rubbed the kid’s back and offered him his present. “Happy birthday Karl.”

“Thank you!”

“Looks like you owe me money Pol.” Ada chuckled as she helped her son open his present.

Tommy looked from his sister to his aunt, studying them.

“Damn it. I thought he wasn’t going to show up.”

“So you made a bet?” He asked in disbelief.

He usually wouldn’t. But when it came to his sister, he made an effort.

“Where’s Y/N?” Polly asked with a frown.

“I sent her the invitation, thought you’d arrive together.” Ada explained staring at her brother.

But Tommy shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen or heard from her.”

“Shit! Pol! Help me out here!” John shouted holding his son James in his arms, he was bleeding and crying. “Smashed his fucking head.”

As Ada rushed to get some clean towels, Polly tried to comfort the child.

Stepping away from the chaos, Tommy leaned against a column to think he actually hadn’t seen Y/N in almost a week. A million thoughts filling his mind, trying to find a reason for her to be distant.

He needed to know if she was alright because she had always been close to the family, she was always considered part of it to all their gatherings; she was there for them at Freddy’s funeral, at John’s wedding…

“Now that we’re here all together, I’ve something to say.” Arthur announced stepping on a chair, oblivious that Esme and Polly were taking care of a bleeding child.

As the room went quiet, Arthur announced he and Linda were expecting a baby.

“Congratulations.” Esme managed to blurr through gritted teeth. “Now help me hold James, because I need to rearrange his arm.”

As Arthur walked past Tommy, his brother patted his arm and mumbled a low congratulations.

But the thought of Y/N not being with them, stuck in his head.

Y/N felt like sleeping on the couch. Her feet were swollen, Lady Winchester lost one of her precious earrings and decided to put everyone in the search until they found it under her vanity hours later.

Oddly her family decided to stay up late apparently as she could see the candles still on. But just as she set one foot inside, her mother pushed her abruptly.

“You’re a dishonorable daughter! We gave you everything!” One of her hands intended to land on her cheek but hit her on her ear instead.

“What happened?”

“Y-your aunt says you’re with a child, she saw you this morning and came to ask me.” Y/N’s mother was furious.

A woman came into view, her sister poking her head from the kitchen as her mother pushed her into the room next to it and closed the door. She demanded Y/N to undress and started touching her breasts.

“She’s with a child.” The elder woman confirmed, her hands still on her breasts.

Y/N’s face got paler by the second. Her mother gave the woman money and asked discretion.

A heavy silence filled the room, Y/N could hear a pin drop if someone threw one. Dizziness swept over her as her palms started to sweat.

“Your father will be so disappointed by you.” Her mother sentenced firmly. “You’re a whore, this sin will follow you from now on.”

Blood went to Y/N’s feet and she had to grab the vanity for support.

“You’ll tell Scott tomorrow and get him to ask your father’s permission to marry you before you start showing.” Y/N could hear her mother’s words as if she was underwater.

“I’ll save him the embarrassment, perhaps you can go to your grandmother’s house and hide there…” she was pacing the room as a maniac, Y/N was starting to process everything, she could hardly breathe.

“I didn’t know I could get pregnant without being married.”

Y/N’s mother laughed sarcastically. “It’s too late for that now, you should’ve waited until you got married!”

“You never told me this could happen.” Y/N felt on the edge of tears.

“I educated you with values, God only knows what you learned from that friend of yours.” Her mother mumbled something else Y/N couldn’t understand. Slowly she sat on the carpet, her skirt pooled around her hips and she finally sobbed. When one day Scott touched her breasts and it felt nice, electricity ran through her body. But he stopped right there. Then after taking her to the river, one of his hands sneaked under her skirt and moved her intimate clothes to the side and her body trembled. A week after that, he was about to start a fight with Tommy, for the night when they arrived after visiting Tommy’s new house. So in an attempt to make up for that fight, he took her to the river again and after kissing her, he told her he wanted to do something else. It had been over a month since she stepped in the middle of Tommy and Scott.

Y/N didn’t know she could feel such pleasure until he introduced himself into her body and she exploded of ecstasy. It felt right, he said he loved her and they went back a few days later.

Scott had said this should be between just the two of them, just as their love. But he never told her she could get pregnant.

Worry kept her up all night. She felt sorry for her poor father.

Covering her face with her hands, Y/N felt the tears rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably.

“Scott,” Y/N breathed with relief, all the worry from the past days when she hadn’t been able to reach out soon, forgotten. “I need to talk to you.”

“Y/N… I’ve to rest, haven’t had a decent sleep yet. Can we talk about this another day?” He had been out of the city, busy with God knows what, but this was important for her, for them, for their future.

Y/N studied their surroundings carefully, trying to keep her voice from shaking she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“We’re going to have a child, Scott I’m carrying your baby.” She whispered.

Scott blinked unamused by the news, his nostrils expanding profusely. Y/N wanted to reach out, to throw herself in his arms but as they were outside his house, she had to control herself. Keep her distance with him and behave accordingly.

But when he took a step back, she felt confused.

“I-I’m… this must be a mistake.”

“No, no. There’s a baby growing inside me.” She repeated, keeping her voice down. “We’ll need to figure out about the wedding, it’ll have to be something intimate and soon before it starts showing…”

“I’m not going to marry you.” Scott scoffed. “How can I be sure this child is mine? You could’ve slept with someone else just as you did with me.” He mocked her.

Before she could stop herself, Y/N found her hand flying to his cheek. Her palm tingled after the slap she gave him.

“How could you say something like that?”

“Don’t you ever dare to fucking touch me again!” He snapped. “And as for this little inconvenient… I’m not taking responsibility, you’re on your own.”

He gave her a disgusted look and walked inside his house. Leaving Y/N turned into a crying mess, she was hurt and disappointed by his reaction and terrified of the outcome.

Her mother sent her to talk to Scott to arrange the terms of the wedding and now she just realized he didn’t have her back. But what was worse, he thought she would sleep around like a whore.

Folding her arms, she walked with her head down. Guilt and embarrassment written all over her face. How would she deal with this? How would she tell her mother what Scott just said? She had been so sure she’d be able to hide it from her father by marrying Scott but now she was left in the worst possible way.

She cried uncontrollably feeling defeated, it was now too late to do something, but at the same time she didn’t know how she’d take care and raise a baby by herself.

“Where’s Scott?” Her mother hissed when her daughter appeared in her eyesight.

Y/N couldn’t speak, something heavy made her walk slowly. Her whole world was crashing down and now she’d have to face the consequences.

“He told me he wouldn’t take responsibility for a child who might not be his.” As the words left her mouth, she started crying again.

“Of course he would say that! What did you think Y/N?!” Her mother exploded. “He must think the worst of you now, how easily you have yourself away to him!”

“He told me he loved me!” Managed to shout through her tears and sobs.

Her mother’s hand flew rapidly and hit her hard.

A heavy silence surrounded them. Her cheek was burning from her mother’s slap.

“Leave Y/N!” Her grandmother intervened.

“She deserved that.” Her mother explained, she was beyond angry.

Y/N’s grandmother wrapped an arm around her granddaughter protectively.

“What happened?”

“Tell her, go on… tell your grandmother what you did.”

Y/N kept her head down, she felt like she couldn’t look her grandmother in the eyes. She had failed them terribly, the values and principles they had showed her were thrown through the window.

“No? Well, I’ll tell her myself.” Her mother warned. “Y/N didn’t wait until marriage, she gave herself away like a whore and is now with a child. Couldn’t keep her legs closed.”

“Well we’ll think of something, she won’t start showing right away.”

“There’s nothing to think mother, Scott is out of the picture he didn't accept the responsibility.”

“But he’s as responsible as Y/N.” Her grandmother pointed out thinking this wasn’t fair on Y/N.

“Your granddaughter’s honor is right on the floor, he even suggested the baby isn’t his.”

Y/N saw her mother pacing around the small room, it was making her feel sick.

“And your father arrives tomorrow… should we send her with your sister to Durham?” She pondered the possibilities thinking of her mother’s sibling.

“Absolutely not.” Her grandmother defended.

“Then what? What are we going to do?”

Y/N felt sick and rushed away from them. Her head was pounding, her stomach in a tight knot and her heart shattered into million pieces.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.” Tommy heard from outside his office, then saw the door swing open.

“Mr. Shelby you’re the only one who can help me.”

Tommy rose to his feet in a second, the worry he found in Y/N’s grandmother raised all the alarms.

“What happened?”

“My son in law is hitting Y/N badly.” Her voice cracked, her hands reached for the sleeve of his suit. “You’ve to help her.”

Tommy took his coat from the rack and rushed to see what was happening.

“John, get Polly and meet me in Y/N’s house.” He demanded.

“I’ll go with them Mr. Shelby.” Y/N’s grandmother expressed, not wanting to make him wait.

Tommy doubted for a second, but with her hand, the elder woman ushered him, so it must be serious. Stepping in Y/N’s house without knocking because he heard her cries and pained screams from outside, but Tommy wasn’t prepared to find what he’d see.

Y/N was in the middle of the living room half her clothes shattered, kneeling on the floor and her upper body leaned over a chair, her back covered by the belt marks and blood.

He felt a rush of anger and disgust through his body. Tommy could practically taste his bile in his mouth, but as Y/N’s father was about to hit her again, he stepped in his way, holding the man’s hand firmly in the air.

“You touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Stay out of this Shelby, I’m dealing with this whore.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself or you’ll regret it.” Tommy muttered through gritted teeth.

John joined him with a couple of some of their men, they went straight to hold Y/N’s father away from her.

Y/N winced in pain when Tommy tried to help her up.

“This is a family matter!” Y/N’s mother shouted disturbed for the interruption. “You should respect that.”

“Yeah? Just like you’re respecting your daughter?” Tommy snapped, he lost all self control over this injustice.

“She has to deal with the consequences of her acts! Behaved like a whore, gets punished like one.”

Y/N felt her mother’s words like daggers to her heart. She wasn’t sure what felt more hurtful; her father’s hitting her with his belt or her mother’s words.

Tommy felt like throwing up, he apologized when he got Y/N in his arms and she complained from the pain.

“You can’t take her away!” Her mother warned, trying to stop Tommy.

He gave her a warning stare and mumbled; “watch me.”

Part 2

Divider

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @lau219 @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @red-riding-wood @lovemissyhoneybee @theendlessvoidofdarkest @wannabeperfectionists-blog @yeppaweshallsee (can’t tag) @shydysneylover (can’t tag) @holacia3 @galactic3a @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @ietss @abaker74 @natalie--rushman @elliaze @withyoutilltheendofthismess

#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy x fem reader

[bug-bites]

batfam beach episode?? real not clickbait no glue no borax??

cw: nothing! pure vacation beach fluff (p≧w≦q) also barely proofread,,,

pairing: gn!reader x batfam (NOT ALL AT ONCE.)

characters: dick grayson, jason babygirl todd, cassandra cain, tim drake, damian wayne (all intended to be interpreted as either romantic or platonic unless its damian. ik in some comic runs he's like an adult but hes like permanently 12 in my head and i dont fw that :/)

a/n: im back with a new dc obsession tee hee (soz to everyone who wanted more abt the cod guys or spiderverse im comicsmaxxing and redhoodpilled) will probably make a part 2 w/ bruce, babs, steph, and duke eventually :3c

Dick Grayson haha dick

oh he loves the beach so much

the sand beneath his feet make him feel nostalgic from when he would practice tumbling with his parents in the circus ring i think there's sand in circus rings right? I dunno someone fact check me on that one

the victim of being buried in the sand, always asks for a mermaid tail but ends up with something like massive sand tits (courtesy of either tim or jason), he laughs it off anyways

somehow gets the worst tan lines. He wore a swim shirt one time and never again because the tan lines looked SO BAD which is a total shame because he tans gorgeously

will beg to do play shoulder wars i have no clue if this is the right name, again fact check me for this thing where you get a piggyback ride from someone and you try to knock someone whos also getting a piggyback ride over in the water

you’re on his shoulders since bro is strong asf and you square up against tim and damian

obviously you lose because hello that's damian wayne we are talking about but at least its fun!!

cass and jason are forever the undefeated champions of shoulder wars though, that goes without saying

Cassandra Cain

shes always seen beach episodes in animes that damian practically dragged her into watching so when she gets to actually go to a beach she is so excited peak sibling bonding is dragging your siblings into your interests

loves building sandcastles and writing things in the sand, watching it get washed away, and then do it all over again

hold her hand and jump over waves together on the shore and she will be the giggliest and happiest human being alive on planet earth

but out of all the beach activities she loves beach volleyball

shes actually scarily good at beach volleyball for someone who has never played volleyball before

dick thought it would be fun to teach her and have a friendly match between him and bruce vs you and cass

yeah bruce and dick were COOKED. huffing and puffing like they have a vendetta against the three little pigs at the end of it while cass is like “this is so fun, lets go again!”

ends the day with a little sunset stroll along the shore i need her so bad you do not understand please bbyg ill treat u soooo well

Jason Todd

beaches are fun on paper for him, in person not so much

PERSONAL HC INCOMING! He gets migraines after the lazarus pit so he can only have so much fun before needing to lie face down with his head covered with a beach towel to make everything less overwhelming or he wears sunglasses the entire time

he brings a book to read at the beach and stays in the shade the entire time yes he is that bitch

usually at home in the comfort of his little library he likes to read things that have an impact on him or just stuff that makes him want to analyze deeper. think books like frankenstein, lord of the flies, all quiet on the western front, just generally heavier stuff

but his vacation books? totally different. usually something super light, maybe a shitty romance book that you find in walmart which are clearly just results of book packaging, or a some booktok recommendation he got for shits and giggles because it just was so laughably bad, maybe even a childhood feel-good book like percy jackson or the little prince (mostly just books he would not grieve over if sand permanently got in between the pages)

he tried reading a colleen hoover book once and honest to God wanted to toss it into the ocean HE WOULD HATE HER BOOKS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

but out of everything he likes watching you enjoy yourself, his book wasnt that important anyways. show him that funky sand dollar you found or that really cool piece of seaglass, he’s probably gonna bring it home with him. a little keepsake along with the millions of grains of sand that never seem to go away

Tim Drake

Burns so easily

At first its kinda cute, like hes asking you to help him get that spot on his back he just cant seem to reach and its just a little sweet moment between you two as you rub the sunscreen into his sore muscles

But then it happens again. And again. And again to the point when he goes up to you, you automatically reach for the tube of SPF 100+ 

I just know his vitamin d deficiency goes crazy

Leaves the beach looking like a lobster, sunburnt, a crazy bump on his head from getting hit with a volleyball, and some god awful sunglasses tan lines

Overall, beach activities are not really his thing bros job is NAWT beach

Enjoys the boardwalk a lot more than the beach itself, likes the touristy stuff but still goes to the beach because dick loves it and he loves his older brother :(

Damian Wayne

i feel like he wouldn’t care too much for typical beach stuff. like at every beach that has sand and decently clean water you can do most beach activities

one thing that is never 100% consistent at all beaches is what lives on the beaches. this boy will spend hours staring into tidepools 

bruce was lowk concerned because his son did not gaf about normal beach activities that kids do but eventually he reached a point where he was like "i mean at least hes having fun and being safe"

i feel like talia would always show him books of sea creatures when he was little but he never ended up being able to see them in their natural habitat someone take this boy to an aquarium now

tells you fun facts about each creature you come across

will scold you if you take a shell from the beach, definitely says some shit like “how would you feel if someone ran into your house and just took your bed?”  based though, leave shells at the beach yall! taking them is like bad for the ecosystem

brings his notebook around and has little sketches of the sea creatures

even though typical beach activities arent his favourite, he doesnt hate it. he likes that he can catch a break from all the vigilante stuff and spend time with his family as a family and not just as a team

loves scuba diving. idk it just somehow makes sense and i think he would look really stupid in a wet suit

also i feel like he would never mention it but in his mind hes fully thinking "this is just like a beach episode" but he would rather die than say it out loud FUCKING NERDDD

#dc comics #dc universe #dc x reader #x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #cassandra cain x reader #cassandra cain x you #black bat x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #robin x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #cassandra cain #black bat #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #dc robin #dc headcanon

[writerpetals]

behind the lens | 🔞

; optional male lead smut |  ☁️

w ; cam!au, semi-public sex, pillow humping, unprotected sex ... this story is 37k words so like prepare yourself before you go into it haha i finally got this edited and im really happy to be reposting it because its one of my FAVORITE stories i've ever written so i really really hope you like it! hehe

Your stomach twists and turns at the thought of another customer skipping out on tipping you when your finances scream that every penny counts in the moment. With a sigh of complete frustration, you swipe up the receipt they left for you on the messy table, swearing you will lose your head if you see another blank line above the total, or God forbid, another bible verse scribbled on the thin piece of paper with a pamphlet tucked beneath to promote a church. 

“Another shitty customer?” The other waitress on shift Sara’s ponytail bounces as she makes her way toward you, smacking her gum with a furrowed brow. Not like she would understand what it feels like, realizing as much as you roll your eyes and shake your head because she is brighter, and bubblier, and always manages to get the tables full of high school students with their parents’ money or college boys wanting to flirt, while you get the tables with the senior citizens. 

“Always,” you grumble, sticking the receipt in the apron tied around your waist as she pats you on the shoulder, causing you to press your lips in a thin line. The bus boy makes his way past the two of you to clean off the table while you make your way to the front to seat the next customer once the bell at the front door fills the small diner.  

“I’ll give you the large group next time, okay?” She tries to help, but somehow it still manages to make you feel so small. You smile and nod regardless, knowing it’s not her fault, and knowing she only wants to look out for you. If only fall classes weren’t approaching so rapidly, needing a way to pay for your next semester while managing to not be late on your rent. 

Luckily, the next customer at the front is a familiar face, smiling wide to let you know he is hungry, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Hey,” you sigh, shoulders slumped while your best friend makes his way toward you. “I can’t give you any free food. My manager has been on my ass about giving shit away. She is seconds away from putting your picture up on the bulletin to warn everyone else to not let you in.”

“What?” His smile fades in an instant, causing you to grin at the thought of him being banned after so many times of you sneaking him free meals. “But you know I can’t afford it.”

You huff, slipping into a booth in the back of the restaurant as he follows your lead. “Normally if people don’t have money, they don’t go to restaurants to eat. And you can’t get any free food from your own job?” You would think him working at the local supermarket would have its own benefits. Groaning, you realize just how sore your feet are from standing for nearly twelve hours straight, wanting nothing more than to soak in a hot bath when you get home, or rid yourself of the smell of fried foods under a steaming shower. 

“Nah, my boss is a hard ass. And you know I am saving up money for my transmission.” His head falls to his hands. “Do you know how shitty it is to have to walk everywhere because you don’t have a car?”

You glare at him, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, because I don’t have one, either.” 

“Yeah, but if I have a car, I could drive you around.” He perks up, as if this conversation will somehow give him food, forgetting it is all pointless babbling when the two of you talk about things you can hardly change. “Jaime will kill me if I am late on rent again.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “He probably will,” you tell him with a shrug. “But sorry, friend, I can’t lose my job over sneaking you food. You know classes are about to start again and I desperately need the money.”

“I know, I know,” he grumbles, leaning back in the booth with a sigh. “Why is it so hard being an adult?” 

***

After arriving home and showering to cleanse your body of grease and regret, you still feel the tension in every limb, tossing and turning in your bed while failing to fall asleep. Which is unfortunate for you considering you have the early shift the next day, knowing you need to swipe up as many hours at the diner as possible before classes start. 

Groaning, you roll over on your back, blinking between staring at the ceiling, huffing with your body aching. All until you give in to the one thing that never fails to put you right to sleep, rolling to the left to grab your shiny, pink toy out of the nightstand before positioning your back against the headboard. Luckily, your laptop is where you left it that afternoon on the floor after you managed to sign up for the classes you needed for the next semester, quickly grabbing it to place beside you before a few clicks takes you to your favorite, naughty website.

With a press of a button, your vibrator begins buzzing before you shove it between your thighs once your covers are pushed away, warming yourself up as the tip brushes over your clothed core. Clicking through page after page with your free hand, you try to find a video that suits your needs. Considering you’re not in the mood for anything too wild, you click on the first amateur couple’s video you happen to stumble upon.

As you watch the two on the small screen, kissing, groaning, and moaning before his hand dips into her panties, you slip the toy past the band of your own underwear while biting your lip. Your chest heaves in a deep breath as the scene continues, watching him venture between her legs while she stares down at him, both locking eyes as he gently grips her thighs and her fists latch onto the bed sheets beneath her. 

Your hips begin to move as the two become more intimate, switching positions until he finally enters her from behind, holding her close with his arms around her as she moans and whimpers. The warmth fills your body from the toy between your thighs and the scene, teeth sinking harder into your lip to keep your own noises at bay thanks to your roommate sleeping in just one bedroom over. Your breaths deepen as the woman moans about getting closer, noticing the man’s hand dip between her thighs to bring her to climax, and just before she reaches her peak and just before the tension between your own legs snaps, the video fades to black, realizing it was nothing but a preview to the real video that you would have to pay to see in full.

Groaning, your head rolls back, aching between your thighs now to join the rest of your exhausted body, beyond frustrated and only wishing to sleep. With your eyes narrowed, you stare with a bitterness in your chest, though you will realize later how being so tired has you being just as ridiculous. Who pays for these videos these days, you think to yourself. Then you realize the quality of the video and the fact that it was doing just what it needed to get you off, so it’s no wonder.

Then a lightbulb flicks on in your mind. Your eyes grow wide, taking a deep breath as you press the button to turn off your toy and rest it beside you, quickly grabbing your phone from the nightstand where it had been charging. Reaching for your laptop, you skip back a few minutes in the video before snapping a screenshot of the scene of the couple making love, and your heart races as you find your best friend’s contact in your phone.

What about this?

You hit the button to send the message along with the picture before you have a chance to back out. Your insides begin to shake, and not just from sexual frustration as well as being overly tired, but from the idea that has raced across your mind to hit you like a ton of bricks. If only you weren’t in such a desperate need of money. If only you weren’t absolutely sick and tired of getting cheated on your tips when you work so hard. 

Your phone buzzes as it rests against your chest, nearly startling a squeak out of your mouth as you pick it up with shaking fingers.

i’m more of a facial or cream pie guy myself

Shaking your head at his response, you roll your eyes at him totally missing the point. But you don’t blame him, not even believing yourself as you type the words to send to him.

That’s not what I meant…

You bite your lip, wrinkling your brow and scrunching your nose until you feel the buzz once again.

...are you saying you want to do porn?

Then your heart feels as if it will leap right out of your chest. You take a deep breath, hesitating only a moment before you’re tapping away at the screen again.

Imagine how much money we could make.

The two minutes that pass after you text him feel like forever, but you finally feel the buzz in your hands, racing to read his reply.

we? as in… you and me????

?????

hello???

All three messages come in at once, causing you to gulp as you read the words over and over, wondering if you have just stuck your foot in your mouth, knowing you would never actually go through with it. But you’re desperate, and it’s the only good idea you have had in a while as far as getting money. You close your eyes with a sigh, heart pounding against your chest, stomach fluttering with a million butterflies and uncertainty, then you send him a simple “yes” before clicking off your phone to rest against the nightstand to rush to the bathroom to clean up. 

***

“Were you really serious?” You didn’t think he could storm into the diner any faster the following night, causing you to side eye him while you finished serving a table.

“What?” you ask through your teeth, head gesturing to the table of customers to your right.

“You know,” he begins in a whisper, leaning closer, “about making porn?”

You groan, narrowing your eyes before glancing down the aisle of booths and back again to see if anyone overheard. “Wait over there-” You motion toward a table in the back corner. “-I’ll be right back.”

He heads to the mentioned booth next to the glass windows, taking a seat while peering out onto the dimly lit street. All the while you make a stop at one of your customer’s tables to refill his coffee before muttering to Sara about taking your break. She nods to let you know she will cover your tables for the moment, and then you’re off to make your way to him, heart fluttering in your chest, stomach twisting, not wanting to have this conversation in public, but if not now, when?

Slipping into the booth, you don’t mutter a single word. He leans back, fingers drumming the table with his eyes low. There’s tension so thick between the two of you it can be cut with a knife as you nibble on your bottom lip to figure out a place to even begin.

“Think of it as a business deal.” His gaze rises when you begin to speak in a hushed tone. “It’s not for pleasure, but only for money. It’s no secret we are both struggling here.”

“Okay,” he says, the word lingering for a moment as he leans closer, resting his elbows on the table, “why not just be a camgirl on your own or something?” The mention of the word “camgirl” has your heart pounding twice as hard. Are you really having this conversation? You blink a few times, huffing, wondering if you have lost your mind within the last twenty or so hours. Lord knows you have been working nonstop. It’s possible.

“I think we could… well, we could pull a bigger audience pretending to be a couple.” His eyes pop, brows arched and now you realize just how absurd you sound, but you can’t back out now. The idea has been lingering for too long and the thought of an easier way to make money, a way that doesn’t leave you aching and exhausted and angry over no tips, has you not wanting to turn back. “People love watching couples together. It’s like spying on your next door neighbor that loves to leave the blinds open or something. It feels more real, and intimate, but still dirty like you’re getting away with something.”

Another waitress passes by your table before he can reply, causing you both to duck your heads, voices lowering even more. “What if someone recognizes us?”

“We can wear those masquerade type of masks to hide our faces.”

“And why me?” He gulps at the thought. “Why not find someone other than your best friend to do this with? Are we really going to go from best friends to… this? I mean, you are my closest friend and I don’t want something to come between us.”

“It won’t,” you immediately reassure him, straightening your back and raising your chin. “I am positive we can remain mature about this and plus, it’s just sex. We will be getting money for having orgasms. Who doesn’t want that?”

He tilts his head in thought before he grins. “I can’t argue with that logic.” Then he sighs. “What about… remaining safe?”

“We will use condoms. I am already on birth control. We can get tested if that would make you more comfortable.”

He raises his hand to protest. “No, I don’t mean-”

“I want it,” you interrupt, staring at him with certainty written on your face. “I want you to know how serious I am, that I mean this as a business relationship and nothing more. So we will do everything we have to do to keep safe. And, I guess…” You release a sigh, eyes lowering while piquing his interest.

“Hm?” he hums, brows raised and curious.

“I guess this is why I am asking you and no one else. I trust you, and this will be on both of our terms so we do this how we want to while remaining safe.” You bite your lip for a moment, thinking of how to explain it to him while trying to convince yourself it’s not the craziest idea you have ever had, even if it feels like it. “If you want to say no, I won’t push you, but as unbelievable as it sounds, I think we could make it work.”

“This is… a lot to consider.” He licks his lips, once again leaning back in his seat as he scratches his head.

“I know,” you whine, pouting a bit before continuing, “just think about it, okay? Tell me tomorrow.” 

He nods with that, agreeing to come up with a decision the next day.

***

It takes him until nine p.m. the following night to finally text you. All day he has kept you waiting on edge, and if it weren’t for another busy shift, you would have been texting him like crazy to find out his answer. So when he sends a simple “call me” message right as you step out of the shower, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest while clicking on his number.

“H-Hello?” He’s already muttering and stuttering. Not a good sign.

“Hey,” you greet him, lingering on the first syllable too long, showing your nerves while your face twists. “H-How are you?” You await his hesitant reply as you rush to your room, attempting not to drip on the floor with your towel wrapped around you. 

“I thought about your offer.” You perk up at the news, sitting straight up on your bed, holding your breath. “I’ll… I’ll do it.”

“Oh my god.”

“But,” he interrupts your celebrations, causing you to freeze mid lunge from the bed in your attempt at a victory cheer, “I want you to promise me this won’t come between us. I want to help because it’s you that is asking, and I need the money, too, but I don’t want us to ever stop being friends.”

“No, no, no!” you begin blurting. “It won’t! I promise! This is just business.”

“Alright, well,” he says with a sigh, “I guess… I guess whenever you’re ready.” With a grin, you hang up the phone, proceeding with your victory cheer at the thought of your plan actually working.

After the conversation on the phone, you don’t hear from him for a few days while you get everything in order. Checking your birth control prescription. Buying condoms. Dipping into your rent money to make your way to the nearest electronics store and purchase the cheapest camcorder you can find, then heading to a costume store to buy the masks. Even getting tested like he mentioned, while he did the same. He meets you at your place that following Thursday, and when you answer the door, his head hangs low as he rubs the back of his neck. 

You would think nothing of it if you hadn’t texted him that morning, asking him to come over while explaining you wanted to get something over with before you start your amateur video adventure with. He would have thought nothing of it if you didn’t explain beforehand how you wanted to get the awkwardness out of the way between the two of you, wanting to have your first sexual encounter with one another off camera before the two of you began filming. You can see the embarrassment on his face due to your suggestion, already flustered and you decided it was a good decision to make. He sports a shy grin, so hesitant to look you in the eye as he moves past you. Luckily for you, your roommate is spending the night at her boyfriend’s apartment which gives you two the entire place to yourselves.

“Do you need a drink?” you tease as he takes a seat on the couch while you lock the door behind him, elbows on his knees and head in his palms. 

“No,” he answers, then sighs, “I think that will make it worse.”

“Are you getting cold feet?” You settle in the spot next to him, knees pressed to your chest with your heart racing. 

“A bit,” he tells you honestly. “I never thought we would…” He gulps, and his own nerves cause your insides to shake, knowing you will be seeing all of him, and he will be seeing all of you, for the first time since you became friends so many years ago. For a moment you consider backing out, and you consider yourself ridiculous for even coming up with the idea in the first place. But with the idea comes a light at the end of the tunnel which is payment for your school, and books, and money for his transmission. With a gulp, you tell yourself you can’t turn back now.

“I know,” you exhale, nibbling on your bottom lip for a moment. “Should we…”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods once with his lips pressed in a line, standing from his spot on the sofa as you do the same. “Let’s just get it over with.”

On shaking legs, the two of you head down the hall to make it to your bedroom, already having prepared a condom resting against your nightstand. He takes a deep breath while closing the door behind him, and you linger near the foot of the bed, waiting for him to move. 

“Are you sure about this?” He steps toward you, taking his time as if his knees will give out beneath him at any second, but maybe his voice will give way to the shakiness first.

You nod, inhaling deeply. “I’m sure.” Then your eyes fall to the floor. “You can back out if you want. I won’t be upset.” Your heart hammers away inside your chest with every word, knowing once you take the next step, there’s no second guessing and no turning back. Even if you want to remain mature adults about the situation, and even if you both agreed it is only business, you know once you do this with him, it can never be as it used to be. 

“I don’t want to back out.” He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can feel the way his hand trembles. “Should we… should we kiss?”

With a gulp, you tell him yes in a slow, hesitant nod. Then he leans in, raising your chin with a single finger before his lips press to your own, but not before your noses bump together, causing you to groan. He repositions his head, tilting farther until he is comfortable, but the nerves take over, and he doesn’t move an inch as he kisses you. The butterflies swarm in your stomach, keeping you frozen from feeling his lips against your skin for the first time, all until you scream at yourself to move, kiss him harder, do something to stop the way your heart flutters. 

You lean in, attempting to deepen the kiss, but his own worries keep him stiff. Feeling as if you’re kissing a statue, you finally pull away with a sigh, giving up for the moment.

“Maybe we shouldn’t kiss.” It seems too intimate, you think. It’s only business, and you don’t need to kiss him anyway. He agrees with a nod, straightening his back as his arms fall to his side. For a few moments, you both remain still, quiet, allowing the tension between the two of you to build until you finally snap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you tell him, even if you’re trying to convince yourself, “it’s just sex.” Then you peel your shirt over your head, leaving you in a lacy, red bra that causes his eyes to grow wide. Before he has a chance to speak, you’re already unbuttoning your jean shorts, pushing them down your legs to kick off of one foot. He takes in your matching panties with a slacked jaw, before his tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip. 

He follows your lead, even if he lacks the same, fake confidence you possess in the moment. He grips the collar of his shirt to pull over his head, tossing it aside, and then he tugs on the button of his jeans. As you reach around to begin unclasping your bra, you notice the prominent bulge beneath his black boxer briefs once his jeans fall to his ankles.

“Jesus, how can you already be so hard?” You study the outline, the curve of his arousal, and the thick tip at the end you just can’t miss, noticing it twitch the moment your eyes are on him.

“I’ve been hard since you sent me that pic,” he groans, clenching his jaw. “It’s been a constant state of arousal just thinking about everything we’re about to do.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you shush him, rolling your eyes just as the straps of your bra slip from your shoulders. His eyes pop at the sight, looking between each of your breasts with a lick of his lips, the sudden view causing him to freeze with his thumbs in the band of his boxers. His eyes fall over each of your hardened nipples, and your chest heaves from the fire igniting in his eyes. 

“Don’t… don’t just stare at me,” you begin to whine, almost pouting, but not shielding your body. “God… maybe we should have had a drink.”

“I’m not…” He takes a deep breath, never pulling his eyes away, and then he gulps. “I’m not staring, it’s just…” Then he loses confidence, gaze lowering to the ground. 

Just when you grip the straps of your panties to push the thin fabric down your legs, he slips his own underwear off, allowing his cock to spring free as your eyes grow wide, teeth sinking into your bottom lip from the sight of him so hard and ready. Gulping, you have to remind yourself to pull your gaze away because now you’re the one staring, as well as remembering how to breathe properly, before you take the leap to remove your panties, kicking them to the side to join the rest of your clothes. 

Together, the two of you stand with shy glances toward one another’s body, taking each other in for the first time in a whole new light. Your body flushes as heat overwhelms you. He gulps, eyes drifting from your lips to your breasts to the sight of your mound, then back up again, and it takes a few moments for you to gather the courage to make your way to the bed. Resting on the edge, you motion for him to follow. 

“Y-You can touch me… if you want.” Your peer up at him, noticing his eyes flicker with deep, dark desire. Even if you have lost all nerve, every ounce of courage you once had diminishing from inside while you scream at yourself it’s just sex, it’s just business, you guide his hand to your body with a grip of his wrist, placing his palm against your breast before urging him closer. 

Your back falls against the sheets before he presses a knee to the bed to settle between your thighs. He begins exploring, caressing your breast with one hand before a thumb brushes over your nipple to send a chill throughout your body. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat, or it’s only you that feels it pumping so hard even up to your ears and throat. A split-second of courage has him leaning in again, lips finding your own and the second time isn’t as messy. His tender touches light a fire in you, body flushing with desire before his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. 

“Do you have a condom?” he asks when he pulls away, nearly breathless.

From his hands on your breasts, it takes you a moment to reply. “I-I’m not ready yet.” You gulp, eyes closing so you don’t see the look on his face when you mumble the next few words. “Touch me down here and make me… make me wet.” 

You bite your lip, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as ridiculous to him as it does to you. It’s just sex, you remind yourself as his hand dips lower, slipping between your thighs to brush fingertips over your slit. You inhale a sharp breath, brow furrowed, jaw slacked, hand reaching to grip his wrist and he freezes after feeling your body tense beneath him.

“Are you okay?” Then he begins moving again, sliding his two fingers up and down your slit with ease and care. “Is this okay?”

You nod, not daring to open your eyes. “Y-Yeah… that feels…” You don’t finish the sentence once he finds your clit, concentrating to have it swelling with arousal beneath his fingertips. A wave of heat washes over your body, feeling the room shrink around the two of you as the temperature rises. 

Slow circles against your clit have your body tense, trying to control your heavy breaths in the moment and it’s not until the bliss begins to take over the embarrassment do you finally melt against the bed. Your limbs relax around him, eyes fluttering as he continues to massage the now swollen bud, and when he feels your hips beginning to move against his motions, he lowers his fingers to your entrance. Arousal begins to pool, allowing him to ease one finger inside of you. 

“Does that feel okay?” he asks, watching you nod without opening your eyes, so he dares to insert another finger to join the first, receiving a gasp filling the room in return. “Was… that too much?” He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust with his fingers filling you up, but all you can do is bite down onto your bottom lip with a nod of your head, letting him know to continue.

He begins pumping his fingers in and out, keeping his pace slow and careful until he feels you moving with the motions. Your arousal coats his fingers the longer he works you up, and soon you can no longer think about performing such an act with your best friend for the first time, only concentrating on the pleasure he is giving you. 

“That feels,” you exhale, “really good.” Quiet moans begin to fill in your throat even if whimpering his name in such a way has you feeling so unlike yourself, hips rocking against his hand to give him the courage to quicken his pace. 

“Do you, um,” he hesitates, voice growing breathless from feeling you squeezing your walls around his digits, “like dirty talk?”

“S-Sometimes,” you reply honestly, thinking if he wasn’t two fingers deep inside you, you would have more of a mind to tell him it depends on the person. But he has the bliss filling your body and warmth spreading to every limb, and when he leans closer to whisper in your ear, you suddenly don’t feel like this is your best friend at all.

“You’ve gotten so wet for me,” he begins, deep and raspy, right in your ear before he nips at the lobe, sending a gasp spilling for your lips as you reach for him in an overwhelming burst of arousal. “Are you ready for my cock?”

God, you think, how is he so good at this? Maybe it’s his deep voice sending goosebumps flooding your skin or maybe his skilled fingers have gotten you so worked up, you don’t care what he says in the moment, but the words have your thighs shaking around him, walls squeezing his fingers so tight, ready for release. 

All you can do is nod with a gulp, and then you are tempted to whine the moment he pulls his drenched fingers from inside of you. The moment takes hold, embarrassment returning in a wave of shameful heat, but you push it aside to position yourself in the middle of the bed to reach for the condom on the nightstand behind you. Ripping the foil packet, you toss the wrapper aside while sitting straight up to roll the condom on his length, aching between your thighs at feeling him beneath your fingertips for the first time. The sharp inhale you hear from his lips can’t be missed, causing your whole body to quiver with anticipation of having him inside of you. 

You fall back against the bed. He settles between your thighs. And your arms wrap around his neck, allowing him to lean in once again to press his lips to you. The third time’s the charm, it seems like, finding a bit more passion within the kiss as he carefully moves against your lips with desperation, causing you to whimper against his skin while your hips press toward him, begging to be filled. He grips himself, lining the tip of his cock to your entrance while giving you one last look to make sure you’re alright. You gulp once again, giving him a reassuring nod, then he begins to ease himself inside of you.

“Wait,” you gasp, palms pressing to his ribs. He freezes, brows arching and eyes growing wide as he looks at you. “Go… go slower. Please” He exhales with a nod while you bite your lip, and then he makes his second attempt, taking his time to fill you up as the moment overwhelms every inch of your body. You tense, biting harder on your lip, but a slight whimper manages to fill his ears until he is completely inside of you. 

“Are you alright?” He presses his lips to your temple, easing the tension from within. “I can stop, just say the word.” 

“N-No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him, but your tone sounds less confident thanks to your head spinning from having your best friend inside of you. But you give yourself time to adjust, breathing in, exhaling deeply, squeezing yourself around him to cause him to groan, and he remains patient. When you pull him closer by your grip against his ribs, you give him a confident nod. “Okay.”

With caution, he begins to move his hips, and it’s clear the moment begins to get to him as well. Or maybe he has been good at keeping his composure until this point, where his lips part and heavy breaths spill from within. Where he grips the sheets tighter as he holds himself up with two fists by your head, and where it takes him a bit more control to remain slow and steady, wanting you to be comfortable first and foremost.

“F-Faster,” you mutter, a moan following the words and it takes him only a second to comply. His hips increase in speed, rolling against you as your body meets with motions with whimpers beginning to spill from your lips. Your thighs tighten around him, you squeeze his cock with clenched walls, and your nails dig into his skin, curses spilling beneath a heavy breath as the bliss fills your body. “God, that feels so… so good.” You’re breathless, eyes screwing shut, legs rising to give him better access to thrust his cock deeper inside of you, falling into the motions of pure ecstasy.

His thrusts quicken, deepen, and become more sporadic without warning. His jaw clenches as he groans from deep within his chest, becoming lost to the pleasure of being inside you and having you wrapped so tight around him. All you can do is hold him tighter with nails leaving marks for him to spot the following day, moans spilling from your lips louder than before, hips rocking to meet his motions. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you cry out, hand rising to his neck before your fingers entangle in his hair, pulling his lips down onto your own. Your mouths clash, passion and fire snapping the tension between the two of you as you slip your tongue out, licking his lip before he parts them for you. Your tongues massage one another as you hold each other close, whimpering against his skin, tugging his hair, rolling your hips as his cock fills you over and over, and you can feel the tension threading tighter and can feel the warmth bubbling below, becoming completely lost in the moment, but you don’t want it to end, pulling away to look him in the face.

And when you do so, you spot his face twisted, brow creased, eyes shut so tight, jaw slacked before he releases a huff, hips stalling as he spills inside of you. With heavy breaths, he finds release as your body slacks against the bed, so close to finding your own end and suddenly beyond frustrated it is over so quickly. He collapses next to you a moment later, panting, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath as you rise from the bed. The situation takes hold, red hot embarrassment washing over you from what you have just done with him as you scramble to find your clothes.

“Really?” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, but he hears you regardless.

“S-Sorry,” he mumbles out of breath, “I didn’t expect you to feel so… wow.”

“Uh-huh.” You slip your t-shirt over your head before reaching for your panties on the ground. “Thanks.” 

“Do you… want me to get you off?” He raises his head to ask, beginning to peel the condom off to throw in the trash. “I can go down on you.”

“I’m good,” you tell him, feeling your face flush while tugging your panties up your legs at the thought of his face buried between your thighs. You aren’t sure if you’re ready for that or the effects it will have on you. “At least we got that out of the way. That’s all I care about.”

And it’s true, thankful you got most of the awkwardness over beforehand as you make your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Maybe next time will be better, you think, praying your first video will go over smoothly, and that’s all you can ask for even if you’re aching with a desperate need to get off. 

***

“I think we should start with something simple at first.” 

You thought waiting a week would rid you of some of the embarrassment you felt for having sex with him, but it only seemed to create more tension between the two of you. Not to mention, you ended up having a session with your vibrator after he left, and all you could think about was the feeling of him inside you again. 

As he stands before you in your bedroom, the tension and embarrassment is no longer from doing something new with your best friend, but from wanting to perform such acts with him. For a week he has been the only thing on your mind, beyond anxious to start your first video, but more than that, desperate to just be close to him again.

And maybe part of it is because you have always felt so close to him thanks to him being your closest, and nearly only, friend for so many years. You have always felt safe and comfortable with him, so you put the blame on him taking care of you as the reason why you’re itching to record with him, even if the ache between your thighs becomes unbearable at times when the memories of a week ago flood your mind. 

“What did you have in mind?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the door after pulling the gray beanie from his head, allowing the soft strands of hair to fall over his forehead, sending your heart racing. Was he always this cute? You shake your head to ignore the thoughts, sighing while reaching for the camera on your bed before picking up a mask from your dresser on the opposite side of the room, leaving his in its place since he won’t appear on your first video. Then you slip the white mask trimmed in matching lace over your face, hiding the straps with your hair as it rests comfortably underneath the strands.

“Foreplay at first,” you eye him with a smirk, a bit more confident than the last time, even if your insides are buzzing at the thought of going down on him while you begin to pluck the buttons of your blouse, all before slipping it from your shoulders and moving on to removing your skirt. “I thought we could do a POV video, with me giving you oral sex.” You tend to the clasp of your bra as you speak, deciding to leave nothing but your silk, black panties on for the first video.

His jaw drops, from either the sight of you undressing or maybe your words, and you have to keep yourself from laughing. “I… am one hundred percent okay with that.” Finally, a soft giggle fills the room, happy he agrees with your idea. “So… that means next time, I get to go down on you?”

The word ‘get’ only has you hesitating for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of him wanting to perform oral on you as well. “If you want to.” Before he can reply, you make your way toward him, noticing his lips part to speak, but you cut him off. “So, how should we do this? How do men like to watch blowjobs? Should you lay on the bed, or do you want me on my knees?” The words begin spilling from your lips in a rush, losing the nerve with every syllable even though you’re trying to fake it while standing in nothing but your underwear and a cheap party mask. 

He gulps while you drag him toward your bed. “Yes,” is all he says, nervous laughter erupting into the room. “Are you asking me how I want you?”

You bite your lip from the way his tone suddenly deepens, only nodding while staring at him through your lashes.

“On your knees,” he tells you, but with his deep, darkened tone, it sounds more like a command, causing you to obey by falling to your knees before him, then handing him the camera. He flips the screen to the side and turns the recorder on, and you swear your heart will beat right out of your chest at any moment from the way he looks down at you, darkened eyes and a smirk on his full lips. 

“Tell me what to do.” Batting your lashes that can barely be seen behind the mask, you stare up at him, well aware the camera is rolling as he points it in your direction. You fall into the role, a bit more innocent, asking for guidance to have him playing his own part. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Unbutton my jeans, baby.” He points the camera right at your face as he speaks in a deep, needy tone, reaching to brush a few loose strands of hair aside to tuck behind your ear while you reach for the button to his jeans with a gulp, trying not to let it show how much the pet name affects you. You take your time, staring up into the lens while tugging the button, then pulling the zipper, all before hooking fingers into his jeans to ease them down his legs. He kicks them off and to the side before you take in the sight of his forming bulge beneath gray boxer briefs, licking your lips from just the outline. 

“What now?” A soft tone questions what is next, switching your gaze from the lens to his face, then back again. And if only to work him up further, you lean closer before you lose the nerve, staring up at the camera as your mouth connects with the bulge beneath his boxers, offering a few soft kisses over his cock just to hear him groan. You feel him twitch in anticipation as you do so, gathering up enough confidence to flick your tongue out once you reach the head, leaving a mark of your saliva against the material that you kiss a moment later. 

“Pull my cock out,” is all he says, words strained against his tongue and followed by a groan when you reach for the waistband of his briefs. You peel the thin, cotton fabric down his thighs, allowing his cock to stand out straight, twitching when he notices your eyes on his thick, hard length. “You know what to do, baby.” Again with the pet name, you think, feeling the goosebumps flood your skin as heat rushes through you. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, gripping his length with an unsteady palm before leaning toward him again. Your eyes never leave the lens he points down at you, kissing the tip of his cock a few times before your tongue flicks over his slit. Another groan deep within his chest has you shivering with nerves, not wanting to let the moment dawn on you so you don’t lose the courage to continue. Finally, your eyes close as your lips part, taking the tip into your mouth, which causes him to release a heavy breath he has been holding. 

“Fuck,” he exhales, deep and heavy, “your mouth feels so good.” The praise gives you confidence to sink down onto his cock, taking him further into your mouth as your palm grips what you can’t handle. Your tongue massages the underside for a moment, then you pull away, tending to the tip while your hand pumps his shaft. He can’t help but to reach for you, allowing the camera to get a perfect view of a veiny arm and hand, fingers tangling between the strands of your hair, but he keeps his grip loose.

“That’s it, baby,” he continues to encourage you, groaning, words strained and deep and becoming so, so desperate. “Take my cock.” You look up for a moment to see the flicker of lust in his eyes, darkened expression to match his furrowed brow and parted lips. He looks absolutely sinful, yet stunningly beautiful as the bliss fills his body, encouraging you to take him in your mouth again.

The second time his cock thrusts deeper, nearly causing you to gag before pulling away, but you don’t stop there. You take him in again, and again, controlling your reflexes each time until you adjust to him. The grip around the base of his length tightens, earning a huff when your fingers press harder against his cock and your tongue teases the head before going down once again. 

“God, that feels so fucking good.” The words become breathless as he struggles to speak, and now you aren’t sure if he’s talking for the camera, or the moment has taken over him. You don’t mind either way, beginning to bob your head up and down his cock while a tight grip of your palm tends to the rest of him, hearing his deep groans, heavy breaths, praises mixes with curses, and all of it has you dripping in your panties as you kneel before him. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna… gonna come,” he begins muttering, and you feel his body tense as he does so. “Open… open your mouth for me.” You obey willingly, lowering your hand and pulling away just enough to part your lips for him. He grips his own cock with a stern fist, pumping a few times with conviction, grunting and panting until the first drop of his release hits your lips. He spills his load into your mouth, thick, hot ropes falling onto your tongue, some drops hitting your lips, and the camera catches every second of it, even down to the moment when he begins to come down and you swallow every last little bit of his cum. 

Realizing he hasn’t pulled the camera away just yet, you look straight into the lens while licking your lips, making sure to clean every drop from your face with a smirk. Meanwhile, he catches his breath as his legs feel so weak beneath him, finally shutting the screen on the recorder before collapsing onto the bed. 

“Jesus Christ,” he exhales, running a palm over his sweaty forehead. “That was… holy shit. I didn’t think that would be so exhilarating to record that but…” His mumbling causes you to giggle as you make your way to the bed, but not before finding your blouse to throw over your shoulders, covering yourself up. 

“I have to agree,” you tell him, taking a seat next to his fatigued, flushed, and sweaty body. 

“Do you need help?” he asks, finally regaining enough of his strength to sit up straight, hands covering himself as the moment takes hold. Embarrassment floods you just the same, grinning as warmth rushes to your cheeks. “I have got off twice now and you haven’t. I feel a bit guilty.”

You raise your hand, protesting with a nod to dismiss his worries. “I don’t need to get off,” you reassure him, though the ache between your legs says differently, and knowing he is willing to help even when you aren’t recording has heat washing over you all over again. “This is just business. I’m good.”

He nods once again, understanding as much as he reaches for his underwear. “So, how are we going to do this?”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Like editing, which site will we use? How much will we even charge people?” The questions have your eyes growing wide, realizing you have only thought as far as actually recording the videos, and not taking time to figure out anything past that. With a chuckle, he puts your worries at ease. “I have someone we can talk to about that.”

***

“So, let me get this straight,” the wide, sparkling eyed roommate of your best friend begins, “you two made a video pretending to be a couple, and you want me to edit and upload it for you to make money?”

“Yes,” you reply in a low tone, warmth flooding your face from just hearing the question as you sit beside him on the sofa in their small, crowded living room. Jaime has experience editing videos; it’s what he’s going to school for. When he told you his idea of who he wanted to help the two of you, you immediately began to protest, thinking there’s no way you could ever face him after he sees what is in the video. But it didn’t take long for you to realize you have no other options. Neither he nor you have much experience with editing, or adult videos, as Jaime does, and he is your only, and last, hope with this.

“Oh my God,” Jaime exhales, clutching your camcorder tight in one hand as his head leans back against the couch, fingers of the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the greatest day of my life. Thank you. Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Shut up,” he interrupts the celebrations, shoving his roommate's shoulder.

“So,” Jaime begins again, a devious smirk forming on his lips as his eyes bounce between the two of you, “Do I get a cut if I am doing this?” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, Jaime causes your best friend to smack his lips while you groan.

“No,” you inform him, wincing while expecting him to immediately reject the offer, “but you get to watch us have sex for free. That’s something… right?”

“Do I get to come from it?” His bottom lip protrudes, innocently asking such a painfully dirty question.

“Absolutely not.” His stern tone has the younger boy frowning.

“What about after it’s uploaded? Can I come then?”

“Then you would have to pay.” His is talking through his teeth by now, and all you can do is shake your head.

“Look, you can watch it and come to it if you do this for us.” He perks up at the words as you try to reason with him. 

“Just… make it sexy, okay?”

He purses his lips in thought, then the wicked smirk returns. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Jaime rushes to his bedroom with the recorder, leaving the two of you to sit on the sofa and wait in miserable anticipation for him to return. Lord knows what he is doing in the there, you think, legs bouncing from nerves because you just can’t sit still. He offers you a drink, food, even a massage to relax you, but you decline it all, stomach already twisting while waiting on the moment Jaime will tell you it’s uploaded. Then comes the dreaded hours waiting on the views to see if it’s even worth it, and the pressure begins to weigh down on you as you run your sweaty palms over your jeans.

“This was a mistake,” you suddenly blurt out, jumping up from the couch with a shake of your head, “I’m so stupid to believe this would work and suddenly all of our troubles would be gone. What was I thinking?”

“Relax.” He rises to his feet with a chuckle to press a gentle palm against your shoulder. “It’s kind of already too late to be thinking it was a terrible idea. I mean… we… after all…” His incomplete sentences have you frowning, face hot and eyes screwing shut in humiliation.

“God, I am an idiot for dragging you into this. I’m so sorry.” Your babbling fails to cease, tearing away from his grip to begin pacing. “I mean, what if someone finds out? What if Jaime tells someone? And what’s taking him so long, anyway? God, what did we do?”

“Calm down,” he tries to comfort you, but all touches and attempts at relaxing you are only brushed over by slumped shoulders and huffs and puffs. “It’s going to be alright. No one will find out but us three. Jaime can be trusted, even if he is a bit immature and obsessed with this stuff.”

His words fail to offer you solace, groaning and pouting and continuing to whine. “If anyone at my school recognizes me…”

“No one will.”

“What about my parents?!” Your eyes pop, freezing in your fifth lap around the tiny living room. “Dear God… my poor mother.” 

“It’s alright,” he begins groaning, gripping you with two firm palms against your shoulders, “chill out for a second, okay?”

“We had sex!” Feigning confidence and playing pretend takes its toll on you, and jis jaw slacks at your outburst. You didn’t mean to yell the statement right in his face, but as your knees shake and your heart pounds in your chest, the realization of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks. All you can do is slump against him, cheeks squished into his chest as you whine. “Fuck, I am losing it here.”

“I can tell,” he chuckles, arms wrapping around you with his palm against your back to sooth your worries.  “It’s going to be fine, okay? I actually think that was a pretty smart idea. Well, when we got past all the awkwardness and the weirdness of having sex with my best friend, I guess. But just try not to worry, alright?”

You pull away nodding, finding comfort in his reassuring tone that everything will be okay. He manages to calm you down enough to have a seat next to him, allowing you to cling to his hand with a shaky grip, and when your knee begins to bounce again, his palm on your leg settles you further.

When Jaime finally makes his way back to the two of you, the dumb grin on his face sends your nerves into overdrive.

“What’s wrong?” You hop up from the sofa. “What happened? What did you do? Why are you smiling like that?”

Jaime chuckles, running fingers through his hair as he takes a seat on the couch. “I have to say,” he begins, leaving both him and you on the edge of your seats, literally, “that was the hottest thing I have watched in awhile.” 

Your body slumps into the couch while he groans. “So is that why it took so long?” He asks his roommate with angry, furrowed brows and a bite to this tone. “Because you were in there jer-”

“Hey,” you interrupt, calling his name through your teeth and shoving his shoulder. Then you turn toward Jaime, knowing he is the one helping and if you want your secret to stay safe, the two of you can’t be bickering with him. “So… is it uploaded?” Your tone lowers, but Jaime perks up.

“It is uploaded,” he confirms, causing your heart to sink in the pit of your stomach. And it’s not that you regret making the video with him, you only hate the waiting period, the fear of the unknown that will tell you if you made a huge mistake. “It will take a day or two to get proper results, but…” Jaime’s voice fades, but the smirk on his lips remains.

“But what?” He leans closer, hanging on to his friend’s every word.

“Well, judging from the material-” He clears his throat. “-it won’t take long to gain interest.”

At least he settles part of your nerves, knowing if anyone watching is half as entertained as Jaime was, it might not have been a terrible idea after all. 

***

Racing to his  apartment two days later after work has your exhausted legs shaking with every step. A busy shift left no time for texting him until after you clocked out, only sending him a simple message to let him know you were on the way before making your journey beneath dim streetlights. You clutch your coat closer to your body thanks to the chilly breeze, but you aren’t sure if you’re shivering from the wind, or the fact that you’re about to find out how your first video with him did as far as views and revenue. 

He opens the door a second after you knock, meeting you face to face with a hesitant expression.

“So?” you begin to question, wasting no time with greetings as you push past him. “What’s the damage?” You spot Jaime settled on the couch, his own laptop resting against his legs as he grins toward you. 

“Hello to you, too.” He shuts the door and follows you into the living room, and together you take a seat beside Jaime to wait on the news.

“Well, take a look.” He turns his laptop toward you, allowing you to see the website he chose to upload it on, reading the big, red words on the screen spell out XXX-Tube, before you notice the profile he made the two of you with your only video uploaded onto the page.

“Watch my girlfriend take my big, hot load,” you read the title of the video out loud, nose scrunching while he nearly chokes behind you. “That’s a bit… much, isn’t it?”

“I had to name it something to get people’s attention,” Jaime simply says with a shrug. He is the one with experience, after all, so you decide to trust his creative decision. 

“Seventy-three views! Is that… good?” You tilt your head to the side with a pout.

“I don’t think it’s terrible,” he adds.

“But most of those are from the preview,” Jaime corrects, pointing out that there is a difference between actually paying to watch, and only enjoying a one minute clip to know what to expect. “Only one person paid, so considering the cut the website takes, the two of you are now two dollars and fifty cents richer. Congrats!” 

Groaning, your body slumps back into the couch, knowing you have to be patient for things to take off, but classes start in a month and you’re well aware you don’t have time to wait out gaining an audience. 

“What do the comments say?” he questions, causing you to straighten your back while looking toward the computer screen.

“You have three,” Jaime informs you. “One person thinks you’re really hot-” Heat washes over your face at the words. “-someone wants you to come on her ass next time, and the last person is telling you to call him daddy.” Your face twists at the last word, groaning.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to either of those things.” He grins as he speaks, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Really?” you question, eyes narrowed. “You want me to call you daddy?”

He shrugs. “Why not?” And you shake your head, reaching to pat his shoulder.

“Okay, sure, you hang on to that thought,” you tell him, thinking to yourself there’s no way in hell you’re calling your best friend “daddy”. 

***

He stops by your place two days later for your next video. Considering you haven’t come since the night you first had sex (thanks to a session alone with your vibrator), your body is aching for him by the time you open the door, dying to be touched and already finding arousal dampening your panties at just the thought of him going down on you for your next recording session. Once again you’re thankful you picked a night your roommate is having a sleepover with her boyfriend, otherwise you wouldn’t be so sure how you would manage dealing with what is about to happen for the sake of the video. 

Especially since there is something you’re keeping from him. 

“Um…” And it’s something that has been weighing on your mind all day, causing a shaky hand to close the bedroom door behind the two of you, while your chest tightens and you nibble on your bottom lip.

“Hm?” He is already getting into position, removing his cap and ruffling his hair, then peeling his shirt over his head to toss aside.

“I have something I have to tell you.” You heave a sigh, lingering by the door for a moment, but the tremble in your tone causes him to freeze, brows arched and waiting impatiently on whatever you say next. “I have only had two boyfriends go down on me before.” You don’t bother to look his way as you speak, voice lowering, but it only causes him to chuckle.

“Okay?” He tilts his head one to one side when you gain the courage to look him in the eye. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“I’ve never… come from it,” you admit, then step forward to add onto your reasoning. “And if I don’t come, I don’t want you to think it’s because of you. It’s me, I guess because I get a bit nervous or whatever, and I will just fake it if it takes too long or something, okay?” The words are spilled almost faster than he can register, making sense of why you denied his request of oral the first time, and why you become so flushed with embarrassment when he mentioned recording it. 

“You’re going to fake your orgasm?” He peers at you with wide eyes.

“Well, yeah?” You shrug. “We are fake dating. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Alright,” he says with a sigh, picking up his black masquerade mask from your dresser and placing it over his eyes. “Just let me know if you are uncomfortable. I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, the tension leaving your body thanks to his reassuring words as you grab the camcorder from the nightstand where you left it after leaving his apartment two days before. Tossing the recorder on the bed, you begin to remove your clothes, peeling your t-shirt over your head to toss aside, then unbuttoning your shorts to push down your legs. He makes his way to you to help with your bra, slipping it from your shoulders to join the rest of your clothes until you’re left in nothing but your thin, white panties already damp from picturing his face pressed between your thighs. 

You don’t wish to be already so worked up in the moment. You wish your insides didn’t shake at the thought of him tasting you, but you feel yourself aching for it, so overwhelmed before he’s even started and part of you wishes the idea of him eating you out didn’t turn you on so much, if only so you would have a clearer head. You can already imagine the smirk on his lips before his tongue flicks out, gaining just a small taste. You can feel his hands on your thighs to calm your nerves, and you know your hips will be rolling against his face once the moment takes over, and every second of it will be recorded. Arousal drips from your center at the thought, heart fluttering, images of him licking up and down your slit flooding your mind to where you barely hear him calling your name.

“H-Huh?” You turn to him with a gulp, noticing he has the camera in his hand a second before he passes it to you.

“I asked if you were ready.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You take a deep breath before crawling onto the bed, resting with your back on the two pillows he’s prepped for you. Watching him crawl between your legs does nothing to calm your nerves, spotting the obvious bulge beneath his jeans and you know he is already imagining his tongue between your thighs as well. Knowing he is turned on from wanting to offer you pleasure has your thighs parting just as his eyes lower to take in the sight of the darkened patch of your arousal soaking through your panties. 

The smirk appears on his lips, just like you imagined, seconds before his body dips lower to press his lips to your own, causing you to whimper against his skin from the suddenness of the kiss. Then his mouth trails lower, not bothering to linger in one spot too long, kissing your jaw, tongue traveling down your neck, until he peppers kisses across your chest. 

“I-I haven’t started recording…” Your tone wavers, becoming so breathless the moment his tongue flicks across your nipple, causing your chest to heave. Glancing down, you notice his eyes staring straight into your own, the smirk on his face widening.

“Then start recording.” 

He presses his palms to your hips just as you flip open the screen to the recorder, pressing the button once to begin your session. His mouth pampers your stomach with sweet, soft kisses, taking his time to explore your body with his lips and the gesture has goosebumps flooding your skin. 

“Are you recording, baby?” he asks with a flick of his eyes in your direction, voice already so deep and raspy, knowing he knows you are recording from the pet name as he falls into his role. 

“Mhm,” is all you can manage to whimper, pointing the lens his way as his tongue traces the band of your panties. 

“You’re shaking, baby,” he informs you, but you’re well aware of the effects of his lips and tongue. “Do you enjoy me tasting your beautiful pussy that much?” Before you can reply, his mouth lowers to your mound, pressing soft kisses here and there until he’s aligned with your slit. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he moves his grip to your legs to keep them parted.

A soft gasp fills the room from his tongue pressing against your panties, pressing against your throbbing, aching clit, but he only lingers for a moment before lowering his lips to your entrance. Tasting the arousal seeping through the cloth, he groans at the sensation, earning a quiet whimper in return the moment his eyes lock with yours. 

“Are you going to answer me, baby?” he questions again, and you aren’t sure if he’s performing for the camera or he enjoys knowing how worked up you’re getting, but you can only gulp to keep from whimpering once again.

“I-I do,” you admit, wanting to sound more confident than your tone and shaky words would suggest, “I love it. You... you know I do.” For a second you remember your own part, knowing you’re playing pretend couple and needing it to seem like this isn’t the first time he’s gone down on you. 

Hooking a finger into the base of your panties, he tugs the thin fabric aside to get an eyeful of your swollen lips and glistening slit. You keep the camera on him as he leans closer to place open-mouthed kisses over your mound, directly against the skin this time, before lowering to your clit. Instantly, your body tenses, a surge of heat rushing from between your thighs to reach your fingertips and toes from feeling his tongue and lips on you. Your legs tremble with a million buzzing nerves, attempting not to shake too much so the camera remains steady and focused. 

“Mm, you taste so sweet,” he comments, and for a split-second you imagine him actually meaning it instead of playing it up for the lens, “I love tasting you like this.” His tongue flicks out, eyes never leaving your face as he licks a stripe over your slit to have a gasp spilling from your lips. The motion is slow and steady, taking his time to taste, to tease, and to have you so worked up you’re aching for more.

A swipe of his tongue over the swollen bud sends a shiver down your spine as your thighs press against his palm, hips moving the moment his lips wrap around the hood of your clit. He sucks, lightly at first, and the camera shakes in your hand as his name almost slips from your lips. You know you have to be careful, not wanting to give away real names or identities, so you bite down on your bottom lip once his tongue flattens against your skin, massaging slowly, continuing to take his time in tasting you. 

“That feels… so good,” you tell him in a breathless tone, reaching with your other hand to slip your fingers between the strands of his hair. “Don’t stop, please,” you whimper, hips rolling against his tongue and the words cause him to groan between your thighs to vibrate against your flesh. 

The moment one hand lowers from your thigh to press two fingers at your entrance, your mind grows numb. No longer can you worry over the embarrassment, but only the thrill of him tasting you, not focusing too much on the camera or the fact that your best friend is between your legs, only the pleasure he is giving you. Your walls tighten and release in anticipation, feeling him coating his fingertips in your juices with laps around your entrance while his tongue massages carefully over your clit, and a second before he pushes the digits inside of you, you’re tempted to begin begging for them.

“Fuck,” you whimper, face twisting in pleasure from his long, slender fingers becoming buried so deep inside of you, “fuck, don’t stop, please.” You can’t stop the words before they spill from your lips, hand shaking as it holds up the camera higher to record the way his fingers begin pumping in and out of your dripping pussy. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” When he pulls away to ask, the smirk is prominent on his glistening lips while already knowing the answer, but you whimper and nod regardless. Then his fingers curl, sending your thighs clamping around his hand, to which he has to press a palm to the inside of your leg to keep them parted. “Are you gonna come on my tongue?” With that, he licks between your soaked folds once again, and from the way his fingers curl to him massaging your clit in circles, the tension begins to pull too tight as the warmth bubbles between your thighs. 

“Yes,” you gasp, chest and stomach heaving to give the camera a view of you beginning to lose your control. “Fuck, don’t��� don’t stop, please,” you beg him, fingers finding their way to the strands of his hair again, tugging a bit tighter, holding his tongue to your clit as he presses on the spot inside your tightening walls that have you quivering. Your body tenses around him as the sloppy sounds as he fingers you and sucks your clit fill the room, mixing with the way you begin to whimper, cursing beneath your breath and crying for more.

He isn’t sure if you’re playing it up for the camera, or if he is really making you feel so close to the edge, but he doesn’t stop, tongue massaging back and forth while pressing harder inside your walls. When he feels your legs twitch around him, he continues his pace and the motions of his tongue, knowing he is hitting the spot to finally have your head rolling against the headboard and your back arching, nearly losing control of the camera and yourself. From the way your thighs shake around, to how you clench his soiled, wet fingers, he is now positive your reactions to his pleasure are genuine, driving him to suck your clit harder while pumping his fingers in and out of you, all before flattening his tongue over the swollen bud and caressing diligently to have you gasping for air. 

“I-I’m getting close,” you whimper in the shakiest of breaths, hanging on to the bliss spreading from your thighs in a wave of heat while ignoring everything else around you. The tension spirals in the pit of your stomach, every one of his motions intensified as your hips roll against him, begging for more, begging for release. “I’m gonna… gonna…” 

Your voice fades before you have a chance to warn him, the surge of pleasure erupting from between your thighs to rush to every inch of your body. Your back arches, hand falling from the strands of his hair and you have to remind yourself not to lose control of the camera as you come against his tongue, trembling as he continues to pleasure you through the high, and even as you begin to come down. It’s not until you begin whimpering once again does he pull away, easing his fingers out of you before wiping his mouth and removing his mask.  

He reaches for the camera, clicking it off to stop recording while you lay there breathless from the bliss. A heaving chest signals to him you need a moment, and he takes the opportunity to make his way to the bathroom to clean up. When he returns, he holds a damp, white rag in his hand to help clean you up, reaching between your legs even though your body tenses from the sensitivity. 

“Oh my God,” you groan, slinging an arm over your face so he won’t notice how the realization that your best friend just went down on you affects you. “That was…” You finish the statement with a sigh, causing him to chuckle while trying to ignore the way he remains hard and needy from performing such an act on you. 

“I am glad I could finally return the favor,” he comments, causing your cheeks to burn hotter from the thought of him getting you off, expecting to have to fake it thanks to your own silly nerves preventing you from enjoying yourself.

And then the thought dawns on you just how much you did enjoy yourself, and how worked up he could have you, not expecting him to not only know how to get you off, but to take so much time and care to do so. Maybe he really did feel guilty, you think, and then you push the thoughts aside before you overthink the situation, knowing it’s nothing more than business and it will remain that way.

“Can you take that to Jaime to edit?” you ask him as he slips his shirt over his head before handing you your own in exchange for the recorder you pass his way. 

“Sure, I’ll tell him to upload it tonight,” he assures you with a nod, then leans down to press his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss, taking you by surprise. “I gotta go. Got work in the morning. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

All you can do is nod, lips parted as you stare at his back while he makes his way out of the bedroom to help himself out, and once he’s gone, you try your hardest to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. 

***

He calls the next day to confirm Jaime uploaded the video for the two of you, sending you into a whirlwind of jitters, shaking knees, and a fluttering heart while waiting to see if your second attempt has sparked any more interest. Thankfully for you, your shift at the diner offers busy table after busy table, keeping your mind distracted for most of the night and you become pleasantly surprised when you receive more tips than usual. At least it will cover what you took out of the rent money to pay for the camcorder.

Immediately when you get home, you stuff the spare change into your savings jar you keep on your dresser before making your way to peel off your clothes and hop into the shower. But not before hearing your phone buzzing against the nightstand where you left it, rushing to see it being none other than your best friend calling. 

“A hundred views in one day!” he exclaims before you can even get a simple hello out of your mouth. “With six viewers actually paying to watch.”

Your heart skips a beat at the news, wishing you weren’t so exhausted to show your enthusiasm just the same as him. “That’s amazing,” you mutter, attempting to peel off your shirt with the phone still in hand, tossing it to the bathroom floor before reaching to turn on the water. “How much money is that?”

“Only fifteen dollars, but hey,” he begins to reassure you, hearing his breathy laugh over the phone as you continue undressing, “it’s a start. Maybe our next video will attract more views since we will be… you know.”

You’re tempted to laugh at the sudden shyness evident in even his tone, if only you weren’t so exhausted. “Hm, I guess so,” you hum, now naked and running your hand beneath the stream to see if the temperature is comfortable.

“Everything okay?” he asks, curious from your low tone and lack of excitement at the news.

“Just tired,” you say, a yawn following the words. “Plus, fifteen dollars isn’t going to do much for either of us. We have to make our next video count.”

“I agree.” You hear shuffling from the other side, wondering if he is already in bed like you will be soon. “When should we record again?”

“Tomorrow night?” you suggest, hearing him hum. “I am off for the day. Jenny is going out of town for the weekend with her boyfriend’s family, so no roommate here. We will have the place to ourselves again.” You’re thankful your roommate isn’t home very often, wondering how you could ever explain the situation to her if she were to find out. 

“Sounds good,” he agrees before the two of you hang up the phone and you jump into the shower.

When the following night arrives, he knocks on your door with Jaime’s borrowed tripod in his hand, promising he will return it as soon as the two of you are done. He shuffles inside with a nervous huff, and you’re at least thankful he remains just as anxious as you. Considering this will be only the second time the two of you are completely together, and the first time recording it, you have felt the butterflies in your stomach fluttering away all day until the moment he arrived. 

“Where should I set this up?” he asks upon entering your bedroom, and even though you’re completely alone, you still shut the door behind you with a click of the lock. 

“At the end of the bed,” you tell him, a shaky exhale following the words as you run your hands over your skirt, then reach to grab the two masks from your dresser. 

“Got it.” He begins setting up the tripod and readying the camera while you begin to undress, slipping your blouse from your shoulders and pushing your skirt down your legs.

“Point it downward a bit,” you instruct just as he tightens the screw holding the camera, “that way it won’t miss, you know… you inside of me.” Your cheeks burn as the trembling words slip from your tongue, but he flashes a cheeky grin.

“My fake girlfriend is so smart,” he teases with a wink while making his way toward you once he is satisfied with the angle, and you don’t think you can blush any harder, ignoring the way your heart skips a beat. He takes the mask from you with one hand, his other brushing against your hip as he slips past you, earning goosebumps over your skin that go unnoticed. Together the two of you adjust your masks over your eyes, making sure the straps are hidden by your hair, and he makes sure his own is comfortable. “Are you nervous?”

The question takes you by surprise as you reach for the clasp of your bra. “Why do you ask?”

“Here, let me,” he says, reaching from behind you to unhook the clasp before easing the straps from your shoulders. “And I was only curious, I guess.”

You nod. “A bit nervous, sure. Aren’t you?” You crawl onto the bed, pressing your back to the mattress with your knees bent and thighs parted, waiting on him. Watching him walk toward the camera to press the record button, your heart pounds in your chest to remind you you’re way more than a bit nervous, but you try your hardest not to let it show. 

“A bit,” he admits, then presses the button on the camera before making his way back to you, peeling his shirt over his head in the process to toss aside. As he unbuttons his jeans, he takes his time, allowing you a moment to stare at the way the muscles in his arms tense, and the veins protrude to have you biting your lip. He pushes his pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles, full, hard arousal on display from just the thought of what the two of you are about to do. 

He hovers over for a moment, one palm pressed to the sheets near your head, the other beginning to work his cock as his mouth lowers to your own. The soft kisses he presses against your skin have you relaxing beneath him, the tension disappearing each second that passes until he directs his attention to your neck. The whimper that slips from your lips tells him how much you enjoy his mouth on your skin, working you up, easing the worries, and by the time he reaches your chest, you’re already aching between your thighs for him. 

“Your skin is so soft.” His fingertips brush your sides as his tongue circles your nipple. “I could kiss you all day.” From the way his eyes flick toward your face as he says the words, a chill surges down your spine before the heat begins to flood your body, starting from your parted thighs and working toward your fingers entangling in the strands of his hair. 

As his kisses lower, he hooks two fingers into the straps of your panties, peeling them down your legs before his lips press to your mound. A shiver of anticipation surges through you, gulping with your eyes closed the moment you feel his thumb brush across your folds. 

Knowing the camera is recording the both of you together for the first time has your body flushed, insides trembling, and heart racing. You know it is capturing every moment, from you laying on the bed, thighs parted for him, to him kissing your lips, your neck, teasing your breasts, and even to now when he begins massaging your clit with his thumb to prepare your body his cock. The pressure weighs down on you, but the thrill of the moment takes hold, not being able to stop the quiet whimpers that leave your lips, or the way your hips move to beg him for more. 

He leans back with his knees pressed to the bed, aligning a single finger up to your entrance before easing the digit inside. A gasp fills the room as he begins pumping the finger in and out, taking his time with slow motions while his other hand works his own cock with a steady palm. The sloppy, wet noises begin to fill the room, arousal coating his finger the longer he thrusts the digit in and out, and it doesn’t take him long to insert another, curling the digits inside your tightening walls to earn a muffled whimper beneath a bitten lip. 

“That feels… so good.” Your hips begin to move with his motions, becoming greedy for more all until he presses a palm to your thigh, raising your leg for the camera to get a better view of his fingers pumping into you. The new angle allows the juices coating his fingers to glisten from the bright, white lights from your vanity mirror, and the sounds grow louder as he thrusts his fingers quicker in your dripping walls. “I… I need you,” you whimper, the heat flooding your body rushing straight to your face from the way you beg him.

But with a deep groan, he pulls away, understanding you want him just as much as he wants you. He crawls over your body a moment later to grab the condom you laid out on the nightstand in preparation, ripping the wrapper open before tossing it aside. Rolling the rubber onto his length, he exhales a heavy breath, then presses a palm beneath your thigh once again to hold your leg against your chest.

With his other hand, he grips himself, lining the head of his cock to your soaked entrance before easing himself inside of you. “Fuck,” you cry out in a breathless moan, clutching the sheets beneath you the moment he fills you to the hilt. A fire ignites inside of you, needing him, and needing release, whimpering for more before you even have a chance to stop the words from spilling. “Fuck… fuck me, please.” 

The words earn a groan building deep in his chest, and if he questions the pleas, you know you can always blame the sudden need on playing it up for the lens. But he only gives in, giving you what you need, pulling his cock from within your clenched, dripping walls, only to thrust inside of you with more force, earning a cry mixed with curses. 

“How does that feel, baby?” The question is strained with every syllable spoken, repeating the motion of pumping his cock inside of you, hitting deep within your walls to have your back arching.

“So… so good,” you rasp, chest heaving and so overwhelmed from his words and his cock buried deep inside of you. 

“Do you want more?” He falls into a steady rhythm of thrusting inside of you as he asks, reaching to palm your ass and spread your cheeks farther for the camera to get a better view of him inside of you. “Tell me how you want it, baby.” The request has heat washing over you, gulping before struggling to speak, and the words spill from your lips in the breathiest of tones.

“F-Faster… please.” Hearing you beg earns a groan from him, all before he reaches to press both palms to the backs of your thighs, holding your legs against your chest while increasing his pace, pumping his cock deeper, harder, quicker to have your head rolling back against the bed. “Fuck… don’t stop.” Your cries fill the room, mixing with breathless curses and the wet, sloppy sounds of him fucking you. All of it is picked up on camera along with the sight of him rolling his hips into you, switching his pace from short, quick thrusts like you begged for, only to tease with slow, longer strokes, driving you wild as your jaw slacks and your knuckles fade from clutching the sheets so tight. 

“God, you feel so damn good.” He can’t help him when he leans forward, parting your thighs to settle closer to your body. He grips your wrists, pinning your arms above your head while his mouth cherishes your neck in the form of kisses, all before licking a stripe over your skin. The sensation has you shaking beneath him, thighs pressed to his waist as he grinds his body against yours, feeling him thrust deeper, fucking you with more conviction, more passion, than before. 

Even if the camera can’t capture his cock pumping in and out of you, it does see the way he holds you, whispering naughty things in your ear that you wonder if the receiver can pick up. His teeth skim across your flesh before he eases the mark he left with soft, gentle kisses. He groans in your ear, but it’s drowned out from the moans you release, flooding the room with noises of pure bliss. 

“Fuck,” he groans, deep and raspy to send a chill down your spine, “I’m gonna come.” He warns you with a hint of regret in his tone, as if he wants to make the moment last just as much as you, but when you squeeze your walls around his twitching cock, he can’t help but to huff, reaching the edge with you wrapped so tightly around him.

His jaw slacks as the pleasure washes over him, grunting once, hips slowing, brow wrinkling, and when his motions stop completely, you begin rocking your hips against him to receive every last drop from him. He then gulps, sweat beading over his forehead and his chest rises and falls, trying to catch his breath a moment before he collapses on top of you. 

And you think that’s it. Even if your body aches for release, you’re satisfied with your third video being complete, knowing you can get yourself off later if you need to. But when he pushes himself off of you to press his lips to your own, lingering for a moment before his mouth trails lower, you wonder why he is still showing you so much affection.

As he tends to your chest in quick, soft pecks of his lips, he carefully peels the condom from his length to toss in the garbage can next to your bed without missing a beat. You don’t question his actions, only closing your eyes and concentrating on the feel of his mouth on your skin, his tongue licking a stripe down your mound, and when you feel his lips parts your soaked, dripping folds, your back arches from the bed with a gasp.

“Fuck,” you nearly slip up, turning an attempt at calling his name on camera into nothing more than whine as your voice fades. You can’t help your reaction when he begins flicking his tongue over your swollen clit, sounds of his saliva mixing with your juices to fill the room. Your own moans drown out any other noises after a matter of seconds thanks to the way he begins massaging your clit with his tongue, not wasting any time aligning two fingers to your entrance to fill you up. 

He tastes you for the second time without giving you an option, wanting to get you off to leave you satisfied and you remember your words well from the night before, knowing he only wanted to make tonight’s video well worth it. But you can hardly focus on being recorded with his mouth buried between your trembling thighs. One hand holds you steady at your waist while he pumps his fingers into you, curling them, drawing out every little breathy moan and desperate whimper that becomes so well-deserved, you know you won’t last much longer.

“Gonna… gonna come,” you try to warn him, chest heaving and stomach tense, but he only groans against your flesh before pressing his mouth tighter to your slit. In a wave of pure bliss he has you barrelling over the edge, jaw unhinged as your cries go silent, warmth flooding from your center to your toes and head, before a desperate cry of absolute satisfaction fills his ears. Your hips buck while you clutch the sheets beneath you, gasping for air as the ecstasy rolls through you.

He doesn’t pull his tongue from your clit until he feels you quivering against his mouth, far too sensitive you almost cry out while pushing him away. With a smirk, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then presses his lips to your body once more. Each soft, gentle kiss over your stomach, your chest, your neck, to finally arrive on your lips has you melting beneath him, so beyond relaxed you don’t think you could possibly have a care in the world. 

“That was so hot, baby,” he groans into your ear, a deep whisper sending a shiver down your spine until you remember the camera is still rolling. It’s only an act, you tell yourself, and so you open your eyes to grin up at him while he stares down at you, a soft giggle slipping from your lips while entangling your fingers into the strands on the back of his head. Pulling him close, your lips collide for the last time that night, lingering for a moment, whimpering in a second, enjoying the feeling of your best friend being so close.

A moment later, he pulls away to make his way over and press the button on the camera. The show is over, allowing both of you to release some of the tension that night has been building from being so vulnerable for so long.

“Are you okay?” he asks while peeling his mask from his face, then reaching to do the same to your own when you finally gain the strength to sit up.

“I need… a shower,” you say with a heavy breath, causing the both of you to chuckle. 

“Well, come on, then.” He pulls you to your feet with a gentle grip on your arms.

“What?” You frown, eying him with curiosity. 

“Let’s shower.”

“Together?” He grins at your hesitation, then shrugs.

“If you can’t shower with your fake boyfriend, who can you shower with?” 

A giggle slips from your lips as you shake your head, covering your chest with your arms while slipping past him.  “I can manage,” you tell him with a glance over your shoulder before walking into the bathroom. With a flip of the light switch, you take one peek at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. Your hair is wild, with your eyeliner smeared and your arms still cover your breasts. The only thing you can do is laugh at yourself in the moment, not wanting the absurdity of the situation to affect you. 

“What about dinner?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, nearly startling you as you reach for the shower faucet.

“Are you buying?” You flash him a playful grin over your shoulder, noticing he at least has his jeans on by now. He presses his tongue to his cheek for a moment, then nods with a grin.

“I’ll buy.” He steps closer, leaning against the sink while you run a hand beneath the water cascading down to check if the temperature is warm enough. “How does pizza sound?”

 The question has you bursting into a fit of giggles as you stand before him, naked, the situation finally clicking of just how ridiculous it seems. He hitches a brow in return, eyeing you with a grin on his lips.

“So, no pizza?”

You giggle harder, shaking your head. “No, pizza is fine. It’s just…” You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping your eyes of the tears that begin to well from the laughter. “It’s really just crazy, isn’t it? Like, only a little over a week ago you were coming into the diner for free food and I was pissed about shitty tips. Now I am standing here naked, in front of my best friend - the guy who used to tease me for my hair being too frizzy in high school and I would give you shit for not having a girlfriend - after we just recorded ourselves having sex. Like, holy shit… are we crazy or are we really just that desperate?”

He blinks, taking in everything you say until all he can do is gulp. Maybe he hasn’t thought about the situation as much as you have, or maybe he is having an easier time telling himself it’s just sex. Either way, a moment later a wide smile forms on his lips before he bursts into laughter.

“Both,” he says, “I think we are both crazy and desperate, but I don’t regret it.” Then he steps closer, cupping your cheek in his palm.

“No?”

“No,” he assures you, “not one bit.” 

He leaves you to your shower after dropping his hand to his side, making his way to order your favorite pizza while you are stuck with a racing and butterflies in your stomach. Having sex with your best friend shouldn’t feel this good, you realize as much, but you can’t deny that it does. 

***

The third video does the best so far, and he bursts with excitement while telling you. He barely gives you a chance to wake up a few mornings after the two of you had spent the rest of the night eating pizza and reminiscing about your high school days. When he left that night, he promised to call you with the news as soon as there were results, but as you roll over while grumbling to see the time is only a little after nine in the morning, you almost regret agreeing to the decision. 

“Fifty dollars!” he exclaims as you mutter a hello. 

“W-What?” You blink, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up. “Fifty?”

“Well, fifty bucks from all of our videos combined so far,” he corrects with a chuckle, causing your heart to flutter at the news. Of course it makes sense the more videos the two of you make, the more in profits you will see, and the thought only has you yearning to have your next recording session with him. 

“That’s more than I expected,” you admit, yawning between the words. “How do these people even find our videos so quickly?”

“Jaime  told me it’s something to do with proper keywords and titles, maybe tags or maybe we are getting dedicated viewers, um, I don’t know. I don’t really listen when he talks to me about the videos,” he tells you honestly. “I just try my best not to imagine him jerking off to them.”

Giggling, you sit up in your bed, realizing that’s not even a thought that has crossed your mind. Considering everything else happening between him and you while you figure the whole amateur video thing out, Jaime seems like the least of your worries. 

“I guess we really did make that video count, then.” 

“Yeah, all thanks to you.”

“Me?” Your cheeks burn at the thought as you sit up straight. “Why me?”

“I was reading some comments…” His voice lingers on the last syllable.

“And?” You lean forward in your bed, as if he can actually see you trying to get the words out of him. “What did they say?”

“Mm,” he hums, “there were a few mentioning how sexy you are when you come.”

The words shoot straight to your core with a burst of overwhelming heat, stomach twisting and heart flooding. “Please,” you squeak, burying your face onto your knees while your body squirms. “I guess… that would be thanks to you, yeah?” He chuckles, from either your correction or the way your voice lowers to a whisper. 

“I think we make a good team,” he admits as your embarrassment settles. Even though you fail to mention it to him, you believe he is right. You couldn’t imagine getting yourself into such a thing with anyone else, happy to have propositioned him in the first place, and thankful that he agreed. “And speaking of, maybe we should try something more… adventurous.”

“Adventurous?” You hold back your groan. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll think of something. There’s a market for everything, as Jaime tells me.” His sigh spills through the speaker. “I’m not sure if he wants us to get kinkier to bring in more views, or if it’s only for his own entertainment.”

Giggling, you push the covers from your legs and stand. “Kinkier?” You hum in thought. “What, like… anal?”

You aren’t sure if he chokes on his breath from the other side of the phone, but the gasping would cause you to think so. “Anal? You would let me…”

“Nope,” you interrupt, chuckling. “No anal, but I wouldn’t mind trying something a bit more daring if anything comes to mind. In the meantime…” Your voice fades after making your way to the bathroom, readying your toothbrush with toothpaste.

“Hm?”

“I gotta take care of some things today before my shift tonight. Do you wanna join me?” 

He happily agrees, deciding to tag along while you run errands for the few hours before work at the diner. He walks with you to your school, paying for at least two of your classes for the following semester after deciding to dip into more of your rent money. You assume you can make up the difference in time to give your part to Jenny, knowing if you can’t attend school as a full-time student thanks to your lack of funds, you can at least manage two classes until the videos give you some extra cash. If things continue doing as well as they are, you’re confident it won’t take long before you’re comfortable with paychecks from the diner, tips each night, and splitting the money you make with him.

After some of the weight is lifted from your shoulders for covering two of your upcoming classes, you head to the nearest mall to get out of the heat, making a beeline to the food court to purchase a frozen strawberry lemonade for the two of you. Considering you still have a while before your shift starts, he and you linger around the mall to window shop, pointing out this and that you swear you will buy when you have more money.

“Let’s go in here,” you exclaim the moment you spot your favorite lingerie store, dragging him along as he sips on his frozen drink. “What do you think of this?” you ask him, reaching to pick out the first sheer, black babydoll set you spot.

“On you?” His brow hitches and your cheeks burn, not considering him picturing the lingerie on you, only wanting his opinion on what a man would want to see in one of your videos. “I like it.”

With only a grin, you place the set back onto the rack to continue browsing, fingers skimming across the silk and satin patterns, shifting through a stack of panties with ruffles on one shelf before moving to lacy bras on the next. A store employee comes to you to ask if you need assistance only for you to wave her away, knowing you don’t have money to purchase anything, but browsing is nice to take your mind off of things for a while.

But when you feel him press his back to you, mouth lowering to your ear, you freeze. “I have an idea.” His voice is low, deep, and a bit raspy, sending a chill through your body. “Come with me.” He grips your wrist to guide you to the back of the small store, looking left and right to make sure none of the employees notice the two of you sneaking away to the fitting rooms. 

You call his name with a clenched jaw, attempting to keep your voice low once he has pulled the long, black curtain to the one side, hiding the two of you, “you can’t be in here.”

“Who says?” He chuckles, taking a seat on the bench in the small dressing room before grabbing your frozen drink from your hands. He sets both plastic cups to the side, all before reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone and then pressing his back to the mirror behind him. 

“What… what are you doing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you eye him.

“You said you would be willing to try something if I had an idea.” The devious smirk that forms over his lips leaves your legs shaking. “What if I film you getting off?”

Your eyes pop at the request, heart drumming against your chest and you begin shaking your head from side to side before speaking. “Here?” Leaning closer, your brow furrows and your jaw slacks, noticing him nod simply as if it’s no big deal. “I don’t even have my mask.”

“I won’t record your face.”

“What if someone hears us?”

“Isn’t that what makes it adventurous?” He has a point, and you know well enough you have watched your fair share of videos where couples would try to sneak away in public to get one another off. The thrill is what makes it sexy and you can only imagine the kind of views it could pull in. “What do you say?”

With a deep breath, you give in, nodding once before he presses his thumb to the screen of his phone to begin recording. You trust him not to get a view of your face, but you don’t trust yourself that you can remain quiet, especially if he is the one guiding you to your own release. 

“Come here, baby.” It only takes him a second to fall into the character of loving boyfriend easing you in the moment. You step closer, allowing him to tug the zipper of your skirt until the thin fabric falls to your ankles, leaving the perfect view of the white panties beneath. Your heart pounds against your chest, feeling as if it skips a beat here and there while your stomach twists at the thought of getting caught. But it has a fire burning inside of you, warmth building between your legs from the rush of getting away with something. 

“Part your legs,” is all he says, guiding you in the deep, husky voice that appears once the camera is rolling. You obey his direction, slipping your shoes from your feet before parting your thighs. When his hand rises to press two fingers to your slit, your insides begin to shake from the pressure. He eases the digits back and forth over the base of your panties, caressing your slit while the lens captures everything and he doesn't stop until your body flushes and the arousal pools at your entrance. “Do you wanna come on my fingers, baby?” 

The question earns a fluttering heart and goosebumps spreading over your skin, hearing his dark, deep whisper fill the small dressing room. Fingertips apply more pressure to your entrance to allow your juices to soak through your panties, leaving your legs shaking from anticipation when he pulls away. Leaning closer, you're well aware the camera captures the sight of the darkened patch against the thin cloth, all before he hooks a finger into the waistband to pull the flimsy fabric down to your thighs, uncovering your mound. 

“Yes,” you whisper in return after remembering to answer him. The moment takes hold, overwhelming your body with heat as he slips a finger between your folds with his palm facing upward. “I-I wanna come.” The heavy breath you exhale leaves your chest heaving, eyes closing as he teases your slit, the single digit reaching your entrance to dip his fingertip inside before drawing back to your clit to perform small, steady circles. 

“How does that feel?” Just as he asks, he eases his finger back to your entrance, slipping inside to have you gasping by the last syllable. You reach for him, shaking fingers wrapping around his wrist while he begins pumping the digit in and out, taking his time as the camera captures him teasing you. Your juices coat his flesh, working you up to have heat swelling from between your legs.

“Feels so good,” you whimper in the smallest of voices, trying to be mindful of your volume so no one passing by overhears. 

“Do you want more, baby?” All you can do is bite your lip while nodding in response. Your breaths deepen in an attempt to keep the whimpers from spilling from your lips, so beyond worked up from his touch and the thrill of getting away with it. “Turn around.” 

For a moment, the request surprised you, but you can’t help but to follow the instructions. You turn with your ass toward him and your palms pressed to the wall. When he reaches to palm your ass with a firm grip, your folds part to give the camera the complete view of your glistening slit. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he guides you with ease, deep, raspy voice filling the dressing room and he groans with the last syllable, “show me what a dirty girl you are.” 

A rush of burning heat fills your body, and before you can even think about it, your hand slips between your thighs, ass rising higher to give him a better view of your fingers pressing to your clit. He groans once again at the sight, putting on a show for not only the lens, but for him as well, following his instructions while caressing circles over your clit. Your juices coat your fingers and your teeth sink into your bottom lip harder, the urge to cry out rising. 

“God,” he exhales, “you’re so sexy, baby.” The compliment has the heat surging to your cheeks, burning red and hot and so overwhelmed from his words. Quiet whimpers begin to slip past your bitten lip when he presses two of his fingertips to your entrance, noticing you tightening your walls, needing more, needing him, and he leaves you trembling as he eases his fingers inside of you once again. 

A moan escapes you, a bit louder than before as you feel him curl the digits, drawing out the noises to mix with the messy sounds of your juices coating his skin. You clench yourself around his fingers, increasing the pressure while continuing to caress quick circles against your clit. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, words strained against his tongue, breaths becoming heavier at just the sight. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He plays it up for the camera, even though the lens already has the perfect view of your arousal dripping down your slit, creating a mess even over your own fingers as he pleasures you. 

“It feels so good,” you whimper in response, pushing your hips toward him when you become greedy as the bliss fills you to the brim. “Don’t… don’t stop.” The words are breathless as they leave your lips, already so lost in the moment, and you aren’t sure if it’s his skilled fingers or the fact that you’re doing something so forbidden that has you already flirting with the edge of your own release. You quicken your motions over your clit, overwhelmed and aching and hot, ready to come on his fingers just like he asked. 

“You’re squeezing around my fingers so tight,” he teases you, burying the digits deeper, curling them, causing you to whimper louder than before without restraint. “Are you getting close? You’re making such a fucking mess.” Each time he pumps his fingers into you, the sloppy, wet sounds fill the small fitting room to confirm the words he speaks to leave you knees weak beneath you. He pushes harder, earning tightened walls around the digits as curses are whispered beneath your breath.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you warn him in a voice so breathless, he almost misses the words. You lean farther back onto his fingers, working your clit quicker, harder, drawing you near the edge as the tension twists and tightens seconds before snapping. Waves of red, hot pleasure wash over you, leaning your forehead against the wall, gaping, hips rolling, coming undone onto his fingers just like you wanted.

As you do so, he pulls away to part your soaked, glistening lips with a finger on each side of your slit, allowing the camera to capture the way your body trembles and your walls spasming in pure bliss. Drops of your juices trickle down your slit to coat your fingers that have now stalled as you begin to come down from the pleasure. Your breaths are the only thing heard in the dressing room until he pushes his two fingers inside you once more, showing the camera what a mess you made while pumping the digits in and out in the slowest of motions to capture the wet, sloppy sounds. 

The sensitivity of your peak has you finally pushing his hand away, aftershocks of pleasure leaving your knees wobbling beneath you in an attempt to pull your panties up. He stops recording while you dress yourself in the middle of catching your breath, only able to eye him with darkened eyes and cheeks burning red hot from getting away with your recording session. 

***

He calls the next morning, bright and early as ever, to confirm your video was a success. Maybe he does have good ideas. The thought crosses your mind even in your groggy state as you kick the covers off of your body with lazy attempts while listening to him ramble. 

“We have triple the views now!” You’re barely listening to him as his voice bursts with excitement through the speaker, tempted to fall back asleep after an exhausting night at the diner. The tips were better than average, at least, so your current exhausted state isn’t for nothing. “I think we are really starting to make some progress here.”

“Mhm,” you groan, eyes fluttering because your bed feels the most comfortable when you need to crawl out of it. 

“I think that last video sparked interest. I have another idea, if you’re willing. I think it can bring in more viewers.” 

You allow him to ramble for a moment, struggling to wake yourself up until you finally drag yourself out of bed. “Hm, does this idea include anal?”

“Do you… want it to include anal?” 

The question has a sleepy smile spreading over your face. “No, no anal.” You make your way to the bathroom, giving yourself a glance in the mirror above the sink before grabbing your toothbrush.

“We can record once you’re done with your shift today.”

The thought has you groaning all over again, wondering how you are even managing working until nearly midnight, only to come in first thing in the mornings. You know you need all the hours you can, and you wouldn’t complain if it weren’t nothing but senior citizens with lousy tips as your customers first thing in the morning. 

“Sure,” you agree, sticking your toothbrush in your mouth to have your words mumbled, “if I’m not falling asleep on you by tonight.”

He chuckles to have you imagining his wide smile in your mind. “I think this idea will have you wide awake.”

His reassurance has your stomach twisting the entire shift at work. You try to take your mind off of it, and it becomes easier with busy tables, a few rude customers that somehow distract you with frustration, and your manager breathing down your neck, asking you to help check inventory before taking over another waiter's section and not even allowing you a proper break. 

By the time you drag yourself home on tired legs and aching feet, he is waiting at your front door. Even if you are beyond exhausted and your head pounds with the day’s stresses, you’re happy to allow him in to record with him, knowing it will be your last night before Jenny is back in town, so you need all the time alone you can get. 

“When do we even get paid for this?” you ask, watching him pop open the screen to the recorder as he leans against your dresser. 

“I think Jaime says once a month,” he mumbles, clicking a few buttons on the camera to adjust settings. “You’re free to have the first check, if you want it.”

Frowning, you freeze with your hands gripping your white t-shirt with the diner’s name written in cursive over the front. “What? Really?”

“You need it more than I do.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal to him. “I can get my car fixed any time, but you can’t be late on rent and I know you took that money to pay for school.” 

“Wow, thanks.” He smiles wide, noticing your genuine appreciation at his understanding. The sentiment has left you with a fluttering heart swelling to twice the size, nearly distracting you from what he is even here to do. “Let me shower, and then we can get started. Are you still not going to tell me your idea?”

His grin widens. “No, it’s a surprise.”

“Should I be worried?” Your brow furrows.

“I think you will enjoy it,” he assures you. 

You’re less confident than him, but you ignore the thought for now to shower. The hot stream beating against your sore muscles manage to ease the tension just a bit, feeling a bit more relaxed, though even more tired, by the time you step onto the fluffy, pink floor mat. Attempting to not drip all over the bathroom floor, you dry yourself off as quick as you can manage before wrapping the towel around your body, tying up your hair once you make it to your bedroom and await on him to tell you what you’re in for. 

“Our last video got a few more comments than before,” he tells you while rising from his position previously relaxed and comfortable over your bed. “I think people enjoy watching you get off while I guide you. So…”

“So?” Your brow hitches, listening to his every word as you drop the towel to the floor, noticing his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. 

“If you’re okay with it,” he begins, reaching around you to grab two pillows from the bed to place on top of one another, all before guiding you to have a seat, “I wanted to film you, um, touching yourself and getting yourself off.”

The hesitation in the words fills you with warmth, heat flooding your face as you press your back to the pillows. “You think… people will like that?” Your own voice loses confidence, feeling the weight of his gaze until his eyes fall to the floor. 

“I know they will,” he assures you, earning a heart beating twice as fast in your chest. But you only nod, biting your lip as he turns to grab your mask from the dresser. You allow your damp hair to fall around the white strap after adjusting the mask over your eyes, taking a deep breath only a second before he presses record after settling on the bed before you. 

With a bitten lip, you attempt to hide the shy grin once the camera begins rolling. Even though you try to push your nerves aside, the thought of not only performing solo for viewers on an adult site, but him as well, has butterflies fluttering in your stomach as heat fills your entire body. But with embarrassment comes a new kind of thrill, causing you to part your legs as you tease your own nipples, lust filled eyes gazing into the lens. 

“That’s it, baby,” he begins, his deepest, raspiest voice filling the receiver on the camera as he talks to you, “touch yourself for me.”

His choice of words has a surge of adrenaline rushing through you. It confirms your previous nerves of giving him quite the view, fingers pinching and pulling your nipples softly as your lips part and your head rolls to one side.

“Part your thighs for me,” he instructs, obeying him without question to give him and the camera a view of your slit, “let me see your pussy, baby.” 

Your gaze focused on the camera switches to spot his eyes darkening as he speaks. Each sinful word is spoken with a strained tongue, groaning at the view between your parted thighs. Even though your insides shake with nerves, anticipation, and the thrill of him recording you, you gather up the courage to continue your show, hand lowering from your breast to slip between your legs to graze your mound. The touch sends a shiver down your spine the moment he groans at the sight, and you wonder if he is getting lost in the moment as well.

“Wet your fingers,” he guides you, causing the breath to catch in your throat, “and then play with that pretty cunt of yours.” Before you can move, your chest heaves and you gulp, his words affecting you with heat spreading from between your thighs to reach even your toes and fingertips. His words deepen, darkening with every syllable spoken as he guides you to have your core aching with the need to get off.

You follow his instructions, bringing two fingertips to your lips before easing them against your tongue. You play it up, wanting to show you’re just as into the moment, tongue swirling around the digits to coat them in your own saliva, and the camera captures it all. 

“That’s so sexy, baby,” he groans, and the way his hand not holding the camera drops to the bulge beneath his jeans has you biting your lip when you pull your fingers away with a smack of your lips. “Tease yourself for me. Make yourself wet.”

His boldness leaves you shaking, sinful words spilling from his lips to guide you, but you obey the instructions. You aren’t sure if you’re performing more for the camera, or wanting to please him while noticing him palm himself through his jeans, but your fingers fall to your slit. In a slow, steady motion you drag your two fingers down your slit, reaching your entrance where your arousal begins to pool, then you move toward your clit. The sight earns a deep groan from him before he licks his lips, studying the way you tease yourself just like he instructed. 

Your body is so hot, so flushed by the time you begin toying with your clit for him. Your fingers circle the swelling bud in the slowest of movements, biting your lip, batting your lashes, even allowing a few whimpers to build in your throat. For a few moments, you fall into the bliss of touching yourself, teasing your clit, putting on a show for him as the warmth builds from between your thighs. Then you dip your fingers to your entrance, gathering the juices that begin to drip, coating your own flesh before dragging the digits to your clit once again.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks, his deep, raspy voice filling you with red, hot desire. “Does it make you wet when I record you? Do you like being so naughty?”

You wonder where the peak in his confidence came from, but you don’t allow yourself much time to think it over before you’re biting harder on your bottom lip, only whimpering with a simple nod to answer the questions. Your fingers begin working faster, falling into a steady rhythm of pleasuring yourself as the moment takes hold. 

“Show me how wet you’re getting.” The request has the warmth rising to your cheeks. “Stick your fingers in your cunt for me.”

You can’t help but to oblige, worked up, overwhelmed, obeying his every direction as your fingers lower to your slit. You ease them inside of you, only the sounds of your breaths and the digits pumping into your juices filling the room, finding yourself more aroused than you first imagined. The slick, wet sounds earn a heavy exhale from him, barely focusing on recording you while studying the way you pump your fingers in and out of yourself.

“That’s it.” The words release more breathless than the last. “Now, lick your fingers clean for me.”

He has you frozen for only a moment, wanting to make sure you heard him right. He stares at you with lidded eyes, parted lips, and desire in his gaze, waiting on you to follow his guidance. Taking a deep breath, you pull your fingers from your dripping entrance to bring the digits to your lips, staring him straight in the eyes while your tongue swipes over your skin to gather your juices. The view of you licking your fingers earns a deep, rugged groan, nostrils flaring as his breaths deepen, knowing the sight is getting to him.

“You’re such a dirty fucking girl,” he groans, peeling his grip from his rock hard cock to reach for you, brushing his palm against your inner thigh. “Can I touch you, baby?” To anyone else watching, it might seem odd of your boyfriend to ask, but you know he only wishes for you to remain comfortable, waiting for your whimper as you nod.

“P-Please.” Your legs part just a little more, leaning back a bit farther while awaiting his touch you have been so desperate for. In an instant, his thumb brushes over your slit, smearing the juices over your flesh, from your entrance to your clit, igniting the fire inside of you. Your hips roll against his motions, begging for more, whimpering so breathlessly it nearly goes unheard. 

When he focuses his motions on your clit, performing slow, small circles with his thumb, your back arches over the pillows behind you, head rolling back while soft moans fall from your lips. You feel yourself dripping, body growing hotter with waves of heat and desire flooding you to every limb. The ache settles between your thighs, knowing you need release and wanting him to give it to you.

“Please,” you exhale, reaching to wrap shaky fingers around his wrist, “I-I wanna come.”

“I bet you do, baby.” His breathy chuckle sends a chill down your spine. “Do you want to do one more thing for me? I promise it will feel good.” 

All you can do is nod, eager to please him, and so much more eager to get yourself off. He smirks, a fire igniting in his eyes that you notice a moment before he reaches behind you. Carefully, he grabs one of the pillows pressed against your back as you sit forward, only to fold it in half to press the bend between your legs.

“Wh-What do you…” You blink, gulping, aching, body burning hot from feeling the soft, cool pillow case against your swollen folds. 

“Get on your knees,” he directs you with a gentle grip on your waist, allowing you to press your legs into the mattress as you rest against your knees. The pillow remains between your legs, brushing against your folds as you await his next command with your heart pounding harder each second that passes. “Move your hips. Ride the pillow until you come for me.” 

For a moment, you only blink, making sure for the second time you heard him correctly. When you meet his gaze, his eyes darken, flickering with lust as a devious smirk spreads over his lips. Then you inhale, holding your breath, and you don’t release the air from your lungs until your hips begin rolling, grinding your core against the softness of the folded pillow. Your hands press forward to allow shaky fingers to grip the edge of the pillow, steadying yourself as the moans begin to spill from your lips.

“That’s it,” he encourages, pointing the camera down to capture your entire body. His other hand rises to cup your cheek, forcing your eyes to meet the lens while his thumb brushes against your lower lip. “Does it feel good?”

All you can do is nod, managing a quiet whimper before your eyes shut. Never did you think grinding yourself against your own pillow as he records you would bring you so close to the edge, your swollen clit caressing the fabric and your juices soaking the pillow case. But the tension begins to tighten, warmth swelling to every part of your body, from your curled toes, to your clenched fingers, and even your face, jaw finally slacking as he eases his thumb over your tongue and you begin sucking the digit without question. 

 “Come on, come for my baby,” he instructs you, following the deep, raspy words as your hips roll quicker and you press yourself harder against the pillow. “Let me see you make a mess on the pillow.”

The sinful words leave you trembling, whimpering with his thumb against your tongue. Shaking fingers grip the pillow tighter, feeling the tension coil before snapping, following his guidance and coming undone to create a mess between your thighs. Your body leans forward, quivering in the rise of your own pleasure, growing silent before gasping for air as the heatwave of pure bliss washes over you. Your hips slow in the wake of your orgasm, continuing to tremble, breaths heavy until your body eases against the bed.

He continues to record, capturing the messy, wet stain against your pillowcase, all before reaching to part your legs as you lay on your side. Two fingers brush over your dripping center, causing your body to tense and your legs to jerk from the sensitivity. He coats his flesh in your juices, sloppy sounds filling the room to signal just how worked up you had gotten, and just how hard you came, all before he finally makes his way to press the button on the camera to stop recording. 

“Are you alright?” he asks as he makes his way over to your side, eyes scanning down your limp body, then back up to your heaving chest, your eyes shut tight, and he doesn’t miss the slight grin on your lips. “You did great, babe.” His hand presses to your back, and it takes a bit too long for you to catch your breath, nearly missing the newest pet name he calls you, and if you weren’t so spent, the fact that the camera isn’t rolling as he says such things would have your stomach flipping and heart fluttering. 

“That was…” You take a deep breath, eyes opening to see him look down at you. “Wow. My legs are still tingling.” A tired giggle slips from your lips, earning a chuckle from him as he grips you by the arm to pull you closer to him. 

“I knew you would like it,” he boasts, and the fact that he is right keeps you from smacking your lips or rolling your eyes. Your limp body manages to press against his, allowing him to soothe the after effects of your pleasure with small circles of his palm against your back, allowing you to relish in his care for a moment before he pulls away. “C’mon, I’ll help you get cleaned up.” 

***

You’re thrilled to know he was right. From your last video getting twice as many views than the one before, along with an increase in paying customers and loyal viewers, it’s clear he has a knack for guiding you in your videos and you can only enjoy getting to feel the pleasures of each recording session you spend with him. 

The two of you continue your amateur video adventure for weeks, planning times when your roommate isn’t home, and spending nights at his place when she is. You record an assortment of videos to watch the views increase each time Jaime uploads them for the two of you, capturing you giving him a handjob, the two of you fucking on a bathroom countertop, and even you riding him in his living room while keeping quiet so neither of you disturb Jaime’s slumber. 

And it seems the two of you grow closer every time, more comfortable, finding every sliver of awkwardness gone and every doubt or insecurity erased. You kiss without mishaps of bumped noses, and you no longer shake in anticipation while hoping you don’t look silly or just plain crazy. The views and revenue rise just like your confidence, and it all puts your mind at ease while noticing the light at the end of the tunnel becoming brighter.

“How was work today?” he asks you in a whisper as you enter his apartment, slipping your shoes off at the door while you both try to keep your voices low. 

Previous worries of stopping by too late after your shift ended well past your normal time diminished after he assured you he still wished to record no matter the time, only needing to keep quiet so you didn’t disturb a sleeping roommate. Your past attempts at doing such proved to be a success, so it was all the convincing you needed. 

“I’m so… fucking… tired, and pissed,” you groan, plopping onto his bed as he watches and chuckles. “I am surprised I even had enough energy to walk over here.” Though the smell of his lingering body wash and shampoo fills your nose as you lay against the soft sheets, thinking how lovely it would be to just close your eyes and doze off. The dull lights from a nightstand lamp make it cozy enough, and the moment he rests beside you to brush his fingers over your face and push away loose strands of hair is the moment you deeply consider the idea of drifting off to sleep.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” you groan once again. The last thing you want to recall is lousy tips and customer after customer becoming rude, demanding, and wishing to have their orders sent back while blaming you for every last thing. 

“We don’t have to record if you aren’t feeling up to it.” His touches drift from simple brushes to push away your hair to begin caressing your shoulder, coaxing a moan from your lips as the tension disappears from your body. 

“It’s okay, I want to,” you tell him, voice softer than before thanks to him easing the anger and frustrations. “I might have to starfish it, but I want to.” A smile forms on your lips once you hear his soft chuckle in response. 

“Fine,” he simply says, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead, causing you to grin wider before he whispers in your ear. “Then let me take care of you.” 

While giggling, you allow him to help you from the bed to your feet. “Aw, my fake boyfriend is too good to me.” Then you consider the fact as he reaches for the masks you left on his nightstand the last time you recorded together. “Now that I think about it, you’re better than most of my previous real boyfriends.”

He grins while helping you adjust your mask over your face before tending to his own. “Only the best for my fake girlfriend.” Before you can come back with a witty reply, he turns to grab the tripod from the other side of the room, setting it up along with the camera at the end of the bed while you begin undressing yourself. You toss your too-big t-shirt to the floor before your shorts follow, waiting in your bra and panties on him to finish setting up and undressing. When he is down to his boxer briefs, he presses the button on the camera to begin recording, then makes his way toward you. 

“Are you ready, baby?” His chest presses to your back, never hesitating to wrap arms around your body, but his affection, from his touches to his kisses to his words, have become so familiar at this point, you find yourself longing for him when you’re not together. You nod in response, resting your head against his shoulder while his hands begin to roam your body. 

His lips fall to your exposed neck just as his hands cup your breasts. The smallest of whimpers slip from your mouth, eyes closing and even a grin forming over your lips from the way he takes care of you. It's as if the camera isn't even rolling, paying no more attention to the fact that the two of you are being recorded and only focusing on how he eases the tension from your body. The moment a single hand dips into your panties is when your mind completely drifts from the frustration and your body forgets to be exhausted. His fingers part your folds as his mouth brushes along the curve of your neck from behind. He is patient like he always is, taking his time to work you up until your breaths deepen and you hold back a whimper of his name. 

When he pulls away from your breast, you reach behind to unclasp your bra for him, allowing it to slip to the floor while giving him better access to your erect nipples. As he teases between your thighs with steady, yet diligent fingers, he reaches again to cup your bare breast. Your chest pushes into his hold, asking for more, and when his fingertips brush over your nipple before he tugs and pinches in a careful motion, a soft moan spills from your lips. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispers into your ear, not bothering to wait on your reply before he swipes his tongue over your skin, then kisses the spot with soft lips. “Are you getting wet for me?” 

From his fingers circling your clit to his hand palming your breast, all you can manage is a whimper before you bite down on your bottom lip. The arousal drips from your entrance to soil your panties, body flushing with heat as the moment takes hold of you. He accepts your noises of pleasure as confirmation he is keeping his promise of taking care of you, daring to venture farther as his fingers ease down your slit, causing your legs to spread wider. You're already squeezing your walls in anticipation as your thumbs hook into the straps of your panties, easing the flimsy fabric down your thighs to give him access. 

The pads of his fingertips circle your entrance to coat his flesh in your forming arousal, earning a grip of your shaking hand around his wrist. Your jaw slacks and your brow wrinkles beneath the mask, heat rising to spread through your body due to his mouth on your neck, a palm over your chest, and his fingers pushing into you. The moment he pushes the digits in, your thighs press against his hand while a gasp slips from your lips. The overwhelming pleasure sends a surge of warmth to every inch of your body, starting between your thighs where he teases you by easing the fingers in and out, to reach your toes and fingertips. 

“That feels so good,” you whimper, breathless with your eyes fluttering from the blissful pressure of him pushing his fingers inside of you. “I-I need you.” The desperation in your strained tone gives him the assurance he needs to go further. When he pulls his wet fingers from your walls, he brushes over your slit until he reaches your clit, circling a few times in a slow, steady motion to leave you gasping, then he pulls away from your body. 

“Dammit,” he curses beneath his breath after he opens the drawer to his nightstand. You give him a curious, wide-eyed look over your shoulder when he turns to face you, not bothering to worry over the camera still recording thanks to Jaime being able to edit out any hang ups or issues. “I don't have any condoms here.” 

Then the last time you were with him comes to kind, remembering telling him you would be in charge of bringing the condoms thanks to having a half-used pack at your place. You bite your lip, watching him rub the back of his neck with one hand while he grips his erection straining against his boxers with the other. Gulping, you think about what it would be like to be with him without condoms, feeling flesh against flesh and allowing him to fill you up fully for the first time. Heat washes over your face to fill your cheeks with embarrassment, finding a racing heart agreeing with the idea.

“We… don't need them,” you whisper, eyes falling to the floor. 

He hesitates, before beginning to mumble, “Are-Are you sure?” 

You thought the two of you had already gotten over the awkwardness, but experiencing something new with him has him stuttering while you become hot with embarrassment. Though, you trust him, and he has taken care of you while making you more comfortable than you ever imagined yourself with someone else, so the thought of trying something new also has your body aching, needing him and needing to feel him fill you up. 

“I’m sure,” you say while turning to face him, gripping him by the hips to pull him closer, then gripping his boxer briefs to push the fabric down his legs. His hard, thick arousal springs free, causing you to lick your lips before tearing your gaze away to look into his eyes. “I want to. I… want you to come in me.” 

He continues to stare for a moment, looking into your eyes to see the sincerity matching your words. Then he leans closer, connecting his lips with your own, holding you close with an arm wrapping around your back, and when you whimper against his skin from the comforting way he takes care of you, he deepens the kiss with a groan filling in his chest. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip as your hands press to his chest, feeling his flushed, hot body against your own to have the room spinning around you. 

When you pull away from him, you turn to press knees and palms against the coolness of the sheets, curving your back a moment later to raise your ass for him. He can only groan at the sight of you bent over and spread open for him, and a chill rushes down your spine from being so exposed, and vulnerable, yet so comfortable in your own skin when you’re with him. He reaches for you a moment later, pressing a palm against your ass to spread your folds farther, gaining better access and a better view of your glistening slit. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers low enough you nearly miss the words, but they still affect you in the form of goosebumps and a fluttering heart. The warmth never leaves your body from the thrill of being with him as you feel the tip of his length press to your folds. Your eyes close, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he teases your slit with a groan, coating his flesh in your juices a few moments before he begins to ease inside of you.

The gasp that leaves your lips as he fills you up releases much louder than you anticipated while it drowns out the strained curses he spills, but you can’t be bothered with controlling your volume when you become dizzy from the pressure and the bliss of him inside of you. He enters you deeper than any other time thanks to the position, yet he allows you a moment to adjust to the sensation as his palms caress your hips and he repeats over and over how good it feels when you’re wrapped tight around him. 

When you lean into him, fingers digging into the wrinkled sheets, he begins easing out of you, only to thrust inside of you with rising desperation. His grip on your hips tightens, repeating the motions to hear each and every whimper, every moan, and every cry that begins to pour from your lips. The sounds of skin against skin and your slick, messy wetness he pumps into fill the room, mixing with your noises of pleasure and his own groans until neither of you bother with keeping the sounds down.

“Faster,” you beg him in a breathless whimper, all before your teeth sink into your flesh, brow wrinkling, moans filling in your chest. “Please,” you gasp, and it only takes him a second to comply. The thrusts of his hips creates a loud smack, keeping a firm hold on your body to keep you in place and allow his cock to drive deeper inside of you. 

The moment takes hold in a flood of heat rushing through your body, the bliss swelling to every inch as you tremble in his grasp. Your clit throbs for attention from feeling so full of his cock, only needing an extra push to reach your end, and as you become seconds away from slipping your hand between your thighs, he eases an arm around your body to scoop you closer, pulling your shoulders almost flush to his chest, back curved, and your ass pressed so tight against him. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans in your ear, having the proximately to tell you the dirty, nasty things on his mind right in your ear. His lips brush over your neck as his hips twitch against your ass, and your head falls back to give him access. “I love fucking you like this.” The deep, raspy tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, only being able to reply in whimpers the moment his other hand eases between your thighs. His fingers find your clit, never hesitating to press quick circles against the swollen, aching bud to have you crying out, begging him not to stop.

“I-I’m getting close,” you warn him, voice straining and struggling to speak from him leaving you so breathless, so worked up, and so close to the edge your mind grows hazy. “Please… don’t stop-” You gulp with a brief pause. “-it feels so good.” 

His fingers quicken in pace and his cock hits deep within your walls with his hips pressed against you. His grip tightens around your body, fingers digging into your ribs and your hands fall to his arms to leave marks from your nails against his flesh. You can’t help but to cry out, curses and whimpers, overwhelmed from the pleasure, squeezing yourself so tight around him, feeling the tension tighten in your body as the warmth bubbles to take its place.

“God, I love feeling you like this,” he continues to whisper in his desperate, gruff voice, earning goosebumps on your quivering body. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg him, voice cracking between the words. “I’m so close.”

“I love being with you like this,” he continues to admit in your ear, fingers never slowing as he groans between the words. “I love feeling you so close.”

“Fuck,” you cry out, body weakening with his every word, forgetting to keep his name off the camera as the moment consumes the both of you, flooded with bliss, and emotions, and neither of you worry over being recorded or playing pretend. “I-I’m c-coming,” you cry out one last time, body tensing as the pleasure swells and the heat of pure bliss takes hold, nearly missing his final confession in your ear just before toppling over the edge.

“I love this so much,” he groans between you gasping as the first wave of pleasure surges through you, “and I love you.”

Your body falls against the bed, hips rolling against him, becoming greedy in the moment as your fists clutch the sheets beneath you and you quiver in pure bliss. Your head spins from the warmth filling every inch of you and from the words whispered in your ear, and he grips your hips and continues his thrusting inside of you, fucking you through the pleasure until you’re crying out his name all over again. And he never slows, huffing and groaning and holding you tighter, until he reaches his own peak, releasing inside of you, filling you up, and coming down from the high of being with you before he collapses next to you.

You feel the aftershocks of his pleasure. Your legs feel too weak to move, knowing you shouldn’t even attempt to make your way to the bathroom to clean yourself. He catches his breath next to you, body glistening with sweat and when you lift your head to look at him, you notice his closed eyes and parted lips, finding your heart fluttering as the words he spoke race through your mind again and again. Gulping, you stare for a few seconds too long as your heart swells, trying to make sense of the things he said. 

It’s just for the camera, you remind yourself as you pull your eyes away to remember you’re still being recorded. 

The heat of the moment causes the both of you to do and say things you normally wouldn’t, you’re well aware, but the desperation in his tone, along the way he held you so tight as he whispered in your ear, has you tempted to admit to yourself, deep down inside, you wish his words were sincere.

The moment he catches his breath, he makes his way to the camera to end the recording. You bite your lip while watching him slip his underwear on, afraid to question him on the intention of his words in fear of making something strictly for the camera seem like a bigger deal than it is. It’s only for the camera. You tell yourself again and again, and maybe you’re scared of bringing it to his attention because you aren’t sure you’re ready for the answer if it was something more.

Regardless of the words or his meaning behind them, you ignore the way your chest feels significantly heavier as you stand from the bed, thighs clasped together to keep the mess he made from shifting, and grinning when he reaches for his t-shirt to tug over your head.

“C’mon,” he says with a nod of his head, taking you by the hand, “let’s shower.” 

The two of you tiptoe to the bathroom without a word, keeping the noises to a minimum so Jaime isn’t disturbed. He turns on the water and you undress, and when the temperature is just right, he helps you step into the tub. He washes your hair and helps you clean up, and you allow him to spoil you with care for the moment as the exhaustion from work and his pleasure kicks back in. By the time you’re drying off, you admit to having a hard time keeping your eyes open, and with a chuckle, he realizes as much.

“You can sleep here,” he offers, and the heaviness worsens on your chest. The words he spoke, his care, his gentleness, and even paying attention to your mood and knowing you need rest, all weigh down on you to earn a confused heart beating twice as fast. And you’re not sure why he affects you so much without warning. Maybe it’s your situation of recording with him, or maybe it’s things you have always felt, but never noticed until he spoke those words. Or maybe it’s a mix of everything that has you giving in, too tired to question him, his words, or your own hopes of wanting it to be true, only falling asleep next to him as his arms find their way around you and  you snuggle a bit closer to his chest for warmth.

***

When you get your first payment deposited into your account only a few days later, you quickly call him up to give him the good news. It gives you an excuse to call him after spending the night together and hearing his confession you’re still not sure his meaning behind. Being busy from work and him planning for Jaime’s birthday party has left neither of you time to record, and part of you is thankful you don’t have to feel the tension between the two of you from seeing his face and remembering the way he spoke those three words that have had you on edge ever since. Part of you misses his touch, his smile, and the way he holds you, and the biggest part of all still wants to admit how much you wish it all were real.

He doesn’t hesitate to share your excitement as you tell him your plans of putting a portion toward rent you owe Jenny, and the rest will be stored for your classes. His voice sounds tired, but excited, and it doesn’t take long for it to feel like it used to. Even if those taunting words pop in every now and then, you try your best to push the feelings aside thanks to just wanting to be near him again.

“We should celebrate!” you suggest. “Jenny will be out for the night, so bring a bottle of your cheapest, shittiest wine and come over.” He chuckles at the idea, knowing he will at least get a discount on the wine from the store he works at.

“Fine,” he agrees, and the sound of his voice has every ounce of tension in your body disappearing as you lay against your bed in your pajamas, “it’s a date.” Once again, you lack the courage to question his choice of words, quickly hanging up after telling him a rushed goodbye. 

He shows up at your place after his shift at the grocery store a few hours later, giving you enough time to shower, dress, and put a bit more effort in applying makeup, spritzing your favorite perfume and wondering why you felt the urge to impress him. You open the door after a few knocks, noticing him with a bottle in his hand and his work’s red apron still tied around his neck. 

With a grin, you shake your head at him forgetting to leave the apron at the store while trying to ignore the way your face fills with warmth due to him staring. 

“I… brought the wine.” His smile widens as he lifts the cheap bottle of white wine in his hands. You step to the side to allow him to enter and close the door behind him before making your way to the kitchen. He is settled comfortably on the couch after taking off his apron by the time you scrounge through your cabinets for glasses neither Jennyor you have used since New Year's, as well as a corkscrew, returning to him to have a seat by his side. 

“Fill ‘er up!” you tease, watching him struggle to pop the cork before tipping the bottle to fill both of your glasses. Then he pops the cork back in to set the wine on the coffee table, grabbing his glass and raising it to cheers. Giggling, you clink your glass to his, feeling far too fancy as you take a sip of the wine as the cheap, bland taste hits your tongue. “Wow, you spared no expense.” 

He frowns, pretending to be offended. “You said buy the cheapest wine!” 

“And the shittiest,” you giggle. “You really nailed it.” 

He takes another sip of his drink before sighing, setting his glass against the coffee table. “It's fitting for what we are celebrating,” he jokes, earning a shove against his shoulder. 

Though, he isn't wrong. The entire situation has seemed a bit absurd since the moment you propositioned him. When you stop to think about it, even in the moment it seems unbelievable. “I really can't believe we are getting paid for this,” you admit, before taking a much larger sip of your wine, wanting to feel the carefree effects before the reality of it all truly sets in. “Isn't it odd to think about, about two months ago, you were hungry and I was pissed about my job. Now we get money to have orgasms… as promised.”

He chuckles with a shake of his head. “I have to admit, I am surprised we even gained interest in the first place.” 

“Please,” you huff, “I assumed no one would want to watch us. I had my fears of failing miserably from the beginning. Or I would end up looking stupid and become some internet joke that's passed around on those troll websites.”

“Well, clearly you have never read the comments under our videos.” He snickers while pulling his phone from his pocket, earning a furrowed brow and slacked jaw from you.

“Read comments?” you groan. “I don't think I could ever even watch the videos.” While thumbing through his phone, he sports a wide grin, one that has your heart racing because you know what's coming next.

”So, you're never curious? Of how the videos turn out?” His eyes flick up to meet your gaze, a spark igniting within that sends a rush of heat through you. 

“Well… sometimes, but I couldn't bear to see myself.” Your face twists in disgust, earning laughter in return. “Ugh, even hearing myself on camera moaning or even just talking. I probably sound ridiculous.”

“You could never sound ridiculous,” he is quick to correct you, the smile fading from his lips and you note the sincerity in his tone. “Look, even this comment says how sexy you sound.” He turns the phone your way, giving you a glimpse of the thumbnail on the screen and beneath, in white text, a comment babbling about how “hot” the two of you are together. 

“Ew! No!” Turning away, you shield your eyes with one hand, but you peek between your fingers to spot his smirk. The other hand grips the wine glass tighter, all before raising it to your lip to take a swig. If the heat from embarrassment wasn't getting to you, the alcohol surely begins to. “I'll be traumatized if I look at it!” 

Though you're only half joking, he gets the hint before turning his phone away from you. “Fine,” he admits defeat of you not wanting to look for yourself. “Then I will read some comments to you.”

“No!” you protest without hesitation, but can't help but to giggle. “No, that's just as bad.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Quiet laughter slips from his lips as he scrolls through the comments, and all you can do is brace yourself with finishing off your last gulp in your glass. “This one mentions you having a nice ass. And this one compliments you on the way you ride my-”

“Stop!” you squeak, reaching to snatch the phone from his hands while attempting not to drop your glass. “I can't hear anymore of those ridiculous comments!” You giggle through each word while setting your glass against the coffee table before it’s dropped to the floor, and he bursts with laughter right along with you.

“I have to say I agree with them.”

“Oh, God, shut up!” You turn away from him before he can notice the way your face twists in embarrassment, heat filling your cheeks while trying to hold back your giggles.

“Especially the one about your lips and how sexy they are.”

Your gaze shifts back to him in a matter of seconds. There's no sign of a smile on his face, no hint of joking any longer. Your heart flutters and your chest swells hearing him say the words, gulping before gathering the courage to reply.

“You… think so?” Blinking, you watch his lips curl in a soft grin, a bit more shy than before as his eyes fall to his lip. 

“You have the softest lips I've ever kissed,” he admits, and you feel as if your heart will jump right out of your chest. “It's not like I haven't thought about kissing them before.”

“Excuse me… what?” Your jaw slacks, finding it hard to breathe while making sure you heard him correctly. “You… you have?” 

The moment his hand rises to cup your cheek, feeling the warmth against your skin as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, blood rushes to your head. From his touch, and the way he stares at you with soft eyes, your heart flutters in your chest, all before beating twice as fast and swelling to what feels like double the size. All he can do is nod, and smirk, and chuckle a breathy release in a fit of shy nerves before he leans toward you. As if the world stops, the only thing you focus on is the way his eyes close seconds before your own follow suit, and a moment later he presses his lips to your skin, confirming his words with the softest, sweetest kiss that has you buzzing with nerves and a pure rush of affection for him. 

When he fails to pull away, only deepening the kiss as he leans closer, you grip him with a fistful of his t-shirt. A whimper against his skin and your breath ghosting over his cheek has him groaning, savoring the feel of your lips he swears are so soft, so sweet, and so delicate against his skin. A moment later his body presses to your own when you tug his t-shirt to bring him in. The kiss is electric, igniting the desire in you as a hand becomes lost with fingers entangling in his hair and his touches fall to your thighs.

Before either of you can come to your senses, he’s between your legs and your back is flat against the couch. The effects of the kiss press hard between your thighs, feeling his arousal forming as his hips roll against your body, earning another whimper until his lips are lowering down your jaw. 

He groans from the taste of you, the feel of your skin, and the noises you release. The desperate way you grab him, with nails leaving marks and your hips rising to meet his motions, have him lost in the moment, groaning once his mouth finds your neck. You lose yourself to him, in your own little world thanks to his words, his touches, his lips and his hands, forgetting that this is your best friend that is kissing you, teasing you, making you whimper. You forget it all, and you forget it was never supposed to go this far - it was only business, a simple way to get money. 

The realization dawns on you, and as much as you hate yourself for it, you finally open your eyes as you begin to speak. “W-wait… the camera.” The words are strained as they fill his ears, and no matter how much you want it to be real, the fear of finding out the truth has you cowering away from finding out. “We-we don't have the camera.”

Finally, he hears you, pulling away a moment later with swollen, red lips and fire in his eyes. He gulps, and huffs, and he remains a bit breathless as he stares down at you.

“The camera,” he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, then crawling away to fall back against the couch, “right.” 

“We, uh,” you begin mumbling, adjusting your shirt and taking fingers through your hair as you sit straight up, “we left it at your place last time.”

“Yeah,” he says beneath his breath, running fingers through his hair and making it painfully obvious he is avoiding even glancing your way, “yeah, we did.”

“We could…” Rolling your eyes up, you hum in thought. “Record tomorrow? Jenny will be here, so if your place-”

“Nah, not gonna work,” he turns down your idea, shaking his head. “Jaime has friends staying over that are in town for his birthday. My place is no good for a week.”

All you can do is bite your lip while noticing his dry tone. Maybe it's disappointment or maybe the reality of what almost happened is weighing down on him just as hard. You assume the latter when he stands from the couch, grabbing his apron he tossed aside earlier before he begins mumbling.

“I should get going, got an early shift tomorrow.” 

You only nod, rising to your feet while attempting to ignore the way the heaviness from uncertainty turns into regret. And maybe a bit of guilt, as well as longing. If you are honest with yourself, you would admit to not wanting to stop him. But you also have to admit the reasons why, and it's not something you're ready to come to terms with yourself. 

So you smile, and you say goodnight, and you watch him bounce down the steps of your front porch before finally releasing the breath you had been holding just to keep yourself from asking him to stay.

***

He can tell from Jaime’s furrowed brow and pursed lips something isn’t quite right. He assumes his younger roommate will be thrilled for his birthday party in the evening, and he worked a little too hard setting up food, drinks, and even going out of his way to place a banner and some balloons. But when he enters Jaime’s room to find him settled at his desk with his eyes trained on the screen of his laptop, he gulps before exhaling.

“Everything alright?” he asks, and normally his voice wouldn’t threaten to tremble if he was staring so hard at his computer, assuming without a doubt it has to be something related to the videos he and you record. Was there an issue with the last video? Did it not do as well? Did Jaime even manage to upload it? A million questions race through his mind as Jaime remains silent. “We only have a few hours before your other friends arrive. They  should be back soon with the cups we forgot to pick up.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be done by then.” Jaime clicks a few buttons on the mouse before finally tearing his gaze away, meeting his eyes as a slight smirk forms on his lips.

“Done?” He clears his throat, eyes falling to the floor while his arms cross over his chest. “Is it… the last video we recorded?”

Jaime nods, humming an “mhm” and his heart beats twice as fast due to his roommate. Once again his mind begins racing with the possibilities of what could have gone wrong, but Jaime continues before he has a chance to become too carried away.

”I noticed something,” is all Jaime says, and he swears his heart will leap out of his chest. He rubs the back of his neck, beginning to stammer while thinking of excuses, but Jaime cuts him off. “Actually, I’ve noticed a few things different, from your first video to your last.” 

“Okay?” He eyes him, wondering why he is beating around the bush and won’t just come out with it. “What’s the problem? Is it not worth uploading?” 

“Nothing like that,” Jaime tells his roommate, leaning back in his chair with his fingers intertwined over his stomach. “It’s just… the two of you. You have become… closer?” It’s clear Jaime chooses his words carefully, but it does nothing for your best friend’s racing heart and the heat that fills his body. 

“I guess… yeah. It’s become easier to record. It was awkward as hell as first.” A hesitant chuckle slips from his lips, hand rising to rub the back of his neck, but Jaime’s eyes narrow.

“Easier to record?” His roommate’s smirk widens, and he tries to ignore the lump in his throat. “Is that your excuse?”

“What?” He frowns, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“God,” Jaime groans with a roll of his eyes, “you told her you loved her. Love! Don’t think I didn’t hear it because I did.” 

“And?” His tone deepens, darkens, falling into defense mode with his brows wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. “It was just for the camera. This whole thing has been for the camera, pretending we’re a couple, pretending we’re in love.”

“Pretending?” Jaime snorts. “Okay, sure, whatever.” His roommate turns away from him, clicking the buttons on his keyboard to close out of the video he had been editing. Meanwhile the steam begins to pour from his ears thanks to his roommate questioning him.

“You don’t believe me?” And he doesn’t drop the subject, feeling as if he has something to prove as he steps closer, and Jaime rises to his feet. “Why would I lie?”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. dude.” Jaime’s voice lowers, softening with the words before he sighs. “But there’s no faking what I saw. It’s clear how much you care about her, you have shown it more as the videos progressed and, fuck, I just wanted to give you shit you about it because I thought it was clear. I didn’t know you would get so pissed off. My bad.” 

With that, Jaime raises his hands in defeat before pushing past. And all he can do is allow the words to sink in, wondering how it could be so obvious when he has done such a good job of denying the facts to himself the entire time.

***

With one simple text, you realize he isn’t in the best mood. Which is unfortunate for you since it’s the night of Jaime’s birthday party, where you know no one but him and his roommate, and you already promised to attend. When he begins to reply with the shortest of answers to your questions asking what time you should leave, if he needs you to bring anything, and even sending him pictures of possible outfits, you’re aware something is bothering him. Thanks to the two of you being friends for so long, it’s easy to notice when he isn’t himself, and though you want to find out what’s bugging him and possibly fix whatever that may be, you already know it’s going to be difficult with so many people around all night.

Maybe if I get him alone I can see what’s bothering him, you think to yourself, taking a final glance in the mirror at your hair, your makeup, and the black halter dress you adorn to make sure everything is in its place to head to his apartment. Maybe he will like the dress. You giggle to yourself at the thought, finding butterflies fluttering in your stomach picturing his expression when he sees you. You hope your presence will put him in a better mood. The last thing you want is for your best friend to be down in the dumps during a party, so as you head out of the door after slipping on your heels, you make it your mission to figure out what is bothering him, if only to cheer him up and get him in the mood to party.

You send him a final text to tell him you’re on your way, debating on whether to send him another picture of the dress you picked out, but you decide to let it be a surprise, sticking your phone back in your clutch as you make your way down the streets. In your mind, you can already picture seeing his face light up at the sight of you. At least, your mind hopes that is the reaction you receive, and you can’t deny the way your heart flutters from getting to see him again. 

Even if the two of you left things in an awkward state from the last time he was at your place, finding yourselves kissing, touching, and holding one another without even thinking of missing the camera, the situation has you admitting how much you need to see him, how much you miss him, and how much you desire to feel his touch once again. Though it’s hard to understand exactly how you feel, and it’s hard to make sense of the signs he gives, you can no longer deny there being something between the two of you. It’s frightening, yet thrilling, and it sends a rush of butterflies and jittering nerves through your body whenever you think of it.

The bass from the music playing in his apartment can be heard as soon as you step into the hall. A grin forms on your lips, hoping the neighbors won’t call to report the disturbance as you knock twice on the door. A few seconds pass before the music pours into the hall, coming face to face with a grinning Jaime, red eyes half-lidded and you wonder how much he has already had to drink even before the party started.

“Hey!” he nearly yells, gripping you by the shoulder to pull you inside before the door slams behind you. “Come in, come in! Do you want a drink? Food? A round of beer pong?”

Your face scrunches at the thought of downing beer everyone’s fingers have dipped into, so you shake your head in an instant while giggling at his slurred words. He must be terrible at the game, you think, but you keep your comments to yourself. “I’m fine, thanks,” you tell him with a polite smile just as his friends begin calling him back to the table lined with red cups of beer set up in the cramped living room. “Hey, where’s…?” You scan the room as the words fade, spotting too many unfamiliar faces, mostly boys with a few girls between them, but no signs of your best friend. 

“Uh,” Jaime begins, eyes squinting as he scratches his head, “I think he might be on the balcony.” Jaime offers one last, wide grin before making his way back to his friends, joining in with the game, and the cheering, yelling, and trash talk. 

You can’t help but to grin at the sight before pushing between the small crowd of college kids. Once you push back the curtains to slide the glass door to the balcony open, the cool night’s air hits your skin, giving you a break from the heat of the apartment with the crowded, tipsy bodies. But the break lasts only a moment before you spot your best friend leaning against the wall that separates the balconies from next door, eyes focused on the girl in front of him pressed against the railing. 

You frown without realization, and once both sets of eyes turn to gaze at you, you force a smile even though the sight sends a bitter chill of jealousy down your spine. He takes one look at you, from your head, to your toes, and then back again, licking his lips before offering a single nod as if you were any of the other friends inside. 

“Hey, you made it,” is all he says, feeling the weight of both of their stares on you. The chilly air does nothing to stop the warmth from spreading to your face, insides shaking and you shouldn’t have such a reaction to seeing him with someone else, and you aren’t sure why you even care, but the situation has you mumbling, and stuttering, and debating whether to turn around and pretend as if you never saw him. 

“Yeah, I… did you not get my message?” You glance between the two of them, trying not to notice her sparkling, wide eyes beneath dark shadow and thick liner, her dimple that shows when her lips turn in a nervous grin, her smooth skin, or the dress she wears that offers the right amount of cleavage. She’s cute, you think, totally his type. Your eyes turn to him before the weight of jealousy, so heavy and angry bubbling in your chest, weighs down too hard on you in the moment.

“Oh, I haven’t paid much attention to my phone,” is his excuse, and you couldn’t be more relieved you decided not to send him that picture of your dress. With hesitation, you wait to see if he is going to introduce you to his new friend, but after a few moments, you realize he doesn’t see the point in bothering. His hand rises to the back of his neck, and the girl folds her arms over her chest as she looks between the two of you. “Well, there’s drinks and food inside if you want it. Jaime can help if you ask.” 

Clearly you’re not wanted. The realization settles in the pit of your stomach with a heavy weight, allowing you to see you’re being dismissed as if you were a child. All of your excitement disappears in a flash, once so eager to find him, cheer him up with whatever was bothering him, and even guess his reaction to seeing the dress you picked out, hoping he would like it. Now you understand the reason he had been so short. It’s evident in the way he brushes you off he feels none of the things you have felt, and neither of you are on the same page.

Without a word, you nod, purse your lips, and head inside, leaving the two on the balcony to do whatever they had been doing before you barged in. The music, the laughter, and the cheers flood your ears as you push through the crowd, but it sounds dull in comparison to the thoughts racing through your mind. How could you be so oblivious? How could you think he actually felt something for you?

You should have left it at believing it was all for the camera, cursing yourself beneath your breath at the thought as you step into the kitchen to get away from any peering eyes or anyone watching to see you biting down on your lip while searching the fridge for a bottle of water. You chug half the bottle in a matter of seconds in hopes of cooling off, feeling hot, worked up, and finding anger filling your chest in waves of heat coursing through you, so embarrassed in yourself for thinking there was something between the two of you.

“Hey, you okay?” A voice fills the kitchen, taking you by surprise and nearly causing you to jump out of your skin. You turn to see Jaime’s grinning face as he makes his way to the trays of appetizers spread out over the small space on the kitchen counters, popping something in his mouth before you can even realize what he is eating. “Thirsty? Want me to mix you a drink?”

Raising your hand in protest, you shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.” 

His bottom lip protrudes as he steps closer. “Aw, c’mon, you’re no fun,” he teases, and in the moment it at least distracts you from hating yourself so much. “How about a round of beer pong?”

“Please,” you snicker, “I would be terrible at that.”

“Then come watch me play.” He’s already grabbing your wrist and pulling you along before finishing his plea. “You can cheer me on. It will be fun.”

“Says who?” you ask, giggling and allowing him to pull you into the living room where a few extra bodies have joined the party.  “Plus, you’re already too drunk to even be any good.” Your words drown out by the end of the sentence as Jaime makes room for you on the sofa next to him, awaiting his turn. 

You’re thankful for the distraction, at least. Jaime cheers for one of his friends, assuming they are teammates, and even though you wish him and your best friend weren’t the only ones you knew at the party, after a while you’re grinning at the sight of the enthusiastic players. Jaime takes his turn, and fails miserably by missing all the cups, to which his teammate feigns anger in the moment for the sake of putting on a show. Jaime can only giggle, and he ends up having to down another cup once the opposing team takes their turn.

Then he settles next to you once again, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed as he nudges your arm and grins. “Are you sure you don’t want to play?” he asks once again, earning a shake of your head and a giggle thanks to his drunken persistence. Maybe he feels sorry that it’s obvious you’re an outcast in this situation, or maybe he is being nicer than normal thanks to getting to watch the videos you record, but it’s something, and you find yourself not minding either way. At least he makes you feel welcome, you think, and it’s more than you can say for your best friend in the moment.

Then your eyes scan the room, wondering where he ended up. Not that you should care. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, but you’re only lying when you try to convince yourself it’s no big deal as you spot him in the corner of the room, his arm linked around the girl’s waist and her hands pressed to his chest. He smiles down at her as the two talk. She giggles at him in return, causing your chest to feel as if it will cave in on itself at the sight.

Jaime begins mumbling something in your ear, but the words drown out with the music and the conversations as you stare with wide eyes at the couple in the corner. You bite your lip to keep your mouth from falling open, stomach hardening as a lump grows in your throat at watching the two together, and though you have no right to react in such a way, the jealousy creeps up your spine the longer you stare, turning your hatred for yourself into red, hot anger for your best friend.

The moment he catches your gaze is when you finally turn away to mutter an excuse to leave. You rise to your feet, feeling your legs become weaker than you want in the moment before you rush down the hall and into the bathroom to get away from the party. With a click of the door, the music turns into nothing but bass vibrating the walls and the voices lowering to muffles. 

You finally take a deep breath, back pressed to the door as your eyes flutter closed, grasping the clutch in your hands with a tight, yet shaking grip. As the air spills from your lungs in an unsteady exhale, you step toward the sink, pressing your palms against the counter with your head lowered and your bottom lip trembling.

You won’t cry over him, you tell yourself. You scream it again and again in your mind. There’s no reason to. You try to sound convincing even in your thoughts, but the heaviness in your chest contradicts what you tell yourself. You’re not together. It’s only business. It’s only sex.

So why do you feel as if your heart is shattering? Why does seeing him with someone else have your stomach twisting and your knees weak? And why do you feel ashamed and stupid, embarrassed for actually convincing yourself it was okay to feel this way about your best friend?

You gulp and close your eyes before the tears can begin to build. Then you take a few breaths, inhaling deeply, slowly exhaling, steadying your trembling bottom lip, slowing your heartbeat, and keeping your twisting stomach from turning into nausea even though the situation weighs down on your chest and you can’t get the image of him with someone else out of your head. 

You aren’t sure how long you are in that bathroom before there’s a light knock on the door. The thought of texting Jenny to pick you up from the party crossed your mind just as the sound of someone’s knuckles fill the bathroom to pull you from your thoughts, wishing only to sneak out unnoticed. If you’re going to cry, you might as well do it in the comfort of your own bed sheets and pajamas. 

With a glance in the mirror, you make sure you don’t look as if you were about to have an emotional breakdown before reaching for the door. When you answer the knocks, you come face to face with him seconds before his eyes fall to floor. The heat washes over you again, except now it’s not in anger. Now it’s a mix of desire, watching him rub the back of his neck with one hand before noticing his bitten lip. Now it’s the need you have felt for him, mixed with the overwhelming emotions of trying to understand your own feelings, his feelings, and whatever is going on between the two of you.

“S-Sorry,” you sutter, head falling slack, “I was just leaving.” 

When you try to push past him, his hands grip your waist, guiding you back into the bathroom before he shuts the door behind the two of you. You gasp in surprise, body pressed against the sink and his palms rest against the counter behind you. He comes dangerously close, lips an inch from your own and you even smell the hint of alcohol on him. Though he’s not drunk, noticing his eyes trained on you, but they're not red, or glossy, and his face remains unflushed and you wonder how being so close doesn’t affect him in the same way it does you. 

You gulp once again, body so hot and it feels as if the tiny bathroom shrinks around the two of you. The weight of his gaze has your knees threatening to buckle, wishing you didn’t yearn for him so badly, wondering how you got to this point. Why does your body crave his affection? Why do you miss his tender kisses and soft, caring words so much? Why does your heart ache so painfully for him? 

“You look beautiful, baby,” he whispers, deep, and raspy, as he runs the knuckle of his index finger of your cheek.

And even though his words send your heart fluttering, you push him away with two palms against his chest. “Stop,” you tell him with a shake of your head, “don’t call me that.” 

“What?” He chuckles, and it’s then you realize you missed his laugh, too. “I can’t call you beautiful, or baby?”

“Neither.” There’s a pout to the words, which makes him grin, but you find the situation anything but funny. “And you could have fucking fooled me.”

“What do you mean?” He takes a step back, frowning, and it causes you to huff and narrow your eyes. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know how you treated me in front of that girl.” With a roll of your eyes, your arms cross over your chest. “And where is she, anyway? Shouldn’t you be getting back to her?”

He shakes his head with a raise of one hand to dismiss your question. “She’s not important,” he tells you, then he steps closer. He erases the gap between the two of you, reaching to press his thumb to your chin to cause you to look into his eyes. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

For a moment, you believe him. The deep whisper of the words fills you with a different kind of heat, rushing from between your thighs to the rest of your body and you consider giving in to him. With how you long for his touch, it would be so easy to forget the situation earlier if you can have him now, no longer picturing him with another girl to render you into an ugly, green monster. No longer feeling your knees weak and chest heavy with heartache, it would be easy to allow him to kiss you to feed your body the affection you crave from him.

But you simply turn your head away from him, allowing his hand to fall from your face and a sigh to slip from his lips.

“You’re just tipsy, you don’t really want to kiss me.”

“I’m not even tipsy,” he chuckles with a shake of his shoulders. “And all I have been thinking about for the last few days is how much I want to kiss you.” 

“Don’t.” Your eyes flick toward him in a piercing gaze. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. Don’t do that to me right now. It’s not funny and there’s no camera recording us, so there’s no point.”

And he leans close once again, hand reaching to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. “Why would you think I don’t mean it?”

It’s hard to resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Because you’re here with another girl.” 

“She doesn’t matter to me. She’s out there flirting with someone else as we speak.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip, wishing it wasn’t so easy to believe what he says. Then you take a deep breath, eyes falling and brow wrinkling as you speak. “And do I matter to you?” The courage to look him in his eye returns a few seconds later, wanting to know the truth, and wishing you didn’t have to wonder about the feelings the two of you share. “Does this, whatever is going on between us, matter to you?” 

His lips part, and you assume he’s going to reply in an instant, as if he already knows the answer and he has been eager to tell you. But then his mouth closes, and he releases a heavy breath through his nose. Once his eyes lower to your mouth, he licks his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue, leaving his jaw slacked before he whispers his next words.

“Can I kiss you?” And the request has the butterflies returning, warmth filling every inch of your face and you wish more than anything it was easier to deny him.

But all you do is nod before your eyes fall shut, lips parting to brace for his skin against your own and when he presses into you, your body grows weak against him. His hands grip your waist to hold you close, lips colliding with lips and skin flushed against skin as you whimper into the kiss. God, did you miss the feel of him, holding you, kissing you, and it’s a feeling you swear you’ll cherish for the moment if you can’t have it forever. Your palms press to the broad expanse of his chest, fingers tightening seconds later to grip a fistful of his t-shirt and his muscles tense beneath your touch a moment after.

“God, you’re incredible,” he gasps the second he pulls away, the gruff way he speaks the words from swollen, red lips sending a shiver down your spine. Then he kisses you again, desperation in the motion with trembling lips and a groan filling in his chest. The noise vibrates against your fists, earning a wave of heat washing over you, pure desire racing through you as an ache settles between your thighs. His breaths deepen as each exhale ghosts over your skin, the two of you already so hot, so worked up that it’s clear the distance between the two of you since the night he left your place, having left so much unsaid, has taken its toll on you both. 

You whimper his name the moment his lips trail down to your jaw. His kisses are quick and desperate, yet full of the affection you crave, the softness you miss, and the desire you once wondered if he felt the same as you. 

“I need you,” he groans, so deep, so raspy, and so full of desperation it resonates deep within your core. His fingers dance beneath the hem of your dress, brushing over your thighs to earn a whimper slipping through a bitten lip from you. His tongue traces the curve of your neck, tasting your skin and you give him better access to your body the moment you tilt your head away from him. 

“You’ve been drinking,” you tell him in an attempt to coax the honesty from his lips. Did he only say such things in the heat of the moment? Does he want you with or without the alcohol, or is he saying the things you want to hear? The questions race through your mind one after another, confusion mixing with doubt that fights with the hope that he means what he says. 

“Only a little,” he corrects you, insisting it’s not because of the alcohol that his need to have you grows with each second. 

“Your girlfriend is waiting for you out there,” you taunt him with a bite to your tone just as his teeth nip your flesh, seeing how far he is willing to go, either continuing with playing pretend so well it nearly hurts, or actually being honest in that you mean more to him than he lets on. 

“Don’t be like that, you know she’s not my girlfriend,” he groans, irritation in the words and you’re not sure if it’s from the statement you made or only due to how much he wants you. “I only care about you. I only want you.” 

And even though there is confusion in your heart and hesitation in your motions, you finally give in to him. Your hand lowers, fingers skimming down his stomach before a palm presses to the bulge in his jeans, and the action has him groaning from surprise in return. Pulling away from your neck, his lips collide with your own once again, passion and pure need in his every motion, dying to have you just as much as you have needed him. 

When his hands push the hem of your skirt higher, he wastes no time hooking his two thumbs into the band of your panties, beginning to push the thin fabric down your thighs until you assist him in peeling them off your legs. Once your panties pool around your heels, you kick them to the side seconds before he grips your thighs, lifting your body onto the sink with your dress bunched around your waist.

There’s a knock on the door by the time you begin plucking at the button to his jeans, but the sound drowns out between groans and whimpers and the sound of a zipper being yanked down in desperation. He struggles with pushing his jeans and briefs down, uncovering his cock the moment he gathers enough coordination, and the sight only causes you to spread your legs wider for him. 

You whisper his name, too afraid of the tremble in your own voice if you speak any louder. “Touch me.” Wrapping your fingers around his wrist in an unsteady grip, you pull him closer, guiding his hand between your thighs. A gasp fills the small bathroom the moment his fingers brush over your folds, easing his touches down your slit and back up, finding your clit a moment later with his thumb to give you what you need.

The heavy breaths between the two of you are the only sounds heard other than the muffled voices and bass from the music on the other side of the door. The moment he lowers his touch to your entrance, another gasp spills from your lips, causing your teeth to sink into your flesh to keep the noises low. He circles your entrance, gathering the arousal that begins to form as a surge of heat rushes through your body from between your thighs. 

Once he eases a single finger inside your walls, all hope is lost for remaining quiet. A whimper slips from your lips louder than you anticipated, head rolling back and jaw slacking. You reach for him to keep a grip on reality, nails digging into him before you gather fistfuls of his t-shirt at his shoulders. Easing his finger in and out of you, he warms you up, hotter than you already were for him, soaking his flesh in your arousal as you clench around him. When he adds another digit, your thighs threaten to close around him, but he steps forward to keep your knees parted with his own hips.

His mouth meets your neck as he buries his two fingers deep within you. He curls them, drawing out quiet whimpers and moans, curses beneath your breath, and a moment later you begin rocking your hips against his hand. Your juices spill onto his skin, getting lost in the moment and no longer caring about the noises you make, or how pathetic you look rutting against him in desperation.

A disappointed whimper escapes your lips the moment he pulls away. Your body aches for him, and each second that passes without feeling him close feels like torture. Your legs widen as he grips his length seconds before brushing the head of his cock against your folds. The sensation earns a bitten lip, furrowed brow, and hips maneuvering to feel more of him, quickly becoming greedy. 

With a palm against your waist as the other holds himself steady, he aligns the tip with your entrance, and you take a deep breath before he eases himself inside of you. In an instant, your head begins to spin. The noises drown out around you, so lost in the moment with him as he thrusts himself deep inside of you. Your body remains hot, bliss filling every inch as soon as you adjust to him filling you up, and as soon as you rock your hips to let him know you need more, he pulls out of your walls only to thrust inside of you once again.

The second time is quicker, much more desperate, earning a sudden gasp from you filling the bathroom as a groan builds in his chest. He grips you by the hips with both hands now, tightening his fingers against your skin as he repeats the motion to have you squeezing yourself around him. The sounds of him pumping into your slick, wet arousal becomes louder the quicker he thrusts into you, zoning out the rest of the party to give you the pleasure you had been so desperate for. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he mumbles between kisses against your lips, and it causes you to hold tight against him with your eyes closed and your jaw slacked. “God, I missed you.” 

With each word, your heart thumps faster against your chest until it rises to your throat, wondering if he means what he says or he is only lost in the moment, just like you. The pleasure he offers gives you only a second to consider the thought before you whimper his name once again, so full of him, so overwhelmed with bliss. He thrusts into you harder, faster, the greed overtaking him as he grunts, and huffs, and groans from feeling you tightening yourself around him. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he guides you  with a strained voice, forehead pressing to your own just as your hand falls from his shoulder. You listen to the words, fingers finding your clit in a seconds to begin pleasuring yourself, bringing yourself closer to the edge as the world around you shrinks and the bliss surges through your body in waves of electric heat. The addition of your fingers against your clit offers pressure building between your thighs, cursing beneath your breath to mix with his groans from the way he buries his cock so deep inside of you, over and over, drawing out the gasps and the whimpers and even his name from your lips. 

There’s another knock on the door. It’s louder than before, more urgent, and only has him hesitating for a moment before you tell him not to stop. “Please,” you beg him, voice breathless, face hot with a sheen of sweat on your neck, “it feels so good. I’m so close.” 

He has no issues ignoring the sounds from the other side of the door, thankful he twisted the lock when entering. His hips begin to pump faster, thrusting his cock deeper, and in return your fingers quicken, caressing circles into your flesh to leave you gaping with your head rolled back. 

“Come for me, baby,” he encourages, grip on your waist tightening, lips pressing to your skin between words. “Come on my cock.” The choice words send a shiver down your spine as the heat bubbles between your thighs. The tension is thick and the pressure doubles to leave you trembling against him. 

“Fuck, it feels so good,” you whine, brow creased, nails of the other hand digging into his shirt to leave marks against his skin. The words earn his hips thrusting quicker, sporadic and wild. The noises of your skin against his fill the bathroom, mixing with the sounds of him entering you, mixing with your moans and his groans, and all of it has you dangerously close to the fragile line of coming undone. “Fuck…” Your voice fades in a harsh gulp, trembling beneath the waves of heat as the bliss bubbles and you squeeze yourself so tight around him.

“You’re so amazing,” he whispers in a single breath, “so beautiful.” 

And the words bring you that much closer to the edge. You gasp his name, overwhelmed with bliss his offers, the emotions that drive you, the confusion that leaves your heart pounding, and as the heat rises and begins to surge to every inch of your body, you can’t stop the spill of words that has been on the tip of your tongue since you first heard the same from him. “I-I love you… I…”

The first wave of pure pleasure washes over you, swallowing the words with a burst of warmth as the tension uncoils. Your hips rock against him, hand falling from between your legs to allow him to thrust into you quicker, harder, urging the moans from your lips and encouraging you to cling tighter to his body. A gasp fills the small space between the two of you a moment later, thighs tight against his waist, trembling with bliss, walls tightening and relaxing around his cock, and once the pleasure settles and your toes begin to tingle, he grips you tighter.

You have no time to register the slip of words or the fact that he says nothing in return before he’s overwhelming your sensitive body once again. He continues to thrust, eyes closed, brow creased, lips parted. He says nothing, only pants and huffs spilling from within and he leaves you shaking from the force behind each pump of his hips. You clutch him tighter, holding onto him as the whimpers begin filling in your throat once again. 

The moment a heavy exhale leaves his lips, his hips slow and his cock twitches, signaling the pleasure filling him as he releases inside of you. His hold on your waist loosens and his head falls back, jaw slacked as he pants through the bliss. He fills you up, and you cling to him in relief from him pleasuring your already overwhelmed and sensitive body. When his forehead presses to your own once again, the two of you linger in the moment for a few seconds too long, breathless, hot, sweaty, and tired, and once he finally pulls away from you, the emptiness isn’t missed.

He says nothing while he adjusts himself in his jeans as you reach for your panties on the floor. Words fail you as well, only being able to replay the shaky tone of your voice as the three little words with such a heavy meaning slipped from your lips. You wait for him to acknowledge you, to say something, anything, but his eyes remain low, his lips remain shut, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. 

“We should get back to the party,” he mumbles, never meeting your eyes to give you the courage to confront him over his sudden change in mood. As he reaches for the door, the only thing that crosses your mind is how you were right, and no matter how much you hate it, you realize he only says the things you want to hear when in the moment. 

So you let him go back to the party after you spend a minute checking your appearance in the mirror. You say nothing else to him for the rest of the time you’re there, faking smiles with everyone else, pretending your heart isn’t crumbling into pieces from him ignoring your confession. And then you walk home alone, each step heavier than the last as the tears well in your eyes before the first drop hits your cheek.

***

A few times the following day, you’re tempted to reach out to him. Though your pride prevents you each time you pick up your phone, and recalling the way he avoided your eyes after you told him you loved him the night before has you tossing the device to the side in a fit of embarrassment and anger. 

And you know you can only blame yourself for being so down in the dumps over him. Even if you want to stay mad at him, you’re the one that insisted on getting the two of you in this situation in the first place thanks to your troubles with money. You’re the one that promised nothing would come between the two of you, that you could remain friends as well as mature adults, and you’re the one that is angry at him for not telling you how he feels, when you only did the same in return. 

Weeks passed as emotions piled on, your heart ached for him, and never once did you want to admit the feelings that began to surface from his care, his gentleness, and his affection while slowly falling in love with him. Each time with him became better than the last, growing more comfortable, falling more in love though you denied it to yourself as well as him. And when he let those three words spill in your ear in the heat of the moment, your heart took it and ran, hoping for something you promised him would never happen. 

Now the realization has you in bed all day, moping, huffing and puffing, picking up the phone, tossing it to the side, wanting to call him, but being scared you have already ruined everything. As the day goes on, it’s clear he isn’t going to make an effort to reach out to you. Each time you think you hear the faint buzz of a new message only returns no new notifications along with disappointment. You find it hard to eat, though you manage to at least shower, and you go to sleep with him on your mind.

When you wake up, he remains in your thoughts that seem to run a mile a minute as you get ready for your shift, and the memories of the last few weeks weigh so heavy on your heart it becomes almost impossible to fake smiles and politeness during the day. 

How could you screw up this much? How could you possibly think the two of you could have a physical relationship without consequences? The questions pop into your mind one after another, missing the orders of a few customers when your thoughts begin to wander. And on your breaks you check your phone in hopes that he wants to talk to you. The temptation to message him rises the more your heart aches, and misses him, and wishes you could go back and change things. There’s no doubt the dormant feelings for your best friend would eventually rise and it’s clear it’s why you were so quick to even proposition him in the first place, but at least you could go about it in a completely different manner if there was a chance to change things. 

By the time you arrive home that evening, your feet ache to overpower your broken heart just a bit, but not by much. Jenny wanders in your bedroom to see you plopped over the sheets, head buried in your arms and voice muffled when you decline her offer of ordering take-out for the two of you. She insists she wants to have a much needed girls’ night, and you know she senses your bad mood enough to want to help, but isn’t sure how to go about it without pressuring you to talk. Even if you know she cares, you brush her off all the same, only wanting to be alone. 

You sit in the same spot until your eyelids grow heavy. The memories of the last few weeks play on your mind to torture you, from the beginning until the night of the party. You recall the frustrations over money, the light bulb above your head when you came up with your idea, and the moment you propositioned him to leave him wide-eyed with surprise. The night crosses your mind where the two of you pushed all the awkward nerves and butterflies out of the way under the basis that it would make recording easier, having your first time with one another where the butterflies doubled and your heart fluttered for the first time when you thought about the two of you together. 

Each time with him pops into your mind, images flood your thoughts of the experiences you shared. Your stomach twists at the thought of growing more comfortable in your skin thanks to him, hearing his encouraging words spoken deep and husky, the cute pet names that made you smile beneath a bitten lip, and the way he called you beautiful to the point it felt nothing but natural. Whether it was for the camera or not doesn’t matter to you in the moment. He said it, whatever the reason, and the thought has you grinning to yourself though your heart still aches as you lay across your bed.  

The memories of two nights before take over the good thoughts, butterflies diminishing in a matter of seconds. Picturing him with another girl has your stomach twisting, and the way he brushed you off as if you didn’t matter to him has the red, hot anger bubbling in your chest. It tightens with each thought of him from that night. From the way he allowed her to touch him to the moment he snuck into the bathroom to find you there replays like a bad dream until nausea sets in, and you don’t know if you’re sick with anger, jealousy, or maybe it’s a bit of both.

Though you still admit you have no right to be jealous, and you have no right to expect him to feel the same as you, the embarrassment of hearing nothing but his silence after you told him you loved him makes it all the more difficult to reason with yourself. The outburst was so unlike yourself, having to admit all the times spent together where you swore you only saw him as a friend was nothing but denial over the years, and even as the realization sets in that getting yourself into the situation made you see him in the way you were always meant to, you begin to shift the anger toward yourself, knowing you can’t blame him anymore than you can blame yourself.

The confusion takes hold as the memories blur and your head begins to ache. Before you can stop yourself, you reach for your phone you previously tossed to the side, tapping your thumbs to the screen until you type out your message to him without thinking twice.

Did it really mean nothing to you?

You stare at the words on the screen, reading the line once, and twice, and three times until you toss your phone to the side once again. As the minutes pass without a word from him, you get the answer you were dreading. Though you knew it was a possibility, as you finally gain the strength to shower, brush your teeth, and slip on your pajamas, the weight of the confirmation that everything he said was only for the camera settles with a sharp pain in your chest. You don’t bother looking at your phone again before drifting off to sleep, hoping by morning the thoughts of him will become less frequent, and the ache in your heart lessens just enough to get through the day.

***

Your head and your heart hurt no less than the day before. Thankfully you have the pleasure of your manager keeping you busy with table after table and steaming hot plates to distract you only enough to get through most of your shift. You have to admit the harder you work, the more you sweat, and the more your feet ache, you can only think of him and what seemed like a good thing going on. 

As the time nears closer to your last break of your shift, you find yourself thinking of how nice it would be to go back and do things differently. Whether you would think nothing of his sudden confession for the camera or turn your heart to stone so it didn’t bother you either way, you’re unsure, but thanks to lousy tips and a tired body, you wish it didn’t all come crumbling down before you had a chance to really make a difference in your situation.

And as you check the clock to see it’s five minutes until break, a familiar face strolls through the glass doors of the diner. The bell echoing throughout the place earns your attention, spotting him with eyes scanning each waitress until his sights set on you. And maybe it’s not the money that you’re upset on missing out on, but him as well. After not seeing him for days, the sight of him should anger you, maybe even sadden you a bit, but all it does is earn a pounding heart and stomach full of butterflies. 

His eyes fall to his sneakers as he takes his time making his way toward you. You refill your customer's coffee with a forced smile, then take a deep breath before turning to make your way toward him. 

“I can’t give you any free food,” is all you say while pushing past him, brushing his arm to cause him to freeze. As if the icy tone of your words hasn’t been bad enough, being so standoffish and on guard has him gulping and scratching his head before following you.

“I don’t want food,” he admits, stumbling behind you as you make your way to the front to replace the coffee pot. “I just want to talk to you.”

“I’m busy.” You whip around with two new plates in your hand, not bothering to meet his wide, desperate eyes while he follows you to another table.

“Can you go on break?” he asks, the urgency growing in his voice to cause a pang in your heart, but you push the ache down to the pit of your stomach, raising your chin with a clenched jaw. The moment you get to your customer’s table, the forced smile returns, handing the older couple their food and asking if they need anything else, happy when they shake their heads with a “no, thank you”. 

“Please, just talk to me,” he begins to beg the moment you walk away from the table, following behind like a lost puppy. You say nothing, crossing the diner to gather the tips your previous customer left you, and only until he begins muttering the words you were so scared to hear do you freeze. “I meant it… what I said to you.”

“What?” You finally look his way, eyes meeting his own, heart sinking to your stomach.

“When I told you I loved you.” He gulps, not being able to hold your gaze for too long. “I meant it.”

For a moment, you want to believe him. His voice, the words, the sincerity in his tone has your ice-cold heart melting just a bit, but the memories flood your mind of the night of the party. The way he pretended not to hear what you said when you told him the same, confiding in him something you had kept to yourself since the moment the two of you started playing pretend for the camera, and the thought has you scoffing while shoving the tips in your apron. 

“You don’t love me, you just enjoyed having sex with me. You’re confused.” The words release beneath your breath as you glare at him, but the moment he begins to chuckle and shake his head, he catches you off guard.

“That’s funny.”

You frown, wondering what he could possibly find humorous, but you don’t give him a chance to explain. “I’m taking break!” you yell to Sara in the back of the diner, spotting her smile as she nods her head in confirmation she will check on your table. You spare no glance toward him while making your way past the bathrooms and pushing the swinging door open to step into the alley at the back of the restaurant, but he follows without a word.  

“What is?” you finally ask, turning your body to him before folding your arms over your chest. “What is so funny?”

“That you think I only started to feel this way since we started this whole thing.” He steps closer while your heart drums against your chest from the words, and you almost expect him to touch you, grab you, hold you, and you hate yourself in the moment for wanting him to. However, he only shoves his hands in his pockets before releasing a sigh, and then he continues. “That you think I haven���t been in love with you for so much longer than that, and that I was only too afraid to admit it. Why do you think I agreed to start this whole thing in the first place? Why do you think it was so easy to get closer to you?” 

Now you’re the one gulping, heart aching, chest weighing so heavy from his words, but something inside pulls at the need to trust him again. Something holds you back. It’s either fear, or worry, or your own insecurities that don’t allow you to believe what he says. 

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have been flaunting another girl around me. You wouldn’t have dodged the question when I asked what I meant to you and you wouldn’t have said nothing when I told you I loved you. You made me feel like an idiot.” 

“I know.” He rubs the back of his neck, brow furrowed and you’re aware how difficult it is for him to come to terms with the situation. And it’s hard to blame him, knowing the two of you were the closest of friends and now you’re so unsure why your hearts ache for one another and why you miss him so damn much. “I fucked up. I was scared of how I felt. I was scared of losing what we had and even more scared of scaring you off because of my own feelings for you, and I fucked up. Hearing you say the words made it so much more real than I was ready for and I… I panicked.”

“Sure,” you tell him, but the words aren’t as cold as they were before. You gulp, knowing you need more convincing, and knowing you’re too afraid to give in only to feel like an idiot once again. 

“Do you know what it’s like to have such a thing only be a fantasy for so long, and when it comes true it’s so much more than you can handle?” You say nothing, but from your silence he’s aware you understand. “God, I was so stupid and such a coward, and I’m so sorry, but I meant what I said the last night we recorded together. I love you. I’m in love with you, and I have been for such a long time it’s actually pathetic to think about how good I was at hiding it from you, and even from myself.”

“I…” Your words fade, leaving you with a slacked jaw as your arms fall to your sides.

“And I miss you.” He finally steps closer, grabbing you by the hips to lean toward you, lips nearly brushing over your own as your eyes flutter and you inhale the comforting scent of him. “I miss spending time with you, and I miss getting close to you and feeling you so close to me. I miss hearing your laugh, and sometimes when everything else felt terrible with our shitty money situation, the only thing that seemed right was being with you, and I miss that, too. I’m sorry for hurting you, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner and confusing you, but I’m not afraid of how I feel anymore. So, please, baby, please forgive me.”

As his words sink in, taking each and every syllable to heart, your palms press to his chest, cherishing how it feels to have him so close to you once again. The string tugging on your heart to hold you back from believing his words snaps, chest swelling, unraveling the emotions you kept behind the wall the moment he walked into the diner. Your eyes close, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and the words he speaks linger on your mind long enough to keep you silent as he begins to mumble once again.

“I-I’m sorry,” he exhales, pressing his forehead to your own. “Please… say something.”

But all you can do is chuckle now, pulling away to shake your head, leaving his wide eyes full of curiosity. “We are really stupid, you know that?” It takes him a few seconds to register the softness in your voice before he grins. “Stupid for hiding how we feel and probably stupid for getting ourselves into this mess in the first place, but… I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?” His brows arch and you don’t think his eyes could widen any more, causing you to grin and shake your head.

“I don’t,” you sigh. “There are probably a million other ways we could have went about this, but I don’t regret what we did. I don’t regret getting close to you, or allowing you to get close to me. And I-” 

The words stall to leave his jaw slacked, until he hums for you to continue.

“And I love you. I do love you, and I was just as stupid and just as much of a coward.” Your eyes close as you speak, and he holds you tighter against him. “I was scared, too. I was scared of my own feelings, and scared of breaking my promise that nothing would change. That’s why I got scared when we kissed without the camera that night. I didn’t want to let you down, or change things, and I was scared of not having you in my life anymore because of a mistake. But more so than that, I was scared you really didn’t feel the same way while thinking I was imagining everything in that moment.”

A moment of silence passes as he takes in your words. Then he exhales, pulling away just enough to press a finger beneath your chin, earning your eyes on him. “You don’t have to be scared of that,” he tells you with a grin, eyes shifting from your own to your lips, and back again. “I love you,” is all he says a moment before leaning closer, pressing his trembling lips to yours waiting to feel his soft skin after missing him. A whimper builds in your throat only he can hear, and he wraps an arm around your body to hold you against him. Melting into him, you forget your worries for the moment, his kiss ridding you of the insecurities and the doubts, and you relish how it feels to be so close to him once again.

The sound of the diner door bursting open startles the both of you, causing you to push him away before smoothing your hands over your apron. Spotting Sara with a smirk on her face as your stomach twisting as you begin mumbling your apologies for taking so long on your break, and his eyes fall to the ground.

“I’ll be right in,” you tell her, noticing her narrowed gaze switching between the two of you. Then she nods with a grin that tells you she’s going to be asking you all about it and heads inside, leaving the both of you chuckling as the realization sets in. “I… uh, gotta go back to work. We can talk about this more afterward, okay?”

He nods, grin still plastered over his lips at the idea of getting a chance to express what he’s been holding in for so long. “When is your shift over?”

“In two hours.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

Your brows arch, head tilting just a bit to one side. “You’ll wait around for two hours?”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a shrug. “If you can get me some food.”

Scoffing, you nudge his shoulder before turning away from him, getting back to your tables and, much to your surprise, he decides to wait around until your shift is over, catching his eyes every once in a while and feeling the burn of his gaze fill your cheeks. Knowing that you have fallen for your best friend that is in love with you as well fills you with butterflies, heart racing whenever the realization clicks and a smile forms over your lips at the thought of getting to spend your days with him just like you have been. Except now, you know everything you feel for one another is completely real. 

#bts smut #nct smut #got7 smut #monsta x smut #stray kids smut #harry styles smut #bts scenarios #stray kids scenarios #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #ateez imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt smut #bts x reader #stray kids x reader #ateez x reader

[hippiepowrs]

one night lookin' pretty

eddie munson x fem!metalhead!reader

you and eddie hate school dances, but you decide to go to the prom this year--with someone who isn't eddie. eddie does not like that, but can't say anything.

a/n: this is my first longer fic so i hope you like it. prom season is coming up so this is kinda self indulgent (as if all my fics aren't). this one is for all my weird girls out there! title from one night in the city by dio btw. :)

warnings: hurt/comfort. angsty for a while but gets fluffy. swearing. a guy being a total asshole to reader. reader wears a dress. reader and eddie both self-described as 'freak.' eddie being a jealous and insecure idiot. both are oblivious as fuck. eddie is REALLY dorky. eddie's backstory and parents--i did not read that book so i don't care if it's canon. idiots in love in the end. pretty cliche but i don't care!

wc: 3.8k

It’s prom night, and Eddie is sitting alone on his couch. Without you. 

Usually, you guys skip every school event together in favor of watching a shitty movie and smoking half of his stock, but tonight was different. Someone asked you to the prom, and it wasn’t him. 

He’s been acting off for the past two weeks, you noticed. He’s been quiet and snappy, and has been opting to jack up the stereo instead of talk on your drives home. When you asked him what was wrong, he pushed you away. So, you left him alone about it. He made it clear he wanted his space.

He didn’t even want to show up to see you in your dress. You called him last night to see if he would come over–he told you he was sick. He wasn’t fully lying, though. The thought of you going to that stupid school dance with that stupid school boy made him nauseous. It didn’t make sense to him. How did you switch your views on the prom so fast? Months ago, the two of you laughed at the idea of going. Now, you were dressed up all pretty, just like all those popular girls you claimed to hate. He had to watch that sleazy ass car pull into to the trailer park, right up next to his. He’d never admit that he watched you step out of your trailer with that guy, and wished it was him. 

Being completely honest with yourself, your date isn’t even exactly your type. Todd isn’t some freak like you or your friends, but he isn’t a complete asshole either. He asked you in the hallway two weeks ago, and your instinct was to laugh at him. You laughed in his face, but he didn’t budge. He really wanted to take you to the prom, so you told him you’d go. It felt nice to be wanted. It was okay that he wasn’t some rock n’ roll dude like you’re into–it’s not like you’re marrying him. It’s just the prom. 

You and Todd arrive at the Hawkins High gym, hand in sweaty hand. Pushing the anxiety clawing at your throat back down, you give him a smile as you walk to get your photo taken together. The frilly, glittery background reminds you that this place isn’t for you. Again, you push that down. 

The music isn’t really your style, either, but everyone is having so much fun you feel the need to pretend. None of your friends are here, so you’re stuck. Maybe you should have pregamed, you think. Too late now. Todd pulls you onto the dance floor with a fervor you’ve never seen in him. You don’t understand how a person can have so much fun dancing to this shitty music. It’s a lot easier to get through when you pretend that Todd is Eddie, and you’re dancing to mixtapes in his room. You decide not to think about the implications of that right now. When the song ends, you offer to grab punch for the both of you. Maybe it’ll be spiked. 

As you make your way back to Todd, you see him chatting with a few of his friends, and from this distance you can just begin to hear them.

“So, when do I get my twenty bucks from each of you? She’s totally ruining my reputation right now.” He laughs, and your stomach churns.

“Okay, yeah, you proved us wrong. You got her here, you danced, you win.” His friend confirms the fear that’s been looming over you like a dark cloud since Todd first asked you out. 

“You at least better hold onto her long enough to get her home with you tonight, man!” Another friend cackles, and you think you’re going to vomit.

How were you stupid enough to think that he actually liked you?

God, you’re so gullible. 

At least there’s nothing to lose now, you think. Walking over to him, drinks in hand, you dump both of them on his head. They splash on his stupid hair and drench his stupid suit. The music keeps playing. A few people turn to look. The room doesn’t stop for you like some trashy romcom. Everyone just keeps going. 

Storming out to the parking lot, nothing can stop the burning tears from pouring down your face. You slump down against the brick wall, fabric of your dress sticking to the rough sidewalk. The warm spring air feels sticky on your cheeks. You wish you had stayed in with Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You need to call Eddie. Todd drove you here, so it’s either Eddie or walk, and these heels already hurt enough. Your body feels like dead weight as you drag yourself to the payphone on the wall, punching in the number that’s engraved into your heart. 

“Hey.” You greet, choked up. You’re trying to keep your composure. You know it won’t last long.

“…Hey. Havin’ fun with Mr. Popular?” There’s a bitterness to his tone. Usually he would’ve picked up on the fact that you were crying in a split second, but tonight he was too angry.

“Uhm, not really. Could you, uh,” you sniffle, blowing your thin cover, “pick me up? Like, now?”

You can almost hear his demeanor shift over the phone. A beat of silence passes.

“I’ll be right there.” He’s clearly still upset, because he hangs up the phone without saying goodbye. But his one-sided irritation can’t override the facts: he cares about you so much that he immediately hops in his van and starts speeding to the school, even faster than normal.

You sit back at the edge of the sidewalk, staring into the empty night over the parking lot. God, this is so cliché. Freak gets taken to prom as a joke; left crying outside. You know how pointless it is to cry over this guy. You don’t even care about him, to be honest. But it’s not really him you’re crying over. It’s the extensive disappointment you repeatedly put yourself through after expecting different results—it’s the fact that you haven’t stopped thinking about Eddie all night. 

As you begin to probe deeper into the ethical implications of falling in love with your best friend, said best friend whips into the parking lot, tires skidding as he pulls right up to you and parks. He drives just how he lives his life—with a sense of urgency and passion you don’t see in many. His van stops diagonally in the middle of the pickup lane, and he hops out of the driver’s side door, so worried he can’t be bothered to close it before sprinting to your side. 

For the past six minutes—which is Eddie’s new personal record on getting to the school from Forest Hills—his mind has been racing with every possibility of what could have happened to you tonight. Maybe Todd had another girl, or is just boring, or maybe you got totally Carrie’d and some assholes poured pig’s blood all over you. Not likely, but hey, you never know the determination of Hawkins’ resident assholes. At least if you got Carrie’d you’d look metal as fuck. That would be a good album cover. But that’s not the point. What he’s more worried about is the possibility that that dickwad touched you in any way. Just the thought is enough for him to completely light up—he got pretty close to breaking his steering wheel from how hard he was gripping it. 

“What happened?” He tries to act nonchalant, but that’s something he’s never been good at. 

Your head is held between your knees, looking down into nothingness. He’s staring daggers into the top of your head, and you can almost feel the fact that he wants to say ‘I told you so.’ Reluctantly, your wet eyes tilt upwards, the rest of your head following. 

“Let’s just talk in the van.” He sighs. 

You don’t budge. Your legs feel far too wobbly to imagine getting up right now. He has zero patience at the moment, it seems, as evidenced by the fact that he almost immediately picks you up bridal style and carries you directly to the passenger’s side of his van. He fumbles with the door handle for a second before setting you down gently in the seat. You watch him drag a frustrated hand over his face through the windshield as he walks back to his side, and although you know you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re worried that you did. 

The engine roars into life, turning your seat into a makeshift massage chair. Eddie pulls out of the parking lot as quickly as he pulled in, but with a little more focus. He doesn’t turn his music on, which is a bad sign. 

“It was a bet,” is all you can say, voice soft and defeated, “because, of fucking course it was.” You stare out the window, head tapping against the glass as he hits a pothole straight on.

“I told you that asshole was bad news.” His voice is laced with venom. He’s never been good at controlling his anger—especially when it has to do with you. 

You stay silent. Anything you say right now will probably just piss him off more. 

“Why do you—why do you always do this to yourself? You’re always finding these guys that just want to take you out to say they were able to take you out. They treat you like a fucking trophy.” He scoffs. 

You look at him again, tears still silently falling. Even if you wanted to say something to that, you can’t seem to find your voice. 

“I just don’t get it. You’re, like, totally perfect,” he coughs, gripping the wheel harder, “and these guys you find are total douches. You can do so much better.”

“It’s not like there’s anyone better around here,” you mumble while staring out the window, like some kid talking back to their parent for the first time. 

“That’s not my point!” His yell rings out against the hum of the engine, the dull drumming being the only sound left as he hangs a sharp right turn. “I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to find some guy that you throw your morals out the door.” Eddie’s eyes dart to you for a moment before looking back at the road. 

“I haven’t thrown my morals out the door.” You argue softly. 

“Yes, you have! We always said we’d never suck up to the bullshit they want us to do, that we’d never let them turn us normal, and here you are at the fucking prom.”

“Eddie, it’s prom! It’s not like I fucking stabbed my mother!”

“We’re supposed to be the freaks! We’re Hellfire! We piss people off! That’s our whole thing! You can’t just—fuck—just throw that out!” He groans angrily, pulling into Forest Hills, slowing down as you near the Munson trailer. 

“I’m not throwing it out.” You say, much more firmly. 

“You’re throwing me out!” There it goes, the root of the entire issue. He’s always been worried that you’ll find someone cooler, someone less abrasive, someone who will make you laugh and smile more than he can. Logically, he knows that would never happen, but he can’t help his fear. He throws the van into park and slams the door as he gets out. 

Eddie was eight when he met you. He’d been living with Wayne for a little over a year by the time you moved next door, but he was still struggling. His mother left him first, then his father. He missed his mom a lot, but his dad probably caused him more pain, knowing that he had the choice whether or not to stay, but Eddie wasn’t enough. Uncle Wayne was nicer to him than his father had ever been, but that can’t fix a broken kid. 

Then one day, you showed up in your ratty hand-me-downs, a year and a half younger than him. He thought that girls had cooties, but you were different. You didn’t giggle or try to hide your gaze like the other girls did when they made fun of him to each other. Instead, you walked right up to him and said hi. 

You were new, and you didn’t have the best clothes—he could tell you were probably going through something similar to him—so the kids at school kicked you to the curb. You were just as pretty as the other girls, he thought, if not prettier, as much as a seven-year-old can be. But that didn’t really seem to matter to them. Your lunchbox was plain, theirs had characters. 

When the two of you got to be in junior high at the same time, him in the eighth grade and you in sixth, he thought for sure that you would find new, more popular friends. It was incredibly shocking to him that you’d rather hang out with some dorky boy with an ugly buzz cut who’s two grades ahead of you than the other pretty girls, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

He’s lived with that fear constantly since then, always preparing himself to see you walking into school one day in some pastel sweater instead of your band shirts and battle vest. He knows you won’t, he knows you’re better than that, and he feels so guilty for always expecting the worst, but he can’t help it. 

You hop out of the passenger’s side of the van, holding up the skirt of your dress like some elegant princess. But instead of some grand, ornate staircase, you’re simply walking up the concrete steps of the Munson trailer and following Eddie, who’s storming inside. 

“Eddie.” You sound like a scolding mother, tears having dried up a few minutes ago, and you shut the door behind you. “Why do you think so lowly of me?” Your voice cracks with the weight of the question. 

Eyes widening, Eddie never realized quite how much his thoughts could affect you until right now. “I don’t,” he says softly. “You’re the best person I know.”

“You say that, but you always think I’m gonna leave you for someone else. You’re my best fucking friend. I’m not just gonna cut you off at the drop of a hat.”

“I- I know that,” he stammers out, a little shaken. 

“Do you?”

“Look, I,” he sighs, finally turning around, “I’m just scared. I’m scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize how fucking lame I am, and you won’t want to deal with me and all my bullshit anymore.” 

“The world isn’t against you, Eddie.”

He opens his mouth to quip back something snarky, but he closes it as he thinks about your words again. 

“You hate yourself so much that it’s beginning to rub off on me, because I’m friends with you, and if I like you, you think that surely there’s something wrong with me, too.” 

He’s stunned into silence, your words stabbing him straight through the heart. 

“Can you at least tell me why you were being a dick for the past few weeks?” You switch the subject slightly with a sigh. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Because of Troy asking you to prom.”

“Todd.”

“Yeah, whatever. He was my problem.”

“Why were you mad at me for that, though?”

“I knew he was gonna hurt you.”

“You didn’t say anything about that, though. You just said he was an ass once and then pushed me away for two straight weeks.”

Standing in the middle of the dark trailer, Eddie is presented with two options: confess his lifelong, undying love for you, or don’t. He knows that the only good and honest explanation he can give you involves a love confession, and he hates lying to you. But one thing trumps the fact that he hates lying to you, and it’s that Eddie is a complete and utter pussy. 

Eddie is, and always has been, a pussy. In middle school, you acted as his bodyguard—self-appointed, and very passionate—which only made him get bullied worse. You didn’t care. You’d defend him until the end of time. You’d take a hundred tugs to your ponytail or face-plants in the lunchroom so that he wouldn’t have to. You weren’t very loud or talkative in school, until it came to defending Eddie. 

To Eddie, you’re this glowing beacon of light and hope in his life. Everything good comes from you. And if he confesses his feelings to you, and you don’t feel the same, that pillar comes crashing down. 

But…what if? What if you did feel the same? That’s stupid, he thinks. Clearly you don’t, because otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to prom with another guy. And he’s sure you already know about his big, fat crush, and you’re choosing to act like you don’t notice.

“I’m sorry.” You can tell he’s nervous by the way he’s fingering riffs on the side of his thigh. 

“You always get so upset when I talk to guys. It’s not like there can be only one guy in my life.” 

“I know that, it’s just–” This is going to be the worst decision he’s ever made, and he knows it, but he can’t stop himself. “--I’m jealous, okay?”

“Obviously you’re fucking jealous, dickweed.” As you call him your favorite nickname, the intent behind his words reaches you, and your cheeks begin to heat up. “…Wait.”

“Have you seriously not picked up on this yet?” Eddie is genuinely surprised at your reaction. “You—you’re perfect, you know that? You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t know how you do it.” His voice is softer than normal. 

“Yeah, but—like, are you serious?” You ask. 

“I wouldn’t joke about this. I’ve been, like, totally into you forever. I’m surprised Gareth or Jeff didn’t say anything to you.”

“They did a while ago, but I thought they were messing with me.” 

“Okay, I honestly can’t blame you for that.”

A moment passes in silence, and you think about how to respond. 

“You know, I didn’t really want to go with Todd.”

“What? Why did you then?”

“I hoped that you would ask me,” you admit, eyes drifting to your feet, “but it was kind of a stupid thing to expect.”

His jaw goes slack as he hears you speak. 

“I guess that I’ve just kinda had this pipe dream where we’d go to prom together, and I’d be able to dress up all pretty, and we could dance together.” You avoid his gaze, until you hear him scurrying down the hallway. 

He emerges back out with his stereo in one hand and a cassette in the other, scrambling to place it down on the kitchen table and shoving the tape inside. He immediately skips to the song he has in mind. The familiar sound of Tommy Lee’s piano starts from beside you, and before you can figure out what’s happening, he’s offering his hand to you. 

“May I have this dance?” 

A smile grows on your face. “God, you’re such a fucking dork.” Your insult doesn’t come without placing your hand in his. He’s bright red, and he’s never slow danced in his life. 

Mötley Crüe’s Home Sweet Home is interrupted occasionally by the sound of feet stepping on feet and the subsequent ow!’s that follow, as well as the flustered giggling of two idiots in love. 

Eddie pulls you a little closer, his hands firmly planted on your waist. “You look really beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, “sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

He feels extremely underdressed compared to you, him in his favorite torn up pair of black jeans and an Exodus muscle tee, and you in your stunningly gorgeous dress, looking prettier than any princess he could ever imagine. 

“Thank you,” you mumble back, flustered, “you don’t look too—fuck!—too bad yourself, you know.” A playful giggle comes with your words, and a huge grin grows on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah?” He teases, looking right in your eyes. 

“Yeah.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you giggle, staring right back. 

Leaning in, he lets out a nervous laugh before pressing his lips to yours. It’s not some magical explosion of energy that cures all your problems and fixes world hunger; but his lips are soft and warm, and he tastes like weed, gummy worms and a hint of shitty beer, and it feels right. 

You kiss him a few more times before the song ends, all quick and chaste but completely full of love. Pulling you along with him, not wanting to let go, he pauses the tape and the trailer goes quiet again. 

“Was I better at that than Troy?”

“Todd.”

“Point still stands, fuckface.”

Eddie drags you down the hall to his bedroom, the familiar ambiance warming you like a comforting blanket. Jumping onto the bed with a plop, the boy pats beside him invitingly.

“Can I change first?” You ask, ecstasy of the moment wearing off, allowing you to remember how itchy this damn dress is.

“‘Course. Your shirt is clean if you want it.” He calls it your shirt, but it was his at one point. The old Metallica tee used to be his favorite one, too, which meant it got a lot of wear and tear. But then you started wearing it at sleepovers, and it quickly became your shirt. Eddie didn’t like to wash it afterward because it smelled like you. He always felt like a creep for that.

Your hand tries its best to wrap around and pull the impossibly tiny zipper down, but it doesn’t want to budge. Eddie, watching you as intently as ever, quickly notices and jumps up to help you. His fingers move to your waist, soft and nimble, and gently undo the zipper for you. You let your dress fall to the ground, and he looks away, flustered. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in your underwear before, but now it feels a lot more serious.

Quickly throwing on the hole-filled Metallica shirt and a clean pair of his boxers, both of you hop back into his bed. You’ve shared plenty of nights here before, but once again, now it feels different. You sense that it will become a common theme for your life in the near future. His hands snake back around your waist and pull you next to him, and you allow your head to rest against his chest.

“So… does this mean you’re, like, my girlfriend now, or what?” A goofy smirk is plastered across his face as he asks. 

You try to playfully shove him off of you, to no avail. “Are you seriously fucking asking me that?” You’re trying so hard to act angry, but your giggles give you away.

“Yes, yes it does.” You seal it with a kiss. Then one on his cheek, and the other, and his forehead, and the tip of his nose.

reblogs and notes always appreciated! | requests are open!

#hes such a dork you cant convince me otherwise #like he would be sooooo corny #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #hurt/comfort #eddie munson hurt/comfort

[jaebeomsbitch]

Best Friend's Kisses (E.M.)

Summary: After seventeen long years of friendship Eddie decides to fulfill a ten year old promise. Something whispered in the middle of the night. He gives you the best gift of all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader, really only mentioned like two or three times

Mid-twenties Eddie and reader. Mechanic! Eddie

Warning: Slight smut at the end, talks of insecurity, making out, flirting, swearing, and melancholy reader. MINORS DNI!

AN: This is only my third fic on here. I'm still trying to understand the formatting.

Eddie Munson had been your friend since you met him on the playground in third grade. He had defended you against some asshole kid who tried to take away your toy. Pushed him to the ground and yelled at him, you’d been inseparable since then. You saw each other through the awkward phases of becoming teenagers, watched him struggle through high school, and then eventually graduate.

Now you were both in your mid twenties, still having movie nights at the Munson’s every Friday after your shift at the record shop. You had a chance to leave, to go to college in New York but you turned it down. Not that you told Eddie, you didn’t want him to feel guilty. Truthfully you did stay for him, afraid that he might break without you but, did he really need you?

Eddie was an incredible sweetheart, making friends left and right with whoever would listen to him. It seemed like anyone that had a chance to really talk to him could see beyond the rumor around him. He was surrounded by people who loved him. Sometimes you regret staying, maybe you could’ve become something. Maybe you could’ve gotten a good degree, move your parents out of this shitty town but you were afraid.

The truth being you use Eddie as a crutch, you always had. Hiding behind him, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he yelled at another person for you, cleaning him up after he fought with a guy for groping you, Eddie was your protector in a sense. So you stay, stay in the shitty down you despise, wallow in self pity for being a fucking coward like you always are, and spending your days drinking or getting high with Eddie and his friends.

Today was a special day, Eddie had gotten a job at a mechanic shop. He always said that when he got his first paycheck he’d buy you something really special. He’d jump around from job to job until he found Earl. Earl was the only person who truly gave Eddie a chance.

“Honey, I’m home,” He jokes, walking into the trailer. Already expecting you to be lying on his bed when he comes home like you always are. He walks in shoulders hunched, face covered in grease stains, and hair knotted. “Gonna take a shower, then’ll be back. Got something exciting for you sweetheart,” He smiles, grabbing the pile of clothes you left on the foot of his bed ready for him. “Toodaloo,” he wags his fingers behind him as he exits the room.

Oh god what did he get you? Eddie had a reputation for going overboard, always saying he had to spoil his ‘princess’ because you were his longest friend. Always rambling about how you deserved the world for sticking by his side. Steve and Robin like to tease him, poking fun at your friendship. Always whispering, “you’ve never thought ‘bout it?” with their questioning gazes. It didn’t matter what either of you said, they never believed you. They could see the way the tips of your ears turned red or the way Eddie silently threatened Steve.

“I feel so much better,” He sighs, throwing himself next to you. He cuddles into the pillow, throwing the sheets over himself. “You forgetting something?” You laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry. M’tired,” He mumbles, eyes open wide. “Just go to sleep, Eds. You can give me whatever it is tomorrow,” You whisper. Trying to lull him back to sleep as you massage his scalp. “No, been waiting forever,” He murmurs, eyes blinking slowly. He must’ve been really tired for him to forget dinner. Eddie was never one to skip meals, always saying they were his favorite part of his day. You watch him sleep, he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. It isn’t until you hear the phone ring that you move your hand from his curls.

“Hello?” You whisper trying not to wake him up. “Oh hey! I was expecting Eddie,” Steve says on the line. “He got home and fell asleep immediately, I was just about to make dinner. What’s up?” You ask.

“You sound so domestic, like a housewife,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes leaning against the wall.

“H-has he given you the present yet?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No, he just said he had something for me then fell asleep two seconds later. I don’t know what he did today but he skipped lunch. You know how unusual that is for him,” you say slightly concerned.

“It’s just… he loves you a lot you know?” Steve says, his voice sounding a little weird.

“Yeah and I love him too,” You reply quickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just… keep that in mind, I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says.

“What wh-” He hangs up. What the fuck was that about? Of course you’d see Steve and the gang tomorrow, it was your weekly get together with the adults of the group but this felt weird. It almost felt like something monumental was supposed to happen today.

You try to shake away the feeling, looking through the fridge to see what they have. Cheese and tortillas, the ones you brought from home because you ‘accidentally’ bought two packs. You make quesadillas like you’ve made all your childhood, they were quick to make and easy for Eddie to eat while he’s half asleep. He had this miraculous way of waking up, eating, and forgetting that he even ate when he woke up.

“Eds… Teddie,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder until he groans. He gained the nickname after a long night of calling each other annoying nicknames, you saw your childhood teddy bear and instantly thought of Eddie. Just like it, he brought you comfort and he was also the person to give it to you. Claimed he won it in a claw machine for twenty five cents but you knew he had saved his money for weeks to buy it for you. You'd seen it at the store when your mom dragged you shopping for your sister's new clothes.

“I know, I know, baby. Just eat and you can go back to sleep okay,” You whisper, sitting on the ledge of the bed next to him. He slowly blinks, turning toward you as he scratches his neck languidly.

“Come on, eat,” You show him the plate but he still blinks at you not understanding. So you feed him like a sick child, watching as he takes little bites and tilting his head forward when he needs a drink. “Go back to sleep,” You whisper, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes close again.

Steve was right, it all felt entirely domestic. You’d never treat him, Robin, or any of your other friends like this but Eddie, he was special. Your heart clenches at the idea, always longing for Eddie in a way you know is not possible. Always afraid you’d ruin your seventeen years of friendship, afraid you’d lose the one person who made you feel comfortable. You’d always cuddled with him, he was overly touchy with you to the point that everyone thought you were together. You were always off limits to the other guys in Hawkins, only ever catching the eye of passersby. You fall asleep, thinking about all the should haves and could haves.

The sun filters through the small crack in the curtains hitting you straight in the face. You look around the room, remembering you fell asleep next to Eddie. His arm is around your waist, head buried in your neck, hair tickling your nose. You try to stretch as much as you can while being basically pinned down by Eddie.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles, pulling you closer.

“You slept for sixteen hours already,” you snort.

“Not enough,” He nuzzles into your neck.

“You gotta stop that or I’m gonna piss myself,” You say, trying to pry his arm off of you.

“Do it, you wouldn’t dare,” He challenges.

“No I wouldn’t but seriously, I gotta go!” you say more urgently.

“Fine, but you jump right back in bed the minute you finish,” He bargains.

“It’s almost one o’clock, I am not staying in bed,” You protest, still pulling at his arm.

“Either way you still owe me a present,” You say.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” He says, finally letting you go. You run to the bathroom to take care of yourself, peeing and brushing your teeth. You’d had a toothbrush right next to Eddie’s since your first sleepover, he always took charge of changing it out every couple of months.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, rummaging through his closet.

“Eat, present, meet Robin and Nance and 'em,” He says, standing up from the bed to join you. He picks up a pair of black jeans, his favorite because “they fit him the best and they make his ass look good,” according to Eddie. It was warm out, you could already tell by the heat in the trailer so he picks out a cutoff tee that shows off the sides of his ribs if he moves a certain way. He didn’t know this was your favorite shirt of his. He always looked so fucking hot with it on, his tattoos peaking through the side, his midriff exposed at the corner of your eye. Well if he was going to play that game you needed a better outfit, no band tee for you.

You search through your overnight bag for the black lacy cami top that usually leaves him speechless and a pair of shorts. He looks at the outfit in your hand and gulps.

“Great, I’m starving,” You wink at him as you walk by. What the fuck were you doing? What has gotten into you? He might’ve just been thirsty or something. There was no guarantee he even noticed what you grabbed or even cared. When you come out dressed you hear Wayne’s voice to the right of you talking to Eddie about his job.

“Good…afternoon!” You greet them.

“Finally decided to wake up I see,” Wayne says, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t judging you, he liked to tease but he knew how hard Eddie and you worked. He always treated you like a dad, more than your own father. He was protective and caring in his own way.

“Blame Teddie,” You nudge Eds in the ribs.

“You know I need my beauty rest,” He says, flicking his hair.

“Maybe you need to sleep longer,” Wayne’s eyes light up, teasing Eddie.

“Some sleep would do you good,” Eddie says, tone more serious. Wayne had been picking up more shifts lately, you had hardly seen him the last three weeks.

“I’m already as pretty as I’ll get,” Wayne grumbles, not liking Eddie’s concern.

“Weren’t y’all ‘bout to get food, c’mon get,” Wayne pushes you both out, slamming the door behind you two.

“He really is overworking himself,” You sigh as you climb into Eddie’s van.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been taking longer hours at the shop. Just want to take some burden off the old man,” He says, eyes focused on the road. You both sit in silence on the drive to Benny’s, thinking about how stuck you felt.

You wanted to help Wayne in any way you could but you still weren’t making enough money. You rented out a room from your parents because according to them the second you turn eighteen they weren’t supposed to help you anymore. Even if you wanted to leave you couldn’t afford the lease. You remember all those nights with Eddie, dreaming of the day you finally became adults so you could become independent.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, snapping his finger in front of your face.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” You jump, hand clutching your chest.

“What’s got you so spaced out?” Eddie asks, during the short walk into the diner and into your “designated” booth.

“Nothin’” you say, playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“C’mon tell me what’s on your mind,” He pushes.

“I just wish I could do something to help Wayne out,” You sigh, not looking up at him.

“Me too,” He says, taking the pepper from your hand and playing with it. You didn’t expect the heavy atmosphere but thankfully it's broken when Doris comes over with your drinks. You always ordered the same thing, every week.

“Here’s your cola’s, just put in your order,” She smiles.

“Thank you!” you beam at the sugary beverage.

“There’s something magical in these sodas I swear,” You moan, as you gulp it down.

Eddie’s looking at you through his eyelashes, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

“Yeah tastes pretty good,” He observes, voice deeper than normal and pupil’s slightly blown out. You make conversation over your pancake breakfasts, talking about shitty customers and bonding over telling them to fuck off. The tension from earlier is gone as Eddie promises he can scarf down his food in less than ten minutes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said it wasn’t worth the upset stomach I know you’re gonna have,” You say, walking toward his van.

“Well it was worth it,” He gives you a toothy smile.

“Now for the big event,” He says, as you both get in the van.

“Big event?” You question.

“Got you a surprise, something I promised you a long time ago,” He says, staring into your eyes. There’s something there you don’t recognize, his gaze looking different. You wrack your brain trying to decipher his riddle. What did he promise you? He had made so many promises over the years, pinkies intertwining each other as Gareth made fun of your childish ways.

“Okay…” You look at him suspiciously.

“But, I’m gonna need to blindfold you,” He says, eyes full of mischief.

“Ooh kinky,” you wag your eyebrows at him. His eyes slightly widen before he snaps out of it and grabs a scrap of fabric from his door.

“Turn around for me sweetheart,” He mumbles. You can’t help but slightly shake as he places the opaque fabric over your eyes, his hand brushing the back of your head as he knots it in place. The entire act felt all too intimate, your heavy breaths in the silent van weren’t helping either.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, presumably waving a hand in your face as you turn to sit straight.

“Nothing, scouts honor,” You say, raising two fingers.

“You weren’t even in the scouts,” He laughs, turning the key in the ignition. You don’t know what direction you’re heading in.

“Oh my god are you gonna murder me? Been playing the long con? Get me comfortable so I go without protest,” You tease.

“Oh yeah, gonna chop you up in the forest in the name of satan,” He says dramatically.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” You laugh, as he pulls to a stop.

“We’re here, just give me a second” He says, opening the door and rounding the car to open yours less than a second later.

“Wrap your arms around my neck princess,” He says, carrying you out of the van and placing you on your feet.

“Woah,” You grab onto his arm as the dizziness sets in.

“You alright?” He asks, concerned laced in his voice.

“Yeah just give me a second. M’dizzy” You say, gripping harder onto his bicep.

“Take your time,” He says.

“I’m ready,” You say after a minute. “Okay, just follow my voice. It’s a trust exercise,” you can hear the smile in his voice as he leads you. “There’s like three steps, just take ‘em slow. Here’s the first one,” He says, stopping so you can get your footing. He leads you up the last two, “Before you take your blindfold off… just, I don’t know. J-just I don’t even know how to explain it,” He says, voice full of nervousness.

“Eds, I feel like I've been blindfolded for an hour. If this is another prank I will fucking kill you,” You threaten.

“Not a joke, promise,” He says, “Ready?”

“Been ready,” You answer. He takes your hand putting something cold in it and leaning over your shoulder to see the knot. You blink at the sudden light, trying to grab your bearings.

“W-what?” You asked confused. He’d placed a key in your hand, you were standing in front of a house.

“We always promised we’d move out together, it was time for me to bank it in,” He smiles.

“Wait, what?” You still couldn’t believe it. It had to be some sort of joke, he probably found this key on the floor.

“C’mon open the door,” He nods his head in the direction of the lock.

“You’re serious?” You ask, eyes wide in shock.

“As a heart attack. C’mon! I’ve been waiting for months to show you it,” He says, pressing you to open the lock. Your hands shake as you approach the door, the key surprisingly sliding in and turning. Oh no he wasn’t lying, this wasn’t an epic prank. You open the door to an empty living room, his hand guiding you inside.

“I haven’t picked out the furniture yet, thought you’d want to do it together,” He stammers, as you silently scan over the room. It was nice, the entrance opened to the living room, to the left was an open floor plan kitchen, and to the right a bedroom.

“T-together?” You stutter. You were speechless.

“I know how much you hate living at your folks home and you know we made that promise that we’d move out together when we had the money,” He says scratching the back of his neck. He was nervous at your lack of response, did you hate the house? Maybe he should have consulted you first.

“So you and me, living together?” You question, taking in every single detail.

“Yes, just you and me. Maybe Wayne but I doubt he’ll leave the trailer. He’ll finally have a bedroom again though,” He trails off.

“Holy shit, this is for real?” You ask again, walking around the living room toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say yes. Did I tie that blindfold too tight? Not enough oxygen in your brain” he chuckles at his joke. You jump into his arms, legs straddling his waist. You hold onto him like a monkey as he grabs your thighs.

“This is the best present ever! Holy shit, Eddie,” You say hugging him close.

“Least I can do for your long years of serving me loyally,” He laughs, walking deeper into the house. You slide down his body as he pulls you through, giving you the grand tour. The house had three bedrooms total, apparently he got an insane deal on the property. Someone from the shop got a huge opportunity in Indianapolis and was trying to get rid of it. They passed down the title to Eddie instead of going through a broker.

“Now this, I think may be your favorite part,” He says, pulling you toward the back door. Your hands entwined, which was not unusual for you both. He opens the door to a beautiful garden, the previous owners must’ve loved this place. It was full of flowers and fruit trees.

“There’s a perfect shady spot to read your books, we could put a table out there and have breakfast together,” He says.

“Holy shit Eddie, it’s perfect,” You say, pulling him in for another hug. He’s bent at an awkward angle to meet your height. Without thinking you peck him on the lips before letting him go and walking down the steps to the garden. You look back at him still frozen in that weird position.

“What’s wrong?” You ask oblivious to what you had just done.

“D-did you just kiss me?” He asks, running down the stairs to meet you halfway down the yard.

“T-that was-” You stutter, realizing what happened. He towers over you, hand tilting your face upward as he kisses you again.

“This okay?” he mumbles into your lips. You move your hands to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Mhm,” You agree, trying to pull him closer. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip with a groan, his kisses becoming more desperate. You open your mouth inviting him in, his tongue mapping out your mouth as you moan. “F-fuck,” You breathe out as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. You’d never been touched like this by Eddie, his hands running all over you anguished for a piece of skin to grab onto. He leans his forehead against yours, as you both catch your breath, his hands under your shirt on your hips.

“W-what was that,” You stammer.

“Been wanting to do that since middle school,” His breath ghosts over your face as he leans back to look at you, skin flushed and chest rising rapidly.

“Since fourth grade,” You laugh, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down to your level.

“That long?” He says incredulously.

“You were my first crush,” You admit, face flushing at the confession.

“You were mine!” He says, voice raising in astonishment.

“So we could’ve been doing that for fuckin’ years?” He says more to himself than you.

“Guess so,” You shrug your shoulders.

“No wonder everyone thought we were dating. You made the goo goo eyes at me I made the goo goo eyes at you,” He laughs.

“That was your fault! You always had an arm around my shoulder or were holding my hand. Anyone would’ve thought we were together!” You reply.

“As if you didn’t love it. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you look at me when I wear this shirt,” He teases.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?” You ask, smacking his chest.

“Course gotta make you all nervous,” He pecks you on the lips.

“Well don’t think I don’t notice all the times you stare at my boobs especially when I wear this,” You motion to your outfit.

“I fucking knew it! You’re a temptress y’know that?” He growls, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anyway, I was always touching you because I didn’t want anyone hanging around my girl,” He mumbles at his admission, neck and cheeks flushed.

“Your girl?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“Always have been, always will be,” He reveals.

“You don’t know how many girls I had to fight off,” You chuckle.

“No way! I had to fight off half the town. You don’t even know how many fist fights I got into because of you,” he says.

“Girls are a lot more vicious. You know there was always a rumor going around about you,” You divulge.

“Oh yeah?” He motions for you to go on. “Always heard you had a big dick,” You reveal before hiding in his chest. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases.

“Yes I would,” You say, gaining confidence. You look up at him, the way his chocolate brown eyes are swallowed by his pupils. He pulls you in for another kiss, this one faster and more aggressive, it almost felt primal.

“Finally!” Robin cheers from the door, Eddie groans at the sound. He forgot he called them while you were changing. Steve, Robin, and Nancy scramble down the stairs giving you both congratulations. Gareth, Jeff, and, Grant arriving a few minutes later. Eddie’s annoyance dies down when he sees your face loving the way you laugh around your friends. You spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and eating take out with them. Nancy had brought a board game, this felt like home. Having them all here, Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he kisses your temple. You were finally home.

Eddie was finally yours and you were finally his. All your internal struggles and insecurities paid off. You had won the big prize at the fair! You spend the night on a blow up mattress with Eddie, eventually popping it because he has no control. After years of waiting you both felt more than desperate, clawing at each other's clothes.

“Shit- shit shit! M’close,” You moan.

“Fuck me too!” his eyes roll to the back of his head, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace.

“Say you’re mine, wanna hear it,” He begs.

“M’yours, always yours,” You claw at his back. “Yes yes yes yes,” He rambles until you’re both seeing stars. He pulls out of you, pulling you to his sweaty chest.

“This has to be a dream,” He exhales, staring at the ceiling. You kiss his chest in response. It was all too real. Your dreams had become reality. You finally had Eddie in your arms. You were his and he was yours just like you both promised when you were children.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson / reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #steve harrington #robin buckley #gareththegreat #domestic fiction #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson my beloved #wayne munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x childhood friend #mechanic!eddie #older eddie munson

[farfaras]

Part 2.

What if Eddie moved on from thinking Steve and Nancy should get back together when Jonathan came back and saw how they’re actually destined to be together even tho they still have shit to figure out.

I know it’s a popular hc that Eddie and Robin clock each other immediately BUT I still think that as two queer kids in a small backwards town they’re more worried about no one finding out about them so they wouldn’t notice someone else. So worried about themselves that they (like straight people) also fall into the mindset of ‘everyone is straight until proven otherwise’.

What’s the result of this? Eddie seeing how close Robin and Steve are and thinking there must be something there. And because Steve is a little more affectionate than Robin, now Eddie thinks he’s pining after her.

“Why aren’t you and Robin together?”

“It’s not like that. She’s my best friend.”

“I don’t buy it.”

So now Steve has to put up with Eddie constantly going on about how Steve should just ask her out already, what’s he waiting for, she probably likes him back.

It bothers Steve to no end. He wished society had advanced enough to realize that men and women can be platonic friends without having to explain themselves.

A nightmare.

And Steve would never out Robin, so telling him the truth wasn’t an option. And he really wasn’t interested in dating anyone right now, so that was out of the question. What could he do to get Eddie to understand that him and Robin would never happen?

Then he remembered. It seemed so distant but Steve actually tried to tell Robin he liked her once. It was kinda embarrassing to think about now, specially because he saw Robin as nothing more than a friend now. He couldn’t even remember what having a crush on her ever felt like. And maybe he never even had one, shitty friends and shitty parents maybe warped his perception and then he couldn’t see the difference between platonic and romantic feelings. Well, that was for another day. He could tell the difference now. He thinks.

He could just tell Eddie about that moment in starcourt. He would just leave out the part about Robin having absolutely bad taste in girls. Foolproof. Eddie would leave it alone now.

“What? She just rejected you and then you decided to become her best friend?” He looked surprised, like the idea was impossible to understand.

“And I don’t regret it. She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re crazy.” Steve didn’t expect that.

“What do you mean?”

Eddie looked at him and his expression was hard to read. “You’re telling me that after being rejected you didn’t need time away? Just jumped to being a platonic friend? Despite your feelings?” He scoffed. “I could never do that.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“Now I know you’re lying. You still like her?”

Steve really tried to convince Eddie that he didn’t like Robin anymore. But no matter what he would say he didn’t believe him.

So Steve gave up.

Now he goes along with it. It’s easier. It stopped Eddie from trying to set them up or whatever.

Except it didn’t.

Now Eddie came up with the absolute great idea of making her jealous. Which was so so ridiculous Steve had to hold back laughter. He didn’t mention how much Robin had heard about past dates. This was beginning to amuse him just a little bit.

“How would I even do that?” Steve asked, curious as to what Eddie would come up with.

“You know? Let me think about this.” He made a show of putting his hand on his chin, contemplating. “Show up at work with some marks on you neck. You know, see how she reacts to that knowledge.” Steve knows how Robin reacts to that. Before Vecna, on his endless quest to find ‘the one’ (what a waste) he had some hookups. One time he went into work with one or two hickeys on his neck. Robin wouldn’t even bat her eyes, just would ask ‘who was it now?’ and then ask if he would see her again. The answer was no. Eddie didn’t know this.

“Yeah well, I really don’t feel like going on a date and hooking up with someone just to use it to bait a reaction. Seems kinda cruel to the other person.” Steve thinks that should be enough to shut this idea down.

“Huh. Maybe you’re better than me because I didn’t even think about that.”

Steve doesn’t reply, just snorts. And he thinks that’s gonna be the end of it. There’s nothing else Eddie can really do or come up with. Right?

Wrong.

“I could do it.” Did Steve hear that right? Huh?

“What?” Steve asked.

“Give you a hickey. It’s no big deal, really.”

If you asked Steve why he said yes. Man, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He really doesn’t know! It’s like someone possessed him and he was moving his mouth, but it wasn’t him. Maybe it was because he couldn’t come up with a reason not to do it fast enough that would convince Eddie.

They were both sitting on the couch so Eddie just leaned in and started on a spot on the left side of his neck. Steve’s hand instinctively moved to the back of Eddie’s head. One wouldn’t think so based on its appearance but Eddie’s hair was surprisingly soft.

Suddenly there were teeth scraping his neck. Steve let out a noise that he hadn’t heard before. He accidentally pulled a little on Eddie’s hair, he was gonna apologize but Eddie didn’t seem to mind, he just hummed.

“Did you just bite me?”

Eddie pulled back and sneered. “Sorry. I let my impulsive thoughts win.” What does that even mean?

Steve was gonna ask if that did it but then Eddie moved to his lap, straddling him. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the other side?” Makes sense? Honestly his mind was getting a little mushy and was only focusing on Eddie’s weight on him. When Eddie leaned in again, Steve’s hands traveled to rest on his hips. Eddie’s on his shoulders to have leverage, his hips hovering now.

Steve tipped his head back to give him a little more space. With more space Eddie seemed to be satisfied with that spot and moved lower, however this next one was sensitive to Steve, he’s always known that. He was gonna say so but he couldn’t, Eddie was already on it. He let out a breathy sound and gripped Eddie’s hips tighter making him slam back on his lap. He thinks Eddie moaned, he’s not sure tho. “Sorry.” He muttered.

He didn’t think he’d enjoy this.

He did.

Maybe he should put a stop to it.

He hasn’t so far.

It went on a little longer. Some hands wandering. Some sounds uttered. Minds getting floaty.

He knew it was coming to an end when Eddie started leaving kisses to soothe the spots, he trailed until he got to his ear. Which he actually licked. It was probably to make a joke but it only made Steve shiver.

“I think you’re done.” Eddie said. He hesitated a second before climbing off his lap.

Steve knew he looked winded. Eddie tried to look casual but he’s known him for a while and could see that it was feigned casualness.

“Uh. Good.” Lame. Steve is lame.

Mike Wheeler was right because Steve Harrington is lame.

How is he gonna explain this to Robin?

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie x steve #stranger things s4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington x eddie munson #I was looking at a burn my flat iron left on my neck #thought it looked like a hickey #then I thought about steddie and hickeys #because of course #my hyperfixation is stronger than ever #every thought I connect to steddie #and then this happened #this is more crack than anything #me thinks #crack #english is my second language #wait guys #they don’t even know they like each other yet #and they do this shit #mer writes sometimes #ficlet #headcanon

[seonne]

"Just So You Know..."

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (Reader was mentioned as "she" once)

Disclaimer: Comfort fic, mentions of familial bullshit, but it's purely comfort. Reader speaks, like, one sentence in this whole thing.

"Look, you know I'm shit with emotions and shit like that. But it's fucking annoying seeing you cooped up in your room wallowing in self pity, so speak the fuck up!"

You were not in a mood to talk to people. Hell, you didn't even want to talk to yourself, didn't want to walk around your room making up fake arguments and yelling at the air. You didn't want to talk, walk, cry, laugh, sing, anything. You just wanted to sit in silence and let your thoughts consume you.

But of course, your no-nonsense boyfriend wouldn't be okay with it.

You hugged your knees closer to you as your boyfriend sat himself on the floor beside you, back leaning onto your bed.

"I know you're upset, but I have no idea if it's because of me or someone or something else. So you need to speak at least a single word for me to understand what's going on and how to fix it."

You stayed silent and rigid, the only part of you moving being your eyelids when you blinked and your chest as you inhaled and exhaled.

Inhaled and exhaled.

Inhaled and exhaled.

Time seemed to be moving fast and slow, running and crawling, chasing and waiting. Merciless.

You felt Katsuki moving beside you but you didn't have it in you to look at him, talk to him.

I'm sorry.

It's not your fault.

I know I shouldn't be giving you the silent treatment.

This is not a silent treatment.

I want to talk to you.

Please keep talking.

I want to hear you.

But you stay mum.

An arm circles around your shoulder and you're pulled into a sturdy chest, as the ball you've rolled yourself into.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk. I'll make you talk later."

His voice softly caresses over you as your ears zone into him, away from the sound of your ceiling fan and the pit-pat of the rain outside. The lilt of his voice is careful, placed with his love, careful in a way he hopes to all the gods above that he doesn't upset you further while also awkwardly navigating and voicing his own genuine concern.

A comforting silence follows afterwards as you snuggle deeper into his chest.

"Are you okay with answering yes or no questions?"

You nod.

"Are you..." His voice trails as he blinks and looks away, composing himself.

'Don't get mad even if her answer may make you mad.'

"Are you upset... because of me?"

You shake your head no. A soft sigh of relief escapes him before he quickly catches it back.

"Was it your parents?"

Nod.

He nods back, understanding.

He knows how your parents tend to be and how you act whenever you encounter them. They say the dumbest shit about you, accusingly, denyingly.

And you believe them.

You believe the bullshit they say about you, how the rest of your family acts about it and how absolutely devastated it leaves what's left of your mental health.

So he waits, patiently, as you sit dead silent propped against him, breathing him in and trying to silence your thoughts.

"...Can you keep talking?"

And he does. He goes on about his day. How "fucking Shitty Hair" barged into the meeting room late as hell and embarrassed himself and Katsuki, how "stupid nerd ass Izuku" flopped while trying to take lead on a joint mission, how he went out on a "boring ass patrol" because the only thing he encountered was a petty thief trying to steal from an old lady.

The story about the old lady trying to set him up with her granddaughter as a form of gratitude brought a short giggle out of you which set him at ease, a small smile gracing his lips.

An easy silence fills the room, enveloping the both of you in it's warmth, despite the rain outside. The crackle of thunder that used to intrigue and excite you, now consoled you, singing you praises of yourself and the wonderful person next to you, who is going way out of his comfort zone to comfort you. The rain smiled at you, singing her lullaby as your eyes fall closed.

A soft kiss on your forehead brought an equally soft smile to your face as the voices in your head faded.

"Just so you know... whatever they said ain't shit. You're amazing and you're never ever a fucking burden, you got that? You're an amazing person and...I love you, god damn it! Don't let anyone make you feel like shit."

You allowed yourself a single tear as it rolled down your cheek. Your sorrow, your self pity, low self esteem, broken heart, hurt feelings, love, joy, satisfaction, comfort. All your emotions, packed into the single drop that dropped to soak into the heart of the man that held you closer than ever; a promise to never let go.

Dutifully writing my own comfort fics because I have come to the realisation of the importance of them. I hope anyone reading this knows that they're loved, and no matter the shittiness of your situation, it will all pass eventually. After all, sad moments are what make the happy moments of life that much sweeter.

Lots of love!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou #kacchan

[chubs-deuce]

I absolutely adore your art style! It's so beautiful and soft looking! And your Design for Dawn is so so GOOD omg you really did such an amazing job of giving her features of both parents while also still standing out as her own strong character design

I also love your interpretation of Alastor as a father, I feel like I've seen so much of him being like, a shitty dad (and while yeah I could see him being a bad dad, It hurts me because I have a need for soft domestic family fluff 😭) and I just love your take on him!

Bad guys w/ a daughter they're soft for is my bread and butter and UGH your art of them just makes me smile so much because it's SO GOOD

(like the one with him and her having a tea party akayjdgdjwhshe ❤️❤️❤️❤️ like I could just imagine her pulling him by his hand away from something important he was doing and telling him he's been invited and he CANNOT be late and he just rolls with it or something lol)

And the other art you did of Vaggie helping her to learn how to walk and Angel wearing cool sunglasses with her. I can't. Too cute.

But yeah! I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your wonderful art/Headcanons with us :D

And I was also wondering, do you mind if people draw fanart of Dawn? Full credit given, of course.

(also sorry this message got a little all over the place 😅)

lkjsdjkfgsöldkjfgsödlkjgösdfkjgs

omg thank you so much for this?!??! This made me so emo to read omg,, ;w;

I'm so glad you like what I put out about her!!! And I agree!! Soo many people make Al this cold and distant father and like.. I understand where they're coming from, but I personally just can't see him deny an innocent little girl her whims, even more so when it's his own flesh and blood :'3

And imo the whole hotel would pitch in when it comes to raising her so it only made sense to draw other members of the cast interacting with her too :D

ALSO I'D BE DEEPLY HONORED ABOUT ANYONE LIKING HER ENOUGH TO DRAW HER!!!

This goes for any of my OCs tbh!! I never expect anyone to, but it absolutely makes my day when I get to see other people give my characters love in the form of art like that!

Thank you so much for this lovely ask <3<3<3

Have Dawn discovering that her shadow is sentient and putting it to use for shenanigans :'D

(she doesn't yet know that it can deform and strech along walls, she just treats it like kind of a secret buddy until she has better control over it)

Normally a shadow entity like this must be bound via contract, but since Alastor offered up one of his lesser minions during her creation ritual, it reformed as an extension of her! I realized I never established this before so have it as bonus lore I guess xD

Again thank you so much for taking the time to write me something so lovely <3

#charlastor #radiobelle #charlastor fanchild #charlastor fankid #hazbin hotel oc #chubs ocs #dawn morningstar #digital art #my art #art #chubs answers

[wantonlywindswept]

adopted baby Guard Din idea that I am never going to write

because it would involve logistics and quiet moments and idle life which I am very down for reading but cannot for the LIFE of me actually sit down and write

So the war ends, Palps is outed as a Sith and an asshole and dies somehow, and the Senate eventually decides that the clones do count as people and thus are allowed to leave the GAR if they want. Give the bureaucrats another few years and they might even give out backpay and citizenship, so long as you stay in the service--wait what do you mean the entire Guard is resigning. What do you mean they've already left orbit?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NOW MILLIONS OF FILES ON THE HOLONET ABOUT THE SENATE'S SHADY DEALINGS???

Guard, collectively: lol cya suckers

Fox is of course one of the last ones out, and since this was all planned on the down low, everyone's been split into groups so they can take commercial flights, since they're not about to be accused of stealing ships. (They also leave their weapons and their armor behind, in a giant macabre pile in the middle of Corrie HQ. Even their helmets, their faces, they discard: it's time for a rebirth.)

He and Thorn and a few other Corries have a stopover on some tiny station, waiting a week for a delayed transport to arrive, and in the meantime they're approached by some locals who just fled the planet below. Separatist remnants attacked their homes, forcing them to leave everything and everyone behind; can the big strong clones do anything about it?

The Big Strong Clones: Oh shit we finally get to kick some Seppie ass? Sign us the FUCK up.

The eager group does not include Fox, who could not care less about the Separatists and would very much like to finally catch up on his sleep. Unfortunately that means that the group that goes down to the planet is Unsupervised.

(Thorn does not count as supervision. Thorn, bereft of Senate oversight, has finally allowed his Inner Chaos Gremlin to fully emerge. Thorn needs more supervision than the shinies.)

Thorn, three days later, waking Fox from half-hearted sleep by dropping an entire natborn child on him: Hey boss, look what we found! None of the refugees claimed him, so we called dibs. Can we keep him? Fox, staring at the child: ...

Din, staring back: ...

Fox: ...no..?

Din: *sad but understanding big brown eyes*

Fox: Nevermind this is my child now.

Din has gone from two parents to one parent and hundreds of overprotective brothers.

Eventually his group makes it to their destination, Din in tow. I am uncertain of what the destination is but it is a planet that is as far away from Coruscant that the Corries could find. I am tempted for Tatooine not because I like Tatooine (I share Anakin's loathing of sand and deserts) but because Luke's description of Tatooine in ANH was 'if there's a bright center to the universe, this is the planet the furthest from'. 

Corries, hearing that: Fuck it sounds perfect. 

Anyway they make it to Tatooine, there is probably purchasing of some shitty land/buildings that nobody wants out in the wastes bc crime, scum, villainy, etc, but it's not like they have problems taking care of anything that tries to mess with them. 

Where did they get the funds?

Shh don't ask about it.

Stone takes up moisture farming. Thire takes up farming-farming. Thorn shoots gleefully at anything that shows up unannounced within a ten-mile radius. Literally everybody dotes on Din. There are a surprising amount of peaceful days.

Eventually some dumb shiny goes: Hey don't kids need friends? Shouldn't we set up some playdates for him or something?

The shiny is not called dumb for asking the question, but they are called dumb for thinking that the question would only ever be taken rhetorically. Fox disappears for two weeks and then comes back with a black eye and a yowling hissing Boba tucked under one arm, looking stupidly pleased with himself.

(Boba is also pleased to be back with people he knows will keep him safe. Boba will not admit to this under threat of death or dismemberment. Boba is a SERIOUS SCARY ADULT BOUNTY HUNTER.)

Boba also decides he will be Mortal Enemies with Din, which after about ten minutes of meeting him morphs into If Anyone Hurts Din I Will Kill Everyone In This Room And Then Myself because all clones be the same, really.

Din has gained another brother/bestie. (Or potential future boyfriend, whichever floats your boat.)

Somehow they still end up overthrowing the Hutts.

Officially the GAR knew and knows nothing about the Guard leaving Coruscant as soon as the metaphorical paint was dry on their sentient status.

Unofficially Fox's batch harangues him every single day for photos of his new kid(s). They eventually show up unannounced, demanding time with their nephew. (They are shot at by Thorn.)

Din gains five new uncles.

The batch proudly show pics and holos to their battalions. Din gains millions of new uncles.

Fox finally gets a full night's sleep.

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #din djarin #coruscant guard #someone else should write that #tho tbh it's mostly written here just in rambling infodump form #btw this is half-inspired bc red is both baby din and fox's color #din is nonverbal for a little while because Trauma #and gets nicknamed 'Kit' #Fox refuses to be pleased about this #Fox is extremely smugly pleased about this

[steddieas-shegoes]

Nother Idea: Steve has a really bad migraine when he sees his parents for the first time post spring break from hell. He is still recovering from his injuries & his parsnts don't know how to help him. He is in tears begging his father or mother to get him Rob or Eds. And they have no clue who that is. The other parent finds a note by the main house phone and one by his bedroom phone with the names Robin & Eddie with their numbers. And they watch their adult son get coddled by a lesbian and a metalhead. Bsjsjcjdjd maybe they find out about the UD???

I TOOK A BREAK FROM PLANNING OUR WEDDING FOR THIS MY LOVE!!! You know how I feel about migraine Steve and you know how I feel about some good old hurt/comfort and how I feel about Steve's parents just being shitty always. It's like you wrote this request from MY BRAIN. It's a bit shorter than I could've done, but I am rushing out the door at this point and wanted to have it posted today in case I can't tonight. Hope you love it!!! - Mickala ❤️

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

Luck was never on Steve’s side.

He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in weeks, his brain and body constantly running through checklists of things he had to do and people he needed to check on.

It was catching up with him in the form of the worst migraine he’s had in months.

And now his parents were home.

He could hear them talking downstairs, their voices carrying and making Steve wince against his pillow.

He managed to close his curtains when he got up to use the bathroom this morning, but hadn’t managed to do anything else. Including close his door.

He hadn’t really expected that to be an issue since he was alone all the time.

His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months. They hadn’t even bothered to call when the “earthquake” hit.

He kept his eyes closed in hopes that they wouldn’t bother him, maybe they’d even close his door for him if they thought he was asleep.

Wishful thinking.

His dad’s booming voice was suddenly right next to him, echoing around his room and his head.

“It’s the middle of the damn day, Anne! He can’t sleep his life away!”

Steve let out a groan, burying his head as far into his pillows as he could to avoid some of the noise.

His father would give up eventually, probably call him something terrible, be disappointed, the usual. But he’d leave, and Steve could bask in the peace and quiet again.

“Do you hear me, Steven? Anne, he’s ignoring me!”

Steve groaned again as he heard his mother’s voice from the doorway.

“Richard, he’s clearly hungover. We should come back later.”

Steve loved that idea. If they left, he could try to sleep this migraine off.

“I’m not just leaving him! He has to act like a responsible adult someday, Anne. We don’t pay for this house for him to spend his days hungover in it.”

“Not hungover.”

Steve’s voice was muffled against the pillow, his head pounding with every movement of his lips, but he knew he had to at least try to stick up for himself.

“So you’re just a useless sack in the middle of the day on a Thursday for no reason, then?”

Steve let out a whine at the sharp pains shooting through his head.

“Eddie. Call?”

Words were hard when your head was trying to implode on itself.

“Who is Eddie? Is that the person who got you drunk? I will not be calling this Eddie person, and I expect you to be up, showered, and dressed by the time we are back from our business dinner. Do you understand?”

“Robin.”

“Isn’t that your girlfriend? Is she responsible for this?”

Steve wanted to scream that the people responsible for this were dead or Russian spies who were hopefully dead and no thanks to either of his parents, he often spent days like this.

Not as often since he practically had Robin and Eddie living with him, but enough.

“No. Eddie.”

“Eddie isn’t your girlfriend.” Anne was closer now. “Do you need medical attention? You’re not making any sense. Oh goodness, Richard, maybe he’s having a stroke.”

His side was pulsing. Eddie said his did too sometimes, a casual reminder that they’d been nearly eaten alive. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as his head, though.

He needed to get to his phone so he could call Eddie.

Eddie knew what to do to help. He wouldn’t be scared of his parents.

Just as he started to move his head so he could try to roll out of bed, he heard his mom speak again, much lower, probably directly to his dad.

He had extremely sensitive hearing when he had migraines, though, so he could still hear what she was saying.

“This note has those names with phone numbers. Maybe we should call them?”

“It’s just a hangover. He has to man up.”

“It just seems like more than a hangover. He’s in real pain.”

“You do what you want. Coddle him if you must. I have a business dinner to get ready for.”

He heard his father leave the room, but didn’t bother moving.

His mom was suddenly talking into the phone.

“Is this Eddie? Yes, this is Anne Harrington. Steve’s mom, yes. He had your number written down by the phone. He’s asking for you and he seems to be quite hungover. It’s not? Oh. Oh. Okay. Well, could you come keep an eye on him, then? I would appreciate it. I could pay you.” Steve heard yelling on the other end and tried to smirk, but his face was in too much pain. “Okay, see you soon.”

“Steve? Eddie’s coming. He didn’t want any money or anything to sit with you, but I’ll leave some on the counter just in case.”

“Loves me.”

“What was that?”

Steve turned his head to the side so he could say it again, emphasize to his mother that people actually loved him.

“He loves me.”

He was met with silence, but he was happy about it, his head still finding new ways to hurt even after 100 migraines.

His mom left the room, but he knew Eddie was coming, so he rested.

When he woke up, Robin’s hands were in his hair. She was gently combing through it, from scalp to ends, being careful to avoid any tangles that may have been hiding.

“Robs.”

“Hey Dingus,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t handle normal talking voices when it was this bad. “Gave Eds and I quite a scare having your mom call, you know.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Eddie?”

“He’s downstairs giving your parents the riot act while he unloads groceries. He’s pissed.”

“At me?”

“No, never you. He’s got your extra strength pain meds that you were out of though.”

Steve had forgotten to get more last time he went to the store and he admittedly wouldn’t be this bad off if he had them ready to go when he woke up this morning.

But Eddie always took care of him and Robin always took care of him, and he was allowed to not have to do everything for himself anymore.

“It’s like you don’t even care that he’s hurt because of fucking government conspiracies!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Robin’s hand froze as they listened to Eddie and his dad go back and forth.

“The Russians almost killed him! Where were you? Not fucking here! The monsters almost killed him! Where were you? Probably on a business trip or whatever it is you rich fucks like to do with your time that should be spent checking in on your son.”

“Oh boy,” Robin slowly started to get up, causing Steve to whimper. “I’m gonna send him up here to cool off. Just breathe.”

So he did. He breathed in, then out, in, then out.

He did that until he felt Eddie’s hands in his hair, lips on his forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered against his hair. “Brought you some water and meds.”

“Yelling?”

“They deserve it. But don’t worry about that right now. Just take these pills and sleep. I got ya.”

“Got me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, always got you.”

He could hear Robin yelling downstairs now, but he didn’t focus on it, following Eddie’s advice and sitting up just enough to swallow the pills and half a glass of water.

As he fell asleep, he heard Robin whispering to Eddie.

“He’s got us, at least.”

“Yeah, he does.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steve's parents suck #migraine steve again i know okay #but it's just so gd good #soft and protective eddie #soft and protective robin #requests

[marvelous-llama]

Seventeen recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

Shitty Romance Christmas Movies by @bambikisss

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 5.1k) strangers > friends > lovers, university AU - angst?, fluff, smut All all watching all those romantic Christmas movies that everyone founds shitty (and enjoying it), you finally meet someone who brings it to life.

the bore next door by @ncteez

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 8.8k) strangers > ons > lovers? nobody knows with those two - fluff, smut Jeon Wonwoo is not dull, nor is he the clean and polite neighbor that your mother assumed he was when she set you up on this awful date. Or the one where wonwoo takes you home on the first date and renders you unable to walk, hoping to god that you don’t expose him to your parents.

Cat and Mouse by @wonusite

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 5.6k) bad boy AU, continuation of [9:47 PM] - fluff(ish), smut Wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant in avoiding him after the amazing night you two spent together, but he’s not going to let you get away from him so easily.

X + Y = YOU AND I by @angelwonie

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 8.6k) academic rivals to lovers, university AU, pining - fluff, smut you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

series

Daylight by @moonscriptsx

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 15.4k + 11.6k) coworkers > friends > lovers, CEO!Wonwoo, slow burn, mutual pining - fluff, smut Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light. part 1, part 2

Amour-Haine & Co. by @wonwoosthetic

Wonwoo x fem!reader enemies to lovers, office AU - angst, smut, fluff Six years. Six long years have you been working side-by-side with your father. Balancing studying at university while playing his right hand throughout it all without ever complaining about how hard it was, but rather always putting 200% into everything you did. You helped him grow the company to where it now was. And now, after the many ups and downs you have shared, he retires only to let the company get bought by some young wannabe Jeff Bezos, who thinks money and looks is everything he needs to get him through life. If someone thought you’d just let this pass and work as Jeon Wonwoo’s side chick… they would be wrong. So, let the games begin.

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen recs #wonwoo #svt wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday 🫂

Here’s more from my pet names 10 + 1 fic. I accidentally made this fic more emotional than I was intending but I mean this 10 + 1 seems to be going all over the place ups and downs and I actually like that. You kinda get a glimpse into their lives at different points which is cute. Anyways please enjoy I need the support to finish this.

“Thomas? Like, you call me Evan?” Buck tries, again, choosing to ignore Tommy’s remarks because this is important he needs to come up with a special name just for them.

Buck notices the way that Tommy freezes slightly at the name before simply shaking his head. “Not, Thomas,” Tommy says, an unreadable expression drifting over his face replacing the soft look from before. His eyes glaze over slightly like he’s remembering something he’d rather not, before he shakes his head and blinks himself back into the present.

“No?” Buck asks, because he’s always too curious for his own good.

Tommy opens his mouth but pauses. He stares down, away from Buck, biting at his tongue softly as he thinks over his words. “My, uh, my dad used to call me that.” Tommy clears his throat, coughing lightly. “He—he wasn’t a good man,” Tommy admits.

“Oh,” Buck says. He wishes in that moment that he was better at words. That he could communicate that he may not fully understand but that he’s here, that he knows shitty parents and that he loves Tommy always. He’s stuck though, they haven’t said I love you yet and he’s not sure that now is the right time, but he doesn’t know how to say anything else without giving those feelings away.

“I—I won’t call you that,” Buck says, giving him a soft smile. He takes Tommy’s hand in his own, squeezing softly, trying to put all of his affection into that touch. It's all he can think to do right now. He hopes that’s enough.

Tagging for WIP Wednesday <3 (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

@bidisasterevankinard @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @babybibuck @exhuastedpigeon @perfectlysunny02 @buddieswhvre @loserdiaz @rogerzsteven @bucksbignaturals @smallandalmosthonest (if you don’t like Bucktommy let me know so I don’t tag you in them)

#911 abc #911 fandom #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #tevan #911 fic #purple writes #911 fanfic #911 wip #pet names fic #911 show

[olderthannetfic]

Can I poke the bear for a moment and get angry? Because I'm seeing "posting as activism" more and more in fandom spaces, and tonight I saw a post that made me lose it.

There is a post about (current events) going around that says, "full offense, but in this time, your own comfort doesn't fucking matter, you should be uncomfortable about things that are happening, and I hope you can fucking live with yourselves if you are quiet. It takes five seconds to retweet or reblog, fuck your aesthetic, fuck your anything aesthetic."

And my god. How dare they.

Yes, there is severely fucked up shit happening. Yes, people should be aware that people are being killed. Yes, there are people who are just shrugging about it and pissing off. But how does reblogging a post certify someone as Good or Bad? How does this person know that someone hasn't already helped out meaningfully in some way, or is still helping out, but on other websites? How does this person know that someone isn't barely holding on by the skin of their teeth, and they would have a mental breakdown if they got closer to any more stressful things?

I know a multitude of people, including myself, who have recently either needed to call lines, check into facilities, move back in with their parents, or go on medication because of how insane things have become in their own lives. How does this person not understand that blogging; being on tumblr; engaging in fandom, having a small space that someone can control in its entirety, is a reprieve for people who are already at their wit's end outside of that space? And that's okay.

(We are not doing the relative privation shit in this house. I refuse to entertain that.)

Ironically, by insisting that people participate in sharing posts when they're already stressed and exhausted, that's a surefire way to make their problems worse, and potentially prevent them from acting helpfully in the future because suddenly, their exhaustion turns into full-blown burnout. That's how it works. Professionals tell you to dial things back if you are too overwhelmed. There is a reason for that. There is a limit to how much people can mentally process and handle. Compassion fatigue exists. For a lot of us, we are already at our limit. We need space to relax, and not have arbitrary obligations thrown on us. That is not our fault, it is not a character flaw, it does not mean we are bad people. And just because horrific things are happening elsewhere, it does not mean we can, or should, stop taking care of ourselves first. Yes, it feels shitty to think, "you know what, I can't reblog this". You bet your ass that I and my friends feel guilty about not being able to engage as much as we think we should, but that is how it goes. I can put my head underwater for a bit. But I cannot keep my head underwater forever. I will drown.

Not to mention the obvious part: guilt-tripping people to the extent of implying they are somehow contributing to genocide, just because they won't reblog a post, and implying they should not be able to live with themselves if they do that, is beyond revolting.

I am angry, and I am not sorry.

--

So many of those kinds of posts—and they turn up during every set of horrific real world events—sound like people who are in a country far away from the events, diaspora at most but probably just randos, venting their impotent rage because it's the only way they can feel productive in a situation where nothing they can do is productive.